“Beyond Hydra range,” Valerie replied.
“Crank the range up to maximum,” Kai said. The Hydra chlorine-oxygen-iodine laser, which had a maximum range of three hundred miles, had been detuned to sixty miles in compliance with the treaty, but Kai Raydon wasn’t going to pay attention to treaties now. “Get the Kingfishers on station ready to go. They’re released as soon as you have a firing solution.”
“The Midnight is accelerating and climbing,” Henry reported. In orbit, speed meant only one thing: altitude above Earth. Go faster and your altitude increased; slow down and altitude decreased.
“Computing a firing solution now,” Valerie reported. The Kingfisher weapon garages being stored on Armstrong’s central truss had been connected to the combat system and its missiles made available for station defense.
Moments later Henry Lathrop shouted, “Got it! Intercept course set! Six interceptors ready!”
“Combat, batteries released,” Valerie said. “Nail those suckers!”
“Weapons away!” Henry shouted. Two of the weapon garages on the station’s truss released all three of their satellite interceptors. They were simple nonaerodynamic boxes—since they would never fly in Earth’s atmosphere, they could be in any shape—six feet long, with a radar and imaging infrared seeker in front, maneuvering rocket nozzles around the body at both ends, and a large rocket engine in back. The interceptors used steering signals from Armstrong to maneuver until they could lock on to targets with their own sensors. “Good track on all Trinities. Sixty seconds to intercept. I think we’ll be in time, sir. The Midnight is going higher and faster. The inbounds will be within range of Hydra in seventy seconds.”
Kai wasn’t going to relax until both those Russian Wasp missiles were goners. “Trev, contact Space Command, tell them what’s going on,” he ordered. “Tell them I want permission to take out every antisatellite airfield and launch site that we—”
“Pop-up orbiting bogey!” Henry Lathrop shouted. A new icon had appeared on the large tactical display. It was in an orbit offset from Armstrong’s by more than a hundred miles and in a completely different declination, but that was a very near miss in orbital terms. “It came out of nowhere, sir! Designate Oscar one.” It did not seem to be a threat to the station or the S-19 Midnight, but the fact that they had not detected it until it was very close was troubling, very—
“Sir, I’m losing the Trinities!” Henry shouted.
“What?” Kai shouted. “What in hell’s going on?”
“I don’t know, sir!” Lathrop shouted. “Lost contact with one . . . two . . . three, sir; three Trinities, negative contact!”
“What is that newcomer?” Valerie shouted. “Can you get a visual on it?”
“All electro-optical trackers are being used on the Trinity intercepts,” Lathrop said. “I’ve got a good radar track but negative visual.” A heartbeat later: “Lost contact with four Trinities. Am I cleared to engage bogey Oscar-one, sir?”
“It’s not a threat to station or the S-19, it’s not at our altitude or orbit, and we don’t have a visual identification,” Kai said. “Negative. Do not engage. Launch more Trinities to get those ASAT missiles, now.”
ABOARD THE RUSSIAN ELEKTRON SPACEPLANE
THAT SAME TIME
They could not have timed it better, and Colonel Mikhail Galtin knew it was as much fate and luck as it was design, but it didn’t matter—it was going to work perfectly. After four orbits intersecting Armstrong Space Station’s, but at a lower altitude and offset about sixty kilometers, he had gotten himself in perfect position to arrive at the exact spot to engage the American space station’s defensive missiles. He knew he had only seconds to act . . . but seconds were an eternity to the Hobnail laser weapon.