Lieberman couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'Wait a minute. That was the first thing I asked Irwin and he said there's no way we can go near this at all. He made it sound like you've got the Battlestar Galactica up there. If you try to shoot it down, it can intercept the missile. And take out whatever shot it in the first place.'
She nodded. 'That's true. It's one smart weapon. It could take out the Shuttle if Charley detected it on launch. Then there's an automatic defence system that will attack anything substantial that comes within a half a kilometre of it in space. That still leaves us room. If we can get into orbit and power down the Shuttle before the automatic system comes into play, we could get a couple of astronauts close to the thing. The trouble is, as far as I understand it, they can't touch it, and any weapons they might carry would be detected. And we have to find it. The damn thing is built out of polymer, like you see in stealth devices. We're not even exactly sure where it is right now, though with those huge wings you designed for it I think the Shuttle ought to be able to track it down.'
'Jesus, Helen. You're just sending these guys to their deaths.'
She sighed and Lieberman saw the sadness in her face. 'That's a possibility. They know it.'
'So why?'
'We need options. We calculate there's a ninety-second window after launch when the Shuttle could come under direct attack from the main weapon systems. If it escapes that and gets into orbit, it can edge in behind Sundog and give us a chance.'
'To do what?'
'That's what I need you to figure out. Imagine we do take the ship within half a kilometre of the satellite with all the systems down. And after that, we could place a couple of astronauts in extravehicular activity up to ten metres from the satellite without triggering any automatic self-defence systems.'
'Then what?'
She shook her head. 'Any weapon would be detected and, in all likelihood, immobilized immediately. No, we have to shut it down without touching it. That's the only possible solution and you have to know how, you designed that entire power system. I need you to clip those wings, Michael.'
He was genuinely affronted. 'Nothing else while I'm there? A cure for AIDS, maybe?'
'You don't mean it when you say that kind of thing.'
'How the hell do you know?'
Helen Wagner's eyes held him on the screen. 'You called, Michael. You care. And you can find the answer. You just tell me what you need to get there.'
CHAPTER 25
In the Air
Tim Clarke watched the lights of the city recede beneath the fast-rising helicopter and was glad to be gone. The mute, baffled reception he'd received from the Security Council was depressing. Perhaps they recognized the note of desperation in his voice.
He looked at the close circle of advisers around him. These were people he'd inherited from Rollinson, and when times got back to normal some would change. They knew that. But they were good, solid, dependable men — all men, he thought, something would have to be done about that — fine in a conventional crisis, lost a little in this one. Governments ran on rail lines, Clarke thought, mapping out the future on the basis that it was all predictable within limits. When something came along that wasn't in the contingency plan, suddenly it all fell to pieces.
'Those guys want some news from the Bureau, Dan,' Clarke said, looking at Fogerty seated opposite him. 'We can try to sweet-talk them into keeping calm right now, but you got the mood in there. They think this is our baby. They think we're the ones who got them into this, and we ought to be the ones who get them out. In their position I guess I'd feel much the same.'
'Sir.' Fogerty nodded. 'We're pushing every resource we've got into this. But I'm not going to lie to you. These people have no criminal records, no terrorist background. They're not the kind of folks we're likely to follow as a matter of course. If the Agency had kept that damn plant they had inside there, or levelled with us in the first place — '
'No time for range wars. Don't you people get it? This is a crisis with the clock running. Maybe this is just a storm that will blow over. But we've all seen some of the reports coming in from Wagner. The power these people have in their hands is, as far as I understand it, massive. The odds are that if we don't do something in the next twenty-nine hours or so Bill Rollinson's funeral will be the last thing on our minds. We've got to focus on stopping this thing happening, nothing else. Okay?'
He watched them nod at him and thought: They still don't get it. 'Dan, do you think Wagner's right when she says there's no negotiating with this woman?'
'Absolutely, sir. Our psychological profiling people back up everything she says. This woman is resolute. She's not looking to bargain. She sees herself, and the Children, as being part of some inevitable, natural process of rebirth. She's looking forward to this. Nothing's going to stand in her way.'
'And that stuff about what might happen even if we do get Sundog back?'
Bryan Jenkins, the White House scientific adviser, coughed and said, 'A lot of this is speculative, Mr President. There's no real way of knowing.'
Graeme Burnley winced. He didn't like stepping on other people's toes. 'Sir, we have clear indications that other governments are perceiving this as a major threat too, and have no better idea of how to tackle it. Why do you think we got such a relatively easy ride in there over the detail? They're just as much in the dark as we are.'
'That was easy?' Jenkins asked, incredulous.
'Maybe easier than we deserve,' Clarke said, staring at his hands.
The helicopter flew down the security corridor, out into the night, back toward Washington. The rhythmic pumping of the blades and the noise inside the cabin reminded Clarke of the Gulf, a decade before, though it seemed much less than that. There was a lot of time spent inside the bellies of these machines then, and it was easier: You had someone to fight, you had an objective. Now it was like punching shadows and wondering whether you might break your fist on your own face instead.
'What about the Shuttle?'
'We can launch, sir,' Jenkins said. 'If we knew what we could do if and when we find the damn thing. Sundog's probably at greater altitude than the Shuttle would normally operate. But we can overcome that. NASA had a high flight modification in the works and it's ready to roll.'
'You got volunteers to man it?'
'I could fill it five times over. NASA put it straight on the line how risky this thing was. It didn't stop anyone. We've picked the two best pilots we know and the guy with the most EVA experience.'
'Come again?'
'Extravehicular activity. Spacewalk, in plain language, Mr President. But we still need this Lieberman guy to figure out what these people could do up there. This thing is purpose-built to withstand all forms of attack.'
'You mean we can't get anywhere near it?' Burnley asked.
'It can detect other vehicular activity within a kilometre,' Jenkins explained. 'But if we kill all the main systems barring light telecom on the Shuttle, then drift it into the vicinity, we ought to get under the detection system. It's based on engine heat and electrical activity, nothing visual, thank God. The same goes for getting near the satellite through an EVA. We can probably put a guy real close to the thing, provided he isn't using anything it can pick up. Even a blowtorch would trigger a response, and by response I mean something major. The standard would be high-intensity laser, which would kill instantly and could take out the Shuttle too.'
'So what can we do?' the President asked.
'Turn off the power generation system. If this Lieberman guy can figure a way. He designed the thing and it's real clever stuff. If that's down, Sundog grinds to a halt in minutes. This thing just eats power. But we've no word on how you can do that without being able to dismantle part of the installation physically.'