Jackson stuck her hand out. "Ljala."
Dalton's eyebrows arched. "Excuse me?"
Jackson laughed. "Ljala. When I was a kid, my friends called me Jerry."
"Ljala," Dalton repeated. "I've never heard the name before."
"It's Roma. From my mother's side. My surname is from my father's."
"Italian?"
"No." Jackson got up and sat down on the bunk across from him. "Outsiders call us Gypsies. Roma is what we call ourselves. You're gadje, an outsider."
Dalton untied his boots, pulling the laces, easing the tightness. "You're a Gypsy?"
"Roma," she corrected him. "The term Gypsy comes from early beliefs that my people came from Egypt. We didn't. And most Roma don't like the term Gypsy, as it's usually used in a derogative manner."
"Roma," Dalton amended. "Where did your people come from?"
"That's a long story that we don't share with gadje," Jackson said. She smiled. "I don't really consider myself a true Roma, though. I’m sorry if I was short with you. I haven't talked about it in a long time. My mother was a true Roma. That's why I got picked to be part of Grill Flame."
Dalton had worked briefly with the classified CIA program that used psychics to remote view. "Because your mother was a Roma?"
Jackson smiled, leaning back on the bunk "You know, crystal balls inside the dark tent, telling someone their fortune. Laying out tarot cards and reading them. It's in the blood. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
"As much as anything does here," Dalton said.
"There's a little bit of truth in myths and legends," Jackson said. "My mother was a true reader, as was her mother before her and the maternal line through the ages. They could see what others couldn't. A person's lifeline in their palm. The future in the cards. The sense of the spirits of the dead."
"You believe that?"
"Don't you now?"
Dalton nodded. "Can you read; sense the spirits?"
Jackson's smile was gone. "I rebelled against it. My mother embarrassed me. My father was so solid, so straight and narrow, I couldn't see why he’d gotten involved with my mother. He was gadje also, the son of a preacher, a manager in a lumber mill. My mother; I didn't understand why she gave up the road for him and turned away from her people. Maybe because he was so solid and steady. She, on the other hand, was beautiful and wild. Maybe opposites do attract. Who knows? My mother drove me crazy. My friends thought she was nuts. The clothes she wore and the way she acted. Setting up a room in our house and reading fortunes.
"So I went as far from it as I could. To the Academy. The Army. And then they dragged me into Grill Flame when I completed a test everyone in my Intelligence unit was required to take and I scored highest on what they were looking for. I've thought a lot about it, since being here at Bright Gate. I ran from my heritage to be drawn directly into it."
"And your mother?" Dalton asked. "How does she feel about it?"
"She passed away my yearling year at the Academy."
Dalton hesitated, then asked, "Do you feel her?"
Jackson slowly nodded. "Sometimes. Sometimes here in the real world. And sometimes when I'm out on the psychic plane, I feel her spirit. It's not like we can carry on a conversation; more like I can pick up her emotions, her feelings."
Dalton's voice was low. "I feel Marie just like that at times. I sense she's out there."
Jackson leaned forward and reached out with her hand, grasping Dalton's in hers. "She is. She's out there and she'll always be with you. The world is a much bigger place than that which we pick up with our five senses. You and I-- we have the inner eye."
“I’ve been learning that," Dalton said. "So what didn't you want Hammond to hear?"
Instead of replying, Jackson asked a question. "What do you think happened to the first PW team?"
"They got cut off.”
"But why?"
"I don't know," he lied.
"I think it's because they saw something they weren't supposed to see," Jackson said.
"What did they see?"
"If we knew that, we'd have a chance of knowing who did it to them."
"Raisor said he knew."
"And look where he's at now," Jackson pointed out.
"I'd say the fact someone was monitoring Sybyl and they got cut off right after asking for information about the Air Force Space and Missile Systems is significant," Dalton said.
"I agree."
"I've also got a feeling you know more than you're telling me." Dalton felt bad knowing that the opposite was true. He knew exactly why the first team had been cut off, but telling Jackson about Nexus would endanger her. Of course, not telling her could be just as dangerous. But if she came to some conclusions on her own, that couldn't hurt. Besides, Dalton wasn't one hundred percent sure he believed what Eichen had told him.
"It's foolish," Jackson said.
"Why don't you let me determine that?"
Jackson shook her head. "Old tales. That's all I was thinking about. They have nothing to do with this." She lay back down on her bunk. "I'm tired. I need some sleep."
Dalton walked out of the bunkroom to the male latrine. He felt like a low-rate spy as he went into one of the stalls and sat down. He opened up the phone and punched two. There was a short buzz. A second. And then Eichen's voice:
"Go ahead, Sergeant Major."
He updated Eichen on the current inactive status of Bright Gate, Eileen Raisor's request for information about the Air Force unit, Hammond finding the virus in Sybyl, and Hammond's concern about the development of the Bright Gate technology, which echoed what Eichen had told him the previous night.
"All right. I’ll check out the Space and Missiles Systems Center. Keep an eye out for anything else."
"What about whoever is replacing Raisor? Is he or she one of yours?” Dalton asked.
"Negative. I have no idea who is coming to take over Bright Gate, but I'm relying on you to keep things under control there."
"What about Lieutenant Jackson, sir? Can I bring her in on this?"
"No. The fewer who know, the better. And Jackson was with Bright Gate. If I were you, I'd keep an eye on her too."
But you aren't me, Dalton thought. "Yes, sir."
*****
McFairn leafed through the documents she’d had her people intercept from the Pentagon. As deputy director of the nation's primary communications security agency, McFairn could access any communications, no matter how highly classified. After all, it was her people who designed the secure systems all government agencies used.
A Task Force Six team was en route to Colombia to interdict a drug shipment and kidnap a cartel member to try to find out what happened to the Coast Guard cutter. Exactly as she had arranged. She hit the autodial for Boreas and faced the windows, noting the large flag on the pole outside the building flapping in a stiff breeze.
He answered immediately and her message was succinct, informing him of the team's itinerary.
"I'll have HAARP on line to help locate Aura," Boreas said in response.
"What makes you so sure that Aura will be used?"
"Because you’re going to have one of your agents in Colombia inform the Ring that the team is coming," Boreas said.
McFairn swung her chair around, no longer looking out the window at the flag. "That's treason."
"Come now," Boreas said. "Certainly you've sacrificed smaller units before for the greater good. In war, sacrifices have to be made."
"I didn't know we were at war."
"Countries are always at war or preparing for war, which is essentially the same thing. Think of the power we are giving you with HAARP."
"Who is we?"
"I told you long ago not to concern yourself with our identity," Boreas said. "You are to do as you are told."
"I know you work for the Priory."
"But you have no idea what that word represents."
McFairn knew she’d crossed her Rubicon long ago and there was no going back. She waited until he finally spoke again.
"What about Psychic Warrior?" Boreas asked. "Do you have a new team ready to go to Bright Gate?"
“I’ve selected the personnel from within my own agency."
"Can they be counted on?"
"Yes."
"I want to meet the team leader before they go to Bright Gate."
"I'll have Agent Kirtley fly in with General Eichen. He can get a feel for what's going on along the way and keep an eye on the general."
"Good. Don't forget to make the call south."
The phone went dead.
McFairn sat silent for a long time. Then she pulled out her dog-eared copy of
The Art of War
. She thumbed to the page that listed the five dangerous faults of a general: The last one was over solicitude for one's men, which exposed a general to worry and trouble.
She put the book down and picked up the phone, calling her station chief in Bogota.
Despite the Sun Tzu passage, she didn't feel much better when she hung up.
"Eight thousand people are employed in the various phases of the MILSTAR program."
General Eichen knew that last sentence was designed to impress politicians, the implication being that continued funding of MILSTAR meant eight thousand votes. The colonel giving him the briefing was obviously used to it and was just as obviously one of the MILSTAR people who had absolutely nothing to do with the actual operation of the program itself but was more involved with selling the program. This was typical of the entire defense establishment, from contractors to deployed units. The tooth-to-tail ratio of the Department of Defense was ten/ninety percent and shrinking every year. For every soldier on the ground fighting, there were nine people in support positions.
Eichen was at the Air Force Space and Missile Systems Center in El Segundo, California. He'd had his plane detour to California immediately upon receipt of Dalton's call.
"MILSTAR is the future of communications," Colonel Braddock continued as he walked in front of a mock-up of one of the large satellites. "It is a joint service satellite communications system that provides secure, jam-resistant, worldwide communications to meet essential wartime requirements for high-priority military users. The multisatellite constellation will link command authorities with a wide variety of resources, including ships, submarines, aircraft, and ground stations."
Eichen was seated in the front row of the otherwise empty conference room. His rank and his credentials from INSCOM had earned him this briefing, but he really wasn't sure what he was looking for, so for the moment he kept quiet and listened to Braddock's spiel.
"MILSTAR is the most advanced military communications satellite system in the world. Once completely operational, the constellation will consist of MILSTAR satellites One through Four in geosynchronous orbit giving global coverage and a fifth, the system coordinator known as SC-MILSTAR. Each mid-latitude satellite weighs approximately ten thousand pounds and has a design life of ten years.
"Each MILSTAR serves as a smart switchboard in space by directing traffic from terminal to terminal anywhere on the Earth. Each satellite processes communications signals and through the SC-MILSTAR can link with the other MILSTARs. The satellite establishes, maintains, reconfigures, and disassembles required communications transmissions as directed by users. MILSTAR terminals on the surface can provide encrypted voice, data, telemetry, and facsimile transmissions.
"Geographically dispersed mobile and fixed control stations provide survivable and enduring operational command and control for the MILSTAR constellation. The AN-TRC-194 is the designation for the MILSTAR Ground Command Post, which can be at a fixed site or transported by aircraft, ship, or truck. These terminals use extreme-high-frequency, EHF, uplinks, and an SHF, super-high-frequency, downlink."
The colonel was on a roll. Eichen had all this information in the top-secret packet he'd been handed by the installation commander upon his arrival. He'd known basically what MILSTAR was before landing, but he listened to Braddock, keeping his mind open, because he had no idea what HAARP was yet, so he had no idea which part of what he was being told was important and how it was linked to HAARP.
"Each MILSTAR can handle low-data-rate, LDR, and medium-data-rate, MDR, communications. Each transmission, LDR and MDR, is frequency-hopped over a two-gigahertz bandwidth to provide high resistance to jamming. MILSTAR covers a greater width of the electromagnetic band than any transmitter ever made. In addition, the MDR provides thirty-two channels that each operate at data rates up to one-point-five million bits per second. Because transmission security is not one hundred percent at that rate, the satellite has two specially designed nulling spot antennas that can identify and pinpoint the location of a jammer and electronically isolate its signal within a small region of the satellite's two-gigahertz communications spectrum."
"Which means?" Eichen asked.
"That MILSTAR cannot be jammed by any technology currently available," Braddock said.
"These nulling spot antennas are basically counter- jammers?"
"Yes, sir."
"So MILSTAR can transmit on its own?"
Braddock frowned. "In response to an attempt from a hostile source trying to jam it, yes, sir."
"How many ground stations can each satellite handle?"
"The MDR can handle at least two thousand, four hundred user terminals simultaneously."
The colonel waited for another question; when none was forthcoming, he continued with his briefing. "We put the satellites together here, led by the MILSATCOM Joint Program Office, of which I am the executive officer.
“Lockheed Missiles and Space Company is the primary contractor. TRW Space and Electronic Systems provides the low-data-rate payload, while Hughes Aircraft provides the medium-data-rate payload. The actual satellite"- Braddock turned to the mock-up-"is made up of components, which allows on-site upgrade."
"What does that mean?"
"We can pull a piece, say the LDR main computer, and replace it when a better one is designed."
"How do you do that when it's in orbit?"
"A space shuttle mission. We've already upgraded the first two MILSTARs with the MDR, which they didn't have in their original configuration. There have been six MILSTAR maintenance missions by the shuttle."
"Six? You said only two needed the upgrade."
For the first time Braddock seemed at a loss. "Well, sir, there have been other upgrades to the system."
"Such as?"
"That's classified."
"I have the highest security clearance possible," Eichen countered.
"Uh, yes, sir, I know you do. But, to be honest, I don't know what the other four missions were. They were compartmentalized."
"Then how do you know about them at all?"
"We have to provide access to a full-scale mock-up for EVA training any time a mission is planned. We've done that six times. Thus I assume there were six missions."
Eichen leaned back in the chair and considered that. "So someone is modifying the MILSTARs and you don't know who it is?"
"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. That's true. Of course, whatever agency it is, it has the proper clearances and authorizations."
"How do you know that?" Eichen had run into this more times than he cared to remember.
"We wouldn't have given access to the mock-up without proper clearance and authorization."
The stock answer. Eichen was tempted to ask the colonel to reverse that logic, but he held back as he knew it would do no good. "How is the satellite launched?"
"Two methods. So far all have been via Titan IV with a wide-body Centaur upper stage. For the SC-MILSTAR, it will be via space shuttle release."
"Why the difference?"
"SC-MILSTAR is going in a geosynchronous orbit over the north pole, while the others are basically above the equator. The next shuttle launch is going up from Vandenburg and is set for a polar orbit. It just makes sense to use the available platform rather than having a Titan moved from the Cape to Vandenburg.
"Once the system is fully operational, command and control of it will be given over to the U.S. Space Command at Falcon Air Force Base outside of Colorado Springs."
"Cheyenne Mountain," Eichen said. He didn't like the new name given to the massive underground complex. He remembered when it had simply been called NORAD, before that agency was a victim of the end of the Cold War.
"Yes, sir."
Eichen stood. "Thank you very much, Colonel." He headed for the door, then paused. "One last question."
"Yes, sir?"
"When does the SC-MILSTAR go up?"
"In three days. MILSTAR will be operational worldwide in seventy-two hours."