guys can send a big punch anywhere fast.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here, ladies and gentlemen,” Vice President Hershel said. “Looks to me like we’re letting Buzhazi pull our strings now — he attacks, then we’re forced to act when the Revolutionary Guards counterattack. Buzhazi’s insurgency is an internal Iranian matter. We’d be provoking a serious and unpredictable Iranian response if anyone caught us sending covert military forces in or over Iran. Iran still commands a vital chokepoint in the Persian Gulf and is the most powerful Islamic military force in the entire region. Let’s not get drawn into a fight we don’t want by a disgruntled and disgraced Iranian general.”
“Mr. President, I’ll be happy to look over McLanahan’s plan and give the staff my thoughts,” General Sparks said, “but right now I’d advise against putting armed spacecraft in orbit, no matter how speedy or cool they are.”
“I agree,” Carson interjected. “And double goes for sending McLanahan’s stealth bombers anywhere near Iran. We don’t want to be seen as ratcheting up the tension. If Iran does lash out, they could claim it was our actions that led them to retaliate.”
President Martindale glanced back and forth between the videoconference screen and his advisers in the Oval Office. “I agree that our primary concern should be Iran’s missiles and whether Masoud Ahmadad intends to use them,” the President said after a short silence. “General McLanahan has a plan for dealing with them, so I want the plan vetted right away. Patrick, be prepared to brief the national security staff as soon as the schedule permits. General Sparks and Secretary Gardner will review it and have their comments ready as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Carl will find a slot in tomorrow afternoon’s schedule — be ready by then. Thanks, Patrick.” He was about to motion for Minden to disconnect the videophone link, but Minden was taking a message from the White House office assistant. Minden’s expression after he read the message got the President’s full attention. “What now, Carl?”
“Message from Communications, sir,” Minden replied. “The wire services are reporting that Russia intends to file a protest with the United Nations Security Council to halt illegal overflight of American spaceplanes over its territory.”
“Oh, shit…”
“Several members of Congress have called for press conferences within the hour, including Senator Barbeau. General Lewars was right on — the press had wind of this already.”
“General Lewars, draft up a response so we can brief the staff and get a statement out right away,” the President ordered.
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“This is starting to smell like a big sewer leak right here in the White House, and I will personally kick his or her butt when I find out who it is.” He turned to the videophone: “Okay, Patrick, out with it. Did your guys overfly Russia? Do the Russians have a legitimate beef?”
“Our crew did overfly Russia, sir, but I don’t think the Russians have a legitimate reason for a protest,” Patrick replied.
“Explain — and this better be good.”
“During its ascent, the spaceplane was lower than one hundred kilometers — about sixty miles — aboveground when it entered Russian airspace. One hundred kilometers is the altitude mentioned in the Outer Space Treaty as to where ‘space,’ and therefore the treaty’s provisions, begin. Russian military air defense operators broadcast a warning on the international emergency frequencies, which we received. When the spaceplane did not alter course it was fired upon by Russian surface-to-air missiles. But the spaceplane was accelerating to suborbital velocity — approximately nine times the speed of sound — and it outran the SAMs.”
“So the crew did violate Russian airspace. Why?”
“I gave the order to do so, sir,” Patrick said. Both the President and the chief of staff nodded — they had already guessed that. “The Black Stallion had four passengers on board — the four Air Battle Force ‘Tin Men’—and I wanted the spaceplane on the ground as soon as possible to prepare it for another mission. The original flight plan had the spaceplane flying in a southeasterly orbital course which would have taken it away from hostile airspace but would have meant keeping them aloft for an extra three hours or longer and would have given the crew no military alternate landing airports. Based on those factors, I uploaded a suborbital flight plan to the crew that took them directly back to Dreamland…”
“Over Russia.”
“Yes, sir. But at all times the spaceplane was accelerating and climbing — it was not descending and decelerating like a warhead or missile would have. The spaceplane was not armed with anything more than hand- carried infantry weapons — it had no weapons of mass destruction or any kind of ground attack weapons of any kind.”
“None of that makes a rat’s ass of difference, General,” Minden snapped. “The press is going to start a shitstorm over this, and Congress is going to jump in with both feet.”
“You’ve done it again, General McLanahan,” Secretary of Defense Gardner said bitterly. “You’re starting to look as bad as Oliver North during Iran-Contra, running your own covert ops agency right out of the White House basement.”
“I authorized the mission over Iran, Joe…with your blessing, reluctant as it was,” the President reminded him.
“I judge the mission to help Buzhazi a success, sir,” Gardner said. “Unfortunately, General McLanahan’s decision to send the spaceplane back over Russia will quite possibly erase all the good his crew did. This is going to kill the Black Stallion project for sure.” He turned to the President and added, “I recommend we ground the Black Stallion project pending an investigation as to whether or not it was necessary to send it illegally over Russia without permission. It’ll be necessary for you to remove McLanahan from his White House position and definitely not consider him for commander of HAWC pending the outcome of the investigation. We should also announce a suspension of all Black Stallion spaceplane flights. We can call it a ‘safety review’ or ‘policy review,’ whatever sounds appropriate, but they stay on the ground indefinitely.”
“That’s the typical knee-jerk reaction to something like this, Joe — we don’t need to indulge in it too,” Vice President Hershel said. “All the crew did was overfly Russia — they didn’t attack, and they did nothing hostile.”
“That’s not going to be the way it’s perceived.”
“We don’t know how it’s going to be perceived, Joe,” Maureen argued. “All I’m saying is, we shouldn’t hang Patrick — General McLanahan — or…or the spaceplane crew out to dry until we know the facts.”
“I understand your feelings and admire your loyalty to McLanahan, Miss Vice President, but…”
“But nothing, Mr. Secretary,” she snapped. “My feelings for the general have nothing to do with this. I…”
“That’s enough, all of you,” the President interjected. “Maureen, I’ve got no choice on this one. We know the press and the opponents of the Black Stallion spaceplane program are going to use this incident against this administration and against the project, and I don’t want to give them any more ammunition to use against us.” He thought for a moment; then: “I’m grounding the spaceplanes until the furor over the overflight blows over and the Senate concludes their midnight snipe-hunt. Is that clear, General McLanahan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Patrick, you will report back here to your post in the White House,” the President went on. “I don’t want you anywhere near Dreamland. You’re still a special adviser to the President and covered by executive privilege. You let us take any comments on the spaceplane incident. And you don’t step foot on a combat aircraft even if it’s just flying you to Washington. You’re flying a desk for a while, right here, in a suit and tie. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dr. Carson, I’d like you to send a message to the Russian embassy, apologizing for the overflight, promising them it won’t happen again, assuring them the spacecraft was unarmed, not spying on Russia or any other country, and posed no threat of any kind to Russia,” the President went on. “You can even offer to pay for the missiles they shot at the spaceplane…the ones the spaceplane outran. We’ll provide no other details. Tony will mention this communique to the press.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
“Anyone have anything else for me?” the President asked.
“Yes, sir,” Patrick replied. “I’m looking at overhead imagery of the Ruhollah Khomeini library in Qom taken just moments ago, and it appears that the library has been destroyed.”
“What?” the Secretary of Defense exclaimed. “Destroyed by whom? McLanahan, I swear, if you had
