Shadow Command

vehicles—”

“Excuse me, General,” National Security Adviser Carlyle interjected, “but how is it possible to bring additional modules up to the station on a spaceplane or remotely piloted vehicles?”

“The fastest and easiest way is to use inflatable modules, Mr. Carlyle,” Patrick responded.

“‘Inflatable’? You mean, not rigid, like a balloon?”

“Like a balloon, only a very high-tech balloon. The technology is based on NASA’s ‘Transhab’ experiments of ten years ago, when inflatable modules were suggested for the International Space Station. The walls of our models are primarily made of electro-reactive material that is flexible like cloth until a current is applied and it’s struck, when it hardens into a material that resists impact a thousand times better than steel or Kevlar; this material is backed up with other non-electro-reactive materials that are still many times stronger than steel or Kevlar. Inflatable structures give just enough to absorb energy from impact without damage — you can’t ding the walls of these things.

“The stuff is lightweight and easily packed for launch, then easily and remotely inflated in just a few hours. We’ve already lofted small inflatable modules on the spaceplanes and Orion, and the technology is sound. We haven’t lofted a full crew-sized module yet, but that’s in the works. Future space stations and perhaps even habitation modules on the Moon or Mars will probably be inflatable.” Carlyle didn’t look convinced at all, and neither did several other attendees, but he offered no other comments.

Patrick took a sip of water from a squeeze bottle Velcroed to the bulkhead and was amused to find a line of nervous sweat on his upper lip. How many briefings, he thought, had he given during his over two decades of military service? None, he reminded himself wryly, from space before! Briefing four-star generals was nerve-racking enough, but doing it while flying at over seventeen thousand miles an hour over two hundred miles above Earth made it even more challenging.

“Armstrong Space Station is the ultimate expression of taking the ‘high ground’ and is, I believe, the centerpiece of America’s stated goal of maintaining access and control of space,” Patrick went on. “It and the Black Stallion spaceplanes constitute the foundation of what I call the U.S. Space Defense Command, an integrated joint services command that manages all space-based offensive and defensive assets and supports terrestrial theater commanders with reliable, high-speed communications, intelligence, reconnaissance, attack, and transportation services from space. Our mission will be to—”

“That’s very interesting, General McLanahan,” National Security Adviser Carlyle interjected with a wry and rather bemused expression, “and as interesting as the idea was when you first proposed it last year, that sort of organization is still many years down the road — we don’t have time to bring back Buck Rogers right now. Can we move on to a discussion of the Iran operations, General Bain?”

“Of course, Mr. Adviser. General McLanahan?”

“Yes, sir,” Patrick said expressionlessly — he was quite accustomed to being tuned out, interrupted, and ignored whenever he brought up his idea of the U.S. Space Defense Command. “Along with all of the other advanced technological capabilities of this station, my staff has recently added another: the ability to control remotely piloted tactical aircraft and their weapons from space. We demonstrated the capability of controlling an unmanned supersonic EB-1C Vampire bomber completely from this station throughout all phases of flight, including several aerial refuelings and hypersonic precision-guided weapon deployment, in real time and with complete man-in-the-loop control. Our communications and networking abilities are entirely and quickly scalable and expandable, and I envision the capability of controlling entire air task forces of potentially hundreds of unmanned combat aircraft, from small reconnaissance micro-UAVs to giant cruise missile haulers, right from Armstrong — securely, safely, and virtually unassailable.”

Patrick stuck his briefing notes on the bulkhead. “I hope all of you have received my after-action report on the employment of the XAGM-279 SkySTREAK hypersonic precision-guided cruise missile in Tehran,” he said. “The attack was a complete success. The operational test was terminated due to the unintended and unfortunate casualties caused by detonation of an apparent chemical weapon warhead on the target rocket. The casualties were caused by the unexpected detonation of the chemical weapon warhead on the insurgent attacker’s rocket, not by the SkySTREAK missile, and therefore—”

“And as I stated in my comments on McLanahan’s report,” Air Force chief of staff General Charles Huffman interjected, “I believe the SkySTREAK weapon was not the appropriate weapon to use and could negatively impact our efforts to de-escalate the conflict in Iran and bring about a negotiated settlement between the warring parties. Iran was not the right place to test that weapon, and it appears to me that General McLanahan skewed his proposal and the weapon’s potential effects in order to dramatize his system. Firing SkySTREAK on his restricted ranges in Nevada wouldn’t have had such a ‘wow’ factor as watching one slam into an insurgent pickup truck. Unfortunately, his magic show resulted in the deaths of dozens of innocent civilians, including women and children, by poison gas.”

Joint Chiefs chairman Bain shook his head, then looked straight ahead at his videoconference camera. “General McLanahan?” His brow furrowed as he looked at Patrick’s image on the videoconference screen: Patrick was taking another deep sip from a squeeze bottle, and seemed to have some difficulty re-Velcroing the bottle to the bulkhead. “Care to respond?”

Patrick nodded, placing a hand up to his mouth to corral an errant drop of water. “Sorry, sir. Even simple tasks like drinking water take a little extra concentration up here. Almost everything requires a conscious effort.”

“Understood, Patrick. I’ve ridden the ‘Vomit Comet’ a couple times so I know what zero-G can do to someone, but it’s nothing like living the experience 24/7.” The ‘Vomit Comet’ was a modified C-135 cargo plane flown on a roller-coaster-like flight path that allowed several seconds of weightlessness for the occupants during its steep descent. “Any comment on General Huffman’s report?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary for me to respond with a strong denial, sir,” Patrick said, “but to make myself perfectly clear: General Huffman’s analysis is dead wrong. I assembled the SkySTREAK operational test exactly as delineated in the general’s air tasking order: a precision-guided aerial standoff attack force to support Persian anti- insurgent operations with minimal collateral casualties or damage. We didn’t stray outside the ATO one iota.

“I’d like to point out a few other things as well, if I may, sir.” He didn’t wait for permission to continue: “SkySTREAK was approved by the general’s operations staff, along with eight other task forces and units that are operating over Tehran and other cities in Free Persia. So far SkySTREAK has been the only unit to successfully engage any insurgents, even though all the other units have access to the Global Hawk’s sensor imagery, Armstrong Space Station’s automated surveillance system, and even to SkySTREAK’s sensor downlinks. In short, sir, SkySTREAK is working.”

“And the civilian casualties?”

“A result of the detonation of the insurgent warhead, sir — it wasn’t caused by SkySTREAK.”

“It was caused by your missile, McLanahan,” Huffman interjected. “You were briefed about the possibility of the insurgents using weapons of mass destruction in Tehran and directed to withhold and request enhanced analysis of the target before engaging. You failed to do that, which resulted in unnecessary civilian casualties.”

“As I see it, sir, we limited the casualty count by taking out that Ra’ad rocket before the insurgents had a chance to launch it.”

“Be that as it may, McLanahan, you failed to follow my directives,” Huffman said. “The technology’s not at fault here. But because of your error in judgment, the whole program might be shut down.”

“I’m not quite ready to shut anything down yet, Charlie,” General Bain said. “My staff and I have reviewed the report submitted by General McLanahan and your response, with a special emphasis on the issue of collateral civilian casualties. My intelligence directorate looked at all spectrums of the Global Hawk surveillance video and the space station’s own network of sensors. Everyone has concluded that it would have been possible to determine with certainty that the rocket indeed carried a chemical warhead, and that nearby innocent civilians were at risk if the rocket was hit and the warhead detonated and activated.” Huffman smiled and nodded confidently…

…until Bain glared at the Air Force chief of staff, held up a hand, and continued: “… if General McLanahan had the time to study freeze-frame hi-res imagery for at least ninety seconds, sitting at a desk at Langley, Beale, or Lackland Air Force Bases instead of falling around planet Earth traveling at seventeen thousand five hundred miles per hour, or if he had taken the time to consult with