resulted in the insanity of the Cold War. We made it so costly for the Russians to attack that they never did — although they did test our resolve on numerous occasions, not believing that an American would have the guts to push the button.
“But while the system worked, the downside was that it insured there would be an arms race. And that, as you know, eventually led to nuclear weapons in the hands of rogue states.” His uncle shook his head sadly. “Sometimes I think it would have been better if we’d never uncorked that particular genie.”
“Maybe if we hadn’t relied on MAD, more research would have been poured into defense systems like the laser,” Tombstone added. “So why are the Russians so dead set against a missile defense system?”
“Because, to their mind, it means we can attack and not suffer the consequences of MAD. There’s a huge cultural gap between Russia and the United States, don’t ever forget that.”
“Right. So we’re testing a missile laser system at sea—”
His uncle interrupted him. “They’re shadowing
“So they planned to use the battle group for surveillance anyway?” Tombstone asked.
“The thinking is that the Russians are worried enough about the test to stage a little demonstration of their own power. They picked an older satellite, one that wouldn’t have remained in service much longer, and took her out. Maybe they thought they would destroy it before it detected the laser, or that it wouldn’t be able to transmit after being targeted. But fortunately, although her optical capabilities were burned out immediately, she did manage one last data downlink. That picture.”
“So where do we come in?” Tombstone asked.
“I don’t know yet. For now, this is all background briefing.” His uncle looked even more troubled and seemed about to continue, then just shook his head. “It’s a complicated situation, Tombstone. More so than I can tell you right now.”
“I see.”
“Yeah. I know you don’t like it, but for now you’ll have to let it ride. I’ll fill you in when I can.”
“No problem.” Tombstone turned his attention back to the message traffic, but had a hard time staying focused. The discomfort on his uncle’s face hinted that there was much more to this than he was letting on. And given the discomfort it was causing the elder Magruder, Tombstone wasn’t so sure he really wanted to know what it was about.
He glanced across at his uncle, who appeared lost in his own thoughts, and felt a flash of guilt. Tombstone might be able to avoid whatever it was, but his uncle couldn’t.
Blair Edwards was one of the men that Coyote thought of first when the admiral contemplated the indignities of having civilian defense contractors on board his ship. Edwards was a large man, one built on the scale everyone would expect from a Texan. He was almost six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders narrowing to a solidly muscled waist and legs. As a quarterback at Texas A&M, he had accumulated an impressive record, and had followed it up with a string of business successes as well. Armed with an electrical engineering degree, Edwards had struck out on his own during the height of the Cold War, building from the ground up an electronics and weapons design firm that was second to none. He kept it small so he could control every aspect of the company. While it might not be a household name, everyone in the defense industry knew Edwards Electronics.
Edwards had been a golden boy during the Reagan era. In a series of top secret contracts, his company had been funded to conduct the initial research and testing on Reagan’s dream of a missile defense system. But the technology had not been there, not then. Reagan had had the dream, but others would have to build the computers to make it possible. When the Star Wars projects had been abandoned, many had thought that Edwards would be crushed.
Those who knew him well knew better. His closest competitors in France watched him sit back, take stock, and quietly continue his own research. He kept track of all the new technology that might support a missile defense system, updating his designs, keeping a marketing plan so current that some said it was reviewed daily. When the time finally came and technology and leadership collided to produce a favorable environment, Edwards was ready.
Edwards had long since lost touch with the details of the tactical side of things. As much as he enjoyed them, newer and brighter minds now dealt with the details. Edwards was at his most effective as a front man for the company, the CEO out there shaking hands and kissing babies, wining and dining senators and congresspeople in order to keep his name in front of them.
It wasn’t that Edwards minded that part of his job, not at all. By nature he was gregarious and found he had a lot in common with the politicians he befriended. Occasionally he missed the early days when he had been intimately involved in every technical decision, but he was mature enough to know that he was more valuable where he was.
One prerogative that he insisted on was his right to be present at every operational test. Edwards was one of those men who always seem like they’ve been in the military, but have never actually served. He affected a military style of speech and had a flight jacket. When he was on board ship or traveling with the ground unit, he took some pains to ensure he never appeared ignorant or inexperienced. This often required hours of staff briefing. But as a result, when he wandered into
“You boys ready to do this?” he asked, his voice carrying to every corner of Combat. “ ’Cause I’m telling you,
“Sir!” A voice at his side, an elbow in his ribs.
“What the hell?”
“Sir, over here.” Lab Rat touched Edwards gently on the elbow to get his attention. “This console.”
Edwards looked slightly abashed. He had been briefed on security measures, but had forgotten that not everyone on the ship, not even all the Combat watchstanders, knew what was going on. “Whenever you say, son.” He followed Lab Rat into a compartment located just off Combat. Lab Rat stood aside to allow Edwards to go in first. Once they were both in, Lab Rat swung the heavy hatch shut and slid the dogging bar home.
Two technicians were sitting at consoles monitoring self-tests in the laser gear. Speakers set high in the corner hissed static broken only occasionally by a cryptic report from an aircraft or shore station.
“Sorry about that out there,” Edwards said, gesturing vaguely toward the main compartment. “Don’t think anybody noticed anyhow.”
Edwards was aware of Lab Rat’s cool, light blue eyes studying him carefully. It was an uncomfortable feeling. Edwards was the one that stared people down and made them uneasy. It wasn’t done to him. He was just about to protest, figuring out what to say — after all, it didn’t make much sense to say, “Quit looking at me like that”—when Lab Rat broke the silence.
“You’re right. I don’t think anyone noticed. If they did, I’ll deal with it.” Lab Rat turned back to the two technicians. “Anything happening?”
One shook his head. “Not a thing, sir. No indication that anything is out of the ordinary. We’re running system checks every twenty minutes and so far everything is clean.”
“Good, good. No surprises, okay?” Lab Rat said, a faint note of relief in his voice. He turned back to Edwards. “Come sit over here.” He pointed at a chair mounted in front of a large console in the center of the room. “This is where I will be when we run the actual test.”
Edwards slid his bulk into the chair, feeling slightly confined. He noticed the seat belt dangling from the seat. What kind of seas could make a ship this big so unsteady that you’d need a belt? He shuddered at the thought.
