'We need some other elements,' Sanchez agreed. 'Anybody going to say no when we ask?'
'Not at this end,' the Admiral said after a moment's thought.
The CNN reporter had made her first live feed from atop the edge of the dry dock, and it showed the two nuclear-powered carriers sitting on their blocks, not unlike twin babies in side-by-side cradles. Somebody in CINCPAC's office must have paid a price for letting her in, Ryan thought, because the second feed was from much farther away, the flattops across the harbor but still clearly visible behind her back, as she said much the same things, adding that she had learned from informed sources that it could be as much as six months before
The problem with a free press was that it gave out information to everyone, and over the past two decades it had become so good a source of information that his country's own intelligence services used it for all manner of time-critical data. For its part, the public had grown more sophisticated in its demands for news, and the networks had responded by improving both its collection and analysis. Of course, the press had its weaknesses. For real insider information it depended too much on leaks and not enough on shoe-leather, especially in Washington, and for analysis it often selected people motivated less by facts than by an agenda. But for things that one could see, the press often worked better than trained intelligence officers on the government payroll.
'You look busy,' Admiral Jackson said from the door.
'I'm waiting just as fast as I can.' Ryan waved him to a seat. 'CNN just reported on the carriers.'
'Good,' Robby replied.
'Good?'
'We can have
'A week? Wait a minute.' Yet another effect of TV news, was that people often believed it over official data, even though in this case the classified report was identical with—
Three were still in Connecticut, and the other three were undergoing tests in Nevada. Everything about them was untraditional. The fabrication plant, for example, was more like a tailor shop than an aircraft factory. The basic material for the airframes arrived in rolls, which were laid out on a long, thin table where computer-driven laser cutters sliced out the proper shapes. Those were then laminated and baked in an oven until the carbon-fiber fabric formed a sandwich stronger than steel, but far lighter-and, unlike steel, transparent to electromagnetic energy. Nearly twenty years of design work had gone into this, and the first pedestrian set of requirements had grown into a book as thick as a multi-volume encyclopedia. A typical Pentagon program, it had taken too long and cost too much, but the final product, if not exactly worth the wait, was certainly worth having, even at twenty million dollars per copy, or, as the crews put it, ten million dollars per seat.
The three in Connecticut were sitting in an open-sided shed when the Sikorsky employees arrived. The onboard systems were fully functional, and they had each been flown only just enough by the company test pilots to make sure that they could fly. All the systems had been checked out properly through the onboard diagnostic computer which, of course, had also diagnosed itself. After fueling, the three were wheeled out onto the ramp and flown out just after dark, north to Westover Air Force Base, in western Massachusetts, where they would be loaded in a Galaxy transport of the 327th Military Airlift Squadron for a flight to a place northeast of Las Vegas that wasn't on any official maps, though its existence wasn't much of a secret.
Back in Connecticut, three wooden mockups were wheeled into the shed, its open side visible from the residential area and highway three hundred yards uphill. People would even be seen to work on them all week.
Even if you didn't really know the mission yet, the requirements were pretty much the same.
'Engine room answers all ahead two-thirds, sir.'
'Very well,' Commander Claggett acknowledged. 'Left twenty-degrees rudder, come to new course zero- three-zero.' The helmsman repeated that order back, and Claggett's next command was, 'Rig ship for ultra- quiet.'
He already knew the physics of what he was doing, but moved aft to the plotting table anyway, to recheck the ship's turning circle. The Captain, too, had to check everything he did. The sharp course reversal was designed to effect a self-noise check. All over the submarine, unnecessary equipment was switched off, and crewmen not on duty got into their individual bunks as their ship turned. The crew, Claggett noted, was already getting into the swing.
Trailing behind
'There we are, sir.' The lead sonarman marked his screen with a grease pencil. The Captain tried not to be too disappointed.
'Nobody's that invisible, sir,' Lieutenant Shaw observed.
'Bring her back to base course. We'll try it again at fifteen knots.' To the sonar chief: 'Put a good man on the tapes. So let's find that rattle all, shall we?' Ten minutes later
'It's all going to be done in the saddle, Jack. As I read this, time works for them, not for us.' It wasn't that Admiral Jackson liked it. There didn't appear to he another way, and this war would be come-as-you-are and make up your own rules as you went along.
'You may be right on the political side. They want to stage the elections soon, and they seem awfully confident—'
'Haven't you heard? They're flying civilians in hand over fist,' Jackson told him. 'Why do that? I think they're all going to become instant residents, and they're all going to vote
The National Security Advisor winced. 'That is simple, isn't it?'
'I remember when the Voting Rights Act got passed. It made a big difference in Mississippi when I was a kid. Don't you just love how people can use law to their benefit?'
'It sure is a civilized war, isn't it?'
'That's what we need to change.'
'How?'
Jackson handed over a folder. 'Here's the information I need.'