display. His attempts to clear were fruitless. He scooted his seat over to an empty console nearby and booted that computer up. Everything worked fine until he accessed Dish 4, the one he had been realigning.
"What's the matter?" Colonel Seymour, the station commander appeared over his shoulder. "Trouble?"
Spurlock worked the keyboard. "I don't know, sir. Could be the main drive. I get the same garbage on both screens when I access dish four."
Seymour checked the clock. "INTEL-SAT 3A is going to transmit in two minutes."
An abnormality--Spurlock was ready to see Seymour's head start spinning in circles. The Air Force didn't assign people to DSCC because they were highly adaptable to a rapidly changing environment. They were assigned because they could do routine and do it well.
As he watched, the figures on the screen began shifting in a hypnotic fashion, the numbers and the letters realigning, drifting from one place to another. He'd never seen anything like it.
"What the hell is going on?" Seymour demanded.
"I don't know, sir."
"Get that damn thing back on line. I'm going to have to file a report if we miss the burst from 3A."
Spurlock frowned as he watched the screen. "I don't think it's the computer, sir." He checked the status board. "Dish two's free for a half hour. I'm going to use it on 3A." He gave the proper commands and dish two powered up and turned, lowering toward the western horizon to catch the satellite.
"Shit," Spurlock muttered as the screen dissolved into the same shifting pattern. "Something's transmitting on very high power to the west. It's overpowering everything else."
"Air or ground transmitter?"
Spurlock played with the controls, moving the dish ever so slightly. "I think it's on the ground and stationary. I go a few degrees up and we lose it. Southwest of here." He checked the status board. "Are there any military operations going on out in the Gibson Desert? Maybe somebody failed to file their freqs with Control and they don't know they're screwing up our receiving."
Seymour shook his head. "As far as I know we've got nothing out there, and the Aussies haven't told us anything."
"Well, sir, there's a very high-power transmitter out there and until we get it off the air, we're not going to pick up anything in a twelve-degree arc from the horizon."
Seymour ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. "I'll get a helicopter up. If it's that strong they ought to pick it up pretty quickly and get it shut down. Contact Goddard and inform them of the situation." Seymour left the room.
Spurlock cleared the computer and accessed the direct satellite modem link to the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland.
There was a long pause-much too long. Spurlock grew worried and repeated his message. The reply was not what he had expected.
Spurlock reflexively checked his screens.
THIS IS DSCC 14. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. REPEAT. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. ALL OUR RECEIVERS ARE ALSO OVERWHELMED BY THIS WHEN THEY ALIGN IN THE INDICATED DIRECTION.
< WHO IS SENDING, THEN? WE'VE GOT IT COMING DOWN OFF METEOR BURSTS ALL OVER THE PLANET AIMED AT SPECIFIC LOCATIONS. ARE YOU GUYS PLAYING A GAME?
< NEGATIVE, GSFC. WE ARE NOT, REPEAT, NOT TRANSMITTING.
Spurlock paused and rechecked the other screens and the dish alignments. He tapped the keyboard.
A new message from Goddard Space Center.
"What's the matter?" Colonel Seymour, the station commander appeared over his shoulder. "Trouble?"
Spurlock worked the keyboard. "I don't know, sir. Could be the main drive. I get the same garbage on both screens when I access dish four."
Seymour checked the clock. "INTEL-SAT 3A is going to transmit in two minutes."
An abnormality--Spurlock was ready to see Seymour's head start spinning in circles. The Air Force didn't assign people to DSCC because they were highly adaptable to a rapidly changing environment. They were assigned because they could do routine and do it well.
As he watched, the figures on the screen began shifting in a hypnotic fashion, the numbers and the letters realigning, drifting from one place to another. He'd never seen anything like it.
"What the hell is going on?" Seymour demanded.
"I don't know, sir."
"Get that damn thing back on line. I'm going to have to file a report if we miss the burst from 3A."
Spurlock frowned as he watched the screen. "I don't think it's the computer, sir." He checked the status board. "Dish two's free for a half hour. I'm going to use it on 3A." He gave the proper commands and dish two powered up and turned, lowering toward the western horizon to catch the satellite.
"Shit," Spurlock muttered as the screen dissolved into the same shifting pattern. "Something's transmitting on very high power to the west. It's overpowering everything else."
"Air or ground transmitter?"
Spurlock played with the controls, moving the dish ever so slightly. "I think it's on the ground and stationary. I go a few degrees up and we lose it. Southwest of here." He checked the status board. "Are there any military operations going on out in the Gibson Desert? Maybe somebody failed to file their freqs with Control and they don't know they're screwing up our receiving."
Seymour shook his head. "As far as I know we've got nothing out there, and the Aussies haven't told us anything."
"Well, sir, there's a very high-power transmitter out there and until we get it off the air, we're not going to pick up anything in a twelve-degree arc from the horizon."
Seymour ran a hand through his thinning gray hair. "I'll get a helicopter up. If it's that strong they ought to pick it up pretty quickly and get it shut down. Contact Goddard and inform them of the situation." Seymour left the room.
Spurlock cleared the computer and accessed the direct satellite modem link to the Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland.
There was a long pause-much too long. Spurlock grew worried and repeated his message. The reply was not what he had expected.
Spurlock reflexively checked his screens.
THIS IS DSCC 14. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. REPEAT. WE ARE NOT TRANSMITTING. ALL OUR RECEIVERS ARE ALSO OVERWHELMED BY THIS WHEN THEY ALIGN IN THE INDICATED DIRECTION.
< WHO IS SENDING, THEN? WE'VE GOT IT COMING DOWN OFF METEOR BURSTS ALL OVER THE PLANET AIMED AT SPECIFIC LOCATIONS. ARE YOU GUYS PLAYING A GAME?
< NEGATIVE, GSFC. WE ARE NOT, REPEAT, NOT TRANSMITTING.
Spurlock paused and rechecked the other screens and the dish alignments. He tapped the keyboard.
A new message from Goddard Space Center.
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