This author does not own the Atomic Betty or Kim Possible franchises. This story was written for personal amusement. Chapters initially alternate between the points-of-view of KP and Atomic Betty.
Opening Crawl
In October 1984, crisis brews once again between the capitalist JOINT GOVERNMENT (JOINTGOV) and the communist UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLICS (SOVIET UNION).
Tensions, already high over the deployment of the STRATEGIC DEFENSE INITIATIVE (STAR WARS) space-based ballistic missile defenses by the JOINT GOVERNMENT, escalate wildly over the deployment of intermediate-range nuclear missiles and high-energy laser missile defenses in Western Europe.
With the ultranationalist western-aligned CZECH REPUBLIC fomenting unrest in the PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF SLOVAKIA, the SOVIET UNION, mired in economic stagnation and fearful of a JOINTGOV first strike, mobilizes for for an invasion of WESTERN EUROPE.
Even as events unfold on the ground, the SOVIET STRATEGIC ROCKET FORCES make their move in space, mobilizing spacecraft to shadow JOINTGOV's nuclear pulse propelled space battleships – one of the guarantors of JOINTGOV's all-important strategic nuclear deterrent. Elsewhere, SOVIET forces deploy to threaten JOINTGOV infrastructure and industry in HIGH EARTH ORBIT.
In high orbit, distant from the developing situation on Earth, STRATEGIC AIR COMMAND Major Betty Barret, commander of the frigate JGSS Tieshan Gongzhu (Iron Fan Princess, 鐵扇公主, tee-yeah sh-ahn gong zhu), approaches a SOVIET orbital complex…
1: Poking the Bear
October 6th, 1984
Halo orbit, Earth-Moon Lagrange Point 1
The JGSS Tieshan Gongzhu (Iron Fan Princess) drifted noiselessly through space, tumbling end-over-end to generate a measly 0.1 gees of gravity for her crew.
Like all nuclear thermal rockets, the Tieshan Gongzhu was shaped like a baton.
At one end was a 20-gigawatt HappyAtom liquid-core nuclear thermal rocket engine. At the other was a small cylindrical habitat module. In between the two, putting thirty meters of distance between the crew and the highly radioactive rocket engine, was a narrow square truss.
Near the rocket engine, clustered around the truss, were two cylindrical propellant tanks – each heavier than the entire spacecraft. Atop the habitat module, crowning the spacecraft, was a reentry capsule shaped like an overturned pail.
Just below the habitat module, clustered around the truss like the leaves and thorns of a rose, were a gaggle of flat panels, bullet-shaped protrusions, and hexagonal pods. The ship's raison d'etre, the phased-array-radars, free-electron laser turret, autocannon, and missile pods marked the ship as a military vessel.
The indigo helium-atom-flag (a.k.a. the "ring and thing"), the JGAF insignia, and the brightly-colored nose art on the white surface of the habitat module marked the ship as belonging to Strategic Air Command.
Methane-oxygen thrusters fired, and the ship's rotation ground to a halt.
Major Betty Barrett, commander and WSO of the Tieshan Gongzhu, shook her head as the sensation of free-fall returned, accidentally spreading her red hair into a fan. She tied it back into a ponytail with practiced efficiency.
Her pilot, Lieutenant Sparky Tong, continued his report with typical enthusiasm.
"De-spin complete. We have freefall. All systems green. Permission to close with the target, Major?"
Betty nodded. "Permission granted, Lieutenant Tong. Let's give those Reds a little knock."
Sparky grinned.
"Attention all passengers! We will be performing a burn shortly! Please return your chairs to combat positions and make sure your tray tables are stowed!"
Lieutenant Noah Parker groaned at the pilot's joke. Having graduated with a degree in astronomy from the University of Luna, the Caucasian was no stranger to the unique Lunan sense of humor. However, his last deployment (a presence rendezvous with the near-earth asteroid mine 10569 Nugget) had forced him to spend over a year (in a 600m^3 Kevlar balloon) with the obnoxious Lunan, and even six months at home had failed to dampen his irritation towards Sparky.
Noah's chair tilted one hundred and twenty degrees, bringing him to rest in front of his console.
Such were the disadvantages of the 'tumbling pigeon' configuration of the Tieshan Gongzhu. With the direction of spin gravity exactly opposite that of thrust gravity, instruments designed for use under thrust were difficult to access while under spin, and chairs had to tilt to orient their users properly during transitions between the two.
Sparky continued his announcement. "All hands, prepare for acceleration! 3… 2… 1… Burn! Yee-haw!"
The control drums of the liquid-core reactor at the spacecraft's base rotated, increasing the neutron flux within the reactor and the rate of the fission reactions within. Heat was produced in enormous amounts, rapidly melting the congealed uranium…
…and superheating water into gas and plasma, which shot out the back of the spacecraft at more than ten kilometers per second.
As the reactor cycled to full power, Lieutenant Paloma Ramirez, shipboard engineer, began performing the standard reactor-start checklist. All the while, her hand hovered over the reactor cutoff switch, ready to abort the burn at the first hint of trouble.
"Reactor: Core temperature normal. Core viscosity normal. Propellant flow normal. Exhaust velocity normal. Neutron flux normal. Xenon outgassing normal. Power: Turbine output power normal. Radiator temperature normal. Structure: Loading normal. Temperature normal. Tank loading normal. Tank slosh normal. Tank pressure normal. Checklist complete. Our burn looks good, Major."
The black Hispanic stole a glance at Sparky. Used to the 0.16g of the Lunar surface, the Lunan was breathing deeply in and out to cope with the comparatively slight acceleration of 0.66g – a sight which never failed to bring a smile to her face.
While not much compared to liftoff rockets (which often generated 3-5g of acceleration), 0.66g was plenty for a deep space craft like the Tieshan Gongzhu. To achieve even this seemingly low level of acceleration, the truck-sized reactor generated an thrust power of twenty gigawatts – equivalent to the maximum power output of the Three Gorges Dam, two Manhattan-sized Solar Power Satellites, or twenty commercial nuclear reactors.
Government advertisements encouraging space colonization extolled the riches, grandeur and destiny of the final frontier. To a lesser extent, it extolled the superb character of the final frontiersman and his space society. It was said that living in space turned people into instinctive physicists, compulsive safety-conscious engineers, and hardworking pragmatists. Dependent on advanced technology for their survival, the people of the final frontier would always place technological development, technical education, and infrastructure at the forefront of their needs. This would allow them to perpetuate the virtuous cycle of science, technology, and engineering (the STEM cycle) and industrial-technological civilization all the way to the stars - no matter what horrible fate befell Earth.
The reality was not too far off the mark, but Lunans like Sparky were, at their core, human, with human quirks and personalities. Sometimes obnoxious ones, Paloma thought with a chuckle.
"Burn ends in five, four, three, two, one. Main engine cutoff. We have freefall."
Sparky compared his trajectory with the flight plan. "Trajectory perfect!"
Noah, grinning, spoke up. "Major, we've got a message on the International band! The Soviets are saying that our trajectory will take us through their engagement zone, and that they have authorization to shoot down anything that passes through it."
Betty laughed. "Maintain radio silence. Deploying drones."
Betty turned to her station's CRT (cathode-ray-tube screen). As commander of the spacecraft, Betty was also Weapons Systems Officer – a practice inherited from Strategic Air Command's fighter-bomber force.
She clicked a switch, and three stealth drones fell away from the Tieshan Gongzhu.
The oddly-shaped angular prisms were coated in a layer of radar-absorbent substance so seamless that the designers had not included a power umbilical. Instead, a small, 5-watt radioisotope thermal generator provided startup and boot-up power until the spacecraft could obtain power from the radar-absorbent-covered, super-black, lidar-absorbing solar arrays. Chilled to a few degrees above absolute zero by liquid hydrogen and powered by cold gas thrusters, the drones were very difficult to spot on infra-red.
They also had to be serviced every few months, and cost a small fortune, but someone had decided that it was a price worth paying.
Betty clicked another switch, and three brightly colored, decidedly un-stealthy drones rocketed away from the ship.
All were on course for the Soviet industrial complex at Earth-Moon Lagrange 1.
Noah's gaze shifted from his armrest-mounted CRT (cathode-ray-tube) monitor to his main console. The highly magnified image of the Soviet EML1 industrial complex filled the main screen. Like any other space factory, it was a mess of wiry support beams, industrial & hab modules, volatiles storage balloons, solar furnaces, and solar panels – a structure that could exist only in a zero-gee environment.
Like JOINTGOV's (substantially larger) operations in EML1, the Soviet EML1 complex processed all manner of lunar and asteroidal feedstocks into advanced composites, superalloys, carbon-oxygen fuel cells, and other zero-gee products essential for Soviet industry.
The space factories of both sides would thus be prime targets in any major space war. As such, both sides had invested in fixed defenses and defensive spacecraft.
Noah turned his attention to a host of graphs, indicators, and symbols which collectively represented the Soviet space station's emissions profile, that is, the electronic and thermal signals given off by the complex's radar, lidar, and communications systems. As a civilian installation with minimal emissions control, or EMCON, there was a plethora of data to analyse, most of it worthless.
It fell to the Tieshan Gongzhu's X-5 intelligence processing computer to separate the intelligence from the chaff.
While unable to understand speech or writing, responsive only to highly specific commands, and capable only of performing a limited set of functions, the X-5 computer was an artificial intelligence in every sense of the word. It could recognize patterns, learn new ones, and even make guesses.
(Laymen's expectations for AI had, unfortunately, been set by landmark works of science fiction like 2001: A Space Odyssey and I, Robot, rather than the more mundane reality of search engines and map route-planning programs)
The X-5 unit highlighted a particular data stream – the complex's civilian microwave link with Moscow. 'Increased activity', the caption read. Noah (having learnt Russian at the behest of the Air Force) clicked onto it, and began listening.
"…are doing it again. If they don't burn again, they'll pass within five kilometers of us."
The X-5 unit then highlighted another signal – an encrypted low probability of intercept (LPI) radio transmission, hopping across thousands of frequencies and broadcasting at low power on multiple bands. That X-5 had managed to lock onto the signal was a testament to JOINTGOV engineering prowess equaling the Powersat program. The caption read 'New activity'.
"Major, I am pleased to announce that we have poked the bear! We have chatter!"
Paloma whooped, and Betty nodded.
"Let's serve up the usual, boys. If we can get them to shoot our drones, I'm buying us all dinner when we get back to El-One."
Noah returned his attention to his instruments, hoping that X-5 would pick up Soviet fire control radars. Such electronic intelligence, or ELINT, would improve the ability of SAC to jam, spoof, or detect enemy radar, perhaps giving SAC the decisive edge in a future war.
It would also indicate that the enemy was scared out of their wits and ready to shoot down the Tieshan Gongzhu. Regarding the former, PSYOPS (or psychological warfare operations) was half the point of these provocations, and as for the latter, Noah and X-5 had a few electronic tricks up their sleeves…
X-5 highlighted the encrypted LPI radio. "Prolonged activity. Enemy response likely.", the caption read.
X-5 suddenly beeped. It had detected 'leaky' longwave radios, used for communication between space station modules. 'Enemy response imminent', read the caption.
Noah turned to his commander. "Major! Enemy chatter's gone through the roof! We've got action!"
Paloma, eyes glued to the infra-red image of the Soviet complex, yelled. "A reactor just went hot!"
Betty withdrew the safety interlocks on the UV laser and caseless autocannon. "Point-defense is armed. Pilot, maintain course but prepare for evasive maneuvers. Noah, ready electronic countermeasures."
Noah picked a setting – not his best, since its use would allow it to be analyzed by his Soviet counterparts – and slaved it to the big red button.
Betty inhaled. Every second her ship stayed in Soviet engagement zones increased the electronic intelligence gathered – but increased the risk that her ship and crew would be shot out of the star-studded sky. And she alone could decide when to bug out.
X-5 beeped. "Yes! LPI fire control radar! Jamming… Jammed!" Noah raised an eyebrow as chatter spiked again, and, acting on instinct, jammed that too.
Paloma hollered. "Defocused laser! Warning shot!"
Betty's eyes went wide. The Soviets had gotten better at the handoff from radar to telescope.
She decided. "Sparky, get us out of here!"
Methane-oxygen thrusters fired, the main reactor cycled up, and, a few jinks later, the Tieshan Gongzhu began accelerating through the Soviet engagement zone.
Betty clicked a switch, and the three non-stealthy probes (lost in the ECM and ignored by enemy telescopes in the mad dash) ignited their main engines, raising alarms in the Soviet command center.
Lasers turned towards the new threat, stabbed skywards… and revealed their response times, wavelengths, and accuracies to Noah and X-5.
As the Tieshan Gongzhu exited of the Soviet engagement zone (the Soviets having elected not to unleash missiles on her), Betty checked the status of the stealth drones, smiled, and tapped a key.
Two thousand kilometers distant from the station, on the Tieshan Gongzhu's original heading, three stealth drones exploded into rapidly expanding clouds of mostly-incinerated shrapnel, shocking the Soviets, who had been under the impression that they had shot down all of the drones.
The message was clear. If it had so desired, the Tieshan Gongzhu could have killed the Soviet space platform. And there was nothing the Soviets could have done about it.
A crew-cut balding man in the uniform of a JGAF Colonel walks onscreen, pointy stick in hand and blackboard behind. He begins speaking in a flat, but authoritative, monotone, in the mid-Atlantic accent so popular with 1960s instructional videos.
Space is big. Ridiculously big. The enormity of space is awe-inspiring, humbling, and alluring. Regardless, the vastness of the cosmos is not the subject of this video.
The cradle of mankind, the Earth-Moon system, encompasses a circle four hundred thousand kilometers in radius, The Earth is at the center of this circle, and the Moon's orbit traces out the circumference.
For comparison, this is thirty times Earth's diameter of twelve thousand kilometers, and one hundred times the Moon's diameter of three-thousand five hundred kilometers.
This is still within the grasp of human imagination. At subsonic airliner speeds, it would take you two weeks to reach the moon. At the speed of a sedan, it would take you six months.
If the circle of the Moon's orbit were solid, the area of one side would be 500 billion square kilometers. By comparison, the Pacific Ocean covers an area of 160 million square kilometers. It would take 3,000 Pacific Oceans to cover the circle – a square with fifty-five Pacific oceans on each side.
Objects can orbit in any plane – not just that of the moon, but also over the poles of the Earth. This expands cis-lunar space into a giant sphere.
This vast expanse is the main theater of operations of the Strategic Air Command Space Operations Group, which has been tasked by the Joint Government to secure our interests in the infinite celestial heavens.
This expanse, while empty, is not devoid of "terrain". Certain orbits hold greater significance than others.
Closest to Earth is Low Earth Orbit (LEO). Less than two thousand kilometers from the surface, reconnaissance satellites, space hotels, and tactical weapons platforms in Low Earth Orbits circumnavigate the Earth in ninety minutes. Passengers and munitions can fall to Earth in mere minutes. These regions are vulnerable to attack from terrestrial anti-satellite weapons.
At a precise altitude of 35,000 kilometers above the Earth, a spacecraft in a circular orbit takes precisely one day to orbit Earth. This is Geosynchronous orbit (GEO), home to communications platforms, astronomical platforms, and by the end of this decade, Solar Power Satellites.
Between GEO and LEO is Medium Earth Orbit, or MEO. This region is home to our Global Positioning Satellites.
Beyond GEO is High Earth Orbit, or HEO. Stretching beyond the orbit of the Moon, HEO constitutes the majority of cis-lunar space. HEO orbits can take months to complete. In this region, one can find strategic weapons platforms, space factories using lunar or asteroidal raw materials, and the Solar Power Satellite Construction Platform.
At the edge of cis-lunar space is the Moon and the libation points. The gravity of the Earth and Moon "balance out" at the libation points. This description – "balancing out" - is inaccurate and the actual relationship is more complex. Nonetheless, I will not delve into the details.
In any case, objects placed at or around the libation points are dragged along by the gravity of the Earth-Moon system, and remain stationary relative to the Earth and Moon as the Moon orbits Earth. There are five libation points.
Three lie on a line joining Earth and the Moon. The one between Earth and the Moon is L1, home to a large aggregation of space factories and spacecraft maintenance facilities. The one beyond the Moon is L2, home to astronomy facilities and mass catchers. The one 180 degrees ahead of the moon, opposite to it, is L3, home to a communications relay.
The remaining two libation points lie on the circle of the Moon's orbit. L4 is sixty degrees ahead of the Moon, L5 is sixty degrees behind. They are currently unoccupied but for a few astronomy platforms and communications relays.
The task before us is daunting. In World War II, the great fleet of Admiral Nimitz fought over less than half of the Pacific. Nimitz's unparalleled ability to project power and wage war over this vast region was hailed at the time as a triumph of logistics.
The Strategic Air Command must project power over an expanse millions of times greater, with fewer men and a more restricted budget.
The Strategic Air Command has one advantage over the Navy of Nimitz. Space, by definition, is empty, and thus fully transparent. There is no weather in space. No clouds can obscure enemy fleets. The heat given off by shivering crewmen can be seen from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away by sensitive digital telescopes. Only small and cold objects are missed – and even those will heat up under the sun's harsh rays.
This greatly simplifies the problem of finding the enemy, and renders strategies of subterfuge impotent and obsolete.
Excerpt, "Video Introduction to the SAC Space Operations Group", published by the Joint Government Air Force in 1971
October 6th, 1984
Asteroid Recovery Consortium (ARC) Extraction and Refining Facility
JOINTGOV Lagrange 5 Industrial Complex
Lissajous Orbit, Earth-Moon Lagrange 5
To many a strategist's lament, stealth is near-impossible in space.
Stealth was certainly impossible for the Yulius Fuchik, a 100-tonne ion tug (technically an electric-plasma tug) sporting a 100-megawatt nuclear reactor.
As a matter of fact, the fifty megawatts of waste heat from the reactor could have been spotted by telescope on Pluto.
Even if the reactor had been off (which it was not), the 2400 metric tons of cargo strapped to the Yulius Fuchik reflected enough sunlight that the spacecraft was visible to most amateur astronomers.
Oh, and the spacecraft transponder was helpfully broadcasting the Yulius Fuchik's exact position, trajectory, and status to the entire solar system.
The Yulius Fuchik had filed its flight plan three months in advance to every Space Traffic Control organization in cis-lunar space. So far, it had followed its flight plan to the letter. It had spiraled up from LEO with food and spare parts for the Soviet L1 facility, and then made best speed to the JOINTGOV L5 facility to pick up a cargo of volatiles (purchased by the Soviets at great expense with scare hard currency). Now, it was finishing the last leg of its journey: shipping back to L1 to fill that facility's giant tanks. With the change in velocity required being only a few hundred meters per second, it would reach L1 within a week or two.
As a result, the Yulius Fuchik went completely unremarked and unnoticed by the men and women of Strategic Air Command's Chongqing Underground Complex, who were, by and large, completely preoccupied with the massive Soviet redeployments across cis-lunar space.
Which was a pity; careful analysis of its trajectory and thrust would have revealed that the Yulius Fuchik was now twenty tonnes lighter than it should have been.
Real World: In reality, the US conducted a series of intentionally provocative operations against Soviet installations during the early '80. Using sophisticated electronic countermeasures, USAF and Navy aircraft penetrated deep into Soviet airspace undetected, even conducting mock bombing runs against Soviet installations in Kamchatka. The demonstrable ability of the US to use ECM and other measures to evade Soviet defenses scared the willies out of the Soviets, and the immense pressure on local commanders to shoot down intruding American reconnaissance aircraft contributed to the shootdown of KAL 007 over Kamchatka in '83.