Against all conceivable reason, somebody had been that crazy after all.
The warhead bus reached apogee at an altitude of 1,200 kilometers. As the weapon rode through the high point of its trajectory, its onboard computer took optical sightings of three different stars and calculated the elevation angle of each, as referenced to an imaginary line from the center of the warhead bus to the center of the earth. The time of the sightings and the results of the calculations were compared to celestial navigation tables stored in the computer’s memory to determine the precise position and orientation of the warhead bus. That position was, in-turn, compared to the position calculated by the weapon’s inertial navigation system. The results were well within optimal parameters, and the onboard computer concluded that a corrective engine burn would not be required prior to warhead deployment.
The bus began its curving descent toward the earth, gaining additional speed as it nosed over and plunged back down into the steepening well of gravity.
With a low-pitched groan of shielded hydraulics, the armored hatch cover slid to one side, revealing the octagonal opening to an underground missile silo set deep in the reinforced concrete. Fifty yards away, the hatch cover of another silo slid open at the same time, and fifty yards beyond that, a third silo cover duplicated the motion of the first two.
A gush of smoke spewed forth from each open silo, followed a fraction of a second later by the cacophonous roar of three Lockheed Martin booster rockets. In unison, the trio of interceptor missiles shot toward the clear blue California sky, each trailing a wake of flaming exhaust gases. Hydraulic motors groaned again, and the silo hatches began to slide back into position.
About 2,300 miles to the northwest, at the Army missile complex at Fort Greely, Alaska, four more interceptor missiles blasted into the sky. Before the missile silos were fully closed, all seven missiles were climbing toward space at 3.9 miles per second.
Six hundred kilometers above the Pacific Ocean, the computer in the missile’s warhead bus transmitted simultaneous trigger pulses to five electronic relays. Each relay was wired to an electromagnetic latching mechanism and a small, shaped explosive charge. The electromagnetic latches snapped open, releasing the conical shroud that housed the nuclear warheads. A millisecond later, the tiny explosive charges fired, splitting the shroud into five sections, and propelling them out and away, opening the interior of the bus to the vacuum of near-earth space.
The removal of the larger cone revealed seven smaller cones, the narrow ends of which were pointed into the line of flight, toward their ever-nearing targets. Each of the seven cones was a reentry vehicle, wrapped in a carbon fiber heat shield impregnated with phenolic resin. Four of the reentry vehicles were decoys. The other three were Soviet-built 200 kiloton nuclear weapons. To all external appearances, the decoys and the real warheads were identical.
At a precisely-timed instant, another relay tripped, and another tiny explosive charge fired. The first of the reentry vehicles was shoved away from the bus, its nose pointed downward in the direction of the trajectory that it would follow into the atmosphere and then to its target.
As soon as the deployed reentry vehicle was clear, the computer in the warhead bus fired two of its four liquid fueled rocket engines for six-tenths of a second. The short burn was enough to displace the bus slightly to the north, placing it in perfect alignment for the deployment of the second reentry vehicle.
Over the next ninety-eight seconds, the process was repeated and then repeated again, until all seven reentry vehicles had been deployed. When the last warhead was on its way, the bus performed a final burn of its rocket engines, aligning itself for its own terminal trajectory into the earth’s atmosphere. Four hundred kilometers below, the planet rushed up to meet it.
CHAPTER 25
At 3:23 p.m. Pacific Standard Time on the 2nd of March, the Emergency Alert System transmitted warnings of inbound nuclear weapons to all areas of the United States within the target footprint of the Russian R-29R missile. The alert area encompassed most of California, the lower 75 percent of Nevada and Utah, the upper half of Arizona, the northwest corner of New Mexico, the western half of Colorado along a curving line, and a sliver of the southwest corner of Wyoming.
Every AM, FM, and satellite radio station within those states suddenly found its scheduled broadcast preempted by a raucous two-tone attention signal, followed by the baritone voice of a Federal spokesman, warning of the possible approach of multiple nuclear warheads. “Seek shelter immediately,” the strange voice advised. “Get off the roads as quickly and safely as you can. Do not attempt to evacuate. You are safest inside a building. Stay away from windows if possible, and avoid looking toward the sky until the all-clear signal is given. Parents are advised to account for all children immediately, and move them to the nearest available shelter.”
The voice continued to offer warnings and instructions.
The signal went out over television simultaneously, taking control of every cable network, every broadcast facility, and every satellite television provider in the target states. The two-tone attention signal was the same, and the voice of the Federal spokesman came out of the speakers of every operational television in the affected areas, regardless of what channel they happened to be tuned to.
The face of a human announcer might have been reassuring to the more panic-prone viewers, but every television screen showed the emblem of the Emergency Alert System: the letters E-A-S in bright red capitals against a radially-divided blue silhouette map of the United States.
The words of the spokesman scrolled across the bottom of the screen as subtitles, the text alternating between English and Spanish.
Although not required to by law, streaming internet radio stations picked up the alert signal and ran it as a live feed. Several major cellular telephone providers — also operating on a volunteer basis — sent text messages to every phone number in their client rosters, advising customers to get off the streets, take shelter, and locate a television or radio for further instructions.
Many of the inhabitants of the affected areas followed the advice provided by the Emergency Alert System. They rounded up their children and sought shelter in their homes, as far away from windows as they could manage. But a lot of people — too many — decided that the only real safety lay in getting as far away from cities and military bases as possible. They ran to their cars and raced for the nearest roads out of town.
Three hundred kilometers above the earth, Exoatmospheric Kill Vehicle #6 shifted into terminal guidance phase. Somewhere far below, the Lockheed Martin rocket that had boosted the kill vehicle into sub-orbital space was now tumbling back into the upper reaches of the atmosphere.
The EKV could not see its target. In point of fact, it had no awareness of the target’s existence. It knew nothing of lethal aim-point guidance, convergent trajectories, or even that it was hurtling toward its own destruction at more than 25,000 kilometers per hour. The EKV’s sole attention was focused on the beam of digital telemetry streaming up from the antennas at Vandenberg Air Force Base. It monitored the beam continuously, and reacted instantly to the maneuvering commands imbedded in the digital signal — firing pitch, roll, and yaw thrusters on command — making minute corrections to its own motion vectors to match the predicted position of a Russian warhead that it could never see.