Eagle Station

Thirty-Eight

Sky Masters technicians had converted one of the company’s conference rooms into a miniature replica of the Space Force mission control room at Peterson Air Force Base. Computer displays echoed the telemetry and video received from the spacecraft on its way to the moon. And secure communications gear allowed those present to monitor all transmissions between the crew and ground controllers. For the duration of the S-29B’s lunar reconnaissance mission, this room would be manned around the clock by Sky Masters and Scion personnel — ready to offer technical assistance or tactical expertise as needed.

From his station, Brad McLanahan listened to Dusty Miller and Hannah Craig sign off from their S-29 Shadow out in cislunar space. With a frustrated sigh, he slipped off his headset. Then he frowned. “Man, I hate this.”

“Hate what?” Nadia asked quietly.

“Just sitting here doing nothing, and watching other people take all the risks.”

Patrick McLanahan nodded sympathetically. “Welcome to the higher echelons of command, son,” he said. “The ones where other men and women put their lives on the line carrying out your plans or following your orders.”

“Does it ever get any easier?” Brad asked.

“No, it really doesn’t,” his father said simply. He shrugged. “Which is why I did everything I could to make sure I still flew combat missions myself.” Then, with a twisted smile, he tapped the metal LEAF exoskeleton that helped keep him alive. “Given how I ended up in this semi-robotic hunk of junk, that was probably for a lot longer than I should have.”

Brad nodded grimly, remembering the horrifying moment when a Chinese fighter jet’s 30mm cannon shells riddled the bomber he and his father were flying. But as bad as that had been, at least they’d been together, sharing the same risks. Sitting safely on the ground like this, hundreds of thousands of miles from the action, still felt deeply wrong somehow.

“Colonel Miller and Major Craig are very competent,” Nadia said softly, offering what comfort she could.

“Yeah, I know,” Brad said. “And if it comes down to it, General Kelleher was right when he pushed to make this a Space Force mission. They’ve got way more hours of advanced combat training in those spaceplanes than we do.” His gaze shifted back to one of the displays. It depicted the S-29B’s projected path as it curved away from Earth — heading toward the point in space where the moon would be in roughly seventy hours. His jaw tightened. “But I also wish we weren’t in a position where we have to bet everything on one roll of the dice.”

“It’s always good to have a backup plan,” his father said. “That’s why I’ve had a team going through everything in the Sky Masters inventory — including prototypes, whether they’ve ever been flown or not — looking for any other space hardware that could give us another way to get to the moon… if we need one.”

Brad looked hard at him. Ever since he was old enough to notice, he’d realized that his father had a habit of playing his cards close to his chest — keeping everyone else at a distance while he worked out his own plans. “You sure kept that pretty quiet, Dad.”

His father shrugged again. “It seemed like a long shot. Plus, I didn’t want to distract anyone from the mission prep for Miller and Craig’s recon flight. In most ways, that’s still our best option.”

“So did your team find something?” Nadia asked sharply.

“Possibly,” Patrick said cautiously. “Originally, it was a piece of civilian space technology we thought might come in handy for a Sky Masters bid on part of the president’s lunar helium-3 mining operation.”

“And now?” Nadia demanded.

Patrick smiled at her. “Now we think this equipment could be just what we need. Well, after some serious, and seriously expensive, modifications, anyway.”

Brad pushed back his chair and stood up. Beside him, Nadia did the same. “Okay, Dad,” he told his father. “Let’s go see this rabbit you think your guys just pulled out of the hat.”

Colonel Kirill Lavrentyev stared at the split-screen images of Marshal Leonov and President Li Jun in disbelief. “The Americans are doing what?”

“One of their armed spaceplanes is now headed toward lunar orbit,” Leonov repeated patiently. “Based on its current speed and trajectory, it will reach the moon in something under three Earth days.”

Colonel Tian Fan leaned in beside his Russian counterpart. “Do we know yet what combat capabilities they have sacrificed to make this long-range mission possible?”

“An excellent question, Tian,” Li said in satisfaction. He nodded to someone offscreen and his image disappeared, replaced by a grainy picture of the winged American spacecraft. “Our ground-based telescopes were able to take several photographs before the American S-29 moved out of range.”

Lavrentyev and Tian studied the fuzzy image of the American space vehicle with great care. One alteration was immediately obvious. The wing and fuselage pods Russian and Chinese intelligence had tentatively identified as microwave emitters were gone. Both men nodded in sudden understanding. Removing those microwave pods and their associated electronics had allowed the Americans to add additional life-support and navigation equipment to the spaceplane.

“Which leaves a turret-mounted laser as its chief weapon,” Tian commented.

“In combat against our own less-capable Elektron spaceplanes, this laser scored kills at nearly five hundred kilometers,” Lavrentyev said slowly. He frowned. “It represents a serious threat to our base.”

“But your plasma rail gun has a significantly longer effective range,” President Li argued, reappearing on their monitor. “Correct?”

“Da, Comrade President.” Lavrentyev nodded.

Li shrugged. “Then I fail to see what you have to fear. Yes, the Americans have surprised us with this unexpected gambit, but you will still have the upper hand in any combat.”

Tian held his face carefully immobile, hoping that Lavrentyev would have the good sense to do the same. It was easy enough for Li, safe on Earth and surrounded by the whole might of the People’s Republic, to dismiss the threat posed by the approaching enemy spaceplane. Those stationed here at Korolev Base, however, understood how vulnerable they were to an enemy attack from orbit. Right now, their lives depended on a single inflated habitat module. Its half-meter-thick Kevlar, foam insulation, and Nomex cloth walls were ample protection against the moon’s airless environment, wild temperature swings, and radiation. But a two-megawatt weapons-grade laser would slice through them like butter.

“With respect, Comrade President,” he said evenly. “Our choice of tactics depends on whether we believe the Americans will opt to fire on us first. Before they obtain hard evidence that we destroyed their two satellites.”

Leonov spoke up from Moscow. “I do not believe the Americans will come in shooting, Colonel Tian.” He shrugged. “Farrell may be far more aggressive than some other recent American presidents, but even he will be reluctant to order what could be painted as an unprovoked act of war against what the world has been told is a peaceful Sino-Russian science outpost.”

“Especially since the Americans know our own Lagrange point satellites give us a complete picture of everything happening on the moon’s far side,” Li agreed. “Besides being futile, any surprise attack against your base would destroy their whole international reputation and shred the military and economic alliances they’ve built up against us.”

Which would be small consolation to those of us who were killed, Tian thought acidly.

Leonov nodded when China’s leader finished speaking. “In the circumstances, I’m confident this spaceplane is making a reconnaissance first — undoubtedly intended to gather intelligence that will let the Americans make a more determined and effective attack during a later orbit… or on a later mission, if the S-29 only swings around the moon once and then heads back to Earth on a free-return trajectory.”

“Your reasoning is persuasive, Marshal,” Lavrentyev acknowledged. “However, although we have camouflaged our more warlike installations to some extent, our maskirovka is unlikely to deceive that American spaceplane’s powerful radar and thermal sensors for long. By the time it finishes its first pass over Korolev Base, its crew will know all our secrets.”

“Quite so,” Leonov said with a cold smile. “And that is why, regardless of whether or not the Americans open fire on you, you will destroy that spaceplane before it can report back to Earth.”

Tian saw Li nod his approval. A chill ran down his spine. Their undeclared war against the United States was about to turn hot.