Jim DeFelice - Cyclops One

“McIntyre,” he said.

“Where are you?”

“Sitting on the airplane, about to take off for Hawaii,” McIntyre told Blitz.

“Get off and call me.”

“It may be too late. We’re about to taxi.”

“Then find a parachute.”

“Doc—”

“Don’t give me the Doc line and don’t call me Professor,” said Blitz. “Get off the plane and call me back.”

McIntyre stifled a curse and got out of his seat, reminding himself for the one millionth time in the past year that being a public servant meant putting off personal pleasure in hopes of much greater rewards in the future.

Though at times it was hard to imagine what those rewards could possibly be.

Twenty minutes later McIntyre found himself standing in the middle of the rental car lot, briefcase and carry-on in one hand, secure KY-118 phone — handheld computer in the other.

“Mac, what’s the latest?” asked Blitz. The NSC head was already in Hawaii, which was obvious from the background noises of the reception.

McIntyre could have played dumb, but that would only lessen the already infinitesimal chance that he could talk Blitz into changing his mind about what he wanted him to do. Both men knew each other well enough — McIntyre had been Blitz’s graduate assistant a million years before — to guess exactly what the other was thinking.

“Uh, nothing new on Cyclops One as of two hours ago, Doc. I had a secure videoconference with them to do the rah-rah thing, but—”

“I want you up there ASAP.”

“Aw, Professor.”

“To the best of my knowledge, my current employer is the U.S. government, not Harvard.”

“I’m due in Hawaii for the augmented-ABM tests,” pleaded McIntyre. “I mean, my main area is technology, and if that’s not technology…”

“There are plenty of people here. More than we need.”

“But, uh…” It was difficult to argue that he was needed in Hawaii — in fact, almost no one was, outside the actual work crews who monitored the test missile firings. Three different company coalitions were taking part in the tests, which called for long-distance, low-altitude strikes of small warheads, such as those that could be carried by cruise missiles.

The augmented system would greatly enhance “standard” ABM capabilities, closing a serious gap in the defense system and making the U.S. impervious to attack. While the tests involved surface-launched missiles, the production model would include satellite batteries that would eventually provide global coverage. It would be the last and most powerful part of a complicated blanket that would include tactical coverage from Cyclops laser planes — great at short-range interception but very limited beyond three or four hundred miles — and high-altitude ballistic interceptions from the “normal” ABM system, which couldn’t target short-range warheads, let alone cruise missiles. When built, the augmented ABM system would revolutionize warfare. It might even make it obsolete.

Assuming, of course, the system could be made to work. Surprisingly, none of the companies responsible for the standard ABM system had done very well in the tests so far. The surprise winner in the simulations had been a team headed by Jolice Missile Systems.

McIntyre didn’t particularly like the Jolice people — arrogant rich bastards well connected in Washington. He expected them to fall on their asses in the Hawaii tests, though not before their hospitality party — which, if past was prologue, would feature the best available babes in Hawaii.

“You’re stuttering, Mac,” said Blitz.

“I don’t know that I can do anything Gorman and Bonham can’t. They assured me twenty minutes ago that they’d be recovering the planes anytime now,” said McIntyre.

That didn’t draw an immediate response, so McIntyre added, “There’s a couple of hundred — must be a thousand — people involved in the search. The weather was a bitch, and that’s the only reason it hasn’t been wrapped up yet.”

“The President just asked me why you weren’t there.”

“Yes, sir,” said McIntyre. “So, how do I get to North Lake?”

“I have a jet en route from Edwards right now.”

Dr. Michael Blitz paced the length of the room, his right hand rubbing the nubby outline of his goatee, his left hitched back into his belt. It was a pose the students in his international relations seminar at Harvard would have recognized as presaging a major pronouncement, more than likely some wild metaphor comparing a campaign in the Napoleonic Wars to a Cold War tête-à-tête between Nixon and Mao Zedong, with a snide reference to Henry Kissinger thrown in for laughs.

But this wasn’t Harvard. And while the suite of rooms in the Hawaiian hotel where he was pacing was considerably more luxurious than his usual academic haunts, at the moment he would have gladly exchanged the surroundings.

Not the job, just the surroundings.

The two floors below him swarmed with contractors whose companies had staked billions on the right to build the next phase of America’s global augmented ABM system. The name itself was anachronistic, considering that the intent of the next phase was actually to defend against non-ballistic warheads, but it was difficult enough to get the administration and Congress to agree on a goal; changing the name to something more appropriate — long-range, high-speed automated interceptor, for example — would have required political skills beyond even Blitz’s impressive repertoire. Integrated with the standard ABM system and short-range weapons such as the airborne laser and theater defenses, the augmented ABM system would provide a true, extendible shield for the world, finally fulfilling the Reagan vision of the 1980’s of making nuclear weapons obsolete.

For Blitz, the system represented an opportunity for an entirely new view of the world. America wouldn’t simply be the most powerful country on the globe; it would be the ensurer of peace. The augmented ABM system represented a chance at completely altering global politics, and even though he was cautious and conservative by nature, he couldn’t help but be awed by the possibilities.

On the other hand, the missile system would also make many rich people even richer. Thus, the representatives of the three coalitions in Hawaii for the tests were like rival motorcycle gangs who’d happened to pick the same town to rampage through. They were nice to Blitz, of course — overly nice, and very eager to run down their competition. Rumors of malfeasance, chicanery, and corruption were more common than the olives in the hospitality suites. And there were a lot of olives.

The tests were hardly Blitz’s only or even main worry at the moment. Losing Cyclops One and its F/A-22V escort during testing, probably over Canada, was a major headache, though he might be able to use it to persuade the President to dispense with NADT and the other quasi-governmental agencies and independent firms that had moved into place during the last administration to facilitate weapons development and procurement. To Blitz’s mind, farming out national security to private interests undermined the military and therefore national security itself, but it was a difficult notion to sell in these days of shrinking government.

Even the Cyclops accident paled next to the situation in India and Pakistan. Blitz and the rest of the National Security Council were receiving hourly updates on tensions there. Militants on both sides of the border were pushing for a serious confrontation, not just in Kashmir, but across the Rann of Kutch to the southeast. U.S. intelligence estimates had both countries mobilizing large parts of their armies and placing their nuclear forces at or near their top levels of alert.