The Orion Protocol (33 page)

80

The conference room down the hall from the Oval Office was crowded with National Security Council members: the Joint Chiefs represented by the chairman, the secretaries of state and defense, the heads of NSA, CIA, and DIA, Sandy Sokoff, and Bob Winston, whose resignation still lay on the President’s desk. Plus special invitees not usually part of the mix: the Attorney General, the Russian ambassador, and Dr. Paula Winnick.

People talked in small groups, watching muted news coverage on monitors around the room, and the President huddled with Sokoff, letting his chief of staff handle the flood of calls and messages.

“We’ve had a hundred thousand e-mails,” Sandy said, “and about twenty thousand phone messages. I think people are a bit anxious.”

“Who’s working on a response? I want a draft.”

The chief of staff had already put the President’s communications A-team to work.

“Excuse me, Mr. President.” An aide appeared with a phone. “It’s the Cape.”

“That’ll be about the long count, sir,” Sandy said.

At Cape Canaveral the space shuttle that would deliver the last satellite needed to fully deploy Project Orion was being held in launch delay mode on the President’s orders. He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece.

“Sandy? I need more time.”

Sokoff looked at his Baume & Mercier chrono, new this Christmas.

“We have ninety minutes before we start to lose the window.”

The President nodded, spoke briefly into the phone, and hung up.

“All right, can we please begin?”

A White House aide handed him a note and stepped back, waiting for a response. The President used his reading glasses and then looked up.

“Deaver and Browning?”

“The Secret Service has them outside, sir.”

“Good.” The President looked at Attorney General Sorens.

“We have Deaver.”

He watched the AG’s face harden. Then the President instructed his aide.

“Send them in.”

81

Discussion dissipated and people turned away from the TV news crawl as the two were brought in, flanked by Treasury agents. Jake and Angela looked sober-faced now, and a bit disheveled.

Jake saw Dr. Paula Winnick seated at the table, her disapproval palpable. Bob Winston murmured something about Deaver being persona non grata to the AG, who seemed to be mentally consigning Jake and Angela to a purgatory of civil and criminal hells.

All eyes were on the new arrivals. The President broke the silence.

“Commander Deaver, Ms. Browning? Please sit down. Attorney General Sorens and I have decided you should see what happens when breaking a story means breaking the law. In your case, the Official Secrets Act.”

“Mr. President—”

“Commander, take a seat. Ms. Browning? Please.”

Chairs were pulled out for them, but Jake remained standing.

“Mr. President, unprovoked acts of military aggression are being carried out without your knowledge or approval . . .”

Bob Winston made a nasty noise in his throat.

“God, haven’t you dishonored yourself enough for one night, Commander? Get this goddamned wacko out of here.” He hitched his chin at a Treasury agent, who took a step forward. Jake stood his ground.

“This is about Project Orion, Mr. President.”

“Wait.” The President held a hand up. “What about Orion?”

“It’s not a defense shield—it’s a strategic space weapons system that is already being tested against nonbelligerent targets. And we can prove it.”

“Any strategic capability of Orion technology violates the joint-
development pact, as Madam Secretary and your government surely know.” The Russian ambassador glowered at Secretary of State Wyman. She shook her head.

“All testing has been done in strict compliance with our agreements, Alexei. And in concord with the Orion Protocol.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the case,” Jake said.

The President studied Deaver for signs of mental imbalance.

“Prove it, Commander.”

Jake turned to one of the Secret Service agents, who, with a nod from the President, handed Deaver his confiscated copy of the Orion weapons test.

“Mr. President, this is completely absurd. It’s ridiculous.” Winston stood and raised his voice, pointing over at Jake. “This man is a known head case, not to mention a fugitive from justice. Deaver belongs in prison or a mental health facility—”

The President cut him off.

“Please sit down, Bob. Sandy? Give Commander Deaver a hand.”

Winston sat. The room then broke up into knots of rumbling, hushed conversations as Jake loaded the disk into Sandy Sokoff’s laptop.

With the military men conferring and the Russian ambassador joined in close colloquy with Secretary Wyman, Angela had a chance to glance over at Paula Winnick. The Nobel laureate’s patrician features seemed to be a study in judgment, her eyes communicating only that irreparable damage had been done and that Angela shared responsibility for the consequences.

Angela sighed and looked at a monitor above Winnick’s head, where CNN was rerunning Augie’s dramatic on-camera arrest, and streaming updates at the bottom of the screen reported his medical status at Bethesda Naval Hospital. No news yet.

Then Jake had the Orion test cued up and everyone gathered around the little computer screen. But the whole of his attention was focused on one person.

“Mr. President, Colonel Blake has authenticated this video, which was taken a few days ago by a camera on board the space shuttle Atlantis. I believe it shows two things: the first thing is the Orion technology being demonstrated as a strategic weapon.”

“Go ahead, Commander, let’s see it.”

On-screen, the photon laser could be seen shooting up from Earth and then being deflected by an orbiting mirror satellite toward a handful of bright star-like lights thousands of miles downrange.

The capability of the deflected beam was clear: it could be directed not just out into space, but anywhere, in all directions.

“The range in minutes of arc, in other words, how much the orbiting mirror SAT can rotate, demonstrates that incoming missiles are not the only things that Orion can target.” Jake pointed at the screen and replayed the sequence. “With this kind of flexibility, Mr. President, any city on the planet can be held hostage.”

Moscow’s most senior man in Washington had seen enough.

“The Commander is right. This is not a software glitch. The capability of the mirror satellite has been all too clearly engineered. Overengineered. It is plainly flexible by design. We did not agree to this! I am conversant with every paragraph of our agreement. We agreed to build together a defense shield with strict, negotiated limitations. What can we conclude now, except that the American leadership and its partners at TRW have conspired to violate our trust? On behalf of my government and my President, I must formally protest—”

“Alexei Alexandre,” the Secretary began, but the President took charge.

“Mr. Ambassador, whatever the technical issues may be, I assure you that Orion will be brought into strict compliance and your concerns will be fully addressed and resolved. In the meantime, I hope that your continuing presence here in the Security Council will be taken as evidence of our good faith.”

The ambassador seemed hardly mollified, but Jake seized the chance to intervene.

“Mr. President, there is something else.”

“Commander?”

“The targets, sir.”

Rerunning the digitized video of the Orion test in slow motion, Jake now indicated what looked like a cluster of stars visible just above the horizon line.

“See these little stars out here? If you watch closely you can see they
react
to the laser pulse.”

The President and everyone focused on the star-like lights. In extreme slo-mo replay, they could now see the laser bounce off the mirror satellite and the little lights begin streaking away, disappearing out into space as the pulse was directed toward them.

“These can only be one of two things,” Jake said. “Experimental vehicles of Earth origin. Or intelligently guided extraterrestrial spacecraft.”

The silence in the room was total.

“I can assure you
we
have no such vehicles,” the Russian ambassador said, challenging the Americans to be equally forthcoming. The President was already fairly confident about what the Russians did and didn’t have, but saw no reason to embarrass the proud Muscovite by saying so.

“Well, that’s a relief.” He turned toward the rest of the table. “At least an act of war has not been committed against the Russian Federation. Well, what about it, gentlemen? Assuming Commander Deaver is not perpetrating a hoax, are we shooting at our own targets?”

Bob Winston’s furiously impassive expression seemed to be holding both his comments and any further military secrets in abeyance. The NSA and CIA directors shook their heads. The Secretary of Defense cleared his throat.

“To my knowledge, Mr. President, we have no manned or unmanned spacecraft, even in prototype, with that kind of performance capability.”

“General Thornton?”

The President turned to the Defense Intelligence chief.

“Not at this point in time, sir.”

“General Henderson?” He turned to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “Any relevant projects the Secretary might not be aware of?”

The chairman, representing all the military services, looked at Bob Winston for a long moment and then responded with simple candor.

“Even if we had some kind of robotic experimental spacecraft like that, sir, they’d be hugely expensive per unit. We wouldn’t waste them as targets in a weapons test. And for the record, sir, I was not informed of any targeting exercises being part of the Project Orion demonstration.”

“So, what are we looking at, Bob?”

The attention in the room shifted almost entirely to Winston. He didn’t flinch.

“Mr. President, we’re looking at extraterrestrial spacecraft and the first successful human attempt at space-based planetary defense.”

The note of triumph in Winston’s unhesitating voice mixed oddly with the surreal sense of disbelief reverberating around the table.

“These things violate our airspace and the security of our defense facilities at will and have for decades. Everyone knows we’ve had no real countermeasures. Entire fighter wings are scrambled and maybe we pick them up on our gun cameras, but that’s about it. All they have to do is show up at our ICBM sites in Wyoming or the Dakotas and the electronics just shut down, compromising our launch codes and leaving us helpless. It’s totally unacceptable. Ask Alexandre about Russian air defenses.”

The ambassador shrugged, unsure of his ground.

“I’ve been told by reliable general officers of similar incidents.”

“Which is more than I can say, Alexandre.” The President drummed his pencil on the table. Looking stung, General Henderson reacted.

“Mr. President, I supported the deployment of the Orion platform as a national security measure. But incursions by unidentifieds was never prioritized and planetary defense strategies were never discussed among the general staff, much less the initiating of hostilities.”

“This is completely insane,” Dr. Winnick said flatly. “From beginning to end, Mr. President.”

“Absent any real provocation, using the Orion test like this amounts to initiation of hostilities. A willful act of war,” State Secretary Wyman added.

“Not to mention extra-constitutional.” The Attorney General nodded. “On whose authority was the laser weapon used to target these, um, unidentifieds?”

The President and everyone else in the room waited silently for Winston to respond. He would not go gentle.

“Mr. President, we should be glad for America and glad for the human race, and we should thank God for Project Orion. The President approved a scheduled test of the space weapon prior to deployment.
And, yes, it was directed against a target of opportunity. But that’s not an act of war! At the very most, it was a shot across the bow: we knew their capabilities, we knew they were observing and could easily evade the laser. But seeing the response to the weapons system is as critical to designing a planetary defense as building the weapon itself. How the hell else do you assess a military threat? What you’re seeing here is all of mankind standing on its own two hind feet for the first time in history and saying: ‘Thus far and no farther!’ And God help us if that’s
extra-constitutional
.”

Winston aimed a contemptuous glare at the AG.

“No, God help you, Bob,” the President said, and then gestured at the Secret Service.

“I am accepting your resignation, Bob. And what I thank God for today is that there are laws in this country against usurpation and conspiracy to usurp the constitutional powers of the President of the United States. Mr. Sorens?”

The Attorney General stood up as two of the President’s Secret Service bodyguards each took one of Winston’s elbows and drew him to his feet.

“So, I’m the traitor and Deaver and Blake are heroes.” Winston sneered, without looking at Jake. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you? None of you have any fucking idea. You will not be forgiven for getting this one wrong.”

Accompanied by Sorens, he was led out of the room.

Angela took Jake’s hand and glanced again at Dr. Winnick. The Nobelist seemed speechless, as if surveying the landscape of a looming but undeniably brave new world.

Aides and staffers took advantage of Winston’s exit to hurry in with urgent messages. The President took a call from Cape Canaveral and gave an order over the phone. He looked over at Sokoff for a moment and then raised his voice to quiet the rising volume of conversations blooming in every corner.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen, here are the rules.” He looked around, making eye contact. “No one speaks publicly about what is said in this room without written authorization from me. Understood? Mr.
Ambassador, please inform your president we will complete the testing of Project Orion. Tell him I’ve decided it’s better to have it and not need it than vice versa. After that, I intend to unilaterally place a moratorium on all U.S. space weapons development pending multilateral consultations at the highest levels.”

The Russian diplomat bowed slightly in acknowledgment, already mentally preparing for that conversation with his boss. The President then turned to Jake.

“Commander Deaver, I hardly know where to begin. One reason I chose Kenny Sorens as my attorney general is that I know he doesn’t give two shits about public opinion polls when it comes to enforcing the law. And if that means I’ll be obliged to award you the Medal of Freedom in the Leavenworth stockade, then so be it. However, right now there’s a lot of frightened people tying up the White House switchboard and I’m going to have to go out there in a few hours and tell them something. Something I hope will make them feel a little better about their government and maybe even have a passing resemblance to the truth. So, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

The meeting was over. Everyone got to their feet.

“Mr. President . . . ?” Sokoff pointed to a TV monitor.

Overhead, a screen tuned to CNN was now showing live coverage of the successful NASA launch of space shuttle
Endeavor
from Cape Canaveral in Florida, after a final eighty-nine-minute hold on countdown that the anchor person was saying had raised fears of a postponed mission.