The left screen exhibited a computer-generated timeline with supporting tabular data detailing key events and milestones. As the countdown progressed, the symbols shifted in color, furnishing a comprehensive roadmap for the uninitiated.
The dominant middle screen hosted an impressive, three-dimensional computer mock-up of the entire experiment’s geometry. A bright blue globe, complete with soft white caps on each pole, slowly turned in space, blotted with the fami-liar pattern of earth’s light brown land masses. Even the la-test weather data was overlaid, painting a third of the earth in broad brushstrokes of white and gray that made the image look exactly like a photograph from space. The orbits of the shuttle and other supporting spacecraft encircled the globe with brightly colored rings. Relevant text doggedly trailed each moving object, providing the latest position and performance data. Thomas marveled at the processing engine required to unleash such a magnificent presentation in real time.
The less sensational right screen was split into two windows, the top for real-time video from a camera mounted in Discovery’s cargo bay, and the other signal from Vandenberg, from a camera positioned to catch the ICBM launches.
At T minus twenty minutes, the activity level rose to a fever pitch. Important last-minute checks had to be successfully wrapped up before committing the ICBMs. Coordination between the two sites, the CSOC and Vandenberg, had to be exact. A delayed ICBM launch, even for a few short minutes, would throw Discovery completely out of position, dooming any hope for a successful experiment. The shuttle would have to return to earth empty-handed.
“Discovery, this is Mission Control; commence laser power test at T minus fifteen minutes.”
“Mission Control, this is Discovery, all checks completed satisfactorily. Laser power level within acceptable limits. All critical temperatures within normal bands.”
“Discovery, Mission Control, stand by.”
Before committing the precious Vandenberg ICBMs, the laser would be fired at half power, out into dark, cold space at an azimuth safe from nosy intruders. Only then could they be sure.
“Discovery. Fire.”
The camera aboard Discovery captured the test shot magnificently. The one-megawatt chemical laser generated a brilliant, reddish-orange, pencil-thin beam that shot from Discovery’s cargo bay and into space, lasing for two full seconds. The man-made energy would travel forever through space, someday signaling these earthlings’ monumental triumph to some distant corner of the universe.
“Looks good, Mission Control, power level right on the button, recharging was perfect. Took about five-and-one-half seconds to regain full power.”
“Vandenberg, this is Mission Control; the test shot was a success. Start the final countdown. Discovery, Mission Control, we’re proceeding.”
The digital clock relentlessly crossed T minus three minutes. The mission director leaned back in his chair, his thin frame coiled like a spring; it was up to Vandenberg. There was nothing left to do.
The disembodied voice of the launch director at Vandenberg could be heard over the speakers. When the voice froze at T minus zero, the remote video camera captured the first ICBM as it leapt from its expertly camouflaged silo, ejected by a violent eruption of super-heated steam from a subterranean gas generator. The magnificent missile hung momentarily 150 feet above the ground before the first-stage rocket motor ignited in a billowing cloud of flame and smoke. The surplus Peacekeeper missile roared skyward, lazily rolling and heading out smartly over the Pacific Ocean. In tandem, the ballistic-missile trajectory was plotted on the center screen, originating from a small dot on the surface of the earth near Point Conception off the California coast.
For success, the battle manager first required a launch detection. This critical signal would flow from an early warning satellite floating high above the equator in geostationary orbit. Sensitive infrared sensors would then lock on and track the red-hot booster, developing the needed firing solution to accurately aim the laser. All this would happen in less than two hundred seconds, while the target missile was still in the boost phase. At least that was the plan.
“We have launch detection,” shouted a voice over the intercom. The left-hand screen lit up with a cascade of data signaling initial detection of the first Peacekeeper missile. Within seconds, the second missile was ejected from its silo and headed downrange in hot pursuit of the first. The two missiles were separated by only thirty seconds; the third was scheduled to trail the first pair by fifty — the extra twenty seconds providing a much-welcomed cushion.
All three missiles had been launched and the first two detected when the brilliant, electronic battle manager established a firm track on the first booster. It was seventy-five seconds into flight, fifteen seconds after the booster had shed its cumbersome first stage.
The tiny silicon brain continued to track the accelerating booster, waiting for just the right time to shoot. They needed the hot rocket as close as possible. Seconds into the tracking sequence, the laser slewed a few degrees to the right and locked on the supposed enemy target. In an instant, the chemical laser beam burst forth toward the limb of the earth, this time at full power, reaching out to deposit its lethal dose on the first ICBM. The beam found its mark and locked on the booster for over two seconds. Silence followed over the voice circuits. Floating upside down in orbit, the shuttle crews had picked up the brilliant flash. Awestruck, they groped for the right words.
Transmitted telemetry to earth indicated a kill, but the screen displaying close-up video from Discovery provided the unquestionable confirmation. First came the blinding laser flash, quickly followed by a bright whitish-yellow explosion as the booster disintegrated. Debris floated off in an irregular circular pattern as the blast gases dissipated. The lack of an audible explosion didn’t detract from the euphoria.
A deafening roar filled the room, but subsided quickly, tempered by the sober realization that the most challenging portion of the test was still to come. Could the laser’s power supply recharge in time? That was the Achilles’s heel.
Booster number two was deep into its trajectory, tracked by super-cooled infrared (IR) and UV sensors. Disengaged by its computer boss, the laser trained toward the rapidly rising hostile target while the prototype power-generating system struggled to regenerate. The second ICBM continued to accelerate toward the drifting shuttles, powered by its third-stage rocket motor. The laser finally locked on, but at a point much farther along the predicted trajectory than the first. There would be no time for a second shot.
The laser beam leapt from Discovery, arcing slightly as it reached toward the slowing spinning earth. This time there was no explosion, and a chorus of groans rose from the rows of consoles. The mission director quickly interceded to interrupt the nominal test sequence. “Break off and go for the third bird,” he ordered. Discovery would translate to the battle manager. The additional twenty seconds for the third booster had proved to be a godsend. Mentally counting the seconds, Thomas noticed that the power supply had not fully recharged after the wasted second shot. He and everyone else gripped their chairs and prayed it would have enough juice.