Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (35 page)

“I don’t care where we dropped the ball.” Sylvia looked around the table. “I just want to know that we aren’t going to let it happen again. Have we learned enough to shut them down?”

“No,” Norman said. Everyone else shook their heads in support of his assessment.

“Then can we keep them in a bottle for at least a while longer?” she said.

“Who knows? The only thing we can count on is that we can’t predict where Colton Taylor is going to push out next.” Norman turned the page, running a quick scan down the report. “Shapiro thinks they’re going to be licking their wounds for a bit. Apparently their ship was shot up pretty badly, and it’ll need to be repaired before it flies again.”

“Yeah,” John said, leaning over to glance at the file in front of the DHS secretary. “We saw the very obvious bullet holes all over the bottom of it when they put the pictures out on the news—"

“So they made a liar out of us.” Sylvia grimaced. “Is there any way we can say they were the result of the Starhawks defending themselves?"

“That would be hard to do even if it were true,” Marquez said. “A single bullet hole in the wing of one of these ships when it’s trans-atmospheric is a death sentence. The evidence buries itself in the stratosphere."

“That’s what I thought.” She sounded discouraged.

“We could fabricate the evidence.” Norman said softly. “The truth is not necessarily an indestructible enemy.”

“I don’t want to hear that,” Sylvia said, shocked by the brutal honesty of his words. It wasn’t something she wanted to accept, but with his simple statement, she felt another fiber of her moral center snap under the strain.

“We need to do what has to be done to keep control,” Secretary Anderson said. “Things are spinning faster than we can hold onto them, and if we’re not willing to manipulate the truth at this point, we might as well just take the whole situation public.”

“Norman, do what you have to,” she said. Somehow it felt like she was trying to defend a sand castle against a tsunami.

Taking a deep breath, she hauled the conversation back onto the practicality of containment. “They have at least one more ship standing on the field ready to go, don’t they? What’s to stop them from flying that one?"

“We assigned a squadron of F-35s to fly patrol over Stormhaven,” Marquez said. “We’re moving the support operations for the squadron up to the airport at St. Johns, just to the southwest of Stormhaven, so we can run a faster intercept if needed.”

“What does that mean in a real sense?” Dick asked.

“It means that the patrols don’t need to fly back down to Phoenix to re-provision, so we can respond with full strength quickly. We’re setting up temporary operations and a fuel depot at the airport and can have the entire wing available with a one minute ETA.”

“So we won’t get caught flat-footed if they try again,” Gene said.

“Assuming they can’t simply outrun us,” the President said.

“That’s possible, but not likely,” Marquez explained. “After debriefing the pilots from the 152nd, it’s probable that they aren’t capable of out-accelerating us. By the time we got off the ground at Warren, they had a substantial head start and we had closed to within a mile just as they got to space. They barely made it.”

“Do we know if they’re armed?” John asked.

“There’s no evidence to say they are,” Gene said. “The Starhawk that exploded in orbit did so after the
Dancing Star
had made its U-turn. Most likely it was space junk that destroyed it. We know that’s what caused the break-up of the second one.”

“If low Earth orbit is that cluttered with debris, how come we don’t have the shuttles getting shredded every time we make a launch?” the DHS secretary asked.

“Ninety-nine percent of it is going in one direction,” Marquez explained. “The same general direction as Alpha and the shuttle orbit. What makes the environment dangerous is when you’re going against the flow."

“So what have we learned?” She looked at General Marquez, so he answered first.

“First, we’re aware of the fact that they managed to disable our satellite systems and are working to determine how, so that we can keep it from happening again. At this point we’re also exploring the possibility that they might have someone inside our operations.

“Second, we’re reasonably confident that we can stop them from doing it again, as long as we don’t allow them to get a jump on us. There’s a lot of data yet to be interpreted from the remaining Starhawks’ flight recorders, but it appears we still maintain superiority in the atmospheric environment.”

“Good.” She nodded, pleased. “Would there be any advantage to moving the TAV to a closer center, like we did with the Lightnings?”

“No, Ma’am. They aren’t patrol craft. If Stormhaven gets past the F-35 blockade, then we’d call them in as a second line of defense,” Marquez offered.

“What would’ve happened if they’d headed south, instead of straight up? You didn’t even get a shot off until they were in orbit. If they’d been two hundred miles further away, you’d never have even gotten a glimpse of them,” Dick said.

“That’s true,” Secretary Reynolds agreed. “Maybe we should move them down to Kirtland or Luke, and have the potential for quicker deployment.”

“It’ll take two weeks to get them provisioned, and the security issues ...” the General said, stopping himself. “I’ll get right on it.”

“We’ve also learned that the press is going to shred us,” Norman said. “We need to get them out of the way so that we don’t end up crucified in Prime Time.”

“Very true,” John said. “The problem is that as long as America’s a free democracy we’ve got no way to shut them down.”

“There are provisions where we could do something,” Norman said. “We need to get the press under control or we’re going to be in real trouble soon.”

“Short of invoking the Emergency Powers Act, we’ve got no way to seize that much power,” the Vice-President said.

“And honestly,” Sylvia added, “unless we’ve got some hard evidence to back up the terror threat claim, we’re going to be forced to back down before much longer. The press is barking hard for an explanation.”

“I know,” Anderson sighed, looking resigned. “We need to throw something in front of them.”

“As far as Stormhaven’s concerned,” John interjected, “could we make it look like a hostile standoff? If it suddenly got hot—"

“Then we could get the journalists out of the line of fire.” Norman started drumming a pencil on the file folder in front of him. “The difficulty there is that they’ve shown no violent intentions. They keep sucking up our best shots like we aren’t worth the effort.”

“So crank it up. Starve them out. When they get hungry enough they’ll get violent.” Gene said.

“They’re self-sufficient,” Norman explained. “It might take years.”

“The press will lose interest long before that,” Marquez said.

“We can’t afford to wait. We’ve got to take charge out there and shut Stormhaven down,” Sylvia said.

“They’ve still got that doomsday bomb on the web,” the Vice-President pointed out.

“Yeah. I’ve been studying options to gain the upper hand, but we’re not ready to put anything into action.” Anderson closed the file and set his hands on it, closing his eyes as if he were praying.

“Here’s a novel idea I’ve been working on,” Dick Rogers said. “Why don’t we just give them what they want?”

“We don’t give concessions to terrorists,” Norman said.

“Can you imagine, with their abilities, having them hanging around the ISS watching over our shoulder?” Marquez said.

“Have you ever thought about, with their abilities, maybe we should ask for help?” the Vice-President offered.

“You’d trust someone who’s held a gun to our heads to help?” Norman said, opening his eyes and riveting Dick with a glare.

“What we need to do is tighten the military presence and then be ready to exploit any advantage,” the President said, deflecting the conversation back to the point.

“If they give us one.” Dick said dryly.

***

The Dawn of Opportunity

Osaka International Airport, Osaka, Japan:

The airport at Osaka had been rebuilt and expanded over the years after the Great Tokyo Earthquake had forced most of the government offices to relocate. To all practical purposes, Osaka had become the new capital of Japan, even if tradition still bound them to the old city. Takao Mito didn’t particularly like the new airport, with its chrome and glass in garish contrast with rice paper murals that covered the walls. It was a terrible collision of old and new worlds that stood out as an assault to the senses.

Since he wanted to catch the Ambassador before he left for Washington, this is where they had to meet. He shoved his way through the masses of people, trying to ignore the decor as he pressed toward the VIP security lounge on the upper concourse. He’d taken the magrail to the international terminal, which meant that he was stuck with the rest of the population trying to fight their way through the public levels.

He glanced at his watch as he reached the elevator. Somehow in spite of his best efforts, he’d failed to get there on time. He touched his identicard to the scanner and the screen on the front of the door lit up. The face of a young woman in a blue and white security uniform smiled at him.

“Good morning, President Mito,” she said. “May I help you?”

“I need to see Ambassador Kuromori,” he said. “He’s supposed to be waiting for me in the Lounge.”

“Of course,” she said. “He delayed his flight so he could meet you."

The door to the elevator opened and he stepped inside. The lounge was a place he’d never seen in the new airport, not because he wasn’t important enough to rate VIP status, but rather because he usually flew from private or military airports. As soon as the doors opened, depositing him on the upper landing, he realized that the chaos of the public areas never reached this far up the ivory tower.

The Ambassador sat at a small table, an ornate porcelain cup sitting in front of him. President Mito had met the Ambassador to the US once before, at a United Nations function in New York. Even though he was seated and facing away from the elevator he was recognizable instantly to almost anyone. His presence dominated the room in some tangible but indefinable way.

“Ambassador Kuromori,” Mito said, walking up and bowing formally.

“Ah, President Mito,” the elder statesman said, nodding. “Please sit.” He waved for a waitress to come over. Takao made note of his casual western manner.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” he said. “If I had been aware that the airport would be this busy —"

“No need,” the Ambassador said. “There are times when circumstances, over which we have no control, impact our lives. It does no good to be distressed by such things.”

“Thank you,” he said, relieved that Kuromori wasn’t offended.

“A drink?” he offered, studying Mito’s face openly. “Tea, or perhaps something stronger?”

“Tea,” Mito said, glancing up at the waitress and nodding. “I still have a full day ahead of me.”

“When your secretary called for this appointment, she said it was a matter of some urgency. What may I do for you?” the Ambassador said, watching as the waitress retreated out of sight.

“Are you aware of the situation with regard to the ISS Alpha complex and our withdrawal of support to the station?” he asked.

“Yes I am,” Kuromori said. “Economically it could be devastating in the long-term, but I also understand that the long-term might be irrelevant.”

“So you have been apprised of the larger ramifications?” Mito said.

“I know about the asteroid,” the Ambassador said. He held up a finger and waited as the waitress returned to pour their tea. Once she’d left he glanced around the room to satisfy himself that no one else was within hearing range. “I also know that there is little that we as a nation can do, other than to continue to be the delivery service for their groceries.”

“They are well supplied at this point and have more than adequate resources available through Roscosmos to continue the supply missions,” Mito said.

“Perhaps so,” Kuromori said, “And the debate of the moral position our withdrawal creates will have to wait until another time.”

“Indeed,” he said.

“So, what is it you seek from me?” the Ambassador said again.

“We need to find a way to open diplomatic channels with Stormhaven,” Mito said.

“Diplomacy with a corporation?” Kuromori cocked an eyebrow in surprise. “What an interesting proposition.”

***

Camp Kryptonite:

News cameras were still the best source of intelligence about what was going on in Stormhaven, a fact that was one of Shapiro’s biggest frustrations. He hated not knowing what was coming at him, and if the situation held true to form, it wasn’t likely he was going to get a break anytime soon.

The Air Force presence had managed to give him a sense of security that there wasn’t going to be another launch, but that was all he could say for sure. The continuous rolling thunder of the F-35s orbiting the community would have been almost a lullaby if it weren’t for the shattering rumble that made conversation impossible for several seconds at a time.