“Andy, it’s Dr. Lindsay!”
With his face still half-covered with shaving cream, Andrew put down his razor and silently cursed to himself. Fighting the impulse to ignore the call altogether, he sighed and hastily caught his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A disgusted, pained expression twisted his face as he turned to pick up the bedroom receiver. The mere tone of the caller’s deep voice verified Andrew’s worse fears.
“Andy, sorry to do this to you, lad, but we need you up here pronto. Keyhole Alpha is falling from orbit much quicker than we had anticipated. It’s doubtful that she’ll be able to give us another pass over the USSR. To replace her, Colorado Springs wants us to activate Baker. Since she’s been your baby from the beginning, I thought you’d like to do the honors.”
Although a major part of his being rebelled at the very thought of returning to the tracking station, Andrew’s conscience got the best of him.
“I’m on my way. Doc,” said Andrew sighing heavily.
“Very good, lad,” returned the director of the Kokee station.
“We’ll hold the fort for your arrival.
Drive carefully.”
As he hung up the receiver, Andrew noticed a dejected-looking figure standing at his side. Her deep blue eyes expressed her frustration. Overtaken by an emotion he was just beginning to understand, he reached out and pulled his love close to him. Only then did he realize that half his face was still covered with shaving cream.
Five minutes later, he was fully dressed and on his way up Waimea Canyon Drive. Though the tracking station was less than twenty miles away, the curving road was steep, narrow, and, as he was soon to learn, at this hour, filled with tourists on their way to Kokee State Park. Settling his jeep behind a long line of slow-moving rental cars, Andrew cursed at his misfortune.
Struggling to contain his rising anger, he pounded the wheel, hardly aware of the spectacular scenery passing on each side of him.
Fortunately, Wendy had taken his abrupt call to duty all in stride. Though she had been disappointed that their plans would have to be temporarily put on hold, she was most aware of the fickle nature of their governmental positions. Having entered the Navy over two years before, she had known that the call could have very well been for her. Not even bothering to question the nature of the crisis that was ruining their plans, she had dutifully filled a thermos with coffee and packed Andrew a bacon-and-egg sandwich.
Parting with a kiss and a hug, Andrew had promised to call her as soon as he had a better idea of the length of his present assignment. If all went smoothly, he knew that the reunion could take place as soon as that afternoon. Since things in his field rarely went as planned, though, he couldn’t say for sure. Resigned to this fact, he now directed his attention to the road before him. A total of seven cars lay between him and the slow-moving, diesel-belching tourist bus that was delaying their progress. Since there would not be a safe passing lane for another three miles, Andrew did his best to remain patient.
After determining a prudent following distance, he allowed his thoughts to drift to the nature of his present work.
For over a decade, his duty with NASA had included a variety of assignments. These included work on the Explorer project, the space-shuttle program, and, most recently, a stint with the Air Force’s satellite control facility at Sunnyvale, California. In fact, it was in Sunnyvale that he had absorbed the knowledge that he was presently being called in to apply — the exact positioning of satellites consigned to a polar orbit.
Of course, there could be no denying the extreme importance of the project he was currently involved with. That was why, when Dr. Lindsay’s call had arrived earlier, Andrew hadn’t dared to turn him down. The security of the very nation could well be at stake.
The Keyhole satellites were the most effective reconnaisance platforms that the United States ever had. Through the use of ultra-sophisticated optical techniques, such satellites obtained highly detailed pictures of portions of the earth from which America’s security could be threatened. With the aid of high-resolution, multi-spectral cameras, objects as small as twelve inches across could be photographed from altitudes of several hundred miles. By using infrared radar scanners, these cameras could even penetrate cloud cover. Needless to say, such platforms served as an invaluable instrument in determining a possible aggressor’s intentions.
Because the nature of their assignments required a relatively low orbit, the Keyholes’ lifetimes were limited.
Earlier models had had an operational limit of less than four months, while the latest versions could remain aloft for over a year. Thus it was in the country’s best interest to have several such platforms in orbit at all times, with replacements ready to launch whenever necessary.
Much to the Air Force’s dismay, the U.S. would soon be in the precarious position of having only a single operational Keyhole platform in orbit. The reasons for this dangerous development were varied.
With the loss of the space shuttle Challenger, and the subsequent delay of the entire shuttle program, the country had been temporarily deprived of its primary satellite-booster vehicle. The only available rocket powerful enough to carry such payloads as the Keyhole was the unmanned Titan 34-D. Less than three months after Challenger went down, a Titan carrying a Keyhole replacement had exploded over the coastline of central California, seconds after being launched from Vandenberg Air Force Base. This failure had left the U.S. with only a pair of Keyholes in orbit, and no foreseeable way in the near future of replacing them. Now, as the oldest of these two satellites fell from the heavens, at the limit of its operational lifetime, only a single platform remained aloft. This allimportant surviving vehicle would have to remain on line until a reliable method of replacement could be achieved.
Andrew Weston’s duty was to help the Air Force reposition, then activate this surviving platform, which was known simply as Baker. Nine months before, he had supervised its initial placement from the control room at Sunnyvale. Today, he would be responsible for bringing it back to life once again.
Most aware of the utter importance of his mission, Andrew sighed in relief when the long-anticipated passing lane became visible up ahead. Not waiting for the cars that preceded him to make their move, he pushed down on his horn, floored the accelerator, and veered the jeep to the left. Oblivious to the angry hand and facial gestures of those that he now passed, Andrew zipped by the bus and soon had the road all to himself.
As Waimea Canyon Road merged into Kokee Road, the landscape became noticeably different from that down below. Absent were the vast, flat fields of sugar cane and taro. In their places were steep, rounded hillsides, most of which were covered with thick stands of twisted oaks. From this new elevation, over two thousand feet above sea level, Andrew could view the broad canyon stretching out to his right. Developed after thousands of years of erosion, the colorful volcanic valley was known as the Grand Canyon of the Pacific, and rightly so. He would never forget the first time that he had viewed this landscape six months before.
Expecting to find Kauai completely filled with white beaches and coconut-laden palm trees, he had been shocked to find the Kokee tracking station situated on a pine-covered summit, twenty-five hundred feet above sea level, overlooking breathtaking Waimea Canyon. For the first couple of weeks, the fall weather had been gorgeous, with warm days and comfortable, crystal-clear nights. Andrew had quickly immersed himself in his work, as they all prepared to monitor a full schedule of seven space shuttle flights from Vandenberg the very next year.