Love or Liberty, page 29
Chris sat next to Bob Crandall, Head of NASA’s Space Task Group, while Jim took the other side. He’d been invited to the meeting with the Secretary to represent Special Ops in place of Chuck who was tied up elsewhere. All Chris had said was that questions might come up about the team’s capability to put a mission together quickly. What mission? It wasn’t clear. They began to exchange news and banter quietly while the other side talked amongst themselves too.
‘The Soviet Luna moon lander is almost ready and they look on plan to send the first crew into lunar orbit by sixty-seven,’ Chris said.
‘You know, I never actually saw how they could afford it,’ Crandall replied. ‘Khrushchev just kept sinking lots of money into it all. I wonder what the new guy, Brezhnev’s, going to do.’
‘Have you seen the N1 rocket? It’s a giant elevator,’ weighed in Jim. They chuckled. ‘Must have cost a fortune.’
‘They’re recruiting too. Six moon men announced just last week,’ Chris said.
They all knew that, but Crandall added, ‘Well, that’s good for us. The President wants to make sure the Soviets keep spending what they can’t afford.’
Knowing it was a controversial angle to take, Jim queried, ‘But, can we keep fighting Vietnam and go to the stars at the same time? They must be wondering that too.’
‘I can certainly see us pulling out of the war to pay for the moon,’ mused Chris. ‘Let’s see if the Secretary shares his game plan today.’
With a grin, Jim added, ‘I say we just film it in Hollywood. Charlie Chaplin goes to space.’
They chuckled again just as the Secretary walked in and sat in the middle on the Air Force’s side of the long table.
He settled, laid down his papers and the room hushed. ‘You understand why we’re here,’ he began. ‘Americans are wondering if we can catch up with the Soviets to get to the moon.’ He threw, from the top of his pile, one of the documents into the center of the table.
Jim saw the shot of Soviet, Leonov, floating in space. It looked like the photograph of the century.
The secretary went on, ‘The public are despondent and fearful. Here’s another.’ He threw down a news article which pronounced The Reds may be unbeatable and said, ‘Are we going to look up at an omniscient Communist moon in the night sky some day? Just as the President feared? Tyranny for all mankind whenever we look up, gentlemen?’
The room was silent.
‘We know the Soviets’ Soyuz N1 is headed for the moon by sixty-seven, two years before us. So, we need to step up a gear otherwise our first trip to the moon will be RSVP to the Soviets’ party. But we also know that that’s not the whole story. They are starting to put suicide bombs into orbit.’
He glanced around the silent table and threw down some additional shots of the Soviet program—one of the giant N1 rockets in the Khazak plain he’d mentioned and which Jim, Chris and Crandall had just talked about. That was followed by another, of the Soviet lunar lander LK-3, which was standing on a production floor, presumably in Russia’s OKB-1, looking like a giant spherical two-story Aluminum spider on thin ungainly metal legs which surrounded its guts underneath. Perched on top, sat a round single-man capsule with a huge circular dent—designed-in—but looking like the giant ball had been dropped from a fumbled hoist to pay homage to the moon’s own cratered face. Then came another report, which concluded the secretary’s stack of exhibits. ‘The master satellite in their system not only controls the network but may also relay launch codes for their nuclear arsenal. So, we face their nuclear threat on Earth, which is now partially controlled from space, and their killer satellites may someday hamper our efforts to get to the moon and dominate space. Perhaps they’ll put this killer network into lunar orbit. Meanwhile, we still need five years to get there. Gentlemen, how do we move this whole thing along? I don’t want to be the one knocking on the door when we reach the moon.’ he looked around the table. ‘Ryan?’
‘Thank you, sir. As the Secretary said, the Soviets have begun to deploy satellite bombs in orbit,’ continued Commander Ryan, Head of Strategic Air Command, sat to the left of the Secretary. His words were calm, considered and meticulously organized. ‘Codenamed Polyot, that’s P-O-L-Y-O-T. We first heard of it over a year ago, when the first unit went up in late sixty-three. They continue to launch clandestine missions. Quite simply, the Soviets are establishing a network of attack satellites around Earth.’
Ryan pulled out, from a standard issue brown CIA envelope, a pile of blurry monochrome photographs and slapped them on top of the mounting pile in the center of the table. The top shot showed Soviet technicians standing next to a barebones satellite with two circular rings, a large dome at one end to house a warhead and several struts arranged in a cone, with thrusters on its backside. Long ungainly communication whiskers sprouted from the middle amongst a mess of tanks and pipes.
‘This thing’s literally a satellite bomb. They didn’t even bother to skin it for a disguise. What concerns us most, right now, is the risk to our nuclear arsenal from here on out. They could disable our communications and surveillance network in an instant, launch an attack and we wouldn’t see a damn thing coming.’
The next shot was of a Soviet R7 rocket which was standing tall on the launch pad—waiting patiently to embarrass the US again, thought Jim.
‘Baikonur, Kazakhstan,’ said Ryan. The photos were handed out for study so Jim picked one up. On closer inspection, he saw men alighting a small van nearby a launch pad, inscribed as LC31, on a barren frozen Kazakh plain which was covered in snow. Payload train carriages were parked up at their final stop on the single track to the nearby loading bay. To Jim, the rocket looked alive and angling to go. He could almost hear it hissing at its tether and groaning with tons of rocket fuel in its belly, shards of ice falling loose as valves vented tufts of steam into the freezing air. Underneath it, a giant blast pit, as if gouged out of the ground by God sized claws, sat silent, awaiting the rocket’s inferno for warmth. And, just behind it, a giant metallic arm had grabbed hold of a second R7 which lay on its side, hoisting it upright by the scruff of the neck.
Another photo came around with a white coated Soviet technician in Russia’s OKB-1. He was typing on a small grey console in an even greyer circular and windowless control room. He had large screens in front of him. Not unlike NASA’s own control room, the desks were strewn with disposable coffee cups and a small, probably greenish screen cathode ray tube monitor, surrounded by uniform clusters of backlit buttons, knobs and switches. One of the men was leaning forward and peering into a small scope through a circular viewing hole, while another held a manual, both surrounded by several large electronics towers with giant knobs and vertical dials. The walls were adorned with protruding pipework between a further set of towers.
‘Defending our country, and someday, landing on the lunar surface, has become a new ball game,’ continued Ryan. ‘We need to understand what we’re up against and neutralize this threat if necessary.’ He looked around the table. ‘There’s too much at stake.’ He picked up a report and went on. ‘These pages also talk about the master satellite that controls this system—the launch code relay, known as Molniya. The Soviets claim it’s for television but this report tells a different story, just as the Secretary said. They began to send these into orbit last year along with the Polyots, and so far, two of them have failed. A third is flying above us right now, but our reports indicate it’s also out of control. They’re already saying the malfunction could trigger a wipeout of our communications. What’s more, another Polyot unit’s just been sent up. They’ve started to build out the network and it’s unstable.’
‘Sorry, but why are we having this conversation?’ asked Bob Crandall.
‘We think these Molniya satellites are military command and control units. They send long range codes to the Soviet Navy and Air Force to launch a strike, and control this network of orbiting bombing units. Someday, they may find their way to the moon and could have the potential to launch weapons. That affects NASA’s program directly, not to mention the defense of our country.’
‘Lunar Weapons?’ Crandall replied in disbelief.
‘That does sound far-fetched, doesn’t it? But our own people are already working on nuclear detonations on the lunar surface.’ He looked at Chris. ‘Project A-119. Special Ops knows about that one,’ Ryan continued. There was a quiet murmur across the room. ‘Though we’re not sure, this third control unit is believed to have malfunctioned too. The Soviet Cosmonaut, Leonov, who went outside for the first time in March, might have been out to grab it and recover launch codes. But his suit went wrong, is what we’re hearing. It’s clear that Soviet equipment is unpredictable, but that makes it all the more dangerous. We could spend vast amounts of money and energy defending against hardware that isn’t going to work anyway. One way or another we need to know more and neutralize the threat.’
‘Hold on. With all due respect,’ said Jones, NASA’s Assistant Administrator. ‘Our job is to get men to the moon and back and that’s all—’
‘Safely,’ the Secretary added to complete the sentence.
Jim jumped in with what he knew to be true. ‘This network of satellites is funded through and resides within the same Soviet space program which controls all their other space activities. That’s OKB-1 in Moscow. It’s the same people.’
Ryan stepped back in. ‘These are offensive weapons and our sources say it’s the very same design bureau behind these, which sent turtles and ladies into space. Their space chief is the head of this killer satellite program and we’re very concerned about what looks like a calamitous change in direction to their program with this new development. It’s clearly turned offensive and is now aimed at attacking the United States. All that other stuff may have been a diversion from their real intent all along.
‘This master satellite, Molniya. M-O-L-N-I-Y-A is also fission powered. They’ve been testing small nuclear reactors in space for some time, presumably to give their equipment a maintenance free long life without the need for external power. That could even work on the moon.’
‘But the Soviet spacewalk: from what we know, that was simply a … spacewalk,’ Chris said.
‘Well, let’s see here.’ Ryan picked up the official Soviet statement. ‘It’s very revealing. A person equipped with a special space suit is able to live and work in space,’ he read.
The room waited for the rest, but it didn’t come. Chris had no more to say.
‘That’s it! That’s their statement. The less said, the easier it is to hide whatever they’re hiding,’ said Ryan.
‘Gentlemen, we can’t permit a threat like this,’ interrupted the Secretary. He looked to all around the table. ‘So, the question is: can we defend ourselves, or disarm this killer network in orbit now before it gets out of control or knocks us out of the game?’
‘Why don’t you just shoot it down? Or tell the Soviets to take it down. Isn’t that what Vandenberg does?’ asked NASA’s Crandall. ‘Isn’t that why we’re here today?’
‘We need other options. Shooting it down could be considered an open act of war. And we can’t just say pretty please either,’ replied Ryan. ‘So, launching a strike from the ground isn’t an option, although Vandenberg is on standby if it comes to that. The Soviets will of course deny everything and just claim it’s a civilian television satellite that we’re targeting. We’ll have the whole world on our back.’
‘So, what are we saying exactly? I’m lost,’ asked NASA’s Jones.
‘We have to confirm for sure if this Molniya really is a military unit,’ said the Secretary.
‘Then we disarm it in whatever way’s appropriate,’ added Ryan.
‘Just to be clear, are you saying we have to go and get it?’ asked Jones. He looked at Chris and Crandall for a reaction. It was clear to Jim that we meant NASA.
‘Gentlemen, let’s remember we’re not doing all this fancy space stuff just for a nice weekend on the moon. NASA is a defense program, and right now, this Soviet development is a significant threat,’ added the Secretary.
‘Hold on. Hold on. We can just tell the Soviets that putting this network up there is considered an act of war,’ protested NASA’s Crandall.
‘We could, but there’s nowhere to go from there, except conflict. And we can’t risk confrontation at this point,’ said Ryan.
Maxwell, a Brigadier General and the Commander of Vandenberg who headed the 30th Space Wing was quiet so far. He’d seen his cue. ‘We can intercept it. Right in orbit. Out of sight. We can recover what we can get. Perhaps kill it if necessary. The Soviets would probably just think of it as another of their regular equipment failures.’
‘Sabotage?’ asked Jim.
‘Defense,’ replied the Brig. Jim bet he used that word regularly to cover everything. He’d do well in the CIA.
‘But our men will be on American television. World television. We can’t expect our guys to do something like this in public. Even the Soviets will be watching,’ interrupted Crandall in defense of his own men. ‘Have I understood you right?’
‘We knock it off orbit. Off camera. But first, we can take a close look to recover what we can.’ Maxwell glanced around the table. ‘The code relay is the important component. Right here in an earlier report, obtained about a year ago by the CIA from the Soviets. There’s an opportunity to get our hands on whatever code relay hardware they’re putting up and decipher their transmissions. Code breaking all over again, and all out of sight. Remember what the British were able to do with the German codes in the war? This is another opportunity we can’t afford to miss.’
‘Well, defensive or not, I don’t want our men having to look over their shoulder whenever they’re in orbit,’ said Crandall.
‘Gentlemen, just imagine the value of that intelligence for a moment. If we can take a look at the equipment or find a way to cripple it … they’d never even know, in space,’ Maxwell added.
Defense again, thought Jim.
‘Can we do that?’ asked the Secretary quickly, as though to close off any opportunity to backtrack. He looked NASA’s Crandall in the eye for an answer then glanced at Chris and Jim. ‘Can your men do it?’
‘Too dangerous. We haven’t even gotten outside yet,’ Crandall said. ‘The Soviets have only just done it.’
NASA’s Jones stepped in. ‘The press will be all over it. If this went wrong, how would we explain it? It would bring the whole show to a halt.’
Crandall fired again. ‘The Soviet, Leonov, nearly got killed out there. We’d be courting disaster.’
‘Well, our spacewalkers are ready, are they not?’ asked the Secretary with a straight face.
‘Sir, I head our Manned Spacecraft Center,’ replied Crandall, trying to ease the tension. ‘The equipment and the men are almost ready. The first outing’s planned for Gemini Four.’
‘Too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘Too late. The Soviets might take this thing down themselves before we’ve had a chance to look at it. It’s already malfunctioned we believe,’ said the Brig.
‘Problem gone,’ replied Crandall.
‘Gentlemen, all we’re saying is: get your men up there to look at it,’ interrupted Ryan. ‘If the Soviets take the lead and capture the high ground in space from now on we have absolutely nowhere to go. We cannot allow that to happen. You understand that.’
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ interrupted the Secretary, holding up a hand. Both sides immediately quietened. He turned to NASA’s men. ‘Remember, we’re not gallivanting around the universe here. Isn’t that what the English say? I like that.’ The group half-laughed as he turned to the Air Force men. ‘How quickly can we launch a mission?’
The room went silent and Jim almost swallowed his tongue.
‘From where? The Cape?’ asked Crandall.
More silence.
‘It’ll have to be the dead of night to avoid attention, if that’s even possible,’ added NASA’s Jones.
‘No. We launch from right here. Vandenberg,’ interrupted Brigadier Maxwell.
Crandall and Jones appeared to turn cold. Jim began to wonder if Strategic Air Command was here simply to bend space back in its direction, just like Einstein said was entirely doable.
‘We’re already launching Titan from the west coast. We’ll identify the mission as an unmanned test flight. And we’ve already modified a Gemini capsule as an orbiting Laboratory; the MOL, as you might know it. That’s the vehicle,’ said Maxwell.
Jones was silent and it became clear to Jim that they’d already thought this through.
‘Once the men are up, they can take a look at it, and kick this Molniya satellite in the ass—whatever’s best. Meanwhile, the world’s eyes remain on the public NASA program on the east coast. That’s our cover. This is more or less how the Soviets are operating—they tell the world about the chimps and women, but behind the scenes, they’re clearly gearing up for warfare.’
The Air Force men nodded and it seemed that the idea had already been bought.
Jones cringed. ‘We can’t do this can we? It feels like we’re courting war.’
‘It is war. And the rules have changed. We have to do whatever is necessary as far as I’m concerned,’ added Ryan. ‘The price is too high. Like we’ve said before: they kill and imprison their own so why would they spare us?’ Ryan turned to the Secretary. ‘Sir, this is precisely why we need to develop our manned capability at Vandenberg now. We can’t expect NASA to take care of this kind of thing alone.’
NASA’s men sat silently and Jim’s mind reeled at what they were asking, though he didn’t have the pay grade to say it openly.
‘Okay, so who’s able to do this mission?’ asked the Secretary, of NASA’s Jones. He looked at Chris, then at Jim. ‘You’ve got the rocketeers.’
Jim saw the cogs behind Jones’ eyes begin to race, though Chris didn’t dare answer or pretend he could make such a commitment. He glanced back at Jones who was clearly thinking no way, then at Crandall, who spoke for them all. ‘Well, our first space-walkers, White and McDivitt, are out of the question. But,’ he stuttered, ‘there are other possibilities.’ He looked at Chris, who said, ‘We have standby crews who are out of the public eye. Special Operations, but they’re untrained, as yet, for this mission.’
