Executive Intent (31 page)

“It
could
have been launched from there, but no, sir, we didn't actually see it,” Ann admitted.

“But we did learn that the weapon garage hadn't malfunctioned—it actually detected the incoming ASAT missile and tried to launch an interceptor,” Kai said. “We interpreted the sudden, uncommanded arming as a fault causing an explosion, but it was actually the garage detecting the attack and maneuvering to try to defeat it.”

“Unbelievable,” Phoenix said, shaking his head. “But you have no proof of any of the attacks, right?”

“The signal gatherer will tell us if the Russians are trying their own version of netrusion on our garages, and we'll have to shut down the AESA radars until we find a way to block the harmful data,” Kai said. “As far as the Chinese DF-21s are concerned: Every malfunctioning weapon garage and every unprotected satellite in low Earth orbit is a target, and the more sites the Chinese build, the more satellites will be at risk.”

“So you're saying we're completely on the defensive here?” the vice president asked. “We can't stop the Russians from injecting viruses into our satellites, and we can't stop the Chinese from building ASATs all over the world? I don't buy any of that for a second. The president is going to need more options, gentlemen. Let's start putting some plans together.” He picked up a telephone on the conference table as the others left the Situation Room, leaving the vice president with Dobson and the images of Raydon and Page still connected on the secure videoconference line. “Get me the president, please.”

A few moments later: “Hi, Ken,” President Gardner said. “Did you get the briefing?”

“I did, sir. It's staggering. None of our satellites are safe.”

“I wanted you to get that info to show you how important my proposed global ban on antisatellite weapons is, Ken,” the president said. “The arms race in space is on. And as soon as we figure out a way to stop one form of attack, another one will pop up, and then we have to pay to find a way to defeat
it
. It's nothing but a
treadmill, Ken, and I want to get off. The revised National Space Policy is the first step. If we have to do a unilateral antisatellite-weapon ban to show the world how serious we are, then so be it.”

“But what are we going to do now, sir?” Phoenix asked. “Russia and China didn't just demonstrate their antisatellite capabilities—they actually
attacked our satellites
!”

“And they got our attention, too, which I believe was their intention all along,” the president said. “But we don't have real proof they did anything, do we? We have a lot of circumstantial evidence, but nothing definite. There's nothing we can do.”

“An American airman died in space because of what the Russians and Chinese did, sir.”

“And as an attorney, you know that you need a lot more than circumstantial evidence to prove murder beyond a shadow of a doubt. I'm just as angry as you over the death of that officer, and it probably would not have happened if the attacks hadn't happened—”

“‘Probably,' sir?”

“—but in the absence of concrete proof,” the president went on, apparently ignoring Phoenix's remark, “there's nothing we can do except work to make sure such weapons are banned forever. We'd look foolish confronting the Russians or Chinese with unprovable accusations.” The president paused, but Phoenix said nothing. “Am I correct, Ken? Or do you have some suggestions?”

“I like the idea of dropping a CID onto one of those Russian space surveillance sites or Chinese DF-21 missile sites and seeing how much damage it could do,” Phoenix said. A CID, or Cybernetic Infantry Device, was a ten-foot-tall piloted composite-shelled robot with superhuman strength, greatly enhanced speed, and self-protection features, and which carried advanced sensors and weapons—it was, in essence, a one-man infantry platoon. Although still experimental and not produced in great numbers, it had proven itself in battles ranging from America's borders to Iraq and Persia,
once known as Iran. “Maybe they'll think twice about test-firing one of their weapons at an American satellite.”

“Been talking with McLanahan again, have you?” the president asked.

“No, sir, that was my idea. I've seen those things in action.”

There was a long pause from the president's side of the connection—Phoenix did not know that the president, too, had seen McLanahan's futuristic infantry weapons systems in action, up close and personal, and not in a good way. Finally: “Listen, Ken, I know those manned robots are cool and tough, and it would be fun to see one use a DF-21 missile like a punching bag, but it's not going to happen,” the president said. “The days of Patrick McLanahan sending these high-tech toys around the world in search of self-aggrandizing retribution are over. Hell, where do you think Russia and China got the idea of the so-called operational test? McLanahan did it all the time.”

“I don't like the idea of accepting these attacks as part of the new status quo.”

“I told you what we're going to do, Ken: We're going to rewrite the National Space Policy to make it more inclusive and less hostile, and we're going to work to ban antisatellite weapons around the world,” the president said. “I need your help on this. Am I going to get it?”

Phoenix hesitated as long as he dared, then replied, “Of course, Mr. President.”

“Good. Looking forward to reading that draft. Oh, I ran the idea of sending some long-range bomber muscle in and around the Chinese and Russian fleets, and the staff seemed to like the idea. Stacy spoke with the Russian and Chinese foreign ministers, and—”

“You told the Russians and Chinese we were going to shadow their fleets with a bomber, sir?”

“You didn't think I was going to send a bomber out there with
out telling them?” the president asked. “This is peacetime, Ken, remember? Everyone agreed to be cool. We maintain radio contact, we don't spook anyone, we go in unarmed, we take a few pictures, that's it. A show of force, but no pressure.”

“Doesn't sound like a show of force, sir. More like a photo op.”

“No use in stirring the pot any more out there. Gotta go, Ken.” And the line went dead.

Phoenix hung up the phone, then turned to face the videoconference screen and Dobson. “The president sees this as all the more reason to rewrite the National Space Policy and negotiate a ban on antisatellite weapons,” he said heavily. “He doesn't want to do anything else.”

“But if we get positive proof…?” Ann Page asked.

“I don't think he'd authorize any direct action,” Phoenix said. “I think that's that.”

“I'm all in favor of the CID idea, sir,” Kai said.

“Are those the manned robots I saw on television, the ones that fought in Persia with the Iraqi army?” Dobson asked. The vice president nodded. “Those things are cool. But I thought we didn't have any of them, that they were all destroyed in Iraq?”

“As far as I know, that's the case,” Phoenix said. “Patrick McLanahan used them in Iraq—he'd know.”

“Want to ask him, Mr. Vice President?” Ann asked. A few moments later, Patrick appeared on-screen beside her.

“I didn't know you were sitting there, Patrick,” Phoenix said perturbedly. “You know better than to have unauthorized persons on a secure videoconference, Madam Undersecretary. You, too, General Raydon.”

“Patrick's expertise was crucial to discovering both the DF-21 and Russian netrusion attacks, sir,” Kai said.

“So he's seen the data from the Kingfisher satellite, too?” the vice president asked incredulously. “That's classified, too, if I'm not mistaken.”

“You have the authority to raise my security clearance level or adjust the classification level of the data, sir,” Patrick said. “It's been done before.”

“Don't be a smart-ass, Patrick,” the vice president said. “I also have the authority to send you to federal prison without charges in the interest of national security. Want me to do that?”

“Sorry, sir. But you realize just as we do that although we might not have court-of-law evidence, we do have more than enough information to show Russia and China are conspiring to degrade or destroy the Space Defense Force. They might not stop at shooting at interceptor garages next time.”

“I think the president expects that the Russians and Chinese want a sense of parity with the United States, and this antisatellite stuff is it,” Phoenix said. “Just like nukes during the Cold War, they'll build up a credible enough force and claim military-superpower status.”

“The difference is, sir, that the United States didn't do away with its nukes once we found out the Russians and Chinese were building them,” Ann Page said. “We built more, and then we started to design an advanced antiballistic-missile system to protect ourselves. China gave up the nuke race, and Russia went bankrupt trying to keep up. But this time, President Gardner wants to do away with our antisatellite weapons in the hopes of convincing all nations to do the same, which gives our adversaries the advantage. It doesn't make sense.”

“He's the commander in chief, Madam Undersecretary,” Phoenix said. “It's his call.”

“What do
you
think, sir?” Patrick asked.

“Doesn't matter, does it, General McLanahan?” Phoenix replied stonily.

“So…that's
it,
sir?” Ann asked, shaking her head. “We found information that points to Russian and Chinese active attacks on our space systems, including an attack that caused the death of an
American astronaut, and the president will do nothing?” She sat back in her seat, then put her hands on the edge of the table at which she was seated, as if bracing herself. “I…I can't work for this administration, Mr. Vice President. I am going to submit my resignation to the secretary of the Air Force today.”

“Think about it first, Dr. Page,” Phoenix said. “Look at the incredible accomplishments you've made in the Space Defense Force over the past three years. Despite the president's and Congress's decision to rely more on carrier-based naval power, you've managed to build a robust satellite-based strategic defense, communications, reconnaissance, and strike force. You didn't expect it to be smooth sailing each and every year, did you?”

“I dealt with the politics for years in the Senate, and I know that politics and not the real world are influencing the president's decisions now,” Ann said. “When being a globalist and appeaser is more important than even a single American life, I don't want to be part of that administration. Good day, Mr. Vice President.” And at that, Ann Page stood and walked out of camera view.

“I'll talk to her again, Mr. Vice President,” Patrick said.

“Do that, but I don't think it'll make any difference,” Phoenix said, shaking his head. “Thanks for the information, guys. Keep me informed, and I'll let you know if anything changes from the White House. When do you go back to the station, General?”

“Not for about three weeks, sir,” Kai said. “Mandatory Earth reacclimation.”

“Let's hope nothing else happens before you get back,” the vice president said. “How about Mr. Noble?”

“He's grounded for at least six weeks, sir. He'll take a couple weeks off for leave, then come back and work in ground control, instruct in the simulator, help the engineers work on propulsion and other technical problems, that sort of thing.”

“Well-deserved rest for both of you. Thanks again.” He terminated the videoconference, sat thinking for a few moments, then turned to Tim and asked, “Your thoughts, Mr. Dobson?”

“I'll have to study up on this netrusion technology,” Tim said, “but the Russians have been hacking into U.S. government computer networks for years. The CIA alone probably gets a thousand serious attempts every day just from Russia, and I know most are either sponsored, directed, or actually undertaken by the FSB.” The FSB, or Federal Security Bureau, was the new name of the
Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti,
or KGB, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics' internal and foreign spy agency—but in fact their activities had hardly changed from the darkest days of the Cold War. “So they definitely have the technology. I didn't know you could do it over the air from such long distances, but if we can do it they probably can, too.

“The sensor on the weapon garages would be the best way to collect the intrusion signal, especially if it's a narrow focused beam aimed directly at the satellite,” the young CIA administrator went on. “But we might be able to collect the signal from the ground with a sensor placed on the transmitting dish. Murmansk and Kamchatka would be hard to penetrate; Socotra Island and Venezuela would be easier.” He smiled and added, “Of course, if you could get a couple of those Cybernetic Infantry Devices or the other armored infantry guys General McLanahan was using—”

“The Tin Men.”

“That's it, sir. One of those guys could probably do the job. Bring one Tin Man and one CID robot and you could probably set up a spy sensor on the top onion dome of the Kremlin.”

The vice president fell silent again; he then nodded, and his eyes had a new fire in them. “I have a new project for you, Mr. Dobson,” he said, a mischievous smile growing on his face.

Tim smiled in return. “Yes, Mr. Vice President,” he said. “I'm in.”

“Good.” Phoenix picked up the phone, and a few moments later Patrick McLanahan's image reappeared on the videoconference monitor. “Where are you, Patrick?” he asked.

“Sunnyvale, California, sir.”

“More importantly: Do you have any CIDs and Tin Men available?” He noticed Patrick glancing at Dobson, then said, “This is Tim Dobson, CIA, on my space-policy-review panel; I just enlisted him to plan a few other projects for me.”