Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (37 page)

“The Chinese have commenced a series of rapid launches,” he said without preamble. “They’ve got three ...” he watched another line appear and chase the others across the map, “make that four, outbound C-Z Seven launches on a probable lunar trajectory from the Jiuquan Launch Center. They’re probably carrying Shenzhou crew capsules."

“Well, isn’t that a fine thing,” the Secretary said dryly. “Are you sure they’re heading to Chang Er?”

“Yes, sir. The timing is wrong for rendezvous with their platform, and they usually use C-Z Fives for that. C-Z Sevens from Jiuquan can only mean lunar crew missions. We’ve got four good tracks ...” He paused as another launch flashed its streak across the screen. “Ok, make that five. In under six minutes.”

“Damn, that’s impressive,” Reynolds said. “And they’re all from the same center?”

“Yes, sir,” Marquez said. “I think we’re seeing the front end of their response plan."

“Probably,” the Secretary said, “but why would they be setting up shop at their lunar base?"

“That’s a good question,” Marquez said. “Their orbital platform is awfully small, maybe it’s because their lunar operation is more suited to fabrication?” The tracking officer waved his hand and pointed at the screen again where another rocket was just beginning its boost phase from the Taiyuan Launch Center.

“I think they’re hammering the point sir,” Marquez said. “They just put up one from Shanxi Province.”

“That was an old ICBM proving ground wasn’t it?” Reynolds asked, concern slicing a frigid edge into his voice.

“It was, but lately they’ve been using it for communications and spy satellites.” Marquez watched the screen, glancing at his watch to see if they were still running on sixty-second increments. Number seven showed up on schedule.

Calling up observation satellites over the other Chinese launch centers, he could see that the four gantry at Xichang and all six at Wenchang appeared to be loaded, small streamers of condensation misting in the early morning breeze indicating that they were fueled and waiting their turn.

“It looks like they’ve got full racks at Xichang, and Wenchang as well. I’m looking down the barrel of at least ten more launches between those two sites,” he said. “I’m going out on a limb and saying we can expect to see a total of twenty launches if Taiyuan is loaded all the way. But there are still two more pads at Jiuquan that are unaccounted for.”

“I wonder if they’re holding them for something, or if they just didn’t load them up?” Anticipating his question, Marquez had switched to a different satellite and was looking at the top of the smoke clouds.

“I can’t tell yet because the view’s obstructed by the first round of launches, but ... stand by.” The winds separated the haze and he got a glimpse of one of the towers. “Yes sir, we’ve got a positive visual on at least one Shenzhou sitting on the northern pad at Jiuquan.”

“So they’re not done putting up crew.” Reynolds said.

“You know, sir,” Marquez said, “we need to think about the fact that these launches are going to be visible from Tokyo all the way down to Manila. How the hell are they going to keep that quiet?”

“They’re not,” Secretary Reynolds said, stating the obvious. “I guess it’s time to get the President out of bed."

***

An Elephant Enters the Room

Camp Kryptonite:

Marine Corporal Reed stood at the gate, watching the rutted road into the military compound above Stormhaven. It was the worst guard position in the camp and he hated it.
Protecting us from what?
he wondered to himself.

He stood, staring into the dying glow of the setting sun, as he had every day since he’d been posted at the camp. He was a disciplined soldier, so he stood his post, though he wanted to be doing something other than standing guard duty. Boredom ate away at his thoughts through yet another watch.

The smell of dust floated toward him from the main entrance road into Stormhaven. Even though he couldn’t see the cars passing, he knew there were people buzzing up and down the graded road by the clouds of dust that hung like a fog under the single lamp above him.

Crossing his legs and leaning against the wooden beam slung between the two crossbucks that formed the gate, he mused,
in a prairie flat as this one, a gate out here in the open ain't no more security than a doorjamb standing in a cornfield.
In typical military thinking, some administrative idiot had stuck him here, in the middle of nothing, guarding a gate of dubious purpose.

Behind him he could smell the mess hall starting to sling slop to the troops, and he wished just once, for the chance to eat with the normal people. Ah well, this was the life he’d volunteered for, and this was where he was stuck for another eighteen months.
Well, hopefully not exactly here.

Staring at his feet, he didn’t notice the approaching black sedan until its blue-white lights shined on the rim of his glasses. Snapping to attention, he unslung his rifle and noticed one of the Lightnings break orbit to spin back and circle their position. At least he wasn’t alone in his lonely vigil.

He waited for the car to pull to a stop, the back window rolling down. A small face appeared dimly in the interior. “Good evening, sir. Please state your name and business in the camp?” Reed said, keeping his finger near the trigger but not expecting to have to move it.

“Young man,” the ancient voice sounded like whisky-burned sandpaper, “I need to speak to the chargé d’ affaires immediately.”

“I don’t believe we have one of those here, sir.” The guard leaned down and peered closely at the man. His face was almost recognizable. “Perhaps you’re lost?” he offered helpfully.

“I assure you Corporal, we are not lost. I need to see the man in charge,” he said, turning on a small light in the back of the sedan and looking at a stack of notes. “It says here that his name is Shapiro.”

“Yeah, that’d be him. Can I see some ID, sir?” Reed stood up and pulled a small flashlight out of his pocket waiting for the man to hand his wallet out.

“Of course,” he said, sliding a large attaché folder through the window, a diplomatic seal visible on its face.

Opening the document, he scanned the page of credentials and realized immediately this was one he was going to need to put through. “Excuse me Ambassador, sir. I need to call the office and let them know you’re on your way in.” The old man nodded, leaning back and disappearing into the shadows of the car.

Grabbing his radio, he leaned on the button. “CC, this is Reed at Gate One-west. I need you to patch me through to Shapiro. This is urgent.” Turning, he glanced at the car, noticing for the first time the diplomatic plate on the front and the emblems on the fenders.

“AiC is non-com, Gate. What’s the nature of the situation?” the com-officer asked.

“I have a diplomat down here asking for Shapiro. Put him on,” Reed hissed into the radio.

“Say again, Reed. Did you say a diplomat?”

Looking back over his shoulder he said, “That
is
what I said. I have the Japanese Ambassador to the United States, Akihiro Kuromori, staring at my ass out here. He looks damned hungry, if you catch my meaning.”

“Copy that Reed. Send him up. I’ll make sure AiC is on deck.”

***

Space Command, Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado:

Marquez stood staring at the orbital traces of the Chinese spacecraft, shaking his head. In all, they’d fired off twenty-two launches in just under twenty-nine minutes. The first five, and the last two, carried Shenzhou capsules with as many as four passengers in each.

If Washington wanted proof that the Chinese had known about the asteroid, this was it. There was no way they’d have been able to pull this off if the San Francisco conference had been when they’d first learned about it. The one thing that bothered Marquez more than what they’d done, was that they’d managed to load gantries all over the country without sending up every flag at the DHS. It bordered on downright unbelievable.

The first of the flotilla of rockets had finished its trans-lunar burn and was streaking outward, leading a swarm that stretched half-way around the world. It had been one of the most impressive demonstrations of coordinated launch capability he’d ever witnessed.

Sitting on the edge of the Nimitz, watching the screens in the control room below him, he waited for the reaction from Washington. No one had thought about responding to the launches, because of the stunning magnitude of the effort. It was only now beginning to soak in that they’d watched the parade roar across the southeastern US without even a twitch.

When the phone on his desk beeped, he picked it up expecting to be chastised for Space Command’s lack of response. Instead he heard the voice of Dr. Danielson.

“General Marquez, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ve managed to complete the preliminary design and we’re going to be able to start launching components to the ISS in a couple weeks.” He sounded like a child looking for the approval of his playground buddy.

“That’s good, Doctor. You saved me another trip out there,” Marquez said, wondering how this scientist had been allowed to rise to such a position of authority without being squashed along the way.

“Another visit?” Danielson said, sounding nervous.

“Yes, Doctor,” Marquez said. “I’m still not entirely happy with your performance, and I don’t have time to play around.”

“I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you General, but the things I deal with are infinitely more complex than you might understand.” The scientist had a newfound steel in his tone. It set Marquez on edge.

“I’m sure the science is intense enough to keep you busy, but I cannot have political infighting between you and Dr. Anthony,” Marquez said.

“But I do not ...” He paused, apparently recognizing that it was pointless to argue. “Yes, General,” he said.

“Good. Now do I have a copy of your design yet?” Marquez leaned around his computer to log into his mail program.

“It’s in your box. I also sent it to Anthony for review and comment.” Marquez hopped off the desk to look at the file. “It’s built around his proposed synchronized deflection protocol. I expect he’ll approve.”

“Very nice work, Doctor.” The file looked complete, and even though some of the finer details were irrelevant to him, he could see that it was organized in stages that seemed realistic and achievable. Once he got done with the dancing, Danielson could get the job done.

“I do want to point out that I included an insurance policy.” He could hear the scientist clearing his throat before he continued. “You can call it a compromise, but the final warhead is a two hundred gigaton forced helium-cycle fusion device. If the deflection doesn’t work we can still detonate the last unit as a failsafe.”

“Dr. Anthony will not entertain that possibility,” the General said, recognizing it as probably a good idea in spite of the orders.

“I understand that,” Danielson said. “I designed it with discreet detonator controls that can be retained by someone in the military. It might be something that we’d want to keep to ourselves. After all, it’s always good to have a fall-back position, wouldn’t you say?”

***

Camp Kryptonite:

“Ambassador Kuromori, what brings you here?” Shapiro nodded deeply to the Ambassador, not quite bowing.

“I am actually here to speak with Colton Taylor,” he said, seating himself at the table with an almost regal bearing. He looked ridiculously out of place in the primitive accommodations of the military tent.

“I can’t let you do that,” Shapiro said, sitting down across from him.

“I am afraid you must. This is a matter of international concern,” the ancient diplomat said.

“I understand that you might perceive that to be the case, but you’re dealing with US citizens, in US territory. That means it’s my responsibility.” Shapiro felt like the ice he was standing on was slippery and thinning fast.

“Actually, you are dealing with a situation where not all the residents of Stormhaven are citizens of this country.” Kuromori held out his hand, and his assistant stepped forward with a file. “As you can see from our records, several of the residents in there are Japanese Nationals.” He laid the paper on the table in front of the agent, smiling politely.

DeMarko stepped up to scan the list over his shoulder. “That could make this a problem,” he whispered under his breath. “I recognize several names from files I’ve seen in the background documents.”

“I admit this complicates things a bit,” Shapiro said. “But as long as the situation is still potentially hostile we can’t let you go in there.”

The Ambassador snorted. “Surely if they were intending violence, you would be much further away.” Kuromori pointed at the monitor. “There are still dozens of press personnel standing around down there as well. This is not a hostile situation and you know it. Please do not waste my time. I only paid you a courtesy call so you would know I was on my way in. I could have just as easily walked up to their gate and knocked.”