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Dale Brown

Silver Tower

CHAPTER 1

February 1992
THE PACIFIC OCEAN

Three hundred miles east of Tokyo the aircraft carrier CV-64 USS Constellation rode the gentle swells of the north Pacific Ocean. She was cruising at only six knots, barely enough to maintain steerage way. The thirty-year-old, eighty-thousand-ton Kitty Hawk-class aircraft carrier was surrounded by an armada of eleven smaller support ships and other surface combatants arranged in a wide hexagon pattern.

The Constellation itself was buzzing with activity. Poised for battle, two F/A-18E Hornet fighter-bombers were positioned in their catapults, engines running, ready for the steam-powered push that would shoot them from zero to one hundred forty knots in three seconds. Two more F-18s on external power were parked just behind the catapult blast deflectors, ready to take their places once the first two alert birds launched. A CH-53F Super Sea Stallion III transport helicopter, its seventy-five-foot-diameter rotor slowly spinning, sat on the Constellation's flight deck just beside the "island" superstructure. Another was hovering a few hundred feet from the Constellation's fantail, ready in a few seconds to drop onto the carrier's broad stem if ordered.

The seas behind the huge carrier were patrolled by predators of a different sort — three Los Angeles-class nuclear attack submarines that hung virtually motionless in the warm Pacific currents. Their sophisticated electronic sensors registered, catalogued, analyzed and assessed each and every sound in the ocean for miles around, from the loudest clamor of propellers to the softest hiss of the smallest marine creature. Each of the sub's four torpedo tubes was loaded with long-range ASW/SOW antisubmarine missile-torpedoes, and each of the sub's vertical launch tubes was loaded with Sub-Harpoon antiship missiles.

But the man in the skipper's chair on the bridge atop the Constellation's superstructure did not notice any of these special additions to the Constellation's battle group. He was peering intently at a fifteen-inch-diameter radar scope, tracking three very large blips at its outer edge. The man looked up from the radar scope and squinted at the horizon, north between the American nuclear missile cruiser USS Long Beach and the tiny frigate USS Lockwood. "I can just barely make them out, I think," the president of the United States said. Two of the senior officials on the bridge glanced doubtfully at each other — no one, not even the president of the United States, could see a ship two hundred miles away. "'I think, sir," Rear Admiral Bennett Walton said, "that you're seeing the Jouett, one of our missile destroyer escorts. "

The president checked the radar again, pointing to a large blip. "That's the Jouett? He looks so far away."

"It's pretty hazy out, sir. The Jouett is eight miles out, but it seems farther. "

The president grunted at the scope, his expression turning pensive as the three blips moved closer to the center of the screen. "Who the hell are they, Admiral?"

Walton smiled. "It's the Kirov, Mr. President. Largest guided missile cruiser in the world. She's got the Krasina guided missile cruiser and the Kresta, an antisubmarine destroyer, with her."

"No aircraft carrier? I would have thought the Soviets would try to match the Constellation's forces."

"Sir," Secretary of Defense Linus Edwards put in, "they don't have enough forces to match even the Constellation's small battle group. It would be a waste for them to try."

The president tried his best to ignore Edwards' bravado. The secretary of defense was an old navy sea captain who thought the U.S. Navy ruled the seven seas. His background, the president reminded himself, clouded many of his opinions. He turned back to Walton. "Are you worried that the Kirov is trailing us, even though it's over two hundred miles away?"

"Sir, the Kirov is about five hundred miles closer than I'd like. She packs quite a wallop, especially at only two hundred miles distant. But we're less than a thousand miles from Vladivostok, their largest Pacific naval base, so I guess we should be thankful there's only one major battleship out there shadowing us."

He paused, glancing at a large chart of the Sea of Japan and East Asia on the bulkhead above the radar gear. "I'm more concerned about their naval aviation forces at Vladivostok they have the equivalent of four full naval air groups and nine heavy bomb wings out there, enough to invade Japan twice over. Plus there's always the threat posed by their newest carrier group — led by the Arkhangel. "

"But the Constellation and her escorts have enough firepower to take on anything the Soviets might throw at us," Edwards pointed out, "if they're reckless enough to try."

Walton moved to another radar scope beside the main sea-mapping scope. "Here's a display of aircraft, Mr. President, within five hundred miles of us. All of them are ours or Japan's, except for this guy. " Walton pointed at a highlighted blip, again at the very edge of the scope. "An Ilyushin Il-76G turbojet spy plane," the admiral explained. "It can monitor our communications, study our radar emissions, map out the positions of all our ships. We also think it can monitor the progress of this morning's test."

"How long until we start the test?" the president asked.

"We can start at any time, sir," Linus Edwards replied, checking his watch.

"Everyone's in position," Walton said. "They should be running through their final prelaunch checks now. Tracking and monitoring stations and the White Sands Missile Range target area have already reported ready."

The president nodded, then wandered out to the catwalk just outside the bridge area. Secretary Edwards and Admiral Walton followed, along with Neil McDonough, an NSC adviser, and a small knot of Marine and Secret Service guards. The president let the wind toss his thin silver hair around and inhaled deeply, breathing in the crisp salt air. "We're finally about to do it," he said excitedly, raising his voice over the sounds of jet turbines on the Constellation's seventy-four-thousand-square-foot flight deck. "I've been waiting for this demonstration for months."

"I have to admit," Edwards said, "that I feel a little uneasy about this whole thing." He did not attempt to raise his voice over the clamor of helicopters and machinery on the flight deck seventy feet below. "The first intercontinental missiles fired over the pole at the United States from Asia, and we launch them. Even with the Tridents' warheads inert, it makes me nervous."

"Your less than enthusiastic opinion of the antiballistic missile defense system is well documented, Lee," the president said. "But that's one of the reasons I scheduled this test. Your opinions carry a lot of weight. If you're unhappy with the space-based defense network, others will be. If I can convince you how valuable this system is, I think I can convince others — including the Russians."

"But a test of this magnitude?" Edwards asked. "Six D-5 phase-three sub-launched missiles flying right through Canada and across the United States? Is a test with this much potential for mishap really necessary? An ICBM has never been flown across the pole before—"

"You mean we've never flown across the pole before," the president corrected. "We've caught the Russians firing missiles from Murmansk in Europe to their Asian ranges, and there's evidence of them shooting 'ferret' missiles at Canada to test our early warning systems. We're hardly setting a precedent here."

Edwards was about to interject something but the president continued. "This test is vital, Lee. No matter how sophisticated a system is, people remain skeptical until they see it in action. Space Command briefs Congress almost every month on the results of their simulations, but no one believes how good the Thor kinetic-kill missile system really is. It's time to show them." He pointed towards the horizon, where the three Russian ships were riding beyond visual range. "Those sonsofbitches want a show, we'll give 'em a show."