"Unidentified?"
Borgeson went on: "It was launched from Plesetsk in the Soviet Union. It's a new type, something we haven't seen before. We don't know what it contains or what its mission is. We don't even know if it's manned or not."
"And it is big," Hatch rumbled.
"Intelligence," Colonel Borgeson nodded at the colonel sitting on Kinsman's left, "had no prior word about the launch. We must assume that the satellite is potentially hostile in intent. Colonel McKeever will give you the tracking data."
They went around the table, each colonel adding his bit of information. Kinsman began to build up the picture in his mind.
The satellite had been launched nine hours earlier. It was in a low-altitude, high-inclination orbit that allowed it to cover every square mile of territory between the Arctic and Antarctic Circles. Since it had first gone up not a single radio transmission had been detected going to or from it. And it was big, twice the size of the Soyuz spacecraft the Soviets used for their manned flights.
"A satellite of that size," said the colonel from the Special Weapons Center, "could easily contain a beam weapon ... the kind of laser or particle beam device that would be used to knock down missiles or destroy satellites."
"If it does," said Borgeson, "it could threaten every satellite we have in orbit; even the commsats up at geosyn- chronous orbit."
"Or it could be the first step in an effective antimissile defense," the Special Weapons man added. "You know, their version of Star Wars."
"Or it could be," said General Hatch, "a twenty- megaton nuclear weapon." His face was etched with deep lines of worry. Or is it hate? Kinsman asked himself. "A 108 bomb that size, exploded at that altitude, could cause an electromagnetic pulse that would knock out every computer, every telephone, every auto ignition, every power station across the North American continent."
Borgeson nodded. "The chaos factor. It could be the precursor to a full-scale nuclear attack."
"And in a little more than two hours," Hatch went on, gloomy as death, "that satellite will be passing over the Middle West, the heartland of America."
"Why don't we just knock it down, sir?" Kinsman asked. "We can hit it with an ASAT, can't we?"
"We could try," the General answered. "But suppose the damned thing just zaps our missile? Then what? Can you imagine the panic in Washington? It'd make Sputnik look like a schoolyard scuffle. And suppose it is a nuke. Salvage fusing could set it off and the whole damned country will be blacked out. The Russians could even accuse us of starting hostilities by attacking their goddamned satellite."
Kinsman watched the General shake his head morosely. He puffed out a deep sigh. "Besides, we have been ordered by the Chief of Staff himself to inspect the satellite and determine whether or not its intent is hostile."
"In two hours?" Kinsman blurted.
"Perhaps I can explain," said the civilian. He had been introduced as a State Department man. Kinsman had already forgotten his name. He had a soft, sheltered look to him.
"We are officially in a position of cooperation, vis-d-vis the Soviets, in our outer space programs. Our NASA civilians and the Soviet civil space program people are working cooperatively on exploring the Moon and sending probes to the planet Mars. Officially, we are sharing information on our strategic defense programs, as called for in SALT III."
The State Department representative seemed unmindful of the hostility that Kinsman could feel rising from the others around the table. He went on in his low. Ivy League voice, "So if we simply try to destroy this new satellite it would violate our agreements with the Soviet government and set back our cooperative programs—perhaps ruin them alto- gether."
"On the other hand," Hatch cut in, his voice like a rusty 109 saw, "if we do nothing, the Russians will know that they can get away with bending those agreements whenever they feel like it."
