“The stealth bomber can attack over sixty targets with the SDB, General,” Sparks pointed out.
“Yes, sir, but the stealth bomber needs time and tanker support to fly to the target area,” Patrick said. “If both planes were loaded and sitting alert and were ordered to launch and attack a target three thousand miles away — say, Diego Garcia to Tehran, Iran — a stealth bomber would take six hours and a minimum of two refuelings to do the job; a B-1 bomber could do it in five hours. The Black Stallion can do it in less than two hours, and do it with approximately the same cost. By the time the bombers arrive over the target area, the Black Stallion can land, reload, refuel, and fire another salvo.”
“That’s still a lot fewer targets attacked in the same amount of time.”
“Yes, sir, but the Black Stallion did the job without putting any personnel or hardware over enemy territory, and without the need for any overseas bases,” Patrick pointed out. “Plus the Black Stallion has the advantage of speed and reaction time: if satellite imagery, human intelligence, or unmanned reconnaissance picks up an enemy presence, we can respond quickly.”
“And the bad guys won’t see us coming,” Boomer added.
“The whole world saw you coming today, Captain,” Secretary of State Mary Carson said perturbedly. Carson was in her early fifties, tall, slender, and very serious-looking, with a clipped pattern of speech that made it sound as if she was snapping at anyone she spoke to. “The Russians inquired about our unannounced launch activities minutes after you fired the rockets to boost yourself into space, suggesting that some believed it was an intercontinental missile attack; and they inquired about the payload shortly after you released it. Several of our European allies also queried us about the flight. It was no secret to anyone.”
“Then another part of our mission was a success,” Patrick said.
“What part is that, General — spooking half the world?” Carson asked. “Demonstrating our intent to conduct our own ‘bolt-from-the-blue’ aerial bombardment attacks, like Russia did? Is that the message you’re trying to send here?”
“Madame Secretary, we have no conventional strategic long-range strike forces except for a handful of bombers,” Patrick explained. “Our ability to project power abroad is limited to the ten existing carrier battle groups and deployed tactical air power. Even if every group is put to sea and every Air Force and Marine fighter wing is deployed to forward operating bases, it still leaves most of the planet unreachable by American military air power simply because smaller aircraft have less range and need more support to operate far from home or friendly bases. If we show the world that we can successfully launch a viable quick-reaction single-stage-to-orbit aircraft, the world will be caught off-guard, and our enemies will be scrambling to catch up. That gives us much-needed breathing space to decide which direction we want to proceed.”
“I don’t like playing those kinds of games, General,” Carson said. “This gives the State Department nothing to work with. It’s brinksmanship.” She turned to the Secretary of Defense, Joseph Gardner. “Do we even need long-range bombers any more, Joe? Everyone keeps on saying that the bombers are outdated — why spend billions on outdated technology?”
“General McLanahan has stated the situation accurately, Mary,” Gardner replied. “We need a long-range quick-reaction nonnuclear strike force to fill the gap between tactical ship- and land-based air forces and nuclear missiles, able to respond to a severe crisis anywhere in the world in a very short period of time with sustained and devastating firepower. With the Russians still a threat and China growing stronger every year, that mission hasn’t changed.” He turned to Patrick and added, “But frankly we’re very disappointed in General McLanahan’s recommendations. With the kind of money we’re talking about, we can triple the size of the previous B-2 stealth bomber fleet, procure all of the latest state-of-the-art precision-guided weapons we’d need for the next ten years, and still have money left over for other needs.”
“The ‘Barbeau Formula,’” Vice President Hershel interjected.
“It’s a good plan, Miss Vice President,” Gardner said. “Two wings with twenty B-2 stealth bombers each, fitted with the latest technology and armed with the latest standoff precision-guided munitions. They are still unmatched for performance and striking capability over any heavily defended target complex on Earth. The Navy takes care of maritime, littoral, medium-range strike missions, nuclear strike, and space; the Air Force takes care of tankers, transports, long-range conventional strike, and air superiority.” Again, he turned sullenly to Patrick and added, “With General McLanahan’s background, the Pentagon assumed he’d agree with this strategy. I’m somewhat perplexed by his current stance.”
“Sir, I don’t have a ‘stance’ here,” Patrick said. “My directive was to evaluate several different proposals to replace the strategic conventional strike forces destroyed by the Russians. That’s what I’m doing.”
“But you came to this meeting riding in one of those ‘proposals,’ General,” Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman Glenbrook pointed out with a wry smile. “You didn’t come here on a B-2 stealth bomber. That sounds like an endorsement to me.”
“It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up, sir, that’s all,” Patrick said. “Besides, I’ve already got plenty of hours in the B-2.”
Glenbrook’s conciliatory nod was almost a bow — he was very familiar with Patrick McLanahan’s record, including his combat record. McLanahan had not just helped design and test aerospace weapon systems, but he was often chosen — or volunteered — to take his ultra high-tech war machines into battle. Many conflicts around the world over the past eighteen years had been prevented from escalating into a major war because of McLanahan’s skill, bravery, and outright audacity. He had a very long list of awards and decorations, most of which he was not allowed to wear on his uniform or ever have revealed to anyone until after his death: some would never be revealed for a generation.
“I think it was a dangerous and foolish stunt, General,” National Security Adviser Sparks said hotly. “You exposed yourself to unnecessary danger just for a thrill ride.”
“Sir, men and women from the ‘Lake’ expose themselves to the same dangers every day,” Patrick said. “I wouldn’t characterize it as ‘unnecessary.’”
“It is if a middle-aged White House staffer does it,” Sparks said.
“May I suggest we get back to the subject at hand, gents?” Maureen Hershel interjected. She had to stifle a smile at Patrick’s expense at the “middle-aged White House staffer” comment. “Congress is bugging the White House for a recommendation the President will support for the new long-range strike force. If we don’t recommend something soon, we’ll risk losing part of the appropriation.”
“I take it,” the President said, “that we have no consensus here on which direction we should proceed?” His comment was met by uncomfortable silence, so he rose, poured himself another cup of coffee, and sat down. “All right, let’s talk about the Black Stallion track once again.” After he had settled into his chair at the head of the informal meeting area, he asked, “So, Patrick, tell me what it was like to go into space.”
“In a word, sir — incredible,” Patrick replied with a smile. “I still can’t believe what we did this morning: one orbit around the Earth and landing at an air base all the way across the country in about two hours.”
“And we can fuel up the Stud and do it again, right now,” Boomer added excitedly. “Patuxent River or Andrews Air Force Base both has everything we need to blast off again.”
“Could I fly in it?” the President asked. Boomer chuckled. “What’s so funny, Captain? Don’t think I can handle it?”