Silver Tower

CHAPTER 18

"Attention on the station. Shipwide message broadcast for all personnel."

Saint-Michael shifted restlessly in his seat. Colonel Walker was at his post near the master SBR display with Jefferson, continuing to reprogram the space-based radar unit for its next pass over the Persian Gulf conflict area. The command module was crowded with all of Silver Tower's crewmembers, including the two civilian scientists and Will and Sontag of the space shuttle Enterprise, now docked on one of the space station's shuttle-docking bays on a resupply mission.

"Armstrong, this is Nimitz. How copy?"

Saint-Michael checked the communications setting on his panel. "Loud and clear, Nimitz. Armstrong standing by."

"Armstrong, this is Secretary of Defense Edwards. I am in the White House with the Joint Chiefs, the chairman of the National Security Council, the House and Senate majority and minority leaders, and the chairman of the House and Senate Foreign Affairs committees. The president and the vice-president are on their way, but they directed me to start this transmission in case they hadn't arrived when your orbit brought you near North America. "

The transmission was clear but the voice was barely recognizable. A computer, synchronized with the U.S. Navy's atomic clock in Fort Collins, Colorado, scrambled and descrambled the laser-beam transmission five times a second, and the resultant secure transmission wavered like an old-style short-wave radio. "The president has directed me to inform you of his decision concerning the Soviet attack on Iran," Edwards went on. "He's decided to intervene in the conflict to prevent further Soviet advances into Iran and the Persian Gulf region."

Ann Page felt her face flush and her fingertips grow numb as she listened. Her father was down there, in the Nimitz's battle group-probably, she guessed, the spearhead of the American opposing force…

"The president, in consultation with our allies and with Congress, has ordered that steps be taken by all available forces to halt any further Soviet acts of aggression in the region. To this end he has appointed Rear Admiral Clancy, commander of the Nimitz carrier battle group, as overall theater commander of Allied forces. He has taken direct command of all service forces effective immediately… However, Brigadier General Saint-Michael, as commander of Armstrong Space Station, has superbly demonstrated the special value of his installation. Therefore, by order of the president, Jason F. Saint-Michael is hereby promoted to the rank of Space Command Lieutenant General and is of this moment deputy commander of Allied forces in the Persian Gulf region."

In spite of the serious circumstances, a ripple of applause and a few muted cheers broke out among the crew. Saint-Michael remained stone-faced, and the congratulations quickly petered out — this was definitely not the time nor place for applause. And Ann in particular was upset about her father being in the eye of the coming storm…

"Your assignment, General Saint-Michael, is to direct offensive forces and position defensive forces in support of U.S. operations in the Persian Gulf region. You are to use all means at your disposal to warn Allied forces of attack or potential threats against them, to direct offensive forces safely to their targets and to Provide Allied forces with as much reconnaissance data as necessary to carry out the objectives of their missions. The president and everyone in this room here have full confidence in you. Good luck."

A moment after the circuit went dead, Saint-Michael opened the interstation address system. "Attention, a plan has already been devised and briefed to me by the Joint-Chiefs to ward off any more Soviet attacks into Iran. That plan will now be implemented. Our job is to see that it's successful. Our other task, if not already obvious, is to survive to continue our assigned duty. I don't need to tell everyone here that Armstrong Station is a prime target for attack.

"We have weapons to defend ourselves with: the ten Thor antiballistic-missile interceptors we control are now committed to use for station self-defense. A second Thor garage is being sent to us. But our prime defense is nothing more exotic than watchfulness and preparation… Effective immediately this station is on twenty-four-hour yellow alert. The station will be on red alert over the Persian Gulf horizon if hostilities of any sort are taking place on earth or in space. I'll review duty items to be performed while under yellow alert.

"Crewmembers will carry a portable oxygen system at all times with the mask around the neck. Personnel off duty or sleeping will wear the mask at all times. The oxygen supply will not be allowed to drop below three-quarters full at any time. A fire watch will be posted in all modules, and all modules will be sealed. A verbal cross check of connecting tunnel atmospheric security will be made to the fire watch before moving among modules. Two off-duty personnel will be assigned spacesuit duty in two twelve-hour shifts. Their duty will be to rescue injured personnel in case of catastrophic damage. They will prepare rescue balls and the lifeboat for station personnel. The spacesuit duty roster will be announced immediately by Colonel Walker…" He paused, looked at Ann, who shifted uncomfortably until he went on. "I want to hear from any research personnel who feel that the new dangers involved are unacceptable. In the next few days you will undoubtedly be exposed to significant risks — risks that you couldn't have anticipated when you signed on. Neither I nor anyone in Space Command will hold it against any of you if you decide against continued duty aboard Silver Tower during these hostilities. You may return to earth aboard Enterprise when she departs tomorrow. Thank you. This station is on yellow alert."

Ann had drawn fire-watch for the galley-computer control module, but she returned to the command module after retrieving her portable oxygen system. Saint-Michael was just ending another laser-transmitted message with earth when she approached him. "Congratulations on your promotion," she said, her smile somewhat forced.

He nodded, figuring silence was the best tactic with her. "I caught that look when you made the announcement about leaving the station."

"Well, the announcement applied to you as much as anyone and—"

"I'll tell you right now, General, I'm not leaving."

"Look, Ann, two Pages involved in this thing could be one too many. Maybe you shouldn't reject the option out of hand. At least think about it."

Ann thought he was also telling her that her leaving would be doing him a favor… It wasn't at all what she'd expected… "Okay," she said quietly. "I'll think about it." She lingered for a moment then turned and made her way to the connecting tunnel.

At the hatch Kevin Baker, on fire-watch in the command module, checked the atmospheric pressure of the connecting tunnel. "Pressure's good," he said.

Ann double-checked the gauge and nodded. They had rehearsed red alert procedures dozens of times, but it felt very different doing them for real. "Checks. Clear to open."

"What were you talking about with the general?" Baker asked before he undogged the hatch. "Are you on your way home?"

"I don't want to be, but…" She shook her head. "You know, I just can't figure the man out."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that… hey, listen, don't mind me. I guess I've got a lot on my mind."

"No problem," Baker said as he activated the interlocks, then opened the hatch. "By the way… here." He pressed a sheet of folded computer paper into her hand.

"What's this?"

"The results of the MHD superconductor relay circuit tests. Better get going; they're checking everyone in."

It took her a few moments to double-check the atmospheric integrity of the computer-center galley, enter the module, seal it off and report in with Colonel Walker that all hatches were sealed. They'd been waiting for her. Next they checked and double-checked the integrity of each module and each batch all over the massive installation. They had just finished the checklist when Sergeant Jefferson announced, "Five minutes to horizon crossing. Stand by."

What to do now but listen, watch and wait for the next twelve hours? Ann fixed herself a cup of coffee and unfolded the printout of the computer-driven MHD superconductor relay circuit test. She let the long paper strip unroll itself in an undulating stream across the galley and scanned the long rows and columns of numbers, reading off the computer's analysis of the thousands of—

And there it was. On the left MHD control-circuit relay, three-quarters of the way through the test strip — it would have taken at least thirty hours to find it if the check had been done by hand — one of the sixteen thousand 256-bit data words did not agree with its error-trapping checksum. Kevin Baker's computer, programmed with all of the MHD relay's error readouts, even pinpointed the fault's exact location—

"Attention on the station. Horizon crossing-mark. Stand by for target area. The station is on red alert. Out."

Ann quickly scanned the rest of the printout. No other faults. She depressed the intercom button. "Colonel Walker, request permission to enter the Skybolt module."

A pause, then: "Sorry, no. We wouldn't have fire coverage in the computer module with you in Skybolt.

"It would only be for a moment—"

"We're on red alert, Ann." It was now a very annoyed Lieutenant General Saint-Michael talking into the intercom. "We're two minutes from moving directly into the sights of six Soviet Gorgon antisatellite missiles. We're already in the sights of a two-hundred-megawatt Soviet antisatellite laser site. The time for tinkering with Skybolt has passed. Maintain your post."

The line snapped dead. She could feel the stares, hear the imagined whispered comments directed at her through the walls.

Well, damn him. The man had put her in her place by embarrassing her. Above, and beyond… For a moment them, back in the command module, she'd actually thought he… Cool it, you're one of the crew, lady, nothing mom, for sure nothing more…

"SBR contact on aircraft transponders, " Jefferson reported. "Identification positive and confirmed. Four-ship F-18 patrol from the Nimitz."

Another tech announced, "Sir, voice and data link reestablished with the California."