Thanks to CajunBear73, OechsnerC, and everyone else for your reviews and input.
=O=
Chapter 24: Large Compound Escalation
Wenchang Launch Center
Hainan Province, Joint Government of the Pacific
Drago Bludvist raised his ice-cold Coke to his lips, basking in the warm subtropical sunshine. The white metal bleachers of the viewing stand, warmed uncomfortably by the sun, brought back memories of high school football games long past to the hulking former linebacker.
He turned a corner of his lips. In some way, perhaps, he was watching a game. A game played across continents, by teams a billion to a side, with the world hanging on to every play.
Drago inhaled deeply, enjoying the concoction of sea salt, jungle, and kerosene that filled the breeze. He would tire of the humidity, heat, and mosquitoes eventually, but for now, the five-star beachfront resorts were a welcome change from the desolate Qingzang Plateau.
On the horizon, the glittering waters of the South China Sea lapped at the white sandy beaches of Hainan Island. Scattered palm trees, marshes, and patches of jungle dotted the vast coastal plain.
Crisscrossing the plain were huge concrete causeways, connecting towering fifty-story Vehicle Assembly Buildings with skeletal launch towers and monolithic concrete launch pads. Kilometers of marsh separated the superhardened launch pads, ensuring an explosion of a rocket filled with thousands of tonnes of fuel on one pad would not destroy its neighbors.
"Nice day for a launch, isn't it?"
Drago turned around. The National Security Advisor, her close-cropped black hair tied into a neat bun, took a seat next to him.
"Indeed, Dr. Song." He rasped. "The weather is... superb for recovery operations."
"A little on the sweltering side, though." The Advisor tugged on the collar of her business suit as Drago took another swig from his ice-cold Coke.
The General reached into his cooler, and handed the Advisor a glass bottle filled with cold, fizzy, liquid candy.
"Your reputation precedes you, doctor. I believe you will be… pleased to hear that your hypotheses… on limited nuclear scenarios are being taken into consideration by the planners at Strategic Air Command."
"I wouldn't put too much stock into them, General. Actual wars are going to be very context-dependent." The Advisor shrugged, and began to drink greedily from her bottle.
"Indeed. But planning for a limited nuclear war is in many ways more difficult than planning for a large one. It helps to be… able to achieve victory at every level of nuclear conflict." Drago grinned.
A seagull swooped down on the stand, inspecting it briefly before soaring into the clear blue sky.
"What… brings the National Security Advisor to a faraway launch site? Surely even this launch..." Drago gesticulated to the nearest pad. "…does not quite warrant a visit by a cabinet official."
"I had family business to attend to in Shanghai, and thought I'd drop by."
Drago raised an eyebrow. The powerful Song family was old money, with extensive interests in banking, industry, and the highest echelons of government.
"You missed the emergency cabinet meeting."
The Advisor nodded. "I wouldn't have been of any help. I've been in Europe for the past three weeks, locked in endless discussions with the Soviets even while the slimy bastards pulled their move in South Asia. Strategic maskirovka at its finest."
Drago nodded. The Russians, masters of military deception – maskirovka – had played a beautiful game. Between the mild ruckus in Europe, reductions in general rhetoric, border skirmishes, and the raid in Bhutan, they had kept all eyes away from the massive strategic buildup in the heart of India.
They had certainly succeeded in keeping one of the most powerful figures in the cabinet out of the loop. And for a politician, being out of the loop was simply unacceptable.
"So… do you wish me to… personally update you on the situation?" Drago probed.
"No, General. I can read just fine. It is the situation that concerns both of us." She paused. "The situation is exceedingly volatile. From… my long study of the questions of nuclear war, it is clear to me that nuclear war, when it starts, will be kinetic."
Drago scoffed. "I know my own war plans, Dr. Song. And I know how to fight a nuclear war."
The Single Integrated Operations Plan – the national nuclear war plans – hadn't been a single plan for years. Between increasingly good communications, long-range missiles with bigger memory rotors, and improving Soviet retaliatory capabilities, the war plan now encompassed a menu of limited, selective, and major attack options.
"Please, General, call me Janet. What I am here to discuss is a coordination issue."
Drago raised an eyebrow. The Advisor continued.
"My office wishes to provide you with up-to-date information on the political and diplomatic situation, on an ad-hoc basis, as it unfolds, so that you can modify your force posture accordingly. At the same time, we wish to know your force posture, so that we can better advise the President on the situation. Existing channels… will not give you the context that we both know will be essential in any nuclear exchange."
Drago nodded. "I'm sure something can be arranged."
He contemplated asking whether the President had approved of the arrangement, but something in Janet's tone made him hold his tongue.
"Excellent." The Advisor nodded her head.
A loudspeaker blared to life. Drago watched as a set of huge telescopic cameras spun on their mountings, taking in the tropical paradise before settling on the launch pad.
Drago checked his watch. "It's starting."
In the distance, a booster stood erect, perched atop its superhardened launch pad. Gleaming silver triangular wings, horizontal stabilizers jutting from the wingtips, protruded from just above its rocket nozzles, right next to a pair of small jet engines. It was a flyback booster, capable of flying back to a runway for reuse after lofting its second stage into the thermosphere.
Drago raised his binoculars to his eyes. A stubby cylinder was piggybacked astride the booster, a rocket nozzle protruding from its rear. The payload, too large and heavy to fit in the bay of a reusable shuttle, was being launched on an expendable second stage.
Blue flames erupted from the nozzles, and the launch pad erupted in a vast torrent of steam as the sound suppression system went to work. Noiselessly, the three-thousand-tonne rocket ascended into the clear blue sky, the morning sun glinting off its titanium, heat-resistant wings.
A mighty, oppressive rumble finally echoed across the coastal plain, sending spectators scrambling to cover their ears.
Drago admired the faint blue glow of its engines – liquid hydrogen burns so hot it practically glows ultraviolet – as the booster tipped slightly, heading east to gain a kilometer per second of velocity from the Earth's spin.
Wild cheers erupted from the crowd, to which Drago added his own.
The Administration was addicted to half-measures and compromise. With access to the planning apparatus and intimate knowledge of the Administration's requirements, he could craft and present tailored options that would safeguard the interests of the nation – even if the Administration would have preferred less effectual ones.
In effect, the Advisor's offer would give him the chance to shape policy.
The booster disappeared from view. It had a long journey ahead of it - the physics package was headed halfway to the moon, safely beyond the bulk of the Van Allen radiation belts.
After all, where better to test a hundred-megaton, Belgium-incinerating nuclear bomb than the vast, empty expanse of High Earth Orbit?
=O=
"Until there is an immediate danger of atomic war, we must all continue about our daily lives. Our enemies would like nothing more than for us to leave our cities empty and unproductive. In this time of national emergency, our factories, homes and offices are posts of duty once more, not to be deserted. Production must continue if we are to win. With civil defense training, we shall fare much better than the citizens of the Imperial Japan when they faced atomic attack. This is a civil defense message…"
The jaunty titter of the TV roused Astrid from her stupor, and she dug into her meal with renewed gusto. It's happening again. It's happening again and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
It's happening again and we're not in fighting trim.
Ruffnut Thorsten slid into the chair opposite. Avoiding her gaze, Astrid lifted her bowl and chopsticks to her face, and continued to shovel rice, mincemeat, and tofu into her mouth.
She put down the empty bowl. Ruffnut was still staring at her expectantly. Astrid sighed. "Don't you have something more important to do?"
Between mission planning, training, and patrols, everyone had been swamped all week.
"More important than trying to help a friend out?" She glanced around the room. "Where's Hiccup? With your bird?"
"Don't know, don't care."
Ruffnut tilted her head. "My brother told me what happened."
"So it's gotten all the way over to TAC." Astrid growled.
"Hey, one of the goals of joint exercises is improving communications." Ruffnut chuckled. "And how could it not? There aren't that many people on-base with four kills, you know." She grimaced. "Plus… everyone likes a good soap opera."
Astrid groaned. "Great. A fricckin' soap opera. Now, instead of just worrying about getting blasted out of the sky, I get to worry about my reputation, my colleagues, and my goddamned career!"
Ruffnut shook her head. "You two have been talked about ever since I got here – nothing much came out of it. But right now, you're making it worse. You're actively avoiding Hiccup now. That looks suspiciously like a falling-out and makes your CO worry about readiness – which is all they ever care about around here."
"Your brother tell you that too?" Astrid glared.
"No, Fishlegs – you know, my backseater - has a friend in your squadron."
"Oh."
Ruffnut searched Astrid's face for a reaction. True to form, there was none. "So… since I guess the best response to this mess is to act normal, and since I know you're smart enough to figure that out… there's more to this than just the embarrassment, isn't there?"
Astrid buried her face in her hands. "That's just it. I don't have the time to…"
"Make time." Ruffnut crossed her arms. "I'm skipping dinner to talk this over with you, you know."
"Great. Make me feel guilty so I talk about this."
"Is it working?"
Astrid paused.
"Okay. Hiccup… has a crush on me. That much is obvious."
Ruffnut drummed her fingers on the table. "It never got in the way of work before."
Astrid shook her head. "No. Hiccup does a very good job… most of the time. And tries to keep things professional. And he tries very hard to care. And he's… easy to trust. And he tried to improve. Then he made a fresh mess."
She winced as she remembered how the squadron CO had congratulated them on being the first aircrew to encounter and characterize the new Soviet interceptor. Hiccup had been right.
But so had she. The new MiG didn't appear to be much more of a threat to them than one of the Navy's new interceptors. It was something to worry about, sure, but it had nowhere near the performance of her Blackbird.
"Hiccup screwed up, caused problems. What else is new?"
Astrid's face scrunched up in thought.
"He's… still trying to be too nice. Even with all this going on." She gestured around the Officer's Club.
Ruffnut leaned forward. This was getting good. "So he made another move, then."
"Another?"
"Well, I presume your trip to Atomland wasn't exactly professional." Ruffnut rolled her eyes.
Astrid nodded. "It was a lot of fun, actually. He wanted me to go to dinner at the big restaurant in town."
"That actually sounds… less of a thing than a trip to an amusement park. So… besides Snotlout screaming it to the rooftops, what was different?"
Astrid recoiled at the thought. "There was a national emergency in progress. I needed to focus. Getting into…"
Say it. Say it.
"…a relationship could have… would have impaired my performance. I didn't want to have to think about it. I didn't want to have to choose between focus and… a relationship."
"Readiness isn't better when the aircrew are actively avoiding each other either. So there was a lot to think about." Ruffnut nodded sagely.
"Yeah… I guess." Astrid's voice fell.
Ruffnut sighed. "I take it you didn't really explain it to him, or flat-out say no, didn't you."
"It would have made me… think about it. I guess. I… didn't want to flat out say no." Astrid's throat went dry. Darnit, she was thinking about it now.
"And, knowing Hiccup, do you think he can figure out exactly what you're thinking?"
"No." Astrid noted sheepishly.
"So the solution to this would be…" Ruffnut began.
"…to go talk to him. Explicitly and clearly tell him to give me space and time, and then shove it back to the back of my head like always. That sounds really stupid, Ruffnut."
"It can't be any stupider than avoiding your backseater with a shooting war around the corner." Ruffnut insisted.
Astrid groaned. "Okay. You got me. I'll talk to him."
"Atta girl!" Ruffnut smacked the table. "Hey! Bartender! Two cokes, please!"
She turned around. Astrid was already gone. "Uhh… one coke, please."
=O=
Astrid found Hiccup's car behind the little knoll east of the base. Partially sheltered from the lights of Berk, and far from any other major settlement, the stars burned brilliantly high above.
She stopped some distance away, killed her headlights, and pulled her parka in a little tighter against the cold, dry, wind of the Qingzang Plateau.
Guided by the light of the half-moon, she walked up to Hiccup, the gravelly soil cruching beneath her boots.
Hiccup was watching the sky intently through a pair of binoculars.
"Got an extra pair of those?" Astrid tried to smile.
Hiccup turned around, startled. "Astrid? What are you doing out here?"
"What are you doing out here?"
"Taking a break. Gobber's covering for me back at the hangar, and this is technically an extended dinner break." He pointed to the remains of a sandwich on the hood of his car. "What, is this extravagant for a national emergency?"
Actually, yes. Astrid held her tongue.
"Okay, Astrid. Just wait a few more minutes, and I'll get back to work. I've got an extra pair of binoculars in the car."
Astrid took a position next to Hiccup, and scanned the night sky as Hiccup guided her through a constellation.
"…and that's where we need to be looking for the next… maybe five minutes. Then it's back to work."
Astrid took a deep breath. "Hiccup, I'm… sorry for my… attitude this past week. I mean, you were being a moron, but that much hostility… was uncalled for. It's just that your actions inadvertently… caused me to reflect on our… working relationship. And I don't want to think about it. I need to focus. We both need to focus."
"…for the duration of the national emergency, am I right?" Hiccup deadpanned.
"Exactly. Can we just… forget about it all for a month or two? Go back a little?"
Hiccup sighed.
"Maybe… once we gain a little more time… and freedom… to think it over… I might want to. But until then, I miss our… working relationship. And not just because it'll let us survive this."
Hiccup didn't quite know what to say, and so decided on silence.
"I had a lot of fun at Atomland. And I'd be more than grateful if you could arrange… similar activities… after this crisis resolves. But right now, I need space and time."
Hiccup sighed. He'd waited years for a no. What were a few more months of maybe? "Okay, Astrid. Status quo ante, stick to the job, put it behind us. I trust you."
Eh. If they didn't patch this up now, his heart had a fair chance of getting literally broken by SAM shrapnel, instead of just getting broken metaphorically. Might as well.
"Thanks, Hiccup."
They both gazed intently at a particular spot in the sky. "Hiccup, what exactly are we…"
"Shhhh. Don't blink."
For an instant, a brilliant white star appeared in the sky, before disappearing in a flash.
"Yes! Astrid, did you see that?"
Astrid nodded. "What the heck was that?"
"Deep space nuclear test. They didn't really publicize it, but they notified everyone to keep space traffic out of the x-ray flash zone. Media didn't catch on, but you bet we did."
He waved his copy of the amateur astronomy newsletter in her face. "One hundred megatons in a physics package massing under ten tonnes – the best yield-per-weight ever. Teller's really outdone himself on this one. They're saying the blasted thing's too big to fit in any missile or bomber, though."
"It's nice, I guess."
"Fifty times more kaboom than the Indian test, and twice the yield of the biggest Soviet nuclear test ever. Although the Soviets insist that their bomb could go up to 150 megatons. What a way to one-up the Soviets."
Astrid frowned. "Still not as impressive as the aurorae from the Indian test."
"Say what you want, but hundred-megaton weapons open up entirely new ways to attack the Soviet arsenal. We might even be able to burn down whole forests the size of Belgium with these things, or empty seas of submarines. No more hiding in the woods for Soviet armies. And then we have the meteorite defense applications…"
"Or they'll just be utterly useless vanity weapons."
"Either way, it's a pretty good cap to our test series." Hiccup strode over to his car as Astrid handed him his binoculars.
Astrid nodded. "Well, let's hope the Indians found it scary enough to back off. The ultimatum expires tomorrow."
Astrid took a look at her watch. It was past midnight. She chuckled softly. "Today. It expires today."
=O=
