SpaceCorp (21 page)

“And your ultra-caps can keep me in juice until the battle’s over?” Jason asked.

“Yes, stop worrying about the goddamn ultracaps!” Mack said.

“I have to hand it to you guys, the power scheme you came up with is incredible,” Jason said.

“No need to bring a dedicated reactor to space when we already have eight reactors on board,” Monica said. “Just bleed off the excess power and store it in a bank of ultra-capacitors and presto! Juice on demand!”

“This whole weapon system is so compact and so concealable, there is no camera on the ground that can pick it up,” Jason said.

“And nobody ever will pick it up so long as you don’t deploy it and flash it around,” Mack said.

“Aw come on, don’t you want to try it out just once?” Jason asked. “Say, at one of those bird dogs trailing us?”

“Let’s not borrow trouble,” Mack said, his voiced strained. “You guys finish the demonstration—I need to check on something.” He left abruptly, not waiting for a reply.

“What’s eating him?” Jason asked.

“Those bird dogs are a known threat,” Monica said. “If we shoot one down, the bird dog’s daddy might put up something that is an
unknown
threat.”

“Yeah, but I was just kidding about that! Are you sure there’s not something else on his mind?”

Monica looked down for a few seconds. “The laser.”

“What about it?”

“He needs another one.”

“Another one? I practically had to fight him to accept this one.”

“That was before the threat was real. Now that it’s real, we need another laser.”

“You guys got the only copy there is. I don’t have another one.”

“You could have let us have the blueprints and we could have built half a dozen by now.”

“You know I can’t do that. Those plans are classified. Hell, we can’t even allow your regular crew to pass through this quad anymore.”

“Gee, thanks for that. Makes for a real efficient operation up here.”

“I’m sorry. Security.” Jason shrugged. “My hands are tied.”

“Oh, spare me!”

“You’ll change your tune if we get attacked and this little baby splashes an enemy incoming.”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean
maybe
?”

“I mean this thing is designed to only deploy through the bottom. In other words it can only engage ascending targets. What if we have to engage a descending target?”

“What do you mean? Where else would they come from?”

“Use your fucking imagination, Jason! If you had to hit a giant flying saucer and you knew its only laser weapon was mounted on the bottom, how would you design your missile trajectory to avoid the laser’s engagement arc?”

Jason reddened. “Oh.”

“Mack had to choose and his choice was that we’d have an ascending target. Now that we’re committed, he’s convinced they’ll do a high suborbital trajectory and land one on our roof. He’s pessimistic that way.”

“Is it too late to retrofit... I mean for a roof-mounted laser?”

“No, in fact we even put another periscope well in the roof hoping you guys would cough up another cannon.”

Jason turned away and leaned on a bulkhead. “I’ll do what I can. But understand even if I get approval—and I’m not saying I will—it will take a good six months to let a contract for another laser and another six months to get it built. As it was, you guys got the prototype.”

“The
prototype
! Well, I’m relieved to hear that.”

“It’s a very good prototype, Monica. Not some breadboard we threw together. This equipment has had a lot of testing under simulated space conditions.”

“Whoopee!
Simulated
space!”

“You’re not being realistic!”

“Bull shit! We have a
realistic
Shahab
missile with a
realistic
1500-kg warhead being fired on a
realistic
trajectory that is accurate enough to knock a
realistic
Centaur out of a graveyard orbit. That’s reality, Mr.
Laser
Man! We—SpaceCorp—could realistically build six of your fucking pea-shooters in less than a month if you’d let us have a peak at those plans.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I suggest you try. In six months we might not have a roof left to mount your silly laser on.”

“I appreciate that, but the fact of the matter is we can’t cut a contract with you guys because it would mean taking business away from the current supplier.”

“So buy them out. Who is it anyway?”

“The supplier is in Mississippi.”

“Mississippi? How the hell can a bunch of illiterate bumpkins manage a technological infrastructure sophisticated enough to build a high-energy laser?”

“Oh, they’re not all bumpkins down in Dixie. No, it would be a mistake to think of them as bumpkins.”

“Keep talking.”

“They have Centers of Excellence at two universities: Georgia Tech and Texas A&M.”

“No way! Those two universities shuttered their science and technology departments… what… thirty years ago?”

“That’s what everyone thinks. But in reality they just went off campus. Now days, students with brains and a willingness to be controlled by the government are selected just before matriculation—then they get ‘disappeared.’”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah. The feds use their families as leverage against the students, and vice versa. Anyway, they moved the whole R&D operation to black sites well off campus. They work full time on a variety of classified projects. The government provides them with everything they need—food, shelter, even spouses if they want them. I’ve seen some of the spouses. They’re awesome! Some guys get new ones every—”

“No women engineers?”

“Huh? Oh, women… yeah, a few but nothing like the spouses they bring in—”

“Enough with the spouses, Byerly! What about the… what’d you call them…
black
sites
?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of like the operation you guys have at SpaceCorp only they can’t quit if they suddenly want a change of scenery.”

“This is
the
South you’re talking about… the place where they vote in dead scientists?”

“There’s a lot more to the South than you might think, Monica. Just cause they have funny accents and drive pickup trucks all the time doesn’t mean they’re dumb. I’d say ninety percent of our defense infrastructure has moved to various arsenals in the South. Remember Watervliet Arsenal in New York where they did all the ordnance engineering?”

“Refresh me.”

“It’s in Louisiana now. And Picatinny Arsenal in New Jersey… all the small arms and ammunition?”

Monica shook her head.

“South Carolina.”

“Okay,” Monica asked, “how are they pulling off all these moves, and more importantly, why?”

“The
how
is easy. All the key committees in Congress, Defense and Science and Technology. All the positions are appointed by the GOP, but not just the GOP. The RSRD—the Revived States Rights Democratic Party. That’s a concession they get for allowing the rest of the GOP to push a less radical agenda in the Congress. But behind all that anti-technology and anti-science bluster you hear on the news feeds, they’ve been quietly shutting down the major arsenals in the North and reestablishing them in the South.”

“And the
why
?”

“That’s a good question. I can’t believe it goes back to the Civil War when the South got caught short on cannon factories. I mean that would be like they’re expecting
another
Civil War. That’d be ridiculous… wouldn’t it? But then I don’t suppose it’s any accident that so many major Army bases are in the South either. I’ve lived on those things—they aren’t that big of a boost to the local economy. Not like having a major finance center like in New York City before the dollar crashed. Or a major technological center like in Silicon Valley or a space center like Vandenberg.”

“What about the military leadership on those bases?” Monica asked. “Do you think they’ve become politically associated with the Southern cause… whatever that is?”

“Not at the Federal level. Not the generals anyway. Those guys are always making a big deal about how they’re apolitical and all. Can’t say the same for the enlisted and maybe a few of the lower ranking officers. The Guard units I’m not so sure. I think a lot of them are pretty tight with their state governors. A lot of the unit flags have the stars and bars worked into the design. And a lot of the mottos seem to have a ‘Forget not!’ theme.”

Monica was silent a moment. “Okay, so what about my laser cannon? You said the supplier was in Mississippi.”

“Yeah, and the Senator from Mississippi is Aloysius Pitstick—”

“—who chairs the Senate Armed Services Committee. Oh for god’s sake!” Monica said.

“And you can’t buy out the contract because it would not just mean money, it would mean jobs—”

“—and that would mean votes. But that’s ridiculous. Like that fool needs votes to stay in office. Who’s got the stones to run against him anyway?”

“Nobody. His opponents have a habit of ending up in ditches... the ones they’ve been able to find anyway.”

“So wouldn’t more lasers mean more jobs... votes?”

“Like you said, he doesn’t exactly need votes. But if he lost that contract to you guys, that would make him look weak which is way worse in his mind. Your average Mississippian thinks you guys are... how to put this... some kind of godless, homosexual, communist cult.”

“We are. Well, maybe not quite
all
homosexual. No more than the statistical norm anyway. But the rest of it is pretty spot-on.”

“So you see my predicament.”

“I see your ass is gonna be up here for the first full year after this station goes on line.”

Jason’s face paled a bit. “Uh... don’t you think I could do a better job lobbying on your behalf if I was on the ground?”

“Nope. I think you’re gonna do a much better job lobbying if you’re up here with me.”

“You can’t keep me up here against my will!”

“Actually, I can. You don’t get a ticket on that shuttle until I
say
you get a ticket. You copy that,
Mr. Laser Man
?”

At that moment, Mack returned to the cabin. “Everything okay? The conversation sounded a little heated.”

“I’m good,” Monica said smiling.

Mack squinted at Jason. “You good?”

Jason scowled and shoved his way past Mack through the hatch and into the corridor.

“What’s eating him?”

“His ride back to Earth just got cancelled.” 

“Bummer.” Mack looked at the hatchway Jason had disappeared through, then leaned closer to Monica and spoke in a hushed voice, “How’s the anomaly hunt going?”

“Couple things. Mostly just screw-ups like you’d get with any inexperienced crew. Some material wastage. Near as I can tell, the
Einstein
is going to be a sound craft.”

“Anything else?”

“I picked up a tail.”

Mack gave her butt a squeeze, “And a nice tail it is!”

“Stop that,” she said smiling as she pulled his hand away.

Mack got serious again. “Know who it is?”

“Some creepy guy. Smitty’s watch. Every time he walks in on me he asks some goofy question, ‘You seen Smitty?’ I smile and say something like, ‘I thought I saw him in Quad III.’ And off he goes… he’s not real bright.”

“Hmm… could he maybe just have a crush on you or something?”

“I don’t think so… maybe. Hell, I don’t know! I’m in a cover-all and my hair’s in a bandana. I mean for fuck’s sake, I’m not even wearing make-up!”

Later that night…

Pelican
Communications Room

“You sure this link is secure?” Hank Larsen asked.

“No, but it’s the best I can do,” Mack said.

“Shit. Can’t wait till you get back on the ground?”

“No, it cannot wait. Look, Hank, can you just check their time-in-space limits? Most of this bunch has been up here since Galileo saw his first moon.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll check that out. But for anything more, I’m going to need some hard evidence.”

“Hank, for fuck’s sake, we’re trying to run a business, not a court of law. If they’ve exceeded their limits, they get a ticket home, not a jail term. It’s simple as that.”

“Who would you replace them with?”

“That’s easy. I’ve got a dozen space-qualified engineers back at the hangar.”

“I dunno. I’m still having a hard time with doing a major leadership swap just before you’re ready to launch.”

“Look, Hank, I still want my guys up here. I want a full system check-out on the Einstein before she launches. You should come too—see for yourself.”

“What about morale?”

“Fuck morale! I want
my
check-out by
my
people. Look, come up anyway. If Monica’s found something fishy, you’ll be on hand to order the crew change. If not, then my guys can just go home after the inspection.”

Hank sighed. “You’re a pushy bastard, Mack.”

“I love you too, Hank. See you in a few days.”

The next day…

Equipment staging area,
Inner Ring, SCS Pelican

The label said it was a phased array radar panel. The ticket said it was supposed to mount to the top deck of the Einstein, Just above Quad I’s spoke mount. It was maybe 5x5 meters square by half a meter thick. Monica was only vaguely familiar with radar, much less phased array radar, but this one was intriguing because it was out of its dust wrapper with its outer casing off leaving the insides completely exposed. All the little phased array antenna elements were visible including their phase shifters that allowed a relatively flat surface to steer a beam in any direction, even control its shape.
Have to read up on this stuff
—

*   *   *

Monica woke up to the sound of a hatch door sealing. Her head hurt like hell. She touched it gently with her fingertips. They came away feeling gooey even though her vision was still too blurry to make out what was on her hand. She shook her head.
Thinking clearer… eyes able to focus a bit… oh, fuck, I’m in an airlock!