Test Pilot's Daughter II: Dead Reckoning (7 page)

There was another well known Bahadarism, “Those Americans are so stupid, they give us their money while they sit on some of the largest remaining reserves.” Trillions of dollars transferred from North America to the Middle East each year. Arabs were beginning to take firm control of world wealth and could buy anything or anyone. The Russian economy continued to sputter with a return to Communism, and they were falling victim to Arabian oil. The Iranian government had partnered with Russia to crank up production to levels exceeded only by Saudi Arabia. Two-billion dollars a day were flowing into Iranian coffers controlled by some of the baddest bad-boys on the planet. With the transfer of wealth came a transfer of power. One headline in the Washington Post summed it up brilliantly:
Duh. . .Who wudda a thunk it?

“Praise be to Allah.” Al-Bolani bowed to his audience, and all in the room sang out in unison.

“Praise be to Allah.”

“We have new intelligence about the NASA mission in orbit,” Al-Bolani was excited to disclose his treachery. “Rhani Hussein, the young astronaut, didn’t want to cooperate, but we have our means. Allah always finds a way. No one can deny Allah. We learned that the boy has family in Tehran, family the Americans don’t know about. You can imagine that they were most enthusiastic in encouraging the young lad to help, actually begging him for mercy.”

“Where are they exactly?” asked the supreme chief of Hezbollah, Raluf al-Sadr.

“We have the unfortunate victims hidden away in an underground chamber in Mashhad. They are able to speak directly with the Rhani lad over a secure Internet channel. . .or should I say ‘scream?’ Heh, heh.
It’s a wonderful tool, the Internet, and all communication is encrypted. My good friend, Almanar Bahadar, is in charge of the Rhani lad, and gathering intelligence will be very beneficial to our efforts in space.”

“So what is it? What is so important that we have to leave our Mosque in Shiraz?” asked Nouri al-Zawahiri, chief Imam of the Taliban.

“As we speak the astronauts are about to attempt the destruction of the Soyuz 23 and its payload, Jihad 1.”

“
No!”
shouted Bahadar. “Well then, we must protest the loss of our weather satellite, no?”

“The Americans have a new space robot, something called the ‘droid.’ It was developed by that whore, Matthews. They plan to dock with our satellite, collect data on its capability and destroy it. If we protest they will show the evidence to the UN.” He looked at each man in the room to gauge reaction. They all looked somewhat dejected as they passed exhortations and waved their hands.

“Too bad,” someone said, “it was such a glorious plan.”

“What can we do?” asked al-Sadr opening his arms in a gesture of inquiry. “It will take years to orbit a new missile controller.”

“We have already taken care of it,” al-Bolani reported with a laugh, twisting his long beard and rolling his eyes back in delight. “Rhani is on our side now. He claims to be able to kill the mission, that is, if we agree to let his family go free.”

“Ah, but if they launch more droids, they could nullify our attack.” Al-Sadr looked quite concerned.

“Yes, and that is why we are here. We must act soon for the final Jihad. We will launch four to six nuclear weapons without warning on major American cities. That will leave us some in reserve.”

“Yes, yes my friend. . .the infidels will die by the millions.” Al-Sadr’s lip curled in a devilish grin.

“But they will counter-strike,” warned Bahadar. “They have thousands of missiles and the NORAD system for defense.”

“You know very well we have people inside of the NORAD to take care of this. As long as Jihad I stays in orbit, we have the upper hand. If we strike first with complete surprise, that coward Gleason won’t have the courage to strike back. As a matter of fact, he will most likely be dead. We will announce our deal with Russia just after launch, and he will be check-mated. It will be a great victory for Allah, regardless of counter-strike. Besides, if they get off a few missiles, we will be away at our Somali fortification. Our brothers there will be overjoyed.” Pausing for a moment to savor the great vision of cataclysm, he growled, “The once great world power, the United States of America, will come to her knees. Christians and Jews everywhere will come begging for conversion to Islam. Allah be praised.”

“So where will we strike?”

“As Allah wills, hellfire will be dropped on Washington DC, Atlanta, Detroit, Las Vegas, and San Francisco, all stinking dens of iniquity. At the same time our Russian friends will launch a first strike against China. It will be the great judgment of Sodom and Gomorrah. Fire will rain down from the sky and boil the sinners in their own filth. The blood of infidels will wash over both the West and the East, a wonderful day for Islam.”

“Don’t you worry my friend. Once we cut the head off the snake, the tail will follow. Jerusalem will be ours for the taking, and we will finally rid the world of the Jewish curse. If we launch on Israel, many of our fellow Arabs will die in the holocaust, and Mosques will be destroyed.”

“
Perfection!”
someone shouted from the back of the room. The nasty cartel of terrorists churned in anticipation. The chatter grew to a crescendo.

Al-Bolani stood to signify the meeting was over. He had to raise his voice over all the chatter, “We will meet again in November to review the exciting details. Praise be to Allah.”

“Praise be to Allah!”

* * *

The next two days in orbit were occupied with physical exercise, routine tasks and onboard experiments. On the fourth day, Christina entered navigational coordinates and maneuvered the shuttle to a lower orbit within five miles of the Soyuz 23 payload. It was barely visible as a tiny, brilliant dot suspended in space. Rhani was assigned for the EVA to release
The Monster
, and the attack was to be controlled by Major Steve Smith, code named Flash, from inside the shuttle.

Looking out the back window, she had a good view of the operation. It took almost ten minutes to move
The Monster
to the extent of the shuttle arm and orient it toward the target. Great care had to be taken with the explosive ordinance. Every move was made with the utmost caution. It took another hour to get Rhani back in the shuttle and prepare for the secret
mission at hand. Nothing happened quickly in space, and she was losing patience.

Come on already,
she thought
, let’s get this party going.
She was tense. No one knew exactly what would happen when they tried to destroy the satellite. Failure was unacceptable. Left in orbit, the Iranian controller was capable of killing millions of Americans. She felt a great burden on her shoulders.

“Got it. All systems powered. Laser scan initiated and we have acquisition. Moving forward. There she goes, two-hundred meters per second. . .range three clicks. . .handover to continuous laser. . .fifty meters per second, one click. Target clearly visible now in Duck video. Approaching final video tracking sequence. Twenty meters per second and slowing. Standby for handover.”

Because of the tight security, target video was not sent to the ground. Even if it were scrambled, there was a chance someone could figure out what they were up to. Between Flash and Christina, they were on their own with just a few coded messages to be transferred between orbit and ground.

“Duckbill. . .hello Duckbill, Daffy Duck’s on his way,” Christina reported to Mission Control.

“Roger, standing by.”

Short range telemetry from the attack robot did, however, deliver target video to the shuttle for observation and recording. The crew nervously watched the Soyuz 23 payload growing in the screen. It was a strange looking satellite with a wide array of grids and antennae. With a large red panel on its back, it looked like a monstrous black-widow spider, a formidable creature poised and ready to bite.

“Funny,” Sandy said, “doesn’t
look
like a weather satellite.”

“No it doesn’t,” Christina agreed.

Suddenly, just as guidance switched to video tracking the picture veered to one side and started spinning. Warnings went off on Flash’s console, and
The Monster
tumbled out of control.

“What. . .what the hell?” Flash yelled.
“No, no!
Oh God, I’m losing it.”

Before anyone could say anything, there was a brilliant flash in the shuttle ports as
The Monster
exploded. Of course, there was no sound in space, but the result was clear as the video screen went black.
The Monster
had disappeared, and the Soyuz 23 payload remained, untouched. The crew looked at each other in disbelief. Flash dropped the remote, and it floated away in a tumble.

“It was going so well, what happened?” Christina pleaded as she snatched the remote and stared at the indicators.

“I don’t know, it went nuts on Stage III video tracking, lost acquisition and auto-destructed. My God, think of the implications!” Flash looked like he had just seen a ghost. The deadly threat remained, and his career was over. The military strike was a colossal failure.

Christina felt even worse. This was her baby, and DROID had bombed. “Duckbill, Duckbill,” she called Udahl. “We got a little problem up here.”

“How did it go?” Udahl replied.

“Not sure what happened, but we lost the Duck, went out of control and destroyed itself. No fortune, no fortune. What’s our backup?”

“How do you know it self destructed, Stick? It may have been attacked by. . .well, you know,” Udahl sounded quite concerned.

She looked at Flash for some confirmation. He just spread his hands; he didn’t have a clue. She spoke back, “I can’t imagine that would be feasible, but you are correct. I didn’t think of that scenario. Do you want us to try to rendezvous and acquire it with the shuttle arm?”

“Hell no, Stick, get the hell out of there A.S.A.P. You might be next.”

“Roger, Duckbill, we’ll back off and move to orbit position Omega for reentry.”

She was sick to her stomach. She had never been a good loser, but now all kinds of thoughts raced through her brain. She couldn’t get Rhani out of her mind. On the Beta-test EVA, she remembered how he was mucking around with the front of
The Monster
. She also considered the fact that he was with the vehicle for almost an hour by himself just prior to the disaster.
But what could he have done, and
w
hy was he always sneaking around the Director’s office?
It was clear that America was at risk, and she didn’t know who to trust.

She turned and looked at Rhani. He was inspecting his fingernails with a big smile.
Funny, he doesn’t seem awfully upset
.

Chapter Six

Three days after her historic mission, Christina remained conflicted between the stellar results of DROID beta-testing and the subsequent Soyuz 23 disaster.
Why did it fail? What the hell’s going on at NASA anyway?
There were just too many unanswered questions, and the United States remained at risk.

Plagued by the burden of security, she concocted an elaborate scheme to break free. She needed to talk to someone she could trust, and Michael Jacobs was the only one who came to mind. Considering her plan she felt like a high school kid again.
Can’t believe I’m doing this.
After claiming to go to bed early, she piled up pillows and covered them with the blanket on her bed. Then she climbed out a bathroom window onto the branch of an old oak tree and shinnied down to the ground. She heard the guards talking at various locations around her building and waited for a truck to pass to cover the sounds of her escape. Crawling on hands and knees behind a hedge, she hoped the guard at her front door wouldn’t notice. Finally, she made the sidewalk free and clear and jogged away into the night. Some two miles down the road from her condo, she found the
Here’s To Ya
Tavern.