Wings of Steele- The Series, page 161
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
A wave of disruptive cross-talk swept across the audience...
“What does that mean?”
“What are we going to do?”
The sound of the rail guns momentarily silenced the group and Lisa jumped in before she could be talked over. “We are attempting to neutralize the threats in the most expedient way possible, while minimizing the risk to Earth's population. The military and intelligence people you saw leave your group may be able to assist us with that task...” She paused as the rail guns fired again and she looked into the cameras, “We ask that anyone who can still see or hear our broadcast seek shelter. Try to stay with us. We will do our best to keep you up to date...”
■ ■ ■
Standing in the center of the command deck, Captain Anthony Ryan had never had so many people on his bridge; with nearly three times its normal crew compliment it was utter chaos. Many stations were double-staffed to keep up with the activity along with the visitors from the planet's surface pitching in at tactical, communications and cyber-warfare. He understood why the Admiral requested the presence of these extra bodies but he was more concerned with them getting in the way than actually having any useful participation.
“Captain, port-side guns are nearing overheat levels...”
Captain Ryan pursed his lips, “Mmm. Weapons; shut them down and let them cool. Alert the starboard turrets we're performing a combat roll.” Ryan set his hand on the shoulder of the helmsman, “Combat roll, bring our starboard turrets to bear.”
“Combat roll, aye.”
“Admiral, comm coming in from White Flight...”
“On screen,” acknowledged Steele.
A video square appeared, the colors muted and dull from the darkness of space, Lieutenant JG Nera Margareth's face showed, illuminated by her instruments, her eyes glowing eerily in the night vision image. “White Leader, sir; we've located and destroyed a passive remote sensor probe hidden in the asteroid belt beyond the fourth planet.”
“Good job, Lieutenant.” Steele glanced over at Captain Ryan, “Our hunch was right, we're not alone in the system...” He turned back to the screen, “Stay alert White Leader, resume your patrol.” The Ketarian pilot saluted and the square winked out as the image on the main screen rolled, the blue and green planet trading sides on the panoramic screen before them.
With a minor pause in the firing order, the rail guns resumed their targeting and fired as the starboard turrets came into play.
“Captain, the Westwind just took a rail gun hit from the surface...”
Steele stepped forward, “Damage?”
“No Admiral, her shields held. It doesn't look intentional, probably a miss on a warhead.”
“Who the hell has rail guns?” asked Jack, glancing in Chase's direction.
“The Navy,” replied Chase. “But I didn't know they had any operational. Kind of like the lasers, they were in development and trial.”
Steele stared at the big screen, mesmerized at the comet-like fireballs and multi-colored streaks of light crisscrossing the planet below, hot flashes of light punctuating the insanity. “Well they're in operation now...” he mumbled. He felt numb, disconnected, helpless, angry... He wanted to do something to make it stop. Anything. But it was a runaway train of chaos with no conductor. Oh, to be Superman and fly around the world against its rotation and reverse time, or to have Rod Serling's magical time controlling stopwatch... A sharp jab in the ribs brought the chaos rushing back in at him, “Huh?” he blinked. Chase simply motioned with his eyes toward the tactical station, the tactical officer staring back at them.
“Admiral... the satellites have started shooting at each other...”
Steele's eyes widened, “Say what now?”
“Operation Blind Side,” confirmed the US Air Force General standing at the tactical station. “It was a lead program to Project Zenith and Project Ascension.” He motioned toward the big screen, “Which of course, you've already encountered. This mess must have initiated US Space Command's first-strike protocol.”
“Can you stop it?”
The General shook his head, “No Admiral, we cannot. It was designed as a total space superiority protocol. Once initiated there is no pause, no turn-back. With the X-37B Ascension birds, our web of first-strike satellites will attempt to wipe out all opposing space borne hardware. Starting with opposing aggressor hardware.”
“They have killer satellites too?”
“Yes, of course. But our technology is hardened, faster and more accurate. Our X-37Bs have surveyed every single piece of hardware up here. What they are, who owns them, their vulnerabilities, their flight paths, and their location at any given moment. Our equipment knows what to kill, how to kill it and when to kill it. Space Command will come out on top.”
Steele ran his fingers though his hair in exasperation, “Strangely enough, General, I don't find that comforting.”
An Electronic Warfare Officer turned briefly away from his communications station, “Admiral, data coming in from the Revenge; nuclear detonation in their sector, altitude two-hundred-twenty-five miles, several satellites destroyed...” The EWO quickly scanned the details and extrapolated additional results. “We have a growing debris field, moving in all directions; twenty-five percent falling to the surface, the rest staying in orbit. Collateral damage to additional units can be expected...”
“Christ,” breathed the General, “we're going to have a chain-reaction cascade... Our first-strike system kills them - punches a hole through them and switches them off, not destroy them...” Looking stricken he rubbed his forehead, “This could be catastrophic.”
“Best laid plans of mice and men, General,” commented Steele sarcastically. “Looks like someone else didn't agree with your plan.”
“Admiral, the Dark Star is reporting a distress call in their sector...”
“From where? Plot it on screen,” commanded Steele. The declination plot and live image appeared as a large inset on the main screen. “Jesus, it's the International Space Station... Zoom in.”
“Aye.”
Jack instantly recognized the damage; the right PVA, Photo Voltaic Array, was broken and battered, most of the shining blue panels missing, the framework twisted, dangling, trailing debris behind it. It was still too far away to see if there was any damage to the modules but it was hard to believe they were undamaged considering what was visible. “Find their communications frequency...”
Admiral, their flight path is going to take them directly through the debris field...”
“How long?”
The EWO consulted the data on his screen, “Sixty-two minutes.”
Jack turned over his shoulder, “Pappy!”
“Rescue shuttle, got it!” came the reply from flight control.
“We need a pilot who speaks English,” called Steele.
“Maria?”
“Close enough...”
■ ■ ■
Her helmet already on, Maria trotted across the Conquest's flight deck, her boots clomping on the metal surface as she pulled her gloves on. She hazarded a glance to her left, “Are you really sure you want to do this? This is not for the faint of heart...”
Pulling on his own gloves as he clomped alongside her, Dan Murphy nodded inside his helmet, “I'm good. You need someone in the back who they'll understand, right?”
“OK, it's your stomach. Just remember you're going to be standing at an open doorway to space... You freak out and you're no good to anyone. And for the love of God don't puke inside your helmet,” she warned.
“Yeah, I get that. I will have a tether, right?”
“Yes, it's on a retractable reel, you can go beyond the door. Just be forewarned, that first step is a doozy...”
Dan swallowed hard, “Swell.”
“The thing to remember is that the shuttle has gravity; step beyond the door and that all changes. Just don't panic. You'll have another crewman to help you with equipment and recovery; Dooby, he's very good. I'd say let him handle the equipment, you handle the communications.” Maria checked TESS's holo-screen hovering above her wrist, the unit itself under the sleeve of her suit. “Forty-seven minutes, we need to hustle. That station is going to sail through a field of debris at about twenty-thousand miles an hour.”
“Good Lord, there won't be anything left of it...”
“No there won't. We have one chance to pull this off.”
■ ■ ■
The best reason for using an opposite orbit to catch the oncoming space station was to save time. It was also the worst reason for using an opposite orbit... a closing speed greater than twenty-thousand miles an hour and having to come to a stop and reverse direction to match that twenty-thousand miles an hour. Having to fly through satellite debris to get to the station was another factor Maria wasn't too thrilled with either. So, she elected to chase it down from behind. It made for a much slimmer window for the rescue but it ultimately seemed much less dangerous. Not that it was going to be a cake walk, no, since the hit it took, the International Space Station's orbit was beginning to degrade and her attitude was beginning to wobble off her designed path.
The Conquest's Dragonfly rescue shuttles were different from the rather stubby craft on the Freedom; a long slender cockpit with a bubble canopy for enhanced visibility, the pilot in front, the electronics officer above and behind, a narrow walkway alongside to access the interior of the ship. Maria glanced up at the rear-view mirror mounted above her on a rib of the canopy, “Lieutenant, I'll need you to keep an eye on that debris. And I need you to watch for anything coming up from the surface.”
“I got it, Skipper.”
Dan was standing next to Myomerr's seat looking out through the canopy at the growing form of the space station ahead of them. Even at that distance, the damage was plainly visible. “Wooww...”
Myomerr glanced to her right and silently thumbed him to the back, the access door sliding closed behind him. From her controls she sealed the door, the cockpit pressurized independently from the rest of the interior which would be opened to space. She scrutinized the space station with a critical eye as they neared, “How many people did you say were up here?”
“Six astronauts...” replied Maria, angling for the universal docking hub.
“And they come up here voluntarily?”
“What are you saying? Are you saying there's something wrong with it...?”
“Well it's not exactly Blackmount Station,” joked Myomerr. “Or even Resurrection Station for that matter...”
“Alright, that's enough,” scolded Maria. “Considering we only learned to fly just a little over a hundred years ago, I don't think we're doing too bad...”
“Except for that mess down there,” indicated Myomerr, waving at the planet below.
Maria made a face of distaste, “Yeah, well, figuring out more efficient ways of killing each other and winning wars always seems to take precedence over everything else... Besides, in case you've forgotten, we had some help.”
“There is that, I suppose.” With one eye on her screens Myomerr eyed the station as Maria matched the speed of the structure, sliding the Dragonfly under the shiny blue panels of the remaining PVA.
Maneuvering alongside the docking hatch, a safe distance away, Maria keyed her comm mic, “Dooby, can you use the arm to grab the truss above us? I think it will help us maintain position...”
“Copy, Skipper,” came the reply in her helmet.
“We can't dock,” offered Myomerr, stating the obvious, “how are they getting to us?”
“Space walk. They have EVAs, Extravehicular Aids, it's a personal maneuvering system.”
■ ■ ■
Dooby activated the holographic control panel for the arm called the Big Grip, and slid his hand and arm into the hologram, taking direct control like an extension of himself, the arm's camera allowing him to see what he was doing on the holo-screen. “I need five feet up, Skipper.” He watched the live image as he reached with the arm, “Easy, easy, hold there... got it!” He squeezed his hand and the Big Grip closed around the structure of the truss. “Big Grip, lock.” he commanded before sliding his arm out of the hologram. He reached up and sealed his face-mask, making sure Dan Murphy did the same. “Depressurizing cabin, tethers secure, door open and ready to recover in thirty seconds.”
“What's that groaning sound?” asked Dan.
Dooby looked at the Big Grips holo-panel, tapping on the flat surface at a digital stress meter in the yellow. “It's not really made for what we're using it for, it's showing some torque on the arm, we must be rotating or something...”
“We're on live comms with the station, let's get things rolling...” said Maria in their helmets. “Remember Dooby, talk to Dan, these folks won't understand you.”
“Got it. Depressurization complete, door open, ready to receive.”
Dan stood in the open doorway holding onto a grab rail and waved at the docking port window over a hundred feet away. “C'mon folks!”
There was momentary static in his helmet, “Thank you Rescue One. Two of our people exiting in sixty seconds. Over.”
“Two? I thought you had six people...”
“That is affirmative, six people. Only two fit in the airlock at a time. Over”
Dooby palmed his facemask, “By the Gods, this is going to take forever. We don't have that kind of time.”
“Any way to speed up the process over there?” asked Dan.
Static faded in and out. “It is a computerized station protocol that we cannot override. Over.”
Dan Murphy anxiously watched as the hatch swung open and the first body floated out of the opening, gently powered by its EVA. “Understood. Please be as fast as you can.”
Dooby got Dan's attention and indicated the Big Grip holo-panel, the arm's stress meter fluctuating from yellow to orange and back to yellow, “It's not going to be able to stand that for very long...”
Dan took a deep breath as he reached outward for the first of the astronauts nearing Rescue One, who was cautiously applying his jets to decelerate a pace that was already snailesque. Dan waved him closer, “For the love of God, don't slow down!” Hanging from the rail inside, he leaned out and grabbed at the astronaut's hand, connecting, using his leverage on the rail to yank him unceremoniously through the doorway. As soon as the astronaut crossed the threshold he crashed to the floor, his legs failing him, unprepared for the full weight of his suit and equipment.
“Mon dieu, gravity... how is zis so? You must tell me...” he exclaimed, in a thick French accent.
“Not the time, my friend,” replied Dan Murphy, waving wildly at the next astronaut still twenty-five feet out. “Dooby, help him remove his EVA and secure him in a seat.”
“You got it.”
Dan planted himself in the center of the doorway, his arms wide, “Don't slow down keep coming, I got ya... land on your feet.”
When she collided with him he stepped back and she dropped to the deck, landing considerably easier than the Frenchman. “Thank you,” she said as Dan handed her off to Dooby.
Dan was trying to ignore the movement of the swaying PVA array, the blue panels glittering as they moved, the support truss twisting. The Big Grip's stress meter flashed red momentarily before falling to orange then back to yellow. “Dooby...”
“I know, I know. Keep going, don't stop.”
■ ■ ■
Myomerr tapped Maria on the back of her helmet, we need shields... now.”
Maria looked out of the canopy to her right, watching two figures emerge from the docking hub. “I can't, we're open and recovering...”
“Then bring up the forward shields, hurry!”
Maria had the systems in standby, her fingers racing across the controls, the forward shields wavering momentarily as they materialized. “Shields...” The forward shield flared blue, becoming clear again. “Is that what you were worried about...?”
“No, it was bigger than...”
With a streak chasing it across the sky, a hot, mangled piece of an antenna array struck the shields hard enough to be felt as a vibration. “Shields seventy-five percent.”
Maria checked her TESS. “What the hell was that? We should still have fourteen minutes left.”
“I don't know,” replied Myomerr, searching her scans and data. “Some of this stuff is too small to see or pick up on scans. It could be the fringes of the debris expanding, or...”
A dark shape and a flash of blue-green above them as PVA panels exploded, the array twisting, startled them both, the darkness of space momentarily filled with glitter before being swept away.
“Madre de dios!” exclaimed Maria. “We're out of time, we gotta go!” She keyed her comm as the forward shields flickered blue, deflecting little bits and particles, “It's time to go guys...”
There was an audible groan of protesting, anguished metal...
■ ■ ■
After seeing exploding PVA panels, Dan Murphy was done being nice or gentle; it was like these people had all the time in the world. He yanked the Russian through the door who landed clumsily on his feet, “Bozhe moi! You have gravity, how iz dat possible?”
“Yeah - yeah, gravity, we've already established that. It's a new invention,” he added sarcastically, pushing him back toward Dooby. “To the back of the bus, Ivan.”
“How do you know my name...?” asked the Russian, stumbling toward Dooby.
“It's on your suit, genius.” Dan rolled his eyes, “Talkative lot, aren't they? The Israeli guy's the only one who hasn't said a word...”
“It's time to go guys...” came Maria's voice over the comm.
“We have two left out here...” replied Dan, returning to the door. The last two astronauts were in route from the docking hub when something the size of a bus, passed through the lab modules on the other side of the of the station, it's antenna array spinning off as the modules blew apart like soda cans, a cloud of air, sparks and debris lost, quickly swept away. He caught the electric flash out of the corner of his eye the same time as the collision alert in his helmet lit up, squawking at him, the Big Grip folding like a pretzel, simultaneously wrenching free from the mangled truss and tearing off of the shuttle, spinning past him. He was flung out of the door as Rescue One violently corkscrewed free.
