Stephen Coonts - Combat

“MoD officials refused to speculate what Britain’s position would be in such a case.”

Biff Barnes sat in a conference room with half a dozen other officers. Printouts and data pads covered the table, mixed with a litter of coffee cups, Chinese food from last night, and doughnut boxes from this morning.

The past twenty-four hours had been a blur to the captain. First the flurry of preparing to brief the Chief of Staff, then the JCS meeting. Barnes considered himself a good pilot, but a minor cog in a much greater machine. Suddenly he’d been asked to do new and challenging things, all at breakneck speed. And those things might change the Air Force. A corner of his mind also asked if this was going to help or hurt his chances for major.

As they had left the meeting yesterday, General Ames had said, “You did a good job on your presentation, Clarence.”

Barnes, already in a foul mood, interrupted. “Please, sir, just ‘Biff.’” Why was the general getting on a first-name basis?

Ames smiled. “Fine, Biff. Who knew they would back Defender as well? You did fine.”

“Thank you, sir.” Biff was unsure where this was going, but the back of his neck was starting to tingle.

“I need someone to put that presentation together, Biff. I’ll give you as many of the staff as you need, and you can set up in my conference room. We’ve got until 0800 to come up with the arguments that will sell General Kastner on the Air Force owning Defender .”

“Maybe you should get a lawyer,” Biff suggested. He was half-serious.

“No, I want a pilot, and you’re the only one in sight who’s been an astronaut.”

By now they’d reached Ames’s office, but Biff didn’t respond immediately. Finally, the general asked him flatly, “Do you want it?”

Biff knew he could say no if he wanted to. He believed Ames was a fair enough officer not to hold it against him. But Barnes was still mad at the Navy, and McConnell in particular. “Yes, sir. It’s in the bag.” He grinned, a fighter-pilot grin.

Now, the summary was almost ready, deceptively small for all the effort that had gone into it. Barnes was staring at the file’s icon, wondering what he’d missed, when General Ames hurried into the room. He’d checked on their progress several times during the night, and Biff started to report when Ames cut him off.

“Turn on the news,” Ames ordered a lieutenant at the far end of the room. The officer looked for the remote and grabbed it, then fumbled for the power control. “ … no response to the Chinese demands yet. The spokesman only repeated demands by U.S. government that the Chinese stop their attacks.”

The INN defense reporter, Mark Markin, stood in front of a sign that read, U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE.

“To repeat, the Chinese have now stated what their price is for stopping their attacks on the NAVSTAR GPS satellites. The U.S. must reduce its forces in the region below precrisis levels, especially in Korea and Japan. According to the statement this is ‘to permanently remove the threat of U.S. aggression against China.’ If the U.S. does so, the Chinese promise to cease their attacks. The ambassador also hinted that they might restart the stalled talks on human rights, piracy, and other long-standing disputes.”

Ames said, “That’s enough,” and the lieutenant turned it off.

The general looked at Barnes. “The answer’s ‘Hell, no,’ of course, but you’ve gotta love the way they’re taking it to the media. And some of the reporters aren’t helping the situation. ‘Think about all those poor commuters without their GPS.’” Ames sounded disgusted.

Biff announced, “We’re ready. Let’s clean up and go get us a program.”

Ray McConnell had gotten about three hours of jet-lagged sleep last night, and that only because his eyes wouldn’t focus on the screen any longer. He’d worked like a fiend, trying to finish Defender in one night while the CNO and his staff tried to figure out a way to keep her a Navy project.

He realized he should be on cloud nine right now. Not only was Defender going to be built, but the services were fighting over who would run it! Maybe it was fatigue, or the idea of the Air Force taking it away from him, but he wasn’t even feeling optimistic.

Schultz had gotten no sleep, and looked it, but they’d all been energized in the morning by the Chinese ultimatum. Anger could substitute for sleep, for a little while anyway.

A group only slightly smaller than yesterday’s waited for the Chairman’s arrival. He arrived within seconds of eight o’clock, but followed by the Secretary of Defense. Both were hurrying, and the Secretary reached the podium before everyone had even finished standing.

Secretary of Defense Everett Peck was a political appointee, with little experience in the government. The balding, professorial lawyer had served as campaign manager for the President’s election two years ago. He’d stayed out of trouble by letting the DoD alone while he dealt with Congress.

He motioned everyone back down, saying, “Seats, please, everyone,” and then waited for half a moment while General Kastner took his chair.

The Secretary spoke, sounding rushed. “The Chairman and I have just come from a meeting with the President. This follows another meeting last night when General Kastner briefed us on Defender .”

He paused, and tried to look sympathetic. “I understand the purpose of this meeting was to choose a service to run the Defender program, but that decision has been taken out of the Chairman’s hands.”

What? McConnell looked at the admirals, who looked as puzzled as he felt. In fact, everyone was exchanging glances. Secretary Peck was carefully reading from his data pad.

“The President has decided to create a new service to manage this new military resource. It will be structured similarly to the Special Operations Force, with assets and personnel seconded to it from the other services on an as-needed basis.”

Peck didn’t wait for that to sink in, but continued reading. “This service will be known as the Space Force and will be headed by Admiral Schultz.” McConnell looked at Admiral Schultz, who looked thunderstruck.

The Secretary looked at Admiral Schultz, who was slowly recovering from the surprise announcement. “Your title would be ‘Head of U.S. Space Forces.’ You would retain your current rank. Do you accept?”

Just like that. Sitting next to Schultz, Ray heard the admiral mutter, “Ho boy,” then stand. “I accept, sir.”

“Good. Admiral, you will notify your deputy at NAVAIR to take over your duties immediately. You will no longer report to the CNO, but to the Chairman on administrative matters. You will report to me regarding operational matters. You can establish your headquarters wherever you wish, but I assume you will want to be colocated with the construction effort, wherever that is based.”

Kramer, suddenly Schultz’s former boss, still looked confused, as did most of the officers in the room. Kastner was smiling, and didn’t seem like someone who’d had a decision taken out of his hands.

“I won’t congratulate you, Admiral. You’ll come to regret it, I’m sure, but I’m also sure you’ll give it your best effort. And we are desperately in need of that. You have Presidential authority to call on any resources of the Department of Defense to get Defender built and stop the Chinese.”

Peck glanced at his pad again, but didn’t read verbatim. “Now for the bad news. Most of you know that the two spare satellites in orbit are also nonfunctional and presumed destroyed.”