a collection of charged particles.”
The committee sat in stunned, horrified silence. The members did not even look at each other — they simply stared at Marshall and the other service chiefs in utter disbelief. Finally, the committee chairman said, “This is incredible, General, absolutely incredible. And you are proposing that we actually deploy this weapon? You are asking this committee to write an amendment to the new budget to allow the military services to put this… this plasma-yield weapon on a missile? It sounds incredibly dangerous.”
“One property that I didn’t mention, sir,” Marshall explained, “is that the plasma-yield weapon is more effective at high altitudes, because atmospheric pressure dilutes the plasma field. This makes it a good warhead to use in applications such as air defense, antiballistic missiles, and antisatellite weapons, and not as good with land- or sea-attack weapons. That’s another reason the Army and Navy are using it in their ground-and sea-based antiballistic missile systems. Because we get a bigger bang, they can afford to use tracking and intercept systems that aren’t quite as precise — or expensive.”
“This is simply unbelievable,” the chairman said, clearly shaken by what he had heard. “A weapon that can kill thousands silently, yet small enough to be put in a suitcase.” As he looked at the others on the subcommittee, he shook his head. “I for one don’t want to start traveling down this road without more facts. I think we should table this discussion until we review more scientific facts about this technology.”
It was, General Hayes thought grimly, an urbane way of saying they didn’t want to think about it any more. Apparently, everyone on the subcommittee shared the sentiment, because there was no dissent, no further discussion. Hayes was shaken. It seemed as though the vote had been suddenly, silently taken, and it was unanimous. No funding for the plasma-yield technology weapon — which probably spelled the end of the Army’s THAAD program, and maybe the Navy’s Tier Two and Tier Three antiballistic missile programs as well.
Then, just as it appeared that the chairman was going to adjourn the hearing, a new voice spoke up. “Excuse me, Mr. Chairman. Permission to address the subcommittee?”
The Joint Chiefs turned toward Air Force Lieutenant General Terrill Samson, one of the aides supporting the Air Force chief of staff. The subcommittee chairman said, “The chair recognizes General Samson. Please be brief, sir.”
“Thank you,” Samson said. Terrill Samson, a large black man known as Earthmover to his friends, had risen through the ranks from high school dropout Air Force enlistee to three-star general and was the commanding general of the Air Force High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, or HAWC, a secret research and test facility hidden in the deserts of south-central Nevada in an area known as Dreamland. “My group has been working with the Army in testing plasma-yield technology used in THAAD. Senator, the Air Force has an interim concept for a ballistic missile defense system that improves on THAAD and provides a near-term technology solution until ABL comes online in the next five to ten years. We call it Lancelot. Part of our budget request was for an operational Lancelot flight test in the next several weeks.”
“Lancelot?” The subcommittee chairman flipped through an index, then turned to an aide, who scanned another set of files. “I don’t see anything in here about a Lancelot program, General Samson.”
“Lancelot was designed and built by one of our defense contractors, Sky Masters Inc., with help from my engineers at Elliott Air Force Base,” Samson said. “With all due respect, General Marshall, we saw how poorly the THAAD and Tier Two programs were progressing and worked to address the difficulties. We used off-the-shelf components and shaved funds from some of our other programs, including our fixed operating budget.”
“You mean, you just made up this weapon without any specific funding?” one senator asked. Samson nodded. “And now you’re ready to test it, but you’ve run out of money; and besides, you can’t fly it without approval from the Pentagon, right?”
“That’s it in a nutshell, sir,” Samson responded.
“Interesting,” the senator remarked. He looked at General Hayes, noted his barely disguised discomfort, and asked, “General Hayes, do you know anything about this Lancelot program?”
Hayes took a deep breath, let it out, then said in an even voice, “General Samson was handpicked by the President and the secretary of defense to run the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, our nation’s primary air weapons research center. In all honesty, sir, I did not know about Lancelot…”
“Neither did I,” Admiral Balboa interjected hotly. “I know Dreamland is supposed to be a top-secret installation, General, but not from
“Quite frankly, sir,” Hayes went on, “if General Samson waited to give me a detailed briefing and get my approval for every one of the hundreds of programs he manages every month out at HAWC, he’d never get any work done. We pay him to get results, not waste time in Washington giving briefings.” He noted the irritated frowns on the subcommittee members’ faces, grinned inwardly, and quickly went on: “If General Samson says it’s good and it’s ready to fly, then I support him. I’m sure General Samson enjoys the enthusiastic support of the White House.”
Balboa had no response to that because he knew it to be true. After the successful counterstrikes against China staged by weapon systems developed at Dreamland, Samson was the new golden boy at the White House. He and his senior staff members were far more popular than Dreamland’s bombastic first director, Bradley James Elliott — who was missing and presumed killed in the attacks against China’s intercontinental ballistic missile sites — had ever been.
“Good,” the senator said, as if he expected no other response than that. “I’m sure GAO will have to look into the legality of General Samson raiding his budget for unapproved weapons research, but that’s a question for some other committee. If it fails, you’ll be the goat. If it works, you might be a hero.”
“It’ll work, sir,” Samson said enthusiastically. “My troops and I believe in Lancelot so much that we’ve put our careers on the line to prove it’ll work. If it doesn’t, I’m sure General Hayes will be looking for a new director at HAWC. But we believe that won’t happen, Senator. Lancelot will work. We can go into initial operational capability with one squadron, eight aircraft, within six months. Lancelot will give us a worldwide antiballistic missile, cruise missile, antiaircraft, and even antisatellite defense capability second to none until the airborne laser is deployed. We’re betting our careers on it.”
The members of the committee looked at each other, some with puzzled expressions. Then the subcommittee chairman said with a grin, “General Samson, General Hayes, I think that’s a sucker bet. You come back to us with a working, deployable antimissile system, and I for one will enthusiastically support it. Until then, it’s off the books and so not under our purview. Air Force will have to handle it from their existing budget — or scrap it. If there’s no other business?” He waited one breath, then said, “This session is in recess.” He rapped his gavel. A clerk immediately read a warning that the session was classified top secret and not to be discussed outside the committee chambers, and the meeting was over.
Joint Chiefs Chairman Balboa managed not to say a word until he and the other blue-suiters were out of range of any photographers or TV cameras that might be nearby. Then he exploded. “Goddammit, Samson,” he swore, “you’d better start talking, and it better be good. What is this Lancelot thing? Why wasn’t I notified of it?”
“It’s a parts-bin project put together by my new deputy commander, sir,” Samson explained. “He got some help from a military contractor buddy of his, Jon Masters.” Balboa nodded — everyone in the defense business had heard of Jon Masters. That lent some credibility to Samson’s case. “The thing works, sir. It’s better than THAAD and it’s ready right now, not five or ten years from now.”
Balboa smiled as he felt the anger slowly drain away. He shook his head and said, “You’ve just been on the job a couple years, Samson, and already you’re hanging it out. Shades of that bastard Brad Elliott.” Samson’s jaw tightened — Brad Elliott was a friend of his, and his mentor; Brad Elliott had sacrificed himself so guys like Balboa could look like leaders. “It must be the damned desert air, the isolation — it makes you HAWC commanders crazy, makes you do stupid things. Makes you put your asses and careers on the line.”
He turned to General Hayes and said, “You’re on your own, General. You want to blow your budget on this man’s wet dream and embarrass yourself and your uniform, go ahead. But I’m not recommending any additional funding for this Lancelot program. Any money you need comes out of Dreamland’s or ABL’s budget. General Samson, let me warn you for the last time: you bushwhack me like that again in front of a congressional committee, and I’ll can your ass on the spot. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Samson responded quickly and loudly. But Balboa was already in the car and on his way.
The two Air Force officers dropped their salutes as soon as Balboa’s car was out of sight. Hayes took a deep breath. “You know, Terrill,” he said, “the only guy I knew who even dared joust with Balboa and lived to tell the tale
