Eagle Station

“Those floating bits and pieces are all that’s left of our radar satellite?” Martindale asked pointedly.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, nodding. “The orbit’s slightly off. But that’s no surprise, given the force evidently used to destroy it.”

“What in holy hell just happened up there?” President Farrell demanded.

Patrick answered him. His tone was tight and ice-cold. “Our spacecraft were attacked, sir. One satellite going dark could be an accident. But two dying over just a few minutes?” He shook his head grimly. “That’s enemy action, Mr. President. Somehow, the Russians and the Chinese have deployed weapons on the moon and in cislunar space.”

Eagle Station, over the Pacific Ocean

That Same Time

Four hundred miles above the cloud-covered ocean, three small, odd-looking spacecraft maneuvered between the aft section of the Orion crew module docked at Eagle Station and its thirteen-ton service module, a stubby cylinder topped by an adapter ring. The service module hung separately in space a few yards away. A much larger and more massive Falcon Heavy second-stage booster rocket was in a parking orbit somewhat farther off. Both the service module and booster were motionless relative to the space station, even though they were all circling Earth at nearly seventeen thousand miles per hour.

These one-person spacecraft were egg-shaped spheroids about nine feet high and a little under eight feet in diameter at their widest. Each was equipped with several mechanical limbs that ended in flexible appendages that resembled large, articulated metal fingers. Dozens of tiny thruster nozzles studded outer surfaces covered in advanced composite armor.

Called Cybernetic Orbital Maneuvering Systems, or COMS for short, they were yet another variant of Jason Richter’s first war robots. But unlike the CIDs, these human-piloted space robots were intended primarily for zero-G operations and orbital construction tasks. Experiments had shown that a single machine was more efficient than ten astronauts wearing conventional EVA space suits. Although they’d been used as improvised weapons platforms during Scion’s commando raid to seize Mars One, now Eagle Station, from the Russians, today the COMS were finally getting a chance to do the work for which they’d originally been designed.

Cocooned inside the cockpit of his COMS robot, Brad McLanahan, triggered a short burst from his thrusters. They popped in a computer-controlled sequence that moved him closer to the service module’s open adapter ring.

He peered inside. Through his neural link with the robot’s computer, the visual and other sensors set around its outer shell gave him an unobstructed view of his surroundings. It was eerily like floating in space without a helmet. Green indicators blinked into existence, highlighting several of the bolt assemblies securing the adapter ring to the rest of the spacecraft. “Okay, bolts twenty-seven through thirty-three look solid.”

“Copy that,” Nadia radioed. Her COMS was over on the other side of the ring. “I show a problem with seventy-eight.” One of her robot’s manipulator arms swung down holding a power tool and began tightening the loose bolt she’d identified. As she worked, multiple thrusters fired around the COMS hull, holding her securely in position despite the fact they were in zero-G.

Over near the docked Orion crew module, Peter Vasey’s COMS hovered near the umbilical connection interface. Spotlights glowed bright, illuminating the dark interior of the open port.

“Both the CM bracket assembly and line support check out,” the Englishman commented. Like Brad and Nadia, he was one of Sky Masters and Scion’s most experienced COMS pilots.

Brad smiled. This was their second full EVA and they were already ahead of schedule. If they could keep this pace up, it should be possible to finish mating the Orion crew module to its service module in three or four more days. Once that was done, they could begin the delicate task of maneuvering the fully assembled Orion spacecraft into position with the Falcon Heavy second stage.

“Priority override,” his COMS computer suddenly told him. “Encrypted radio transmission from Peterson Space Force Operations Center.”

“Put it through,” Brad ordered. What was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until they were all back aboard Eagle Station in a couple of hours?