Silent Star, page 3
“Captain Linkletter,” Dr. White said, interrupting, “is there another list?”
“No, that’s it. Not many names can sift through those filters.”
“There are no women!” Dr. White said.
“There were three after the first cut. None made the final roster.”
“You have only one African-American,” Dr. White said, struggling to keep his composure.
“That filter thing,” Link said. “If it makes you feel better there are no Asian-Americans.”
“This is not acceptable,” Dr. Allegheny said. “Read the introduction to our report. Then maybe you will understand why crew selection is better left to those with the requisite expertise.”
“I am the mission commander,” Link said. “Not only does the success of this mission depend on who is selected but so does my life. Those with the right skills, go. Those without, stay.”
“You are underestimating the value of diversity,” Dr. White said. “The chance of needing military training is remote, and in the highly unlikely event you would find yourself in combat, that will be only one percent of the mission. You must plan for the whole mission. Try to see the bigger picture.”
“You may be right about the likelihood of combat, but when you need combat skills there is no substitute.”
“Dr. Cattell, please tell Captain Linkletter that he must follow protocol,” Dr. Allegheny appealed.
“Let’s adjourn until after lunch,” Dr. Cattell said, glancing at Link. “That will give us time to cross-check his list with yours. Perhaps there is overlap.”
Frustrated, the three psychologists huffed out of the room.
Three hours later, Link was back on his side of the conference table, with Cattell back in Baum’s chair. Allegheny, White, and Chin were lined up across the table, red-faced.
“Well?” Link said, sitting down.
“There was no overlap between our lists,” Dr. White said. “However, we did some checking into your candidates. We are astounded by your choices, to say the least. For example, this man--Riley--was dishonorably discharged after doing eighteen months in prison for assaulting a prisoner.”
“Nelson Riley was Delta Force and his team responded when terrorists took the Flying Princess cruise ship,” Link explained. “They executed three hostages before Delta Force managed to get aboard. They took one terrorist by surprise and needed information--how many more terrorists were aboard, where they were located, and where they had placed the explosives? Their captive would not talk. Riley volunteered to get the information and take the fall for the team. He beat the information out of the terrorist and the hostages were rescued with no further deaths and only three injuries.”
“It was illegal,” Dr. Allegheny said.
“Yes, but the right thing to do under the circumstances.”
“In your opinion,” Dr. Chin pointed out. “A man who would ignore standing orders, as well as the Geneva Convention Accords and simple human decency, could not be trusted to follow your orders.”
“If you read his file you will see that he has never been accused of insubordination. This soldier not only follows orders but he will also follow orders that might be…unconventional,” Link said.
The psychologists steamed, struggling to control their anger.
“All of that is ancient history,” Link continued. “Riley is currently chief engineer and pilot for TourStar. They were the first corporation to fly tourists on orbital flights.”
“A reckless endeavor,” Chin huffed.
“With a perfect safety record,” Link pointed out. Then looking at Dr. White added, “And he is African-American.”
White glared.
“Another of your candidates is a Christian Fundamentalist,” Dr. Allegheny said.
“That’s Westbrook,” Link said. “A few years ago he got the hots for a Christian girl and had to go to church or she wouldn’t go out with him. Funny thing was that it didn’t work out with the girl but it did with religion. He answered an alter call and now goes to church twice a week.”
“Religion and science don’t mix,” Dr. Allegheny said. “He’s a living paradox. Fundamentalism exists only among the irrational.”
“It hasn’t been a problem for NASA.”
“If this IQ score is right, I have to question his sanity,” Dr. Allegheny said.
“No one that bright can be religious, let alone a fundamentalist.”
“Apparently they can,” Link said.
“This other candidate—Carter Gains—I’m not sure he’s even physically fit enough for the mission. His knee had to be reconstructed,” Dr. White said. “He was shot by his girlfriend.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? He saw combat in three theaters and never earned a purple heart. Don’t worry about his knee. He ran a marathon last year,” Link assured them.
“But his girlfriend felt threatened enough to defend herself with a gun,” Dr. White said.
“He didn’t threaten her, they were just fooling around. They were killing cockroaches.”
“With a nine millimeter pistol?” Dr. Chin said, incredulous.
“There was some alcohol involved,” Link admitted. “Neither of them was charged with a crime.”
“But, but-“ Dr. Allegheny sputtered.
“Look, after the military he finished an M.D./Ph.D. program and was invited to join the cardiovascular research team at the Oregon Health Sciences University. He is chair of the Ultra High Definition Internet project to link medical schools. He builds racing aircraft as a hobby and represented the U.S. at the last Olympics in shooting. What more do you want?
“He was shooting at cockroaches while under the influence of alcohol,” Allegany said, stuck on that point.
“He was hitting those cockroaches,” Link pointed out.
“Perhaps it is time to share your candidate,” Dr. Cattell cut in from Baum’s chair.
“I’m listening,” Link said.
Dr. White slid a manila folder across the table. Inside was a dossier with a photo printed at the top. It was a woman; possibly Hispanic.
“This is Nadine Ramirez,” Dr. White said. “She did not make our short list.”
“Your fifty person short list,” Link pointed out.
“She did not meet all of our criteria, however, she may be acceptable to you.”
“She’s only five-foot-seven,” Link said. “I said, I wanted the biggest and baddest. If we run into something on the UNOB we’ll be the first human contact. We need to be as terrifying as we can be. You don’t get a second chance to make a first impression.”
“Dr. Ramirez is a triathelete,” Dr. White said.
“That makes her fit, not intimidating.”
“She is a three-time national Cage Fighting Champion,” White said.
“Women’s division,” Link said.
“Originally, we cut her from our list because of an incident in Florida. A friend of hers was groped in a bar by members of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Offensive linemen, I believe. Dr. Ramirez put two of them in the hospital. A third needed extensive dental work,” White said.
“I remember the incident,” Link said. “It ruined the Buccaneers’ season. Without those linemen the quarterback spent half the rest of the season on his back.”
Link studied Ramirez’s physical description and then the incident report.
“This can’t be right,” Link said. “Someone that size can’t take out a single three-hundred pound lineman, let alone three. She must have had help.”
“Reports indicate that she is very resourceful. When she fights, she uses anything and everything within reach. She gashed one man to the bone with a broken glass, and cracked the skull of a second with a pool cue. A third lost three teeth when she jammed a cell phone down his throat,” White said.
Link studied the photo. It was a headshot, so he could not see her body, but her face was lean. Link considered whether having a smaller human on board would be a plus. Link also noticed that Ramirez was pretty and that could be a problem.
“Introducing one woman will create unnecessary sexual tension,” Link said. “It’s better to have none, than one.”
“There won’t be sexual tension,” Dr. White said. “The friend she was protecting was a cheerleader. Dr. Ramirez is a lesbian.”
“Lesbian or bisexual?” Link asked.
“Lesbian,” Dr. White said. “Dr. Ramirez is a test pilot for…certain experimental aircraft here at Groom Lake. She is also an accomplished rock climber.”
“I’ll think about it,” Link said.
With that minor concession the doctors beamed as if they had won a complete victory.
“One more thing,” Link said. “I was serious about preparing for the possibility of meeting hostiles on the UNOB and about my crew prepared to deal with whatever we find. To be ready I want a full spectrum of steroids and human growth hormone. When I said we would be the biggest and baddest, I meant it literally.”
The psychologists groaned. Link hid his smile. Link noticed Cattell was hiding her own smile—a nice smile.
Chapter 5: Defense
Groom Lake
Nevada
Dr. Ernest Baum loosened his brown tie, took off his brown jacket and hung it over the back of his leather desk chair. Then he pulled up his brown trousers so they would not be stretched out at the knees, and sat down at his computer. Dr. Baum accessed his UNOB file, working through three layers of security. His UNOB files had two primary divisions. One was labeled “INTERCEPTION” and the other “DEFENSE.” Under INTERCEPTION were files on ship design, crew selection, training, launch schedules, security profiles, personnel rosters, FBI background checks, and a vast list of purchase orders. All of that existed to put a small crew into orbit and rocket them on a trajectory that might allow them to intercept the UNOB before it breeched the threat zone.
Captain Linkletter had been selected from twenty candidates to command the interception mission. Initially, his military connection had kept him from the candidate list, but the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff unilaterally reordered the mission priorities, overriding the bureaucrats who had never served. Linkletter made the bottom quartile of the new list. One by one, those ahead of him on the list were eliminated and he made the interview list. There, his native leadership abilities, creativity, and openness to novelty, led to his selection. Ever since, Baum had been taking heat from the psychologists who disliked the choice. Their objections had intensified after Linkletter’s performance during crew selection. Since that meeting, hours of Baum’s precious time had been spent on pacification of irate psychologists.
Baum opened the file marked “DEFENSE.” Captain Linkletter, Scooter Ibsen, Dr.’s White, Chin, and Black, knew nothing about these files. Baum had been honest when he told Linkletter there was no plan to recover the team. While there was a fair chance they would live to rendezvous with the UNOB, most scenarios suggested a successful encounter would be fatal for the crew. Encountering unknown technologies, alien microbes, or a hostile craft and crew, was a recipe for failure.
Planners for the interception mission assumed a high probability that the UNOB was a derelict. Defense planners assumed the UNOB a fully functioning threat. Baum’s inclinations put him with the defense team.
Baum opened the files detailing a layered defense of Earth. Facing an unknown enemy, with unknown potential, and limited preparation time, developing new technologies was out of the question. Instead, existing weapon systems were adapted. Using virtually every launch vehicle the planet could produce before the UNOB arrived, these weapons would be boosted to orbit and installed at Freedom Station and what sister defense platforms could be deployed.
Defense protocols were organized in three layers. The most distant layer was the “Threat Zone.” Missiles armed with modified nuclear and conventional warheads would provide the first layer of defense. The nuclear weapons would subject the UNOB to a barrage of X-rays, neutrons, electromagnetic pulse, and the heat and concussion of fusion explosions. Those carrying conventional weapons were given limited maneuverability, since they would need to get closer to be effective. Since actually hitting the UNOB was unlikely, the warheads were designed to fragment, spreading out like a shotgun blast, delivering lethal fragments or shaped charges.
If the UNOB survived passage through the Threat Zone, it entered the Attack Zone, which included Earth orbit. There, anti-satellite technology would be deployed against the UNOB. Space mines, anti-satellite weapons, space-based lasers, and rods-from-god, would be directed at the UNOB. Freedom Station’s last layer of defense included an Israeli point defense missile system, the Barak. Barak fire control computers automatically tracked incoming targets, and could launch Barak missiles from two eight-missile pods.
Two weapons made up Freedom Station’s last resort. Designed for close-in ship defense, the MK15 Phalanx consisted of two six-barreled Gatling guns firing twenty-millimeter rounds. Looking like R2D2 with an erection, it was old technology with limited range and adaptability. With a maximum range of two thousand meters the Phalanx had seconds to identify, track, target and destroy supersonic projectiles. More promising for close-in defense was the newer technology of the Metal Storm stacked projectile weapons. With no moving parts, except the projectile, the multi-barrel weapons could fire sixteen thousand rounds a second. Potentially, the weapon could deliver a million rounds a minute. However, since the Metal Storm was a close-in weapon system, once engaged the battle would be over in much less than a minute. While the Metal Storm would engage for only seconds, it would project a wall of supersonic metal.
The third zone was suborbital. Aircraft based anti-satellite weapons, surface-to-air missiles, air-to-air missiles, and ground-to-air lasers, would be massed against any and all targets. If these technologies did not stop the UNOB, then God help the people of Earth.
After a sharp rap on the door, Wilma Cattell came in. She and Baum were friends and long-time colleagues. They had no secrets, and she walked up behind him, hands on his shoulders, massaging his neck.
“You are worrying yourself into an early grave,” Cattell said, looking at the plans on the screen. “No intelligent species would travel light years to attack another planet—except maybe us, and I doubt that even we are that dumb. And even if another such perverted species existed, how would they accomplish such a thing? The resources needed to conquer another planet are staggering and surely outweigh the gain. All you have to do to know that I am right is look at the size of the UNOB. It is not built for invasion. You could not get even a thousand people inside that object. Are you going to take over a planet with a thousand people?”
“With the right people and the right weapons, yes,” Baum said. “The Incas had a thirty thousand man army, yet Pizarro conquered them with two hundred men, a few primitive rifles, crossbows, and horses. Cortez did the same thing to the Aztecs.”
“Nonsense,” Cattell said. “The conquistadors allied themselves with subjugated peoples. The conquistadors led the army; they were not the army! Besides, their weapons and horses were technological marvels to the native peoples. They were thought to be gods.”
“That’s one of the scenarios we worked up based on the UNOB’s arrival,” Baum said.
Scrolling through the scenarios file he found the one he was looking for.
“In this scenario the aliens orbit Earth and feign goodwill and a desire for friendship. Meanwhile, they contact one of the nations on Earth—say Russia—and broker a deal for the Russians to provide the foot soldiers needed for occupation. Then, using space-based weapons and technology beyond our ken, they destroy U.S. and European military capability. Nation by nation, the Russians invade, supported by alien orbital weapons.”
Baum scrolled to an appendix of the document.
“This scenario predicts alien control of industrialized nations within three years. They would invade across the Bearing Strait, taking Canada and then the U.S. Europe would be held at bay by the promise of peace and a place at the table once the aliens finish us off. Only after the United States is secured would they invade Europe.”
Cattell continued to massage.
“That is reckless speculation,” Cattell said. “Europe would not sit on the sidelines while the U.S. did the fighting.”
Baum snickered and immediately regretted it since the massage ended.
“Linkletter may be a mistake,” Cattell said, changing the subject.
“How so?”
“He’s insubordinate, opinionated, egotistical, over-confident, meddlesome, and congenitally irritating.”
“All of that was in his psych profile,” Baum said.
“Yes, but the profile underestimated the severity of these traits.”
“He is also decisive, creative, flexible, competent, and a natural leader,” Baum said.
“But he’s impossible to work with. His demands are unreasonable and taxing our resources. He’s putting the mission at risk.”
Cattell came around now, sitting on Baum’s desk and crossing her legs. Baum leaned back, his brown jacket falling off the back of his chair. There was no sexual intent and no sexual tension. Baum was old but not too old to notice attractive women but he and Cattell were colleagues and nothing more. At home Baum had a loving wife, six grandchildren, and a Springer Spaniel pup. Wilma Cattell was divorced, devoted to her career, and a cat lover with three cats that showed up on her doorstep one at a time and adopted her. If she dated, she never talked about it and none of the male predators on the staff dared flirt with her. Men saw her severe looks, felt her icy stares, and missed the woman underneath.
“Linkletter sees it differently,” Baum said, studying his friend.
Cattell was not as old as many people assumed and was an attractive woman if she cared to be. While she rarely wore makeup, she was wearing it today. He also suspected her hair had been recently trimmed, although Baum was not good at noticing those things.
“I have new information about Linkletter that might change your mind about him. He has a sister who has been in and out of trouble most of her life.”
