Strike Force

The coast of Canada slid underneath them, and minutes later Greenland came into view. The scenery changed with amazing speed. It seemed every time Patrick did a computer check or read a procedure, then looked up again, he was in a completely new corner of the globe. He could see the southern coast of Ireland, with the British islands and the coast of Europe already in view on the horizon. He could see London, Brussels, Paris, and all the way to Hamburg to the north. Soon they were over Eastern Europe, with Moscow on the very horizon to the east and the Black Sea stretching out before them. “I’ll bet the Russkies don’t appreciate us flying over their territory like this,” Boomer said.

“Ask me if I care,” Patrick said. He motioned toward the horizon. “Ever get shot at, Boomer?”

“Shot at?” he asked. As if on cue, a warning tone blared and the computer reported, “SEARCH RADAR ACTIVE.” The computer did not identify the radar signal or even attempt to classify it except as a “search radar.”

“The Russians have a pretty good anti-ballistic missile base on the Kola Peninsula that has the capability of reaching us,” Patrick said. “The SA-21 ‘Boa’ missile is Russia’s version of our Ground-Based Interceptor — the ‘Star Wars’ missile defense anti-missile system. It’s supposed to be in initial deployment testing right…there.” He pointed at a spot on the ground. “It has a max altitude range of one hundred and twenty miles.”

“You’re kidding me!”

“You guys in Dreamland need to get more intelligence briefings before you take these things for a ride,” Patrick said. He pointed at the threat display on their computer screens. “Your software needs to be updated too — because I’ll bet that’s their ABM tracking radar we’re picking up. They’re tracking us and probably the Meteor as well.”

“I’ve flown this track at least three times and no one’s ever said anything to me!”

“That’s because no one officially knows what you’re doing,” Patrick said. “NORAD can see and track you of course, and they may even suspect you’re a Dreamland bird, but they’ll never start an inquiry except at the very highest levels, and it’ll stop right away once they confirm who you are. It’s up to you to get the intel you need.”

“Yes, sir,” Boomer said. “You get to feel pretty safe up here.”

“You can’t afford to — not in this day and age,” Patrick said. “I’ll start sending you a daily file on global threats, and I’ll get the techs at Air Intelligence Agency to get you the software to update your threat receiver. You may have to replan your missions accordingly, depending on the geopolitical situation.”

“We don’t need to get permission to fly in space over Russia — do we?”

“Legally space is open to all nations,” Patrick said. “Russia usually doesn’t squawk when a new spacecraft flies overhead — they would certainly like nothing more than to bring down an XR-A9, or at least study it — but since we can go in and out of orbit so easily, they may complain. If they complain loud enough, we’ll stop. Maybe.” Both crewmembers were on high alert for any sign of danger until they were well past the area.

Things were quiet for several minutes; soon, Patrick heard through his subcutaneous transceiver: “Luger to McLanahan.”

“Go ahead, Dave.”

“You received a ‘go.’”

“Roger that.” On intercom, McLanahan said, “Give me payload command, Boomer.”

Noble hit a key: “Transferring payload command, now. I’ve got flight command.”

“Thank you.” McLanahan’s multifunction displays now showed the status of the BDU-58 Meteor device. He hit a few keys, then casually announced, “I’m having a problem with the Meteor. It’s not responding to commands. Everything looks normal — relay network, datalink, orbital control computers — but it’s not responding.”

“Want me to look at it, General?” Boomer asked.

“I’ll give my command override one more try, then turn it over to you.” But a few moments later: “Still no good. I’ll take flight control, Boomer, and you take payload control. I’ve got the spacecraft.”

“You’ve got the spacecraft.” Noble checked the payload control displays. Sure enough, the Meteor was just completing its deorbit push burn and was quickly losing altitude. He tried to command the device to stop its burn, translate around, and boost itself back to its correct orbit, but nothing happened. “No response,” he said dejectedly. “It almost looks like your command override is locking out any other attempts to change trajectory.”

“I know, but I never entered my override code,” Patrick said. “It already locked me out, and my code can’t override it.”

“I can try to recycle the payload control computers…”

“Go for it,” Patrick said. Noble switched off both payload control computers, then turned them back on again and let them boot up. As soon as they were back and running, Noble tried again. “The computers look like they’re fine, but your override command is still not letting any other commands to be entered. Should I try to have Elliott send an override command?”