Stephen Coonts - Combat

He looked at the proposal. Did he buy into it? He did, Biff realized. McConnell had gotten the laser right. He knew what he was doing.

Biff sat back down at the keyboard. He had some friends in high places.

Ray McConnell came back to his office and shut the door quickly. He was shaken, almost physically trembling, after his meeting with Admiral Carson.

Rear Admiral Eugene Carson was not just the head of Communications, which was Ray’s division, but of the entire Space and Naval Warfare Systems Command. It had taken Ray two days to work his way up the chain, first with Rudy White, his own division head, then Dr. Krauss, the technical director, and Admiral Gaston. With increasing force, he’d made his case for Defender . His unsolicited, unrequired, unwanted proposal had been shown dozens of times.

Rudy White had been concerned with the lost time from Ray’s assigned projects. “Why haven’t you put some of that creative energy into the new communications system?” he’d demanded.

“Because someone’s shooting down GPS satellites right now,” Ray had responded. He’d worked with White for years, and knew he could press his point. “I thought of this, but I can’t build it, and it needs to be built, and soon.”

White had agreed to let McConnell see the technical director, with the strict understanding that the Defender proposal was Ray’s own idea. White was relaxed enough about his career to take the risk.

Dr. Krauss had been even less helpful, wondering aloud if Defender was SPAWAR property, since a SPAWAR employee had created it. Ray had been nonplussed, unsure whether Krauss was greedy or simply trying to cover his bureaucratic ass.

He’d decided to play the doctor’s game. Krauss had been shocked when he heard about the several hundred copies of the proposal already circulating through the defense community.

“I’d be delighted to have official SPAWAR endorsement of Defender . I’m sure that would be all the help she needed.” Ray fought hard to keep a straight face when he saw the look of horror. Krauss hadn’t been able to get him out of his office quickly enough.

The vice commander had been the final hurdle, Ray thought. He’d been more than aware of Defender’ s popularity. “You realize that you have no credibility as a spacecraft design engineer,” Gaston explained coolly. He’d been polite, but a little condescending.

“I didn’t think I had to be qualified to have a good idea, sir.”

Gaston shook his head. “I disagree. Without credentials, why should anyone waste their time looking at this design? As far as the Navy is concerned, you’re no different that anyone off the street, bringing it some design it didn’t ask for. And to the wrong agency,” he added.

“I know that this isn’t SPAWAR’s area, sir, but I’m SPAWAR’s employee. I didn’t want to go outside our own chain of command.”

Gaston nodded, smiling approvingly. “Quite right. Your actions have been correct, although”—he glanced at his data pad—“your supervisor’s concerned with the amount of leave you’ve taken lately.”

“All of this work had been on my own time, sir. I didn’t want to do it on Navy time.”

Gaston scowled. “We’re on Navy time now.” He sat silently for a moment, pretending to consider the issue, while Ray fretted.

To be truthful, Gaston had made up his mind before McConnell ever walked in the room. He’d just wanted to interview the engineer himself before letting him go on to Carson.

Defender was too widely known, at least at the lower levels. It was a miracle the media hadn’t picked it up already. It was popular, the kind of grassroots concept reporters loved. No matter that it would never be built. If he said no, then he’d be blamed as one of the people who kept it from happening. Better to let McConnell hang himself. Gaston didn’t have to support it, just pass it on.

“All right, I’ll forward it ‘without endorsement.’”

Ray had begun to hope.

The meeting with Admiral Carson had begun poorly. The admiral had granted him fifteen minutes between other appointments, and appeared distracted. Ray had started his pitch, but Carson had cut him off after only a few words, chopping with one hand as if to cut off the stream.

“I’m familiar with the design, Mr. McConnell,” Carson had said with irritation. “I’ve received three copies in the past two days, besides this one. I’m also familiar with the problem. I’ve spent most of the last week in Washington, answering questions about our own vulnerability and what SPAWAR could do to counter it.

“I’ve also been fully briefed about Chinese antisatellite threat,” he said finally. “The current estimation is that the Chinese can’t possibly have many more of the kill vehicles.”

He walked over to where McConnell sat, almost leaning over him. “I’ve also looked over your personnel file. I was looking for your academic credentials. They’re bad enough: No doctorate, a master’s in electrical engineering and an undergraduate degree in physics. What made you think we’d take a spacecraft designed by you seriously?”

Carson picked up a data pad and checked something on the display. “And then I found this: After your master’s degree, you applied for the astronaut program. Correct?”

Ray nodded. “Yes.”

“And were turned down. And then you joined the Air Force. You served six years as a junior officer, and during that time applied three more times to become an astronaut. Also correct?” His tone was more than hostile.

“Yes sir. Each time I missed by just a few percentage points. I hoped …”

“You hoped to get into space with this half-baked fantasy!” shouted Carson, pointing to Defender . “Did you plan on scoring the theme music for your little adventure, too?”

“Admiral, I’ve always been interested in space, but that doesn’t have anything to do with this. I just want to get this idea to where it will do the most good.”

Carson had sat, glowering, listening while Ray protested.

“Your idea is worthless, Mr. McConnell. At best, it’s a distraction at a very difficult time. At worst, it’s a personal attempt at empire building, but a very crude one.

“Although you’ve broken no rules I’m aware of, I am directing the Inspector General’s office to review your activities and your work logs to see if any of your fantasizing has been done on government time. If that is the case, docking your pay will be the weakest punishment you will suffer. Now get back to work and hope I never hear about Defender again!”

Sitting in his office, Ray struggled with his feelings. He’d created Defender because he’d seen the need for it. Why didn’t the chain see that need as well? Was he wrong? Maybe he didn’t know enough to do it. But he’d had lots of help in designing Defender . And he’d gotten lots of mail back, some critical, but more supportive, some even offering help.

Was it time to sit down and shut up? He liked his job and the people he worked with. He didn’t want to lose it over Defender.

He hadn’t expected the command to be hostile. Indifferent, yes, but once he’d shown them the logic of the design, he’d hoped for some support.

He picked up the phone then, remembering, put it down, and pulled out his personal cell phone. No personal calls on a Navy line. He looked up a number and punched it in.

“Jennifer Oh.”

“Hi, Jenny. It’s Ray McConnell.” He tried to sound cheerful, but even he could tell it didn’t work.

“Ray, you don’t sound too good. What’s wrong? Problems with Defender?”