Pulses, p.10
Pulses, page 10
The executive officer answered.
“General Tyler, please. Colonel Slaytor calling.”
“The general's busy now,” the exec stalled. “Give me your number and the nature of your business and I'll pass it on.”
“I'll hold,” Slaytor said. He wasn't about to be put off with the old 'leave your name and number and we'll get back to you' routine. Slaytor knew they never got back if you weren't pretty important. There was no reason to call back.
“Can I tell the general the nature of your call?”
“There's a problem at the OHR site in Chad.”
“Stand by a moment.”
Slaytor gazed out the window for the next few minutes. He knew the vice chief was well briefed on the purpose of the OHR site and knew its strategic importance. It wouldn't take long, Slaytor guessed, to get him on line with bait like that.
A familiar voice on the other end of the line said, “Burt, that you?”
“Yes, sir. I think I should bring you up to date on a little problem we're having.”
“Oh? What's happening out there?”
“It would be better, sir, if I briefed you in person. Say, day after tomorrow? I'm scheduled to be in Washington on other business then. I could drop by at your convenience and give you a rundown on the whole situation.”
“All right. I'll pass you back to Bob. He'll set you up with a time. See you then, Burt. Oh, by the way, would it be asking too much if you were to pick up a bottle of that German white wine we had last time you were by?”
“The Eiswein?”
“Yes, that's the one.”
“Not at all, sir. Till then.”
Ouch, Slaytor thought. The Eiswein ran forty bucks a bottle. Still, he rationalized, that was a cheap ticket to get in to Tyler's office. Once there, Slaytor knew he could right all wrongs. He would come out looking pretty good, he thought to himself as he slid a long black cigar out of the humidor on his desk. He reached for the lighter and bit the end off of the cigar. Things were coming together again.
Chapter 13
The plasma screen at the end of the operations room glowed against an inky blackness. The dim lighting in the ops room made the screen appear to be a hole in the wall opening out onto the night sky. Indeed, the fragment of picture on the screen seemed celestial but it had a strange internal pattern woven amidst the line segments and broad washes of illumination.
Luke thought he recognized a partial disk of the moon in the upper corner. The imaging wasn't good, but a strange perception of depth came from looking quickly at the picture then away.
Tony sauntered down to the screen. One of the operations personnel joined him and the two talked excitedly, pointed to several areas and nodded simultaneously.
“What are they saying?” Dan asked. Then without waiting for a reply, “You know, that picture looks like a blow up from a picture out of a magazine.”
Luke agreed. “I was just trying to put my finger on why it looked familiar. Kind of like some of the blown-up wall posters with various sized dots that add tone.”
Tony came back over. “Offset tone technique. I couldn't remember the term. Sergeant Richards over there told me that's what it looked like to him. He used to work in a print shop.”
“Is that why it's so blurry?” Redleaf asked.
“Yeah. But it also means we aren't displaying the picture right either. That picture is made up of square areas that designate how much tone or light that particular pixel should have. We use a similar technique to encode pictures sent back from our Voyager probes.” Tony scratched his ear as he thought. “I think the code to set the tone is in squares three by three units on a side. You can see an underlying pattern of baseline dots spaced three units apart. Those seem to define a pixel for the overall big picture. Those baseline dots have clusters of dots around them where there's a pixel that has a tone other than black.”
“I see what you mean,” Redleaf said. “That's ingenious. Even if we missed the pixel density coding scheme, we still get pretty good picture quality because the coding dots provide some level of shading by filling in around the central dot. That gives an eight digit binary number. That's 512 possible tones. Same as the fax industry uses for their advanced standard.”
“Can you redraw it with the proper tones thrown in?” Dan asked.
“I think so. I think I know the tone code being used,” Tony added. “It's about as unambiguous as the rest of the codes this thing sends. The code for no light at all is no lit pixels in the three by three square for that particular part of the picture. One pixel lit in, say, the lower right corner, binary one, is the smallest amount of light. Binary two, the next larger and so on. Just need to figure out where the counting starts. The added benefit is that the process will reduce the overall picture size back down to the previous size and we can see the whole thing at one time on the screen there.”
“Do it then,” Luke said. “Sergeant Redleaf, are we still getting bearing data on this thing?”
“Yes, sir. I've got the DF antenna tilted upward so it can track across the sky instead of around the horizon.”
“Check the position of the other transmitter to see if it's still at the same spot in the sky.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I'll go with you,” Dan said as Redleaf wheeled around toward the door.
Luke got a cup of coffee and watched Tony at the computer. Tony was completely absorbed in his effort. Occasionally he peered over his glasses at the array of symbols building up on the monitor screen. Luke felt sorry for him. Tony was completely misplaced. He had no business in the Air Force. He could make a fortune working on the outside. Luke wondered what made him stay. Not the pay. Not the hours. Or the remote tours away from his wife. Tony looked over at Luke and grinned slyly.
“Gitten there, major. Gitten there. Another minute maybe.”
Dan and Redleaf came back in. “I sent out a couple of pulses, but got no reply,” Redleaf said. “We must have gotten past that point. It'll probably take another full retransmission to get another response.”
“How is Captain Wells doing?” Dan asked.
“Ready when you are.” Tony leaned back on the console stool.
The group seemed to lose their focus for a moment. Luke could guess what thoughts ran through their minds. Was this a spoof that had revealed the true nature of the OHR site, or was there really something out there? Something none of them were ready for.
Luke nodded to Tony.
The plasma screen filled with a picture of such breathtaking clarity and depth that several people in the room gasped. Luke knew that he would never forget the feeling he had at that moment. Nor would he ever forget the image shining down at him.
The upper right hand quadrant held a leaden moon, oversized and filled with craters and maria of such shading and detail that they appeared molded into the screen. Along the terminator, brilliant mountain peaks rose out of the darkness to catch the sunlight and throw it outward. And across the plains, sinuous rills twisted and turned their way toward the highlands.
The backdrop of inky black sky glowed with a thick swath of stars. Luke recognized Sirius and Procyon and the Arc of Capella. Orion loomed in the darkness and the vee of Taurus pointed to the sparkle of the Pleiades. But it was the structure in the foreground, dark and mysterious, that captured his eye and made him reach far down into past memories for someplace that seemed to fit this picture. It was almost as if he had slipped back to a time when the Moon had been much closer to the Earth. But the constellations reflected modern configurations, he told himself, and he shook off the hypnotic grip that held him.
Dan was the first in the group to move. “What do you suppose it means?” She glanced up at Luke then back at the screen.
“You mean the structure in the center?”
“Yes. That too. But the whole picture in general. What's the purpose?”
“It looks like a picture of a black cathedral sitting out in the desert against tonight’s sky. I can't see any purpose to it.”
“Then you don't think that thing is for real?” Dan asked.
Luke studied her carefully for a second. “To tell the truth, I'm not sure. But I know this, it's time to start figuring out how to tell which it is.”
Dan turned to Tony, “What’s the size of that image?”
Tony checked his data sheet. “Looks like 4637 by 4639.”
“Is that another prime pair?”
Before Tony could check, a klaxon sounded overhead as an announcement came in over the alerting system. “We have positive launch indication from Turynam rocket facility. Stand by to activate monitors. Go to Op Order 3300. Reference Start Time zero seven forty-five Zulu.”
Luke gave an inner groan. “That's it for today. Dan, can you and Sergeant Spencer get with Sergeant Redleaf and work out a plan of attack?”
Dan nodded.
“Good. I'll see you tonight if we can get this alert wound up early.”
Chapter 14
Colonel Slaytor stepped briskly down the E-ring of the Pentagon. Under one arm he carried a forty-five dollar bottle of the best German Eiswein he could find on such short notice. He was late for his appointment with the Vice Chief by several minutes.
He made a sharp right through a set of double glass doors set in mahogany and entered the foyer to the Vice Chief's office. He noted with some relief that the general had not yet returned from his morning staff briefings. The secretary offered him a cup of coffee and a seat. He pulled out a big black cigar but thought he'd better not push his luck and put it back in his inside coat pocket. The secretary had a 'thank you for not smoking sign' on her desk. It didn't pay to get the secretary pissed. She could say something about you after you left. It didn't take much. Just a casual comment about your having been crude to them would do it.
Slaytor was getting a good look at the secretary's bottom as she filed reports in a lower cabinet drawer when he heard footfalls in the corridor. General Tyler breezed into the room with that air of authority that Slaytor had recognized back in Vietnam. Slaytor jumped to his feet and started to say how nice it was to see the general again and my didn't he look great.
“Mary, hold my calls until further notice will you.” He nodded to Slaytor then disappeared into his office, the heavy carved wooden door clicking shut behind him.
Slaytor sat back down. He was irritated but there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to see the Vice Chief and that was all there was to it. He would just have to sit there and pretend it didn't matter. He checked to see if Mary noticed him sitting alone in the corner. She was back filing reports again. Slaytor concentrated on her bottom for a while longer. At least she wasn't too bad to look at, he consoled himself. He ached for a big stinking cigar. It would have made him feel more confident.
After what seemed like several hours, the big wooden door opened again. General Tyler strode over all smiles and handshakes.
“Sorry about the delay, Burt. Senate inquiry about how the last appropriation for the Keyhole Sat upgrade was spent.”
Slaytor recovered quickly from his funk. He had work to do and not much time, he suspected. The delay must surely have eaten into the general's schedule and Slaytor knew he was not high on the man's priority list anyway. At least not yet.
The general moved Slaytor quickly into his office and relieved him of the bottle of Eiswein. He held the bottle aloft and asked Slaytor if he would like a sample while they talked. Needing the time worse than the drink, Slaytor declined.
“So what brings you to Washington, Burt? You mentioned something about trouble at the OHR site in Chad.” The general frowned at the thought of trouble in this sensitive spot.
“Yes, sir. I believe you are aware of the two double launches over the past two days.” The general nodded slightly. “Well along with those launches have been jamming attempts.”
“Libya maybe?”
“I don't think so, sir. They don't have the technology or the finesse. This is something far more sophisticated. I have a team in there now, but I don't have confidence in the commander down there.”
“I thought you screened potential commanders carefully before you let them go down there.”
“I do, sir.” Slaytor prepared to put his bait out in the open now. “I strongly recommended another man to go down there. The Personnel Center chose a Major Dawson instead.”
“I find it hard to believe they would go against the wishes of the theater commander in his choice of a commander.”
“That's the problem, general. The theater commander approved Dawson. Against my recommendation.” Slaytor's mind raced now. He didn't want to come across as someone the theater commander didn't listen to. He also didn't want to undercut his own boss, a general who worked directly for the theater commander. It was getting tricky. Slaytor was at his best in situations like this.
“Then you're telling me General Smathers put the wrong man down there. How do you figure that? What has this Major Dawson done that has brought you here to see me?” General Tyler pursed his lips slightly and leveled a long gaze at Slaytor. “You know this is something you should be able to work out without my help.”
“I agree, sir. It should be.” Damn, Slaytor thought. I'm getting in deeper every time I open my mouth. He looked down at his briefcase for a moment. He only saw one way out of the box he had put himself in. “To tell the truth though, general, I haven't been all that effective in getting the idea across to the higher-ups about the unique circumstances down there. It's my fault. I was in on the site's mission from conception and probably know more about the site's needs than anyone.” This wasn't exactly true but Slaytor was in no position to quibble over what was exactly true and what was approximately true. “I just haven't been able to get the importance of the mission across to everyone involved. Most of the effort over there is tied up in flying.”
“So you're having problems getting the flyboys to listen to you.” The general smiled condescendingly.
“Yes, sir. I guess that's about the gist of it. If it weren't for the recent double launches and the jamming, it wouldn't make all that much difference. But now we need to get things back under control, and quick.”
The general's intercom buzzed briefly. Mary reminded him of his luncheon engagement with several senators. Slaytor stood up ready to leave. The general came around the desk and put his arm around Slaytor's shoulders as he escorted him to the door.
“Tell you what, Burt. I'll get the boss to give General Smathers a call. Put a bug in his ear that something needs to the done down there at the site. When do you get back?”
“I'll be back there tomorrow morning, sir. I fly out of Andrews this afternoon.”
“Good. Expect a call by noon tomorrow. After that, I think you'll find a more attentive audience for your recommendations.” The general shook Slaytor's hand. “And thanks for the wine, Burt. It was most thoughtful of you.”
Slaytor strutted out the double glass doors with a smile on his face. He still had it he reflected. When the going got tough and all that kind of stuff he could get things turned around - no matter how screwed up the staff had gotten them. The boys were going to eat a little crow when Slaytor finally got his licks in. He had told them to put Brent down there to begin with.
Chapter 15
Dan and Redleaf had worked with the site receivers all afternoon trying to get a triangulation on the pulse source overhead. It was becoming clear to Dan that she was not going to get a dependable reading anywhere in the vicinity of the site. The two miles of wire that they had strung between the receivers picked up interference from the electrical equipment in the compound. Frustration had set in.
“Damn.” Dan shook her head. “When I try to tune the receivers on a specific channel, all I get is trash.”
“It's going to take shielded cable to make the run between the receivers,” Sergeant Redleaf said. “We don't have that much on site. I'm not sure that would completely solve the problem anyway once you get your own receivers in here. They're a lot more sensitive than the stuff I've jury-rigged out here.”
“Thanks, sarge. You really brighten my spirits.” Dan wiped perspiration from her forehead with her sleeve leaving a dusty smudge.
“No offense, ma’am. It's just that I've run into similar problems laying out comm systems in 'Nam. Long connecting runs just pick up a lot of trash.”
“Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I don't know whether you know it or not but your commander has his career on the line over this thing.”
“I didn't know anything had gotten out of hand yet.”
“Well, it hasn't. Yet. That's not the problem. It's the colonel that runs the ops division. The guy I work for. He has his own agenda about what should be happening down here.”
“Sounds like typical officer politics to me.” Redleaf said. “I wouldn't have thought the major would be wrapped up in foolishness like that. The mission here is too important to be playing politics with it.”
“He's not messed up in it because he wants to be, Sergeant Redleaf. The colonel declared the feud unilaterally. Major Dawson is in the middle whether he wants to be or not.”
“That's bad business,” Redleaf said as he looked out toward the distant receiver. Sergeant Spencer was trudging across the sand toward them.
“You're right, sergeant. It is bad business. And now we're all being drawn into it. That's why I'm getting upset about the lack of headway I'm making in trying to get a distance reading on this satellite. If that’s what it is.”
“You're working on a triangulation measurement to get a distance, aren't you?”
“Yes. That'll work provided the satellite isn't too far away. Say not over a couple of thousand miles. I might not be able to get a good distance measurement, but if I detect any difference in angle it will prove it's not four million miles out.”
