Red Hammer 1994

“Vandenberg, this is Mission Control; the test shot was a success. Start the final countdown. Discovery, Mission Control, we’re proceeding.”

The digital clock relentlessly crossed T minus three minutes. The mission director leaned back in his chair, his thin frame coiled like a spring; it was up to Vandenberg. There was nothing left to do.

The disembodied voice of the launch director at Vandenberg could be heard over the speakers. When the voice froze at T minus zero, the remote video camera captured the first ICBM as it leapt from its expertly camouflaged silo, ejected by a violent eruption of super-heated steam from a subterranean gas generator. The magnificent missile hung momentarily 150 feet above the ground before the first-stage rocket motor ignited in a billowing cloud of flame and smoke. The surplus Peacekeeper missile roared skyward, lazily rolling and heading out smartly over the Pacific Ocean. In tandem, the ballistic-missile trajectory was plotted on the center screen, originating from a small dot on the surface of the earth near Point Conception off the California coast.

For success, the battle manager first required a launch detection. This critical signal would flow from an early warning satellite floating high above the equator in geostationary orbit. Sensitive infrared sensors would then lock on and track the red-hot booster, developing the needed firing solution to accurately aim the laser. All this would happen in less than two hundred seconds, while the target missile was still in the boost phase. At least that was the plan.

“We have launch detection,” shouted a voice over the intercom. The left-hand screen lit up with a cascade of data signaling initial detection of the first Peacekeeper missile. Within seconds, the second missile was ejected from its silo and headed downrange in hot pursuit of the first. The two missiles were separated by only thirty seconds; the third was scheduled to trail the first pair by fifty—the extra twenty seconds providing a much-welcomed cushion.

All three missiles had been launched and the first two detected when the brilliant, electronic battle manager established a firm track on the first booster. It was seventy-five seconds into flight, fifteen seconds after the booster had shed its cumbersome first stage.

The tiny silicon brain continued to track the accelerating booster, waiting for just the right time to shoot. They needed the hot rocket as close as possible. Seconds into the tracking sequence, the laser slewed a few degrees to the right and locked on the supposed enemy target. In an instant, the chemical laser beam burst forth toward the limb of the earth, this time at full power, reaching out to deposit its lethal dose on the first ICBM. The beam found its mark and locked on the booster for over two seconds. Silence followed over the voice circuits. Floating upside down in orbit, the shuttle crews had picked up the brilliant flash. Awestruck, they groped for the right words.

Transmitted telemetry to earth indicated a kill, but the screen displaying close-up video from Discovery provided the unquestionable confirmation. First came the blinding laser flash, quickly followed by a bright whitish-yellow explosion as the booster disintegrated. Debris floated off in an irregular circular pattern as the blast gases dissipated. The lack of an audible explosion didn’t detract from the euphoria.

A deafening roar filled the room, but subsided quickly, tempered by the sober realization that the most challenging portion of the test was still to come. Could the laser’s power supply recharge in time? That was the Achilles’s heel.

Booster number two was deep into its trajectory, tracked by super-cooled infrared (IR) and UV sensors. Disengaged by its computer boss, the laser trained toward the rapidly rising hostile target while the prototype power-generating system struggled to regenerate. The second ICBM continued to accelerate toward the drifting shuttles, powered by its third-stage rocket motor. The laser finally locked on, but at a point much farther along the predicted trajectory than the first. There would be no time for a second shot.

The laser beam leapt from Discovery, arcing slightly as it reached toward the slowing spinning earth. This time there was no explosion, and a chorus of groans rose from the rows of consoles. The mission director quickly interceded to interrupt the nominal test sequence. “Break off and go for the third bird,” he ordered. Discovery would translate to the battle manager. The additional twenty seconds for the third booster had proved to be a godsend. Mentally counting the seconds, Thomas noticed that the power supply had not fully recharged after the wasted second shot. He and everyone else gripped their chairs and prayed it would have enough juice.