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“Noble?” Raydon asked over the secondary frequency.

“She’s a little off longitudinally and a little high, but I’ll bet she’s dead in the center,” Boomer said. “Grab her and reel her in slowly.”

The cradle’s grapple moved and contacted the spaceplane’s grapple ring on the first try. “Good contact, Midnight,” the cradle operator reported. “Spacecraft moving to secure position.” It took longer than normal, but eventually the Midnight spaceplane was hauled down onto the cradle. “Spacecraft secure. Extending transfer tunnel and umbilicals. Well done, Major Colwin.”

“Thanks, guys,” she replied a little weakly. “And, General, Boomer, thanks for trusting me to do this.”

“Good job, Major,” Raydon said.

“You’re welcome, Colwin,” Boomer added. “Just don’t forget to unlock the cargo-bay air-lock hatch for me when you deplane.”

“Roger.” Boomer watched as a deplaning module motored along the service beam beside the Midnight and a transfer tunnel extended and fastened onto the spaceplane. A few moments later: “Transfer tunnel shows secure in place. Clear for pressure test.” The tunnel was pressurized to be sure it was securely in place and sealed and so there was no difference in pressure between the station, tunnel, and spacecraft. A few more moments later: “I show pressure steady.”

“Checks, pressure equal and steady,” the deplaning module technician responded. “Clear to open your hatch, Major. Welcome back.”

“Hatch coming open,” Colwin said. A moment later: “Inside the tunnel…main entry hatch secure, Boomer.”

“Thanks, Colwin. Armstrong, I’m entering Midnight’s cargo bay. I’ll depressurize the air lock, come inside, repressurize, and unsuit before I come up. You can disconnect the tunnel and bring Colwin aboard.”

“Copy that, Boomer,” Raydon replied.

Boomer waited until he could see Colwin through the windows in the deplaning module, took another look at the incredible spectacle around him, then floated into Midnight’s open cargo bay. As the transfer tunnel began to retract back up into the deplaning module, Boomer hit a switch to depressurize the air lock, heard the pumps sucking out the air for reuse, then when completed, grabbed the hatch handle…

…and it wouldn’t move. He tried again-no use. He looked up at the deplaning module. “Colwin, are you sure you unlocked the air-lock hatch for me?” he radioed.

He could see Colwin’s smiling face in the window of the deplaning module as the tunnel completed retracting. As the module began moving away down the service beam toward the station, Dana Colwin waved, then replied with a question of her own: “How does it feel to be suddenly left all alone in space, Noble?”

OFFICE OF THE SECRETARY OF THE AIR FORCE, THE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON, D.C.

THE NEXT DAY

“Why do I get the feeling, Mr. Secretary,” Ann Page asked as she was shown to her seat, “that this is my ‘come to Jesus’ meeting?”

Secretary of the Air Force Salazar “Sal” Banderas smiled and nodded as he returned to his chair. Standing in front of their chairs, arrayed around the conference table in the meeting area adjacent to the secretary’s office, were General Charles Huffman, the Air Force chief of staff, and General Robert Wiehl, commander of Air Force Space Command at Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado, and dual-hatted as U.S. Space Command chief. “I guess you could say it is, Dr. Page,” Banderas said. “You know everyone here, yes?”

“Of course, Mr. Secretary,” Ann said as she shook hands with all the men in the room. They respectfully stayed standing until Ann took her seat, even Banderas. She noticed that copies of the two latest reports she had submitted to the secretary of the Air Force were before each of them, along with other reports-contrary opinions, no doubt.

“Dr. Page, I’ll get right to it: If what you’ve said in these reports is even half true, I’m completely blown away,” Banderas said. “Two successful back-to-back tests of space-based weapons. I’m impressed. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Mr. Secretary,” Ann said. “I assure you, the results are accurate, and my conclusions and recommendations for follow-on funding, development, and deployment are as well.” She looked around the table, trying to gauge the opinions and positions of the others, but they were all too politically savvy to allow their facial expressions or body language to reveal their thoughts…not yet at least. “My office runs out of R-and-D money for the Trinity weapon series soon. Most of the funding came from the Martindale administration, canceled programs, and funds borrowed from other areas. I’m requesting an increase in funding for 2014 through 2020 and a supplemental for the rest of this fiscal year and for the next.”

“To do what, Dr. Page?” General Huffman asked. He opened her report to a tabbed page. “You want to spend twenty billion dollars this next fiscal year plus ten billion a year for the next ten years to launch forty-eight ‘weapon garages’ into low Earth orbit, armed with these Trinity kill vehicles? That’s twenty percent of our current budget! Where in the world did this plan come from?”

“The plan came from a continuing request from Congress for persistent, global, rapid strike following the destruction of the manned bomber and land-based intercontinental ballistic-missile forces after the Russian bomber attack on the United States, General,” Ann replied. “President Gardner’s response was to add four aircraft carrier battle groups over the next ten years at a cost of ten billion dollars a year.”

“It’s proven technology at less cost, Ann,” Banderas commented.

“But it doesn’t fulfill the mandate, Mr. Secretary,” Ann said. “Even with sea-launched cruise missiles, which our adversaries are better able to detect and destroy, the Navy can hold less than thirty percent of all strategic targets in Russia and China at risk. Even against those targets we can reach, even a sixteen-carrier fleet could take days to be in a position to attack, and then its ability to attack is affected by environmental conditions. And as we saw just recently, the carrier is becoming more and more vulnerable to a wider array of threats.”

“The argument’s been made that long-range strike is no longer necessary,” Banderas said flatly. “After the American Holocaust, strategic attack was all but killed off.”

“I think the same was said before the American Holocaust, sir,” Ann said. The American Holocaust was a Russian sneak attack using supersonic low-yield nuclear-tipped cruise missiles on American antiballistic-missile defense launch and radar sites, intercontinental ballistic-missile launch control centers, and long-range bomber bases. The attack killed several thousand persons, injured hundreds of thousands more, and in effect destroyed America ’s land-based nuclear deterrent. America ’s counterattack took place shortly thereafter, when Patrick McLanahan led a force of the surviving B-52, B-1, and B-2 bombers to capture a Russian air base in Siberia, from which he staged search-and-destroy missions throughout Russia that destroyed the majority of Russia ’s fixed and mobile intercontinental ballistic missiles.

The attacks left the two countries with a rough parity of nuclear-armed long-range missiles-the United States had its fourteen Trident ballistic-missile submarines, which had not been attacked (although it was widely believed that Russia had a follow-on attack mission ready), and a handful of long-range bombers, and Russia had two dozen surviving ICBM launchers and a handful of nuclear submarines. The world breathed a silent sigh of relief because now everyone saw the unspeakable horror of nuclear war, and all nuclear nations pledged to work to mothball all of their remaining nuclear weapons and delivery systems so the nightmare was never repeated.

“And now you’re proposing to create another arms race, Ann-this one in space,” Banderas said. “We put forty-eight weapon garages in orbit; China launches sixty; Russia launches a hundred. They start putting nukes in their garages; we modify our garages to attack their garages; they do the same to theirs. That’s a race we don’t need to start.”