came back on the air one by one, but no one could explain why the stations had all experienced power failures at the most inopportune time. âThe odds are a billion to one that all the stations would lose power at the same time, and by God it happened!â exclaimed Gattsuo and smashed the flat of his hand against a bulkhead.
âOr someone made it happen,â Toad Tarkington muttered.
âWhy did the rocket go off course?â Jake Grafton asked the launch director.
âWe donât know that it did.â
âIt sounded to me like it was wandering around.â
Gattsuo had other things on his mind. âMaybe it drifted a little off course,â he said distractedly. âWeâll study the data.â
âWhy didnât the third-stage engines ignite?â
âWe donât know.â
âDid it self-destruct or didnât it?â
âWe donât know.â
âIf it didnât self-destruct, where did the third stageâand the satelliteâcome down?â
âGoddamn it, Admiral, we donât know! â
Three days later when Jake and the liaison team finally went ashore, none of those questions had been answered. The SuperAegis killer satellite was lost.
CHAPTER ONE
A small band played lively Sousa marches as USS America, Americaâs newest nuclear-powered attack submarine, prepared to get under way on its first operational cruise. The raucous crowd on the pier was in a holiday mood that balmy September Saturday morning. As seagulls skimmed over the heads of the happy onlookers, the band swung into a heartfelt rendition of âAnchors Aweigh.â The line handlers on America âs deck threw the last of the lines to the sailors on the pier, severing the connection between the sub and the land.
The sailors in white uniforms standing on the small, flat, nonskid surface atop the curved hull were going to sea for three months. As the gulls cried and the music floated away on the sea breeze, they took their last fond look at Americaâwives and kids and girlfriends and scores of navy officers high and low, miles of gold braid, and despite the early hour, barely eight A.M ., dozens of civilian dignitaries up to and including an undersecretary of defense and the secretary of the navy. The congressional delegation from Connecticut was thereâthe boat had been constructed at Electric Boatâand of course various other senators and congresspeople high and low, those who were on defense committees in their respective houses and those who merely wanted to be seen on the evening news back home. Most of the political people even had a pithy sound bite ready if they were lucky enough to have a microphone thrust at them.
As the distance between the sub and pier widened, sailors blew their families kisses and everyone waved. When the last notes of âAnchors Aweighâ drifted off on the breeze, the band began playing âThe Navy Hymn.â Many of those on the pier and the subâs deck swabbed moisture from their eyes.
âOh, hear us when we cry to thee, for those in peril on the sea,â the skipper of the sub sang under his breath as he watched the pier slide aft.
âWhat a day!â the officer of the deck said, glancing at the wispy cirrus high above in the cerulean sky. This morning the sea breeze was light, just enough to roughen the surface of the water and make the sunâs reflection on the swells twinkle wildly, as if the sunlight were reflecting off diamonds. Gulls hovered almost within armâs reach of the sail, begging for a handout.
America âs commanding officer, Commander Leonard Sterrett, was shoulder-to-shoulder with the officer of the deck and two lookouts in the tiny, cramped bridge atop the sail. A temporary safety railing had been rigged around the bridge, but it would be removed and stowed before the boat dived. A hatch would then be lifted hydraulically into place to seal the opening.
The tug