world, a successful X-ship could have heralded a tidal wave of smuggling that would have engulfed the entire world. It would rise straight up into space, then drop back down again in a steep curve, using the natural rotation of Earth to cover thousands of miles in only a few minutes. Overnight, border guards, harbor patrols, custom inspectors and airport security would have become obsolete. Weapons, drugs—anything—could almost literally be delivered to the front door of the customer. Terrorists would have been able to land right on top of their targets—buildings, bridges, schools—and use the fiery exhaust of the X-ship to do more damage than most conventional explosives. Why carry a bomb when the thundering exhaust of the rocket engines was even more powerful? Unless they got hold of a nuke. A working X-ship armed with a tactical nuclear weapon could destroy any place on Earth, and nobody would be able to stop it. The fantastic speeds involved and the vertical trajectory would make all conventional air defense systems virtually useless.
All that was needed was for some lunatic to also make the things invisible to radar, like a stealth bomber, and you’d have the end of the world, Brognola thought.
Only now it seemed that somebody had solved those technical problems and had just gotten in the first strike.
“Okay, we’re facing an X-ship,” Brognola said, cracking his knuckles thoughtfully as he digested the impossible information. “Any chance the lab boys at the Pentagon were able to get an estimate of the size of the SSO from the cell phone video?”
Reaching for a coffee urn, the President poured himself a cup, took a sip, then placed it aside. “Yes, roughly 120 feet tall.”
About the size of a ten-story building, Brognola mused. No way that monster was going to be hidden in a garage or car port. Okay, one small point in our favor. It’s invisible, but huge. That sounded like a contradiction of terms, but sadly was not.
“Have there been any other attacks?”
“Hal, every other major launch facility in the world has been hit. Edwards Air Force Base, Houston, Compose Island in Brazil, Woomera Base in Australia, French Guyana, Rocket City in Russia, Tanegashima Island in Japan, Sriharikota Island in India…every launch facility capable of putting a shuttle into space has been flattened. Utterly smashed. The death toll for all of the bases combined is monstrous.”
“This is why we’re meeting here,” Brognola said suddenly, tapping the arm of the chair. “A moving target will be harder for them to hit.”
“Exactly.” The President paused, then added, “Plus each of the three planes have another jumbo jet riding above it as a physical shield.”
Damn, that was smart. Once more his admiration for the sheer guts of the U.S. Secret Service was raised. The President would have to stay on the move from now on, never stopping for anything, refueling in midair, until this crisis was resolved.
If it could be resolved. Annoyed at himself, Brognola shook the negative thoughts from his mind. “Mr. President, is there any chance that we know the sequence of the strikes?” he asked hopefully, concentrating on the task at hand.
“Now, I just know where you’re going with that question,” the Man said, giving a half smile. “And the answer is yes. Compose Island, Rocket City and Cape Canaveral were all hit at the exact same moment, so we’re facing at least three X-ships, with possibly more of them being held in reserve.
“Currently, the Army Corps of Engineers is working on emergency repairs of the facilities,” the President continued, “but it will take several weeks before we’re able to put anything into space again. Maybe a month.”
“A month we don’t have.” Brognola leaned back in the chair. Christ, in a week these things could smash civilization apart. “And I’ll assume that I’ve heard nothing of this on the radio, cable TV or the Internet because the nations involved are trying to keep a tight lid on the matter and prevent a panic.”
“Exactly. No police force in the world could control the rioting if the news of the X-ships was released. This matter must be handled covertly, as quietly as possible.”
“Agreed, sir. Secrecy is mandatory. Too bad nobody was able to shoot one down. We could have learned a lot from the wreckage.”
“Hal, everybody shot at them,” the President said surprisingly. “But bullets did nothing and heat-seekers went straight past the X-ships without even slowing.”
“But they ride a column of fire larger than the Statue of Liberty! How is that possible?”
“Unknown, and part of your assignment,” the President said. Just then, a light flashed on his intercom and the man stabbed it with a stiff finger to turn off the distraction. If it was anything of importance, his secretary would come into the office. “At the moment, Homeland Security is working with the Pentagon to try to come up with some sort of defense, a way to beat the radar shield of the X-ships. From the sheer volume of their engine exhaust, these things must be flying fuel tanks, so a single missile should blow them to hell.”
“But a missile can’t destroy what can’t be seen,” Brognola finished. The combination of stealth technology and the vertical flight path of the X-ships made them virtually unstoppable.
“The FBI is checking into the major corporations still interested in trying to build an SSO—Armadillo Aerospace in Texas, Blue Horizons in California, and the like,” the President went on, templing his fingers. “The CIA is doing the same thing overseas, with Army Intelligence investigating our known enemies in Europe, Navy Intelligence doing the Middle East and Africa, with Air Force Intelligence concentrating on South America.” He paused. “Especially Brazil.”
“Understood,” Brognola declared. “Just because they were the first place hit, that doesn’t mean they’re not actually behind everything and just trying to throw off suspicion.”
“Precisely.” The President frowned. “Now, what I want from Stony Man is for your people to hit the underground, the crime cartels, drug lords and arms dealers.”
“Understood, sir. Somebody paid a fortune to build these things, and it will cost even more to maintain them.”
“Precisely,” the President said, sliding over the sealed manila envelope. “Here is all of the data that we have, copies of the cell phone video, security logs and such, along with all of the information on the Delta Clipper experiments.”
Accepting the envelope, Brognola noted the security seals were still in place. If it had been opened, the white band along the top would have turned red in only a few seconds.
Damn, it was slim , he thought.
“Yes, I know.” The President sighed unhappily. “That’s not much to go on, but…”
“It’ll be enough,” the big Fed stated confidently, rising to his feet once more. “And if not, we’ll get the rest from these murdering bastards just before we shovel them into the dirt.”
“Move fast on this, Hal,” the President said earnestly. “The only possible reason that these X-ships ran a sneak attack on every launch facility was that they don’t want us putting anything into space that might challenge them. Because if they manage to hold the high ground…”
“We lose,” Brognola said bluntly, feeling a surge of cold adrenaline in his gut. “Plain and simple. We lose the whole goddamn world.”
Lifting the telephone
