The President watched the orbital paths of the three shuttles and the bogie creep across the situation room's status board, twisted and intertwining as they moved toward the point of inevitable contact. In a matter of minutes, Columbia would reach the object and announce their findings. Depending on what they saw, the decision could then be made as to whether the bogie was worth going to war over. With the bombers scant hours away from their holding positions outside Russian airspace, the nuclear subs running for their launch sites, and the ICBM crews waiting with fingers poised on their launch keys, the President was beginning to regret his earlier decisions. He knew he had little choice in the matter and that the Russian actions had forced the United States to this point of readiness, but he regretted the situation all the same.
"Sir," prefaced the Air Force Chief of Staff quietly, as he sat in the chair beside his commander. "CINC-NORAD was concerned that Cartwright's X-15 hadn't shown up on radar, so he called Edwards. Apparently there was a problem with the mount that held the X-15 to the B-52. About one hundred miles out, the B-52 put out a mayday on a secure SAC frequency. Arizona Highway Patrol was notified and have reported that the B-52 has indeed gone down. They say the aircraft began to break-up at altitude and that the wreckage is spread over several miles. The crew bailed out: they've rescued four, but two are still missing."
"And the X-15?" asked the President.
"No sign of it, sir. The pilot reported he saw it spiraling out of control. He tried to follow it down, but there was a storm in the area and he lost it in the clouds. CINC-NORAD has discussed the situation with the FAA Air Traffic Control Centers in the area, and feels it went down, also."
The President sat silently for several heartbeats and considered his next move. "Gentlemen: Would you take your seats. We've gotten some disturbing news. The plane carrying the X-15 went down in Arizona, and Cartwright is being listed as Missing In Action. Talk to me about these 'Tomato Can' ASAT weapons."
"The ASAT weapon the Air Force has deployed," offered Dr. Barrister, "is a direct ascent weapon that is air launched from an F-15 fighter. The F-15 is directed by NORAD to execute a high speed run and pull-up at a specific time and position. When it executes this pull-up maneuver, it releases an eighteen foot device from its underbelly. The device ascends several thousand feet from the inertia of the F-15's launch, then a rocket ignites and carries it out of the atmosphere."
"Once clear of the stratosphere, the rocket separates and a second stage places the weapon in a sub-orbital trajectory. The Miniature Homing Vehicle, or MHV, speeds on a collision course with the enemy satellite, which is tracked by eight on-board infrared telescopes. The MHV can make course adjustments by firing its fifty-six one shot motors as needed. The homing vehicle is about the size of a tomato can and slams into the target to negate it."
"Could it destroy the Russian shuttle?" asked the President.
"Not likely," commented Chandler. "At best, it could knock a few heat tiles off or dent the airframe. The MHV is designed to combat targets the size of an automobile, not the size of a DC-9."
"It might shake their tree a little, though," offered DCI.
"I agree," said the President. "Can we program these things to miss-- use them as a warning shot?"
"No, sir," stated Adams. "The control system is hardwired onto the device. As a matter of fact, the MHV is not very smart and might lock on Columbia by accident. It is going to go after the hottest thing in the sky."
"Very well. We'll notify the Russians that we will use the Tomato Cans against Buron if any harm comes to Columbia. It may not destroy their shuttle immediately, but it could cause problems on re-entry," decided the President.
"If we do fire, sir, the Russians will see it as grounds for a first strike," stated the National Security Advisor.
"I understand that, Bob. But they will have fired first. It may seem rather academic after the missiles are launched, but the only option I see is to back down."
"Of course, Mr. President, but it might be wise for us to board the Nightwatch E-4," he clarified.
"I'm not ready to abandon ship yet. The press has been banging at the door since Columbia launched from Canaveral. They know something is up, and the minute we leave the White House they're going to spring into action. They undoubtedly have someone at Andrews AFB right now. If they saw the E-4 take off, news of war would be on the air in minutes. I think we'll stay here unless NORAD detects an enemy launch."
"You don't intend on warning the American people if war is eminent?" asked Chandler.
"No, Doctor, I don't. There is nothing they can do, and if this operation plays out without a hitch, I don't want anyone to know how close we came to the edge. If we're lucky, we'll be able to go to sleep tonight knowing that we'll just have to do better next time." The President's statement was punctuated by the ringing of the blue phone.
"Sir, this is CINC-NORAD," came a voice from the overhead speaker. "I've got a second bogie on screen, outbound from Cuba. It's on an interception course with Columbia."
"Sir," stated DCI, "We must negate the second bogie immediately. If we act right away, we can take it down with an MHV from Langley AFB."
"Excuse me," interrupted the Air Force Chief of Staff, "But that could be Cartwright."
"It could be," said Dr. Adams, "But if the Russians have perfected a means of launching without satellite detection, it would be logical for the Cubans to have the capacity also. This could be a weapon meant destroy Columbia."
An interesting dilemma, thought the President. If they fired on the second bogie, they could end up killing one of their own people. If they didn't fire, they could loose a shuttle. "It is possible that Buron is armed, therefore Columbia is in danger regardless of the second bogie. I think we'll let this one go and see what happens in the next few minutes. How long before we get a report from the shuttle?"
"Columbia will reach the bogie in slightly under two minutes," stated Dr. Barrister.
"How long before the second bogie reaches Columbia?"
"The computers calculate intercept in thirteen minutes; that's two minutes after Buron's intercept time, and seventeen minutes late for Cartwright," answered CINC-NORAD.
"Seventeen minutes late, Mr. President... That can't be Cartwright," pleaded the National Security Advisor. "It must be a Cuban missile."
"What good is firing a missile that will get there two minutes after Buron?" argued Dr. Chandler.
"Gentlemen! Let's be calm. I've made my decision... We wait."
"Sir... We can't afford to lose another shuttle," stated DCI.
"If Columbia confirms the device is a Russian bomb, then she will have done her job. I don't like to use the word, but once that is done, Columbia is expendable."
The President's staff did not have time to react to his comment before the communications sergeant patched a second call through to the speaker. "Sir-- This is General Hanson. We've lost the computer link to Columbia!"
"What does that mean, General?" asked the President.
"I can't say for certain, Sir, but the computer link was the first thing we lost when Challenger exploded!"

"Mr. Miller! Our display's gone static," called Columbia's co-pilot.
Miller snapped his attention to the console to his right and saw an innocent 'S' in the display's status line. "Initiate system diagnostics," he ordered Lt. Ellis. "Houston, this is Columbia, we have a problem with the data link."
Several seconds passed, but Mission Control did not respond. Even if they were attempting to fix the problem on their end, they should have answered. "Check the voice link, Ellis."
"Voice link down, sir," confirmed Ellis. "We've lost video-- and the backup links are down, also."
"Major Hawkins: We've lost contact with Houston. All links are down," announced Miller.
"Can you reestablish?"
"Negative. The onboard systems check out; I think it's on their end."
"Spencer," spoke Hawkins over the short range radio system, "We've lost Houston. Take a look and tell me what you see."
The astronaut repositioned himself on the end of the robot arm to look Earthward at the brown and green mass of North American. "No storms," he reported.
"No mushroom clouds?" asked Hawkins.
"Ha, ha," responded Spencer.
"That wasn't a joke," stated Hawkins in dead seriousness.
"No, sir. No mushroom clouds."
"Miller, are you getting static or dead air on the voice channel?" asked Mia.
"We're getting sound, but can't understand it. Why?"
"When a digital link goes down, you get dead air. I think we're being jammed. Most likely by Russian spy ships off the Atlantic coast."
"Twenty seconds to bogie," announced Ellis.
"Have you got visual?" asked Hawkins.
"Roger," answered Spencer.
"Hawkins: I don't think we're going to be able to match orbits without the computer," stated Miller.
"Mr. Miller, if you don't match speed, Spencer can't snag the thing. You know there is no other option, sir."
"I am not going to endanger this ship. If I burn the retros too long, our orbit will start to decay."
"Miller, this ship was endangered the minute we launched. You were told there was no goaround. If you can't burn those engines, I will."
"I estimate distance at one thousand meters," announced Spencer. "You girls better stop bickering and fire those retros."
Miller swore under his breath and looked out the cockpit windshield at the dot in front of them. They would pass over the object if Miller did not fire the engines to start the decent toward the Earth. Because they were on their back, the decent would drop the bogie into the cargo bay with the help of Spencer, Dillion, and the robot arm. Miller knew Hawkins was hot to get his hands on the shuttle and was not about to give in, even if it meant going against his better judgment and firing the retro-rockets without the computers assistance.
He activated the manual override, placed his finger on the trigger of the control stick, and fired the engines in the nose for a split second. "How's it look, Spencer?"
"Looks good. Forward motion has slowed. Vertical distance closing at a good velocity. Captain Mia: I think it's time we hear from you."
Captain Mia moved to the front of the shuttle and peered out the windows at the object. It seemed to be about the size and shape of an old Gemini space capsule, and was dull brown in color with no windows. The skin was not smooth like Mia had expected, but was etched with shallow ribs that ran from the tip to the base of the cone. She watched in silence as they drifted closer to the object. Little by little, her mind began to realize what she was seeing.
"Captain," called Hawkins, "What's your opinion?"
Mia remained so silent that Miller turned to see if she was still conscious. He saw her holding the restraint handles, floating totally motionless as she stared out the window. Hawkins, assuming she had frozen from fear, called to Spencer. "Spencer, the woman's gone catatonic: you make the call. Is it safe to load?"
"How the hell should I know? The only atom bombs I've seen were in submarines, and this doesn't look like a Trident missile. This thing doesn't even look like a satellite: it doesn't have any antenna."
Snapped back to reality by Hawkins' comment, Mia returned to her window at the front of the cargo bay. She was certain she knew what the device was, but wanted to check a few details. "Spencer..."
"Yes, Captain?"
"You say it doesn't have any antenna. Could they be retracted-- inside a door?" asked Mia.
"Not that I can see. Why?"
"If there are no linear or dish antenna on the device, it can't receive targeting instructions. It also can't transmit data to a ground station. That could only mean that it is meant to be retrieved. There doesn't seem to be any retro-rockets to drop the device back to Earth, nor is there a place for a chute to deploy. Can you spin it around and let me see the front?"
"Okay. Hawkins: Reach for it and I'll get a hand on it."
"Roger," confirmed Hawkins as he manipulated the robot arm. The arm's sections extended Spencer's work platform until he was able to reach the device with his own hands.
"It's tough to move," grunted the astronaut as he fought inertia to move the object.
"Just as I thought," stated Mia. "It has a telescopic lens on the front. Hawkins, this is a survey satellite meant to map the Earth's surface. Its definetly not Russian. I think it's alien."
"Is it safe to load?" asked Spencer.
"Your guess is as good as mine," answered the Captain.
"Spencer," called Hawkins, "You and Dillion get it in the cargo bay and lash it down. We don't have much time before Buron gets here." The astronauts confirmed their orders, Spencer wrapped a collar around the object's nose, and secured it to the robot arm.
"Buron?" called Mia. "What are you talking about?"
"The Russian shuttle is called Buron and will be here any moment. It seems they want to snag this thing, too. I thought you'd been briefed," answered Hawkins.
"No one told me about the Russians!"
"Problem, seven o'clock," announced Dillion over the radio as he pointed Hawkins attention toward a speck behind them.
"Too late to worry about them now," Hawkins said to Mia. "Look sharp, Spencer. We got company."
Spencer turned his attention from the object and twisted to see the Russian shuttle. It appeared as only a bright dot that didn't seem to be moving. Unconcerned about the seemingly harmless object, he continued his work. It only took a few moment to secure the collar to the bogie's nose and attach it to the robot arm. Upon completion, he turned to see that the Russian shuttle was no longer an innocent spot against a black sky, but instead a rather menacing outline.
"Okay, Major: reel us in," announced Spencer.
The robot arm began the slow task of pulling the bogie to the cargo bay, and Spencer remained in place for the ride. Captain Mia watched Buron grow with each passing second and wondered why the Russians thought they could get the bogie even though they were eleven minutes too late. As if on cue, a blinding flash erupted from the enemy ship and a bolt of intense energy flashed between Columbia and the Earth below.
"Oh shit!" yelled Spencer from his perch on the robot arm.
"What was that!" screamed Miller.
"Captain Mia: threat assessment," ordered Hawkins.
"Ah... Particle beam," responded Mia. "You don't miss with a beam weapon. That was a warning shot. Particle beams use a lot of energy; it'll take a moment for them to recharge for another shot."
"Miller-- Can you take evasive action?"
"Major Hawkins, this is a space transport vehicle, not an F-16. Release the object and let them have it. It's not worth dying over!"
"Yes it is," demanded Mia. "If we let the Russians dissect this, they could gain an unbeatable technological advantage over us."
"Is there anything way we can retaliate, Spencer?" asked Hawkins.
"Yeah, I could piss on them... Don't be a fool."
"Miller, rotate the heat tiles toward Buron. Maybe they will buy us some time," insisted Hawkins.
"Major... That's crazy," yelled Miller. "If they hit our heat tiles we can't re-enter the atmosphere. We'll be stranded."
"Atlantis is minutes away with rescue gear."
"Until Buron destroys her, too!" offered Spencer helpfully.
Another flash lit the sky to Columbia's rear and a ball of charged particles impacted at the rear of the cargo bay. The ship lurched from the blast and its tail began to rotate. Dillion instinctively tried to protect his face from the blast, but was blinded by the flash anyway. He grabbed desperately for his umbilical cord and began to pull himself toward the airlock. "We've lost APU three, sir," called Ellis. "One fuel cell off-line."
"Cut the bogie loose, Hawkins!" yelled Miller. "We've got to give it to them! Another hit like that and we're dead."
"Spencer: can we throw the comsat at them?" asked Hawkins.
"Not me, sir. I'm getting in the airlock before one of those beams pops me like a hot dog in a microwave," announced the astronaut as he released the restraint that held him to the robot arm and leapt toward the cargo bay. He floated free for two seconds and prayed that Dillion could get a hand on him before he hit a wall, bounced off, and sailed helplessly into space.

Dillion saw Spencer's aim had been off, and pushed against the wall in what he hoped was a path to intercept the other astronaut. Sweat trickled from his forehead into his eyes and his heart raced. He only had one chance.
The men hit each other hard, and both grabbed to hold the other. The EVA suit's bulky gloves made it impossible to feel anything, but Dillion caught Spencer just as he reached the end of the umbilical. The shock snapped Dillion to a sudden stop, but Spencer continued to drift to arms length.
In the fleeting instant before Spencer stopped, both men realized that what Dillion was holding, was Spencer's oxygen line into the suit. Dillion did not let go, Spencer snapped to a stop, and the hose pulled free from the suit. A cloud of high pressure gas blast from the line and instantly froze into thousands of floating ice particles. Spencer's body rotated violently to face away from Dillion. The vapor sprayed for another split second, covering Dillion's visor with ice, then stopped when the life support system's pump sensed the lack of pressure. Dillion was able to reach Spencer's hand and turned him to look into his helmet.
"Thank God for one way valves," called Spencer over the radio, but there was no time for Dillion to answer.
He immediately started pulling them along the umbilical toward the airlock rather than resecuring the airline. He figured Spencer could make it almost two minutes without the fresh oxygen, but one hit from the beam, and they were dead meat. It was the lesser of two evils, but merely academic if they didn't make it to the safety of the airlock.

"We've got to give up!" yelled Miller.
"Sir..." stated Ellis in a low voice. "I'm getting a signal on the ground freq. It's weak, but its telling us to execute a total electrical shut-down."
"Tell those Russian bastards to go to Hell!" roared Hawkins.
"I don't think it's the Russians, Major," said Ellis.
"Think, man. The Russians are the only ones close enough to use a ground radio!"
"Actually, sir," offered Ellis uneasily, "It sounds like Colonel Cartwright."
"Cartwright's at Edwards," commented Miller.
"They're going to use an EMP weapon against Buron," shouted Mia.
"How do you know?" insisted Miller.
"There's no reason for the Russians to demand we shut down. It's a warning: we've got to shut down or it will fry our electrical systems."
"Okay, Ellis, total electrical shut down in ten seconds," ordered Mr. Miller.
"No!" shouted Hawkins unclipping his microphone and floating to the front of the flight deck. "It's a trick! If we shut down, we're sitting ducks!"
"Do it, Ellis!" commanded Miller as he worked feverishly to disable his ship before the Russians recharged their weapon for another shot.
"Ellis..." sneered Hawkins.
"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Miller is pilot-in-command. Emergency power cut in five seconds," announced the co-pilot over the ground radio.
The interior lights went dark and the circulation fans fell silent. Hawkins groped his way to the windows in the cargo bay. "Miller, you idiot," he moaned, "You follow one order in your life, and its the wrong damn one."