Marian Anderson, on the other hand, had been uncharacteristically quiet. Maybe she was realizing that, Soviet Union or not, there were still others in the world to warn about, people who required the U.S. to maintain some semblance of military readiness.
“You guys are engaging in hope,” Cross said. “What the hell are we doing?”
“The Air Force strategists are in session,” Mays said “They’re looking at the capabilities of the SS-X-25 and the ways in which we might counter it. Marv said it was possible that we might have to let them launch the first one and try to intercept the MIRVs on the way down. It’d be a damned sight easier if we knew the targets.”
“In what way?”
“Washington is a likely priority, Hannibal. I’d put up a hundred fighters. We see it coming in, we counterattack with four hundred air-to-air missiles. At least one of them’s going to hit it. With luck, it might still be high enough that the altimeter switch hasn’t armed the warhead.”
“That leaves nine cities unprotected,” Brackman said.
“Yeah, unless we can spook Shelepin into revealing the targets. Anyway, that’s one scenario. The strategists are also looking at ways to attack both the space station and the base in Kampuchea.”
“When are they going to have something for us?” Cross asked.
“Soon. All they’ve said so far is that we don’t want to put a missile into either the space station or the SS-X-25.”
“Why?”
“They’re likely to be booby-trapped. Try to hit one or the other, the sensors detect the incoming threat, and the ICBM takes off.”
“Shit. What would you do, Marvin?”
“Since the Oval Office hasn’t yet told us to lay off and let the diplomats work it out, I’d turn McKenna loose. First, we all know the 1st Aero is the only unit we have that can handle a space offensive. Second, most of us trust McKenna. Third, he and his people have the experience. Fourth, they have common sense. On top of all that, when or if we get offensive strategies, I think we’re going to get plans loaded with qualifications and restrictions and limitations from the Strategic Planning Group and from the Air Force people who will be covering their asses, just in case their plans don’t work out.”
“Why?” Cross asked.
“Not one of the members of those groups has been in space and understands the specialized environment for conducting warfare.”
Mays nodded his agreement.
Cross said, “Ask McKenna for a strategy. He’s not to implement anything without our say-so.”
“What if McKenna comes up with something we can believe in and the power brokers in the Security Council turn us down, Hannibal?”
“We’ll do our best to blow up that bridge when we come to it, Marv.”
Brackman got up and crossed the room to the telephone on the credenza.
McKenna had napped in his office cubicle, upside down for variety, for several hours while Delta Blue was undergoing her maintenance. Benny Shalbot had cussed a black-and-blue streak for twenty minutes after he saw what McKenna had done to his wing. Brad Mitchell had thought it could be fixed in a couple of hours, if Shalbot would divert his energy into the proper machine tools.
He took his microwave-relayed telephone call from General Brackman upside down, also.
“McKenna.”
“Marv Brackman, Kevin. They said you were actually sleeping, and I halfway hate to disturb you.”
“Only halfway?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to pamper you.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“The reason I’m calling, I want you to know what’s going on here.”
“I’m all ears,” McKenna said.
“The UN is demanding that Kampuchea expel the New World Order, but no one believes that’s likely to happen. The State Department is picking up pre-message vibrations that a number of countries will ask the United States not to be precipitate in mounting an attack. They don’t want to test Shelepin’s resolve on their capital cities.”
“Can’t say as I blame them, General.”
“The President is back-stopping all of the diplomatic efforts by having the Strategic Planning Committee and the Air Force Planning Group prepare offense scenarios.”
“That’s wonderful. I don’t—”
“Don’t jump to any conclusions, Kevin. They might come up with something we can use. In the meantime, Admiral Cross has given his approval to your developing a plan of your own. Have you been thinking about something?”
“Hell, I’ve been dreaming about it, Marv. Nothing clicks, right off, though.”
“You want to put something together for me?”
“By yesterday, no doubt?”
“Oh, hell, no. You’ve got an hour, give or take fifteen minutes.”
“Jesus, Marv! You’re not kidding.”
“I’m afraid not. The Security Council is already scheduled.”
“Okay. I’ll get back to you.”
McKenna cut off the connection, then called the radio shack. Don Curtis was on the console.
“Don, track down Munoz, Conover, and Abrams for me.”
“Delta Yellow went on patrol, Colonel. Orange is back, though.”
“Fine. Wake up Dimatta and Williams instead. We’ll meet in the exercise room.”
McKenna unstrapped and pushed out of his cubicle, got a hot coffee from the radio shack, then headed for the hatch. Sailing down the spoke, he rubbed his cheeks, judging the growth of beard. He decided he should shave, but after the meeting.
Halfway to the exercise room, he met Benny Shalbot, who gave him a dirty look.
“I said I was sorry, Benny.”
“Yeah, but don’t let it happen again, Colonel.”
“Come with me, Benny. I may need your expertise.”
“You bet, Colonel.” Shalbot executed a half-flip, bounced off a grab bar, and reversed his course.
Eight minutes after Brackman’s call, his three available squadron members were gathered in the exercise room.
“We’ve got fifty-two minutes to decide how we’re going to take out the New World Order, gentlemen. I suspect the people who count want us to do it without prompting the launch of a multiple warhead.”
“We aren’t in a jokin’ situation then, compadre?”
“No, Tony, we’re not. Let’s start with known weaknesses. George, you want to list them on something.”
“Will do, Kevin,” Williams said, digging in his pocket for a pen and notebook.
“First,” Conover said, “if we’re dealing with the space station, they’re vulnerable when Delta Green isn’t in attendance.”
“That’s one, and it’s probably the primary item. What else?”
“They may have some blind spots on the station,” Munoz said. “They’ve got one porthole aimed at Earth, and they’ve only got one video camera that I saw, though there may be another on the bottom side. When reviewin’ the tapes, I noticed that the one I saw doesn’t automatically scan. The automatic mode is either shut down, or the camera’s got to be aimed by someone from the interior.”
“Good point, Tony.”
Shalbot stuck up his hand.
“Benny”
“I’ve been thinking about it some, Colonel. In a command and control sort of way, because that means electronics, and I know electronics. If I can get a couple pieces of equipment, I can stop the fuckers.”
“We want to hear this, Benny.”
“I don’t mean I can do it, but I can give you the means to do it.”
The Delta Blue and Orange crews listened intently as Benny Shalbot went over the technological details of his plan.
“Goddamn, Benny. That’s good.”