"You haven't answered my question, Doctor." The chief executive sounded like an undertaker.
"Well, sir, the hub component of the Graser was on this flight. It really isn't very big; and as I said, it was designed for easy deployment and installation."
The President was slow to whisper his final question. "That hub unit. Did it contain the rubidium isotope?"
The room was deathly still.
"Yes, sir," replied Sharp.
Everyone in the room exhaled as if he'd been hammered in the solar plexus.
The Treasury Secretary had to ask. "If the Russians got hold of this, could they figure out what it is?"
Sharp replaced his glasses. "The Soviets have some brilliant scientists, particularly in the field of theoretical physics. I have no doubt that they could figure it out in a very short period of time. Additionally, the hub unit is, as I have said, pretty much self-contained."
The Secretary crumpled the remains of his cigar.' 'You mean, all they have to do to make this thing work is shoot it with some X rays?"
Sharp shrugged. "Essentially, yes. As I have said, conceptually the device is surprisingly simple."
Another mass exhalation.
The President asked, somewhat rhetorically, "Let me make sure I understand what we're dealing with here. We are in danger of losing a space shuttle, a state-of-the-art, highly classified computer system, and an antimissile weapon that has a capability beyond anything the Soviets ever dreamed of… Admiral, what would it mean if the Soviets captured the Intrepid intact?"
The answer was easy. "Sir, it would be nothing less than catastrophic. A hundred times worse than the sale of that top secret software and milling equipment to the Russians by Toshiba and Kongsberg. That technology transfer allowed the Soviets to fabricate submarine propellers that are only a tenth as noisy as their old ones. Any single element on the Intrepid would be a serious loss, but all three, particularly the Graser…" His voice trailed off. "Additionally, to our knowledge, no other country in the world knows about rubidium-98, nor has anyone duplicated our laser diffusion process. We'd be handing over our most precious defense secrets on a platter."
Now the President bored in on Whittenberg. "General, the Intrepid must not — I repeat, must not—fall into Soviet hands, whatever the cost. Can't we shoot the damned thing down?"
Whittenberg knew that question would be asked. "No, sir. We no longer have any antisatellite missiles. They were destroyed in compliance with the ASAT treaty signed two years ago."
The President was slack-jawed. "Well, surely we, well, I mean, surely we squirreled away one or two missiles just in case, didn't we?"
Whittenberg was firm. "No, sir. We complied with the treaty. All of our ASATs were destroyed in the presence of a United Nations inspection team."
Now the President was angry. "Well, you'd better come up with something, General. And fast."
The tension in the Cabinet Room was now palpable. "If I may, sir, I would like Colonel Lamborghini to outiine our response. Colonel?"
Again, Peter lowered the lights and fired up the projector. This time a wide vertical pattern was painted over a map of central Russia. The colonel spoke carefully. "Sir, while we must assume the Intrepid is trying to defect, there is something that has been puzzling about the spacecraft's behavior."
"What do you mean by 'puzzling'?"
Lamborghini remained cool and explained, "If the Intrepid was going to defect, it would most certainly retrofire and land on the Soviets' own shuttle recovery runway at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in south-central Kazakhstan near the Aral Sea, as shown on this slide. However, the Intrepid has already gone past the first reentry window — as outiined by this pattern — without returning to earth. Its orbit has remained the same."
"So what does that mean?" asked the President.
Whittenberg responded. "We can only guess, sir, but it would seem that a defector would want to get the Intrepid down as fast as possible. If that course of action was not taken, it could only mean that the spacecraft had experienced some type of malfunction, or the person in control of the vessel was unable to pilot it down for reentry. In either case, the Soviets would have to send someone up to retrieve the payload, and that would mean their spacecraft were being prepared for a launch, or were already on the pad. Pete, the slides."
Lamborghini ran through the Keyhole satellite pictures of the Baikonur, Plesetsk, and Kapustin Yar launch facilities.
"As these slides show, Mr. President, the Soviets currently have nothing on the pad at any of their three cosmodromes, and these pictures came in just before we left Cheyenne Mountain. The fact that no rockets were on the pad, ready to go, would indicate that Intrepid's pass by the reentry window was unplanned. That means there's probably some type of problem on board the spacecraft, and that means we've got some time."
The President perked up. "Go on. I'm listening."
"The space shuttle Constellation is on the pad at Kennedy. It was going to be launched in a week to deploy a communications satellite and a telescope under a civilian contract with NASA. The mission has been transferred to SPACECOM and we are accelerating the launch preparations to get her off the pad in about forty-eight hours. Our instructions to the Constellation's crew are to try to board the Intrepid, but if that proves to be impossible, they are to disable her so she cannot execute reentry. Should any Soviet spacecraft appear, they are to inject themselves between it and the Intrepid."
The President gave a quick nod. "All right."
The Secretary of State shook his head and sighed. "Warfare in space. I suppose it had to happen."
Whittenberg continued, "Additionally, I have ordered that launch preparations be made for the Kestrel spaceplane prototype to act as backup, if need be. It is very much in the experimental stage, but other than the Constellation, it is the only vehicle we have that can be made launch-ready in a matter of days. The weapons systems of the Kestrel are something of an unknown — tiie missile prototypes were delivered from LTV only a few weeks ago. But the Kestrel is better than nothing."
The President nodded again. It was some seconds before he spoke again, and when he did his voice was dripping with venom. "This is a potential disaster, General. It should never have happened."
Whittenberg didn't even try to duck. Responding evenly, he said, "Sir, I have no idea how the defection of the Intrepid occurred. I am totally at a loss to explain it. All I can say is that SPACECOM is my command, I personally approved the crew assignments, and I assume full responsibility for whatever happens to this spacecraft. You may have my resignation at any time, but I would prefer to have this matter resolved before it is accepted." Whittenberg remembered an old bureaucratic axiom: If you walk in with your head under your arm, it's hard for anyone to decapitate you. Besides, it was how he really felt.
"No, General." For the first time the Vice President spoke up, causing heads to turn. The Veep appeared to be a perpetual coiled spring, with his restless energy, darting eyes, and crew cut that looked like a crop of steel bristles sticking out of his head. "Nobody is resigning," he said emphatically, "unless it's me. I've been through the service files of the crew, and I agree they all had exceptional records. Nobody could have foreseen this. Nobody. Hell, the President and I decorated this Kapuscinski fellow ourselves not too long ago. I doubt if he's the problem, but what if he was? We'd look like fools. And we were certainly fools to have signed that antisatellite treaty." It was rare to hear a Vice President talk in such a manner in front of his boss. But this one had his own power base, and never shied away from using it. Also, everyone in the room knew he was leading in the primaries and would probably be the next President, and no one wanted to buck the crown prince. "So, no," he continued. "This isn't an equipment failure, or a system failure, or anyone's fault. The Russians got to one of the crew. It's as simple as that. How, I can't say. Drugs, money, sex— who the hell knows? But there's no way any person in the system could have stopped this. I'm totally convinced of that, and trying to play Monday-morning quarterback won't solve a damn thing. This situation is just a damn fluke." He looked at Whittenberg.