It had been Master Sergeant Sprawlings who had set up this morning’s early meeting at the control center. Though he couldn’t help but get the feeling that they were merely patronizing him, Richard knew that it would be better than nothing. Still positive that the Titan had been taken down by an outside source, and fearing that such a fate awaited the shuttle, he renewed his determination. Certain of the validity of his suspicions, he pulled into the control center’s parking lot.
At the block structure’s entrance, he was met by a pair of heavily armed, grim-faced sentries. They checked his ID and found his name on their clipboard, but Richard was not allowed further entry. He was told that Lieutenant Colonel Lansford would have to be paged, and was forced to wait for him outside.
While one of the guards proceeded inside to notify Lansford, Richard’s face flushed with anger. Here he was a personal guest of the Air Force, and they didn’t even trust him enough to allow him into their precious control room. Turning from the remaining sentry, he diverted his irate gaze to that portion of the facility that lay before him.
Fighting the impulse to jump back into his car and leave this place altogether, he scanned the grounds, and upon seeing the silhouette of the barely visible shuttle again, knew that he’d have to give it one more try. This was his first time inside the launch complex itself, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. Contrasted against the green hillsides, the mammoth white, gray, and red structures made a most unnatural scene. It was evident that no expense had been spared in its construction.
The fog momentarily parted, and he took in the series of mountainous ridges that lay to the east of the facility. Richard wondered if that were where Miriam’s original dig site had been located. More wide and desolate than he had imagined, the countryside there was vast and rugged. Surely it had changed little since the time of the Chumash.
Lowering his line of sight, he took in the pair of barbed-wire-topped, chain-link security fences that separated this wilderness from the facility itself.
Sandwiched in between these steel barriers was a fifty-yard-wide clearing of common ground, where several rifle-toting sentries could be seen walking their rounds. Though they would probably be able to keep the perimeter free from a minor frontal assault, such a token security force would be totally ineffective in countering such threats as the one Richard feared they were facing. Determined as ever to present his case as logically as possible, he pivoted when a voice called out behind him.
“Good morning, Dr. Fuller. Sorry for the delay, but things are a bit hectic inside.”
Lansford’s overly cheery tone didn’t disguise his inner preoccupation, and Richard held his tongue while the officer approached him. Noticing his guest’s somberness, the Air Force officer added,
“Please forgive me for not being able to get you inside, but at the moment it’s crowded enough in there. Do you mind if I’m able to stretch these old, cramped legs while we talk?”
Nodding that this was fine with him, Richard followed his host down a narrow footpath that lay immediately inside the security perimeter. As they passed the eight-foot-high, chain-link fence on then-left, Lansford spoke out cautiously.
“I understand that you tried to contact Secretary Fitzpatrick last night. Is there anything that I could help you with? I’m afraid the Secretary has other concerns at the moment.”
“Yeah, like wet-nursing a bunch of eager Congressmen in order to get bigger appropriations for next year’s Air Force budget,” shot back the angry Nose researcher.
Fighting to restrain his own temper, Lansford countered, “That tone of voice really isn’t called for, Doctor. All of us are under an unusual amount of pressure lately with today’s rushed launch and all, and patience is something each of us could use more of. I’m sorry if it seems as if I’ve been ignoring you, but lately there just haven’t been enough hours in the day.”
“So you’re going ahead with the launch today,” observed Richard thoughtfully.
“That’s the intention,” returned Lansford.
“But for the life of me, if we make it, I’ll never know how we did it. We could have used weeks to get the Condor out of mothballs, not days. This whole effort is unprecedented. Once again, our men have done the impossible, and then some. Now, how can I help you, Dr. Fuller?”
With firm resolve, Richard spoke out.
“I realize your great responsibilities. Colonel, and I’m sorry to be such a pest, but there’s something that I just have to get off my chest.”
“Then shoot,” returned Lansford directly.
Clearing his throat, Richard continued, “Yesterday afternoon, per your invitation, I got down to the Arguello storage facility and had a look at that Titan nose cone. If you’ll just hear me out, I think I have that irrefutable proof of sabotage that you demanded earlier.”
“So you’re still on this sabotage business,” mumbled Lansford.
Ignoring this interruption, the Nose researcher merely kept going.
“Upon close examination of the nose cone’s base, I noticed a fist-sized hole in its steel cowling. At first I assumed that it was just a byproduct of the massive explosion that brought the rocket down, yet upon further contemplation, I realized that I had seen such damage before. One year ago in San Diego, I witnessed a test firing of an electromagnetic railgun. At that time, a half-pound plastic projectile was shot at a steel plate of approximately the same thickness as the nose cone’s skin. The results were too similar to be ignored.
“This coincidence led me to think about another test firing that failed because of an improperly packed bullet. In this instance also, it left behind a familiar pattern of damage that matched that found on the first piece of Titan cowling that we pulled up the other day.
“Backing up my theory is a McDonnell Douglas engineer, who examined both pieces of debris and agrees that it is extremely unlikely that the Titan’s nose cone was penetrated by its own shrapnel. If you’d like, I could contact him and you could speak with him personally.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary at the moment,” returned Lansford, who cautiously added, “Have you shared your theory with anyone else?”
“Of course not,” answered Richard.
“Though I do think it’s substantial enough to inform Secretary Fitzpatrick of.”
Suddenly halting his forward movement, Lansford looked up into the face of his guest. With this abrupt glance, Richard also stopped walking. Standing on the dusty footpath, with the security fence beside them, the senior Air Force officer pointed out toward an object that lay immediately behind the Nose researcher. Turning to see what his host had spotted, Richard was afforded an excellent view of the shuttle as it sat on its launch mount. Visible less than a quarter of a mile away, the white, delta-winged spacecraft appeared like some sort of prehistoric bird ready for flight. Tendrils of venting liquid hydrogen could be seen swirling from its boosters, and Richard realized that the fog was already rapidly dissipating.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” reflected Lansford proudly.
“She cost over a billion bucks, and if you ask me, she’s worth every penny of it. In less than an hour five brave men are going to ride up that access tower and be loaded into the orbiter’s command module. Then, at the stroke of noon, if all continues as scheduled, those boosters will trigger with a force of over six million pounds of combined thrust. Seconds later, our boys will be well on their way into the heavens.”
Angling his line of sight downwards, so that it directly met that of his guest’s, Lansford added, “I truly appreciate your concern about the Condor’s safety, but do you really think that I would in any way jeopardize this project’s safety? My God, Doc, this is my life’s work that you’re talking about! I’ve dedicated thousands of hours of time so that this day, and many others, could come to pass. If I had the merest hint that something was amiss, I’d see to it at once.