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Authors: Ejner Fulsang

SpaceCorp (27 page)

BOOK: SpaceCorp
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“Are you saying that the laser could fire a salvo of its own?” Bill asked. “How many seconds between shots? What about the slew rate? If those incoming missiles spread out too much, they could make a pretty difficult firing solution for a single laser.”

“I don’t know,” Arnie said. “You think we should advise them to try to mount more than one laser?”

“Let’s find out what the present laser can do with the battery scheme they are setting up,” Frank said.

“It is possible that—” Ralph said.

Frank cut him off with a raised hand “Let’s get some answers to the questions already on the table before we dilute our efforts with a bunch of wild speculations.”

In the hallway after the meeting

“Ralph, hold up a second,” Arnie said.

Ralph paused while Arnie hurried to catch up. “I’d be interested to hear more about your ‘
wild speculation
.’”

Ralph shrugged. “It was probably stupid.”

“Aw, don’t let Halm get to you—he’s an equal opportunity asshole.  C’mon, here’s the cafeteria. I’ll buy you a coffee.” The coffee was free.

The two of them found a table well away from the gathering lunch crowd.

“Spill,” Arnie said.

Ralph smiled, “Is that how you start all your interrogations?” 

“No, interrogations start with a rubber hose, then truth serum… but seriously, what do you think?”

Ralph hesitated “...top attack.”

“From a
Shahab
? Can they do that?”

“Ballistically, it’s just a simple variation of a suborbital trajectory. You aim high and pick up your target on the way back down. Target acquisition is a little more of a challenge since you are no longer picking your target out against the quiet background of space. Instead you’re picking your target out from the relatively noisy background of the Earth’s surface. It’s like the old look-down, shoot-down radars that they used to put on jet fighters. They used Doppler radar—a big deal back then. But this is today, and it’s no longer a big deal—not even for the Iranians. The problem for us is whether the laser cannon can elevate enough to hit a
Shahab
when it’s in the ascent phase? Answer: yes, if it acquires it soon enough. And if it can do that, will the laser have enough energy to do any damage to the missile? Answer: at the range it is likely to be—probably several hundred kilometers—” Ralph wrinkled his face and waggled his hand, “mmm... doubtful.”

“Yikes, a combination of top attack and multiple warheads sounds almost impossible to defeat!”

“It’s not a foregone conclusion, but it’s worth passing along to your contacts at SpaceCorp. Maybe they can think of something clever.”

“I
will
pass that along,” Arnie said. “Meanwhile, do you have any clever suggestions that I might pass along with that information?”

Ralph thought a moment, “Mount a second laser in the top of the space station to complement the one in the bottom. Beyond that, stay home.”

“That might be a tough sell. The Defense guys have been pushing to outfit the station like some kind of spaceborne battleship. They’ve been getting a lot of push-back from the SpaceCorp guys who want to keep it commercial. Some of them still think this Iranian thing is a hoax. And then there’s the problem that the station is already operational. Although I suppose they could mount another laser. There’s a steady stream of shuttles rendezvousing with the
Einstein
to deliver all the commercial payloads. Nobody would notice a second laser in the commotion.”

The next day, 0800 HRS Pacific

On the secure line between SpaceCorp and the CIA

“So what did your East Coast geniuses come up with?” Mack asked.

“Officially, nothing. Unofficially, we have some kind of rocket scientist out here—sharp guy—anyway he thinks they’re setting you up for a top attack.”

“Terrific. That makes two of us.”

“Two? Who’s the second one?”

“Me. I had to make a decision months ago as to where to put Byerly’s friggin’ ray gun. I figured 3
rd
world technology wouldn’t be up to top attack trajectory. They’d take the simplest solution and go for a bottom attack trajectory—similar to shooting down enemy airplanes—anybody can do that. Anyway, as soon as we became committed to the bottom-mounted laser, I started doubting myself—I do that all the time—I just wrote it off to my tendency to worst-case everything. Now you come along and say you got some rocket scientist who actually agrees with me. Shit!”

“Well, at least you know their aim point… assuming it’s not some kind of ruse. Maybe you could move the LH
2
and LOX tanks somewhere besides the hub.”

“It’s a little late for that. Besides I’ve already taken steps to mitigate an impact in the hub.”

“Do I get to know?”

“Sure, both types of tanks are installed, but we only fill the LH
2
.”

“How do you get it to burn?”

“Try squirting a stream of water on a white hot engine block, then multiply that effect by a couple million. The LH
2
doesn’t burn chemically when it comes in contact with the reactor fuel—it’s just boils away… explosively.”

“What’s the LOX for?”

“It’s like an after burner. I can quadruple my thrust with it, but for normal power we just use LH
2
. The point is that a hit on an LH
2
tank is just a leak. A hit on an LH
2
tank
and
an LOX tank is a disaster.”

“Clever. What about the nuclear rocket motors? What happens if one of them takes a direct hit?”

“They’re heavily shielded with a ceramic composite armor. A high explosive impact might knock the motor off its mount but it wouldn’t penetrate the outer casing. Besides we have explosive bolts to jettison the rocket motors anyway. Remember—we design these things to absorb a lot of punishment.”

“Back to your top attack—is there any way you can defend against it?”

“Not without another laser mounted topside. We’ve been pressuring Byerly to get us one, but he says his hands are tied politically. It seems his laser comes from Mississippi.”

“Mississippi? Pitstick’s state? Is he holding up your second laser?”

“Looks that way.”

“Wait a minute… you’re saying Byerly has tried to get you a laser but can’t and the reason is Pitstick? You
know
that for a fact?”

“It’s second hand data, but yeah, it’s a fact.”

“Mack, my man, your country thanks you! You have just opened up a brand new dimension to this case. Okay, here’s what you do: send your hub drawings to the bad guys. Don’t cover anything up. Label the LH
2
and LOX tanks plainly. Maybe you could make it look like the tanks are sent up prefilled—like cartridges. Yeah, that’s it—don’t call them tanks, call them
cartridges
.”

“Strictly speaking, they are cartridges—a lot easier than doing a refill on a fixed tank.”

“But you can bring up an empty cartridge for the LOX?”

“Yeah, easy enough.”

“Good. Maybe throw in some details about swapping out the empties for full ones. That will camouflage the idea that only the LH
2
tank has anything in it. Do the cartridges have explosive jettison bolts?”

“Not the cartridges, but the hub and individual spokes do. They can be set to auto-jettison in the event of an explosive impact.”

“Great! Can you devise a defense strategy based on jettisoning the target area in the event you have an impending hit from a top attack?”

“You’re saying, if we detect an incoming top attack warhead, we just lose the hub… maybe the spokes too? Expensive. But yeah, it sounds reasonable. Might even be able to retrieve the hub if we do it right. Yeah, I like it! But what about this Mississippi thing?”

“Pitstick leads the Revived States’ Rights Democratic Party. Their agenda is to eventually secede from the Union only they don’t want to go through another Civil War to do it.
But
there might be a link between Pitstick holding up your second laser and the Iranian plan to attack your space station.”

“You think he’s in league with the Iranians?”

“Maybe. Have to check it out, but my instincts say yes.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
IX

August 2071

Iranian Space Agency (ISA) Launch Site, Shahrud, Iran

In the center of the room stood a small
1
/
64
th
scale mockup of SpaceCorp’s newest space station design. Fifteen meters in diameter, it had been sawn in half along one of the opposing spoke pairs exposing the interior of the hub and spokes. Dr. Farshad Rahmani was leading a tour of the model to Government Minister Hashem Shirazi and General Omid Farahavi.

“Quite a model you have here, Farshad,” Shirazi said. “How did you get it done so quickly?”

“Not that difficult. We fed the dimensions into a 3D modeling tool and spit out a physical model with cheap foam. Then a little paint, a little carving here and there, and presto! A space station in about a day and a half.”

Rahmani led the visitors to the central hub of the space station. “We had thought that they would enclose their LH
2
and LOX tanks inside the hub for greater protection. But the plans you sent me showed the tanks are replaceable cartridges mounted to the exterior. Not a bad design—eliminates the need for fuel transfer. Probably a lot safer. Notice how they pair a long LH
2
cartridge with a shorter LOX cartridge? Then immediately beside it they do the same thing in reverse order. One pair feeds a downward firing rocket and the other pair feeds an upward firing rocket. Gentlemen, we have our weak spot and I believe it is targetable with the existing guidance system on the rocket. We need to move the
Aqrab
antisatellite spacecraft to maintain orbit at the same altitude as the station. Then we do a coordinated attack with a
Shahab-7
missile from the ground. While the entire array of the station’s sensors are concentrated on the incoming
Shahab
, the
Aqrab
will move in unnoticed from behind. We can quickly catch up to the station by reducing altitude a hundred meters or so. That way we will not display the telltale plume of our rocket motor. When we get close enough, we ignite the motor and maneuver in under power to attack the hub and its bustle of exposed cartridges. A direct hit between a pair of LH
2
and LOX cartridges with our 200-kg shaped charge should make for a very exciting day for the crew. But I warn you, it will still be a difficult shot. The spokes are rotating at 1.34 RPM making it very easy to strike the top of a spoke instead of the hub.”

In the helicopter on the way back to Tehran, Iran

Shortly after the chopper reached cruising altitude, Farahavi glanced over at Shirazi and noticed he was about to fall asleep as was his habit while flying. He reached over and shook his knee to get his attention.

“Hashem! Hashem! Stay with me a bit longer, my friend. We need to chat a bit before you nod off.”

Shirazi stretched and rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Very well. What’s so important that it must interrupt a delicious nap?”

“What do you think the odds are of scoring a proper hit?” Farahavi asked.

“Shouldn’t you be asking that of Rahmani?”

“Yes, but I want
your
opinion.”

Shirazi thought for a moment “I think between twenty and forty percent. What’s your guess?”

Farahavi shrugged, “I’m a bit more pessimistic, maybe around ten percent, twenty tops.”

“You think we should get permission to call it off?” Shirazi asked.

Farahavi shook his head. “I think we should visit the Supreme Leader and make sure he is aware of the odds.”

The Niavarān Palace Complex, Pourebtehaj Street, Tehran

Built in 1831, the Pavilion of the Niavarān Palace had been home to Shah Reza Pahlavi, last of the constitutional monarchs of Iran, forced into exile in 1979 by the revolution led by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. Following the revolution, Khomeini became Supreme Leader until his death in 1989 when he was succeeded by Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, great grandfather of Iran’s present Supreme Leader, the Ayatollah Mustafa Khamenei. It was he who converted the Pavilion from a museum into his primary residence, gutting the interior of all remnants of the Shah’s western taste in favor of a more austere décor befitting a
Sayyid
, or acknowledged descendent of the Prophet Muhammad. Gone were the chandeliers, the paintings, the statuary, the tables and chairs, and yes, even the 1936 photo of Adolf Hitler signed, “
His Imperial Majesty -- Reza Shah Pahlavi – Best Wishes
.” In their place were cushions and intricate Persian rugs surrounded by beautiful grounds with manicured lawns and trees and glistening pools that in turn were surrounded by high walls with medieval catwalks and blockhouses that hid modern machine guns.

*   *   *

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Excellency,” Minister Shirazi said.

Both Shirazi and General Farahavi bowed in respect while they waited for the Supreme Leader to acknowledge their presence. The Supreme Leader wore a black turban and dark robes as was customary for an ayatollah. His dark eyes were hooded by angry black brows that were incongruous with his smile as he turned away from the window and strode toward his visitors.

“When both the government and defense seek me out, it must be important,” his Excellency said. “What troubles you?”

BOOK: SpaceCorp
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