“You still owe me twenty bucks. But I’d be willing to let that slide if you buy me dinner.”
“You want me to buy you dinner?”
“Or…you could make me dinner. Your choice.” A cocky grin spread across his face. “That’s the price for divulging my secrets.”
She stroked her chin. Cyndi inhaled slowly, then said, “I’ll think about it. Although…there is a well-known restaurant in town I think you’d be happy with. It serves your favorite meal.”
“My favorite meal?”
“The one that comes with fries and a toy in it.” With a triumphant smirk, Cyndi strode off into the auditorium.
The entire front row had been reserved for members of the press. Only three showed up. Two were from the local Tribune Eagle newspaper.
The audience snapped to attention when the commander of the Global Strike Command, General Rayburn, walked out onto the stage and took his position in front of the podium. McNeil and a thin, high-strung Asian man trailed behind him.
“Seats,” Rayburn said, in a commanding voice.
The crowd sat down. The lights were dimmed.
The movie screen behind the general lit up with the first slide in the PowerPoint presentation. It showed his official Air Force photo, name, and rank. The left breast area of his blue uniform jacket looked like a fruit salad had exploded onto it. Dozens of multicolored service ribbons decorated his jacket, the sign of a broad career and a long tenure in the military.
Then the second slide came up.
A noticeable murmur arose from the crowd of missileers.
The reporters turned and looked back. They were at a loss as to why the crowd was reacting to the slide. To them, it was just a picture of a Minuteman missile, but the experts in the audience knew differently.
The nose cone on the missile was longer and wider.
Chapter Eleven
“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors floating around about a new weapons system,” Rayburn said. “I’m at Warren today to end the rumors and announce that your base has been chosen to be the first to deploy the updated LGM-30H Minuteman IV missile.”
Heads nodded in approval. Applause broke out among the missileers in the audience.
Rayburn turned on a laser pointer and used the beam to trace a circle around the top of the missile. “The enlarged shroud on the missile will now house ten W87-1 warheads.”
A reporter shot up from his seat, hoping to embarrass the four-star. “General, the START treaty with Russia has only allowed one warhead per missile for decades now.”
“I was about to discuss that issue, sir,” the general countered through gritted teeth. “If you’ll allow me to continue without interruption, I’ll be happy to take questions after my presentation.”
The chastened reporter slouched back down into his seat.
“After decades of repeated violations of the treaty by Russia, President Donovan made the bold decision after taking office to end America’s participation in the START treaty.” Rayburn looked closely at his wristwatch. “A few minutes ago, the president made that decision public during a speech at the UN. The past year, in preparation for today’s announcement, the Air Force has been secretly constructing a new missile silo that is colocated next to its LCC.”
The crowd gasped.
Since 1970, nuclear missiles have been located miles from their launch control center in a hub-and-spoke pattern. Each underground launch control center controlled ten missiles. In theory, dispersing the weapons miles from the launch center (and each other) prevented one bomb from taking out everything. Military strategists defended this arrangement by boasting that it required Russia to waste eleven missiles to destroy a flight of Minuteman missiles and their launch center. Since the US policy was to never start a nuclear war, the silo-based ICBM fleet would act as a gigantic nuclear sponge, absorbing hits from Russian warheads that couldn’t otherwise be targeted at your town. Farmers and ranchers who lived nearby these silos weren’t quite as enthusiastic about the strategy.
“A new era has begun for Global Strike Command,” the general said, beaming with pride. “Our ability to deter war with our enemies through overwhelming strength will now be greatly enhanced. By returning to ten multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles per missile, we will be able to drop a thermonuclear warhead on ten separate targets using only one launch. For you folks, that means 135 of the existing silos in this area will no longer be needed. This superior strategy, that I personally crafted, will reduce costs by 90 percent for missiles, maintenance, and manning. Not only that; the refurbished sites housing the new Minuteman IV will also have the latest security technology. The above-ground facility that previously required an entire support team to operate will now be unmanned, autonomous, and self-sufficient. This exciting new paradigm will be called Alpha.”
Rayburn had come up with the name himself. He was positive a lower-ranking person could never have come up with such a clever moniker.
The general failed to get the rousing round of applause he was expecting from his grand announcement. Airmen in the audience who provided support at the current missile sites weren’t thrilled about being replaced by circuit boards and computer chips.
General McNeil picked up on the lack of enthusiasm. He faced the crowd and clapped vigorously. His troops took the hint. They reluctantly stood, gave Rayburn a polite but subdued round of applause, then plopped back down in their seats.
The impertinent newspaper reporter raised his hand. Without waiting to be called on, he remarked, “Ten MIRVs on one rocket? Really, General Rayburn? With this new arrangement, the missile and its LCC can be wiped out with only one Russian nuke. How is that better?” Before the four-star could answer, the reporter followed up with, “And how about those rockets? They came out the year the Beatles broke up. Are the missiles going to be replaced with something that even remotely resembles modern technology?”
The general did an admirable job reigning in his irritation with the disparagement of his grand plan. He forced a smile and said, “Unfortunately, massive cost overruns in the new B-21 Raider
