say, continued funding shouldn’t be a problem. If not…” he left the obvious conclusion unspoken.
“Oh, it will perform,” Pettis assured him, “beyond your wildest imagination.”
“Then let’s put it to a vote of the Committee members. All in favor of witnessing a test of Project Molly Day on Friday, signify by raising your hand.” He and Mitchell did so. “Opposed?” Representative Wise sullenly did the same. “The ayes have it. Major Pettis, we’ll be there. Meeting adjourned.”
“Thank you, sir. A helicopter will pick you up here on Friday at 0700.” As they stood to shake hands all around, Holt caught Ms. Wise regarding Pettis with an odd look that seemed to indicate both curiosity and contempt.
Pettis turned to her and extended his hand, displaying the flat, menacing grimace that passed for a smile. The woman looked into the cold grey-blue eyes for a moment, then busied her hands collecting her papers and turned away.
Pettis returned as quickly as possible to the command center. The armed guard saluted as his access card activated the main security door. Once inside, he stood for a moment surveying the room. Before him was the North American Defense Command Computer Center, the incredible mélange of hardware and software which controlled ninety percent of the northern hemisphere’s air defense. On the floors above, some four hundred computer specialists worked to keep the Center running. Below, the majority of the computer equipment—tape drives, hard disks, printers, servers—was tended around the clock by a staff of operators.
The main floor was one huge room, containing dozens of terminals, where the computer techs could interact with the system. Perhaps fifty men and women, some Air Force and some civilians, hurried about the complex, consulting with each other, tapping at their terminals, speaking into their headsets. Pettis spotted his target, the civilian technician Williams, who had coordinated the MDA test from the bunker the previous day.
Williams was hard at it, face close to the terminal screen, eyes squinting from the glare. Pettis stood behind him for several seconds, unnoticed. Finally, he spoke. “Mr. Williams.” The young man nearly jumped out of his chair, then swiveled around.
“Oh, Major Pettis.” Williams regarded him closely. “Um, are you all right, sir?”
“Of course I’m all right. Or as right as I can be, having just endured a meeting with a group of Congressional stooges.”
“Yes, sir. I see. How… how did the meeting go, then?”
“We have a reprieve. For the moment, funding for the MDA project will continue.”
“Oh, good. That’s very good.”
“Not really. We don’t have much time.”
“Oh, that’s bad, then.”
“Actually, Williams, it’s not. A limited schedule gives us the opportunity to shine on short notice. All we have to do is prepare another test of the MDA—a demonstration that will convince the Committee members to authorize another year of funding.”
“Oh. Well then, that’s good. I guess. Isn’t it?”
“That depends on you, Williams. Since we destroyed our primary target building in yesterday’s test, we have to find a new target. Any ideas?”
“Um, no, sir.”
“I thought not. Where’s the map of the test area?”
“Right here, Major. I was just calculating the incidence of error on yesterday’s burst.” Williams indicated a map on the desktop.
“And what did you find?” Pettis asked casually, studying the map.
“IOE on the beam’s angle calculated out to be, um, plus or minus zero point oh three two degrees.”
Pettis looked at the young technician with raised eyebrows, went back to the map. “Actually, it was zero point oh three one . I calculated it myself after the test. I figured you civilians would come up with the wrong numbers.” Williams looked away, embarrassed.
“Still, you were close. Very close indeed. Congratulations.”
At this, Williams visibly brightened. Pettis shook his
“Oh, it will perform,” Pettis assured him, “beyond your wildest imagination.”
“Then let’s put it to a vote of the Committee members. All in favor of witnessing a test of Project Molly Day on Friday, signify by raising your hand.” He and Mitchell did so. “Opposed?” Representative Wise sullenly did the same. “The ayes have it. Major Pettis, we’ll be there. Meeting adjourned.”
“Thank you, sir. A helicopter will pick you up here on Friday at 0700.” As they stood to shake hands all around, Holt caught Ms. Wise regarding Pettis with an odd look that seemed to indicate both curiosity and contempt.
Pettis turned to her and extended his hand, displaying the flat, menacing grimace that passed for a smile. The woman looked into the cold grey-blue eyes for a moment, then busied her hands collecting her papers and turned away.
Pettis returned as quickly as possible to the command center. The armed guard saluted as his access card activated the main security door. Once inside, he stood for a moment surveying the room. Before him was the North American Defense Command Computer Center, the incredible mélange of hardware and software which controlled ninety percent of the northern hemisphere’s air defense. On the floors above, some four hundred computer specialists worked to keep the Center running. Below, the majority of the computer equipment—tape drives, hard disks, printers, servers—was tended around the clock by a staff of operators.
The main floor was one huge room, containing dozens of terminals, where the computer techs could interact with the system. Perhaps fifty men and women, some Air Force and some civilians, hurried about the complex, consulting with each other, tapping at their terminals, speaking into their headsets. Pettis spotted his target, the civilian technician Williams, who had coordinated the MDA test from the bunker the previous day.
Williams was hard at it, face close to the terminal screen, eyes squinting from the glare. Pettis stood behind him for several seconds, unnoticed. Finally, he spoke. “Mr. Williams.” The young man nearly jumped out of his chair, then swiveled around.
“Oh, Major Pettis.” Williams regarded him closely. “Um, are you all right, sir?”
“Of course I’m all right. Or as right as I can be, having just endured a meeting with a group of Congressional stooges.”
“Yes, sir. I see. How… how did the meeting go, then?”
“We have a reprieve. For the moment, funding for the MDA project will continue.”
“Oh, good. That’s very good.”
“Not really. We don’t have much time.”
“Oh, that’s bad, then.”
“Actually, Williams, it’s not. A limited schedule gives us the opportunity to shine on short notice. All we have to do is prepare another test of the MDA—a demonstration that will convince the Committee members to authorize another year of funding.”
“Oh. Well then, that’s good. I guess. Isn’t it?”
“That depends on you, Williams. Since we destroyed our primary target building in yesterday’s test, we have to find a new target. Any ideas?”
“Um, no, sir.”
“I thought not. Where’s the map of the test area?”
“Right here, Major. I was just calculating the incidence of error on yesterday’s burst.” Williams indicated a map on the desktop.
“And what did you find?” Pettis asked casually, studying the map.
“IOE on the beam’s angle calculated out to be, um, plus or minus zero point oh three two degrees.”
Pettis looked at the young technician with raised eyebrows, went back to the map. “Actually, it was zero point oh three one . I calculated it myself after the test. I figured you civilians would come up with the wrong numbers.” Williams looked away, embarrassed.
“Still, you were close. Very close indeed. Congratulations.”
At this, Williams visibly brightened. Pettis shook his
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