Abruptly every light aboard Silver Tower dimmed. The station's backup power systems snapped on. Warning horns blared.
"MHD reactor activated," someone in the command module called out.
"Skybolt's not tracking the Agena," Jefferson reported. He checked his instruments, squinting in the sudden gloom of the command module. "Still not tracking…"
The rest of his sentence was lost in a deafening blast. It was as if a huge bolt of lightning had just burst directly beneath them. The entire command module felt warm, and flesh crawled. "Laser firing," Jefferson shouted. "Firing… again… again… still firing…!"
Walker grasped a handhold — although the station did not move, the sudden burst of energy surging through the station made it feel as if the whole five-hundred-ton facility was cartwheeling. "Skybolt's still not tracking the target," he shouted. "It's firing, but not at the Agena."
Saint-Michael swung around to another technician near the connecting hatch to the research module. "Any hits, Bayles?"
The tech shook his head. "Clean misses. Sensors not recording any energy levels at all."
"Damn. Discharge inhibit," Saint-Michael ordered. Immediately, the crappe of electricity and the sound of lightning ceased. Slowly the cabin lights returned to normal.
Saint-Michael put a finger on his mike button, expecting the next call… "Control, this is Skybolt," Ann said over the interphone. "The laser's being inhibited in your section. Check your controls. "
"I ordered the stop," Saint-Michael said.
"Why?"
"Because it wasn't hitting anything."
Silence. Saint-Michael watched his crewmen slowly relaxing from the tumult of Skybolt's first bursts and the multiple alarms it had set off. "Station check," he said, forcibly trying to control his own accelerated breathing.
"Skybolt is ready for another series," Ann reported.
"Agena target is well past MIRV transition," technician Kelly said. "It'll go out of range in sixty seconds."
"Let's wait until the second orbit, Ann," Saint-Michael said. The techs in the command module showed they agreed with the decision by wiping sweat from foreheads and reaching for water bottles.
"But, sir—"
"The target is almost out of SBR range. You'll get another chance soon."
A long pause, then: "I'm clearing off, Control."
Walker looked over at his commander and smiled. "She didn't sound happy," Walker said.
"I'm not celebrating, either. God, I didn't know that thing made so much racket. Did we sustain any damage from the power drop?"
Walker checked with the four techs in the command module. "No damage, sir. I didn't expect that drop either, but it makes sense. The MHD reactor needs a big jolt to get started."
"But not from the main station batteries," Wayne Marks put in. "Skybolt's battery is charged from the solar arrays, but it's supposed to cut off before MHD ignition."
"Can the voltage spike suppressors handle it?"
"I don't see why not. I'll check everything out before the next test series."
Saint-Michael nodded and maneuvered over to the Agena-monitoring panel. "I really would've been happier if the laser had hit its target…"
At which point Ann entered the command center and without a word to either Saint-Michael or Walker, reached across Jefferson's shoulder and punched up the target-sensor summary on his console. "Where's the hit summary?" She scrolled through the timed readouts, then turned on Jefferson. "I said, where are the hit records?"
"That's it, Ann," Saint-Michael said. "Skybolt didn't hit the target."
"What the hell do you mean?"
"I mean, it didn't hit. Skybolt never even tracked the target. It spotted it thirty seconds after it appeared on the SBR, but it never locked on."
"But it fired. Thirty pulses, seventy-five millisecond bursts, one hundred kilowatts on the dot.
"Ann…"
"Skybolt can't fire unless it's tracking a target. It announced detection. It projected the flight path. It computed the track and fired…"
"But it never locked on," Walker insisted. "The skipper inhibited discharge when he was told Skybolt wasn't tracking and that no hits were detected. That's a proper precaution, you've got to admit."
Ann punched a few more pages on the computer screen, finally convinced herself they were right. "I don't understand. Everything checked out. The laser worked perfectly…" She turned to Saint-Michael. "Well, we'll try it again in forty minutes. We'll nail it for sure this time."
Saint-Michael nodded. "But I'll keep the beam inhibit on until we see that Skybolt has locked onto the target."
"That's really not necessary, sir."
"Ann, I can't allow that laser to fire into space indiscriminately. I don't know where it went. It could be a hazard—"
"A seventy-five-millisecond burst of only one hundred kilowatts is no hazard."
"In close range it could be. There's obviously a glitch somewhere. Skybolt is getting an erroneous tracking signal and firing when it shouldn't. For all we know we may have hit someone's satellite."
Ann looked deflated, said nothing.
"And that power surge was completely unexpected," Saint-Michael added.
"Power surge?"
"You didn't notice it?" Walker said. Ann shook her head. "It dimmed all the lights and almost took out all station power. The backups kept the main power from dumping."
"But Skybolt has its own batteries. It doesn't draw on station power at all…"
"Well, in this case it did."
"That's impossible…"
"Ann," Saint-Michael said. "What we've been saying is the truth. Skybolt didn't track the target until nearly thirty seconds after it appeared on radar. It never locked onto the target. It drew off station power to activate the MHD reactor, it fired without locking onto anything and it failed to hit the target. Period." He ignored her high dudgeon. "I'll allow a second test firing, but only after engineering confirms that our suppressors and power backups can handle another surge. If they can't assure me that this station's equipment won't suffer any damage, the tests are over until the problem is corrected. If we go ahead with the test, I'll maintain a command-beam discharge-inhibit until I see a positive target lock-on. If I don't see a lock-on to the designated target, the test is over."
"General!"
"All clear, Dr. Page?" Saint-Michael accented each. word.
Drop dead. "Clear, sir." She slid past Saint-Michael and Walker and headed back to the Skybolt control module, the two officers watching her half-glide, half-jump through the connecting hatch. "She's been working sixteen, twenty hours a day on that thing," Walker said. "I'd be pissed, too, if my pride and joy had just flunked out. "
Saint-Michael was noncommittal. "Get me a report on the power situation and the crew's technical opinion on a second test firing. Also check out the Agena and the SBR. Maybe… maybe the problem's not with Skybolt.
Walker nodded.
"And you handle the command inhibit."
"Where will you be?"
Saint-Michael watched the hatch leading to the connecting tunnel close. "In the Skybolt module. Pipe all communications down there." Without waiting for Walker's response Saint-Michael headed toward the connecting hatch.
It was a tight squeeze but a few moments later Saint-Michael had wedged himself into the narrow walkway down the middle of the Skybolt control module.
He clicked his wireless microphone on. "Control, this is Alpha. Status of the backup power systems?"
"Sir, this is Marks. Backups are fully functional. No apparent damage. They're doing what they're supposed to do."
"How much time until the Agena comes back around?"
"Estimating fifty minutes, sir."
Saint-Michael looked at Ann, who was busy pulling a relay box from an electronics cabinet and inspecting the settings on a long row of circuit boards. "You're a go for another shot."