“But this one is mine.”
BOOK TWO: “TEMPERED”
12: “ECCENTRIC ORBITS”
“And we’re back!”
“Hey, all of you out there on the drive to work, welcome back to Pat—”
“And Terry—”
“In the Morning!!”
“If you missed the first hour—”
“Ya lazy bums.”
“Terry! Anyway, if you missed the first hour, we’re talking about what everyone seems to be talking about—namely, the unprecedented surprise launch of the Sword of Liberty off the coast of California yesterday. Now, I don’t care if you’re an old-timer and you remember the hey-day of the space shuttle, or maybe Apollo and the moon landing, or hell, perhaps you’re ancient and you remember Sputnik, Gagarin, and Shepard, but this is seriously the coolest thing to happen to space in maybe ever. I’m totally geekin’ out.”
“Yes, you are a total geek.”
“Terry! Well, I think our devoted listener-ship is with me on this one. This thing is big. This thing is fast, powerful, and sexy. It’s the answering call to all the dashed dreams of generations of enthusiasts and starry-eyed hopefuls. This is sci-fi made real! Forget multi-month missions to Mars to pick up rocks. Forget robot probes and halting, tentative steps into space. This is Space with a capital ‘S’.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool, Pat. It makes those fragile little NASA rockets look like bush-league amateurs. But while you’re having a geekgasm, think about what this really is: they didn’t call it a space-explorer. They don’t call it a solar system surveyor. They called it a destroyer. Think about that!”
“What are you trying to say, Terry? Who cares what they call it?”
“I care! And you can bet your sweet wife’s fanny that the Chinese and the EU care. Our government, who only has our best interests at heart of course, has just weaponized space to a degree unheard of before now. Hell, I couldn’t even count the number of international treaties violated if I used both my fingers and toes. Why? C’mon, there’s gotta be a reason for all those missiles and lasers. And what’s with that little speech Colonel Henson gave? ‘—ready to face whatever may come … in defense and support of our planet, but against no man or terrestrial power.’ If it ain’t against no man or earthly power, who the hell is it against?! Is there some non-earthly enemy they haven’t let out of the bag yet?”
“Ha! Terry, I’m the Trekkie, but you’re the first one to jump on the ‘aliens from space’ land mine? Listen, there are no little green men on Mars. The balloon people of Jupiter aren’t coming to steal your cable or drink your beer. And the grays are just a bunch of society-influenced collective hallucinations by some sad little lonely-heart crazies. The Sword of Liberty is up there for the same reason we put up any new combat system—to defend the red, white, and blue against all enemies, foreign and domestic. We put up the first one, and I’m sure we’ll find out within the year that it was in response to something the Chinese or the Algerians intended to put up.”
“Yeah, Mister The-Flag’s-Never-Dirty? What about the Deltans?”
“Conspiracy theories, Terry? Please! That’s worse than a simple garden-variety belief in UFOs.”
“Hear me out, Pat! Who’s the major contractor on the Sword? Windward Technologies Inc. And who was the founder and former CEO? Gordon Elliot Lee. And who was the guy that first claimed the Pavonis comet wasn’t a comet at all? Gordon F-ing Lee. You’re trying to tell me there’s no connection between the company that built the first interplanetary star destroyer and the conspiracy whack-job that’s been warning us about an alien invasion for the last twenty years? Come on!!”
“You folks out there in radio-land can’t see it, but Terry just put on a tinfoil beanie, propeller and all.”
“That’s it, Pat, laugh at the crazy man wearing his underwear on the outside, but mark my words—there’s aspects to this whole space-based destroyer thing that the administration hasn’t told us about yet. The other shoe? It has yet to drop, my friend!”
“I am happy to concede the point that our beloved military-industrial complex has not been completely forthcoming—not that I would truly want them to be, but that’s the difference between us. Now, are you willing to put away the conspiracies for a minute and just agree with me that this is cool and that if anybody has to have such a thing, at least it’s our own dedicated, honorable military?”
“Okay, I’ll grant you that, Pat. It is indeed cool and I’m really damn glad that it’s USA-cool rather than Somebody-Else-cool. I’d shudder to think what this thing would be like in the hands of another nation or some private group, rather than our boys in the Navy and Air Force.”
“You and me both, brother. You and me both.”
March 7, 2045; Windward Technologies, Inc. Test and Evaluation Airfield; Vallejo, CA
“I don’t know, sir. I think I need to call the watch commander.”
Dave Edwards, retired Senior Chief, fellow USS Rivero survivor, and current co-conspirator, looked up from the wheelchair he hardly ever used and gave the young Air Force guard his most withering glare. The look from his thick, leathery face included a mixture of contempt for the Air Force Technical Sergeant’s youth, rank, and service, as well as a special disdain for the non-com’s temerity to delay one such as he.
Edwards rolled forward until the pants-covered stumps of his legs touched the soldier’s camo trousers. “Boy, do you have any goddamn clue about who the hell I am, or about the clusterfuck you’re attempting to insert yourself in?”
The Tech SGT took a quick, wide-eyed look at the crowd of civilians facing him and then looked down at Edwards’ challenging glare. “Um, yes, sir—I mean no, sir—I mean yes, sir, I know who you are. I know who all of you are, but that doesn’t make this any less irregular. More, truth be told.”
Edwards gave him a feral smile, causing the SGT to back up a step. “Well, Airman, let me make it more clear for you. There’s this big fuckin’ spaceship up there and everybody’s all abuzz about it.”
The SGT bristled at the purposeful misstatement of his rank by the retired Navy non-com. He growled out, “I’m aware of that, sir. This facility is at a heightened security posture for that very reason. Which is why—”
“No, no, screw that,” Edwards interrupted. “You’re talking about security postures and I’m talking about pissing off the President of these United States. Here’s the way it is—that big ass ship up there is too damn large to ever land again, and now that it’s on its way back to Earth, the President has pretty much got jack and shit to show off to the people of the world during her big welcome home for the asteroid-conquering heroes.