Monday...in Space

     “I hear this coffee is actually an improvement over the Air Force days. I’d hate to think of what sludge they drank.”

     Warrant Officer First Class (WO1) Reeve Caldwell looked up from her orbital monitoring console at the new lieutenant, or "LT." He might be the same age as Reeve’s daughter, but she was not inclined to introduce them. “LT, coffee is life. You can pop a wakey-wakey pill if you want, but the long burn just isn’t there. Sip and ponder the universe as you watch me defend America in 2050.”

     WONK! WONK! WONK! 

     Of course, the inbound klaxon would light up first thing on a Monday morning, thought Reeve. The LT jumped into the seat next to her, remarkably not splashing hot coffee on her, as a dozen other space professionals hurriedly assumed their positions. The latest inspection report had highlighted the well-trained Space Operations Center crew on their readiness.

     “Ma’am, we have inbound rocket. Sat-WST-530 is likely target. Blast radius projected effective.”

     “Thanks, Jake.” Reeve always appreciated her fellow warrant officer, Jacob Blevin. No BS, just the report, and accurate every time. Reeve brushed a lock of long lavender hair behind her ear as she concentrated on the holographic Earth projected within her console. She reached into the manipulation space, where a screen might have been twenty years ago, and zoomed into the alert area by pulling on Satellite-WST-530 with her fingers. The holographic satellite hovered below Reeve’s cupped hand. “I need a new course when you have it, Jake.” 

     “Computer’s working it.”

     The LT leaned just a little too forward into Reeve’s space. “Why don’t you just move it to max range?”

     She kept her cool by not looking at him, concentrating on the shimmering satellite image. “And how often do you think our refuelers service each orbital sector? Don’t they teach that anymore at Space School?”

     He backed off and rolled at least five feet away in his chair.

     “New course on screen,” reported Jake.

     Reeve’s hand moved the holographic satellite to the orbital coordinate indicated by a three-dimensional red X within a sphere. Miles above her, the real satellite fired the minimum thrusters needed to achieve its new orbit. “Sat-WST-530 is in position,” she announced to the operations deck.  

     “Confirmed,” replied Jake.

     She pushed back the holographic Earth to see a wider view of the relevant orbital sectors. A fire ball, the size of her thumbnail, appeared and disappeared within seconds as it was snuffed out by the vacuum of space. No United States space capabilities were affected. Mission Complete. Reeve sipped on her coffee. It was still hot.

                                                                         *  *  *

     “Sir, you wanted to see me for our feedback?”

     “Yeah, Major Caldwell. Have a seat.” Colonel Robins moved from behind his glass desk to a chair nearer to Reeve. 

     Reeve quickly glanced down at her rank patch to ensure she had switched it from Warrant Officer First Class to a Major’s oak leaf. In the “Synergy Age”, the Space Force had adopted split ranks for split duties to maintain multiple proficiencies among the least personnel while still greasing a bureaucracy in motion. WO1 Caldwell served as an elite satellite operator on the operations deck. Major Caldwell wallowed in the Futures and Doctrine Division, Headquarters, United States Space Force.

     “So… Reeve… How do you think you’re doing?” 

     She exercised superhuman control not to sigh before answering the question as insincerely as possible. “My work speaks for itself. I’ve never lost a satellite and several proposals that I’ve personally worked on made it to the Chief of Staff, or so I’ve been told.”

     Colonel Robbins flipped through Reeve’s service file, not taking more than a few seconds to absorb each meticulously-written evaluation. “Well… You’re definitely in the top twenty percent of staff officers, top ten percent of warrants. I can’t promise anything, of course, but you have a pretty good shot at Chief Warrant Officer on the next few promotion boards.” He closed the file.

     Awkward pause.

     “Sir, I know what we do on the ops deck is important but I’m doing a lot in Futures that might merit some progression.”

     Awkward pause.

     “Yeah… Look, Reeve, you’re doing amazing stuff. Like I said, top percentile stuff, but this is the Space Force and you haven’t been in space since your initial cadet orientation.”

     The blood flushing Reeve’s face belied the control in her voice. “Roger, Sir. And how long have you spent on the ops deck, ensuring our satellites aren’t brought down by every hobbyist with a rocket and fuel? Sir, I haven’t seen you in almost six months. I don’t know how you’ve been able to accurately assess my contributions.”

     Robbins glanced at the camera in the ceiling. “I’ve been checking-in almost daily. You’ve been great, like I said. A real leader where we need one.” The camera in her commander’s office was one of thousands spread throughout the Space Force complex. No interpersonal interaction went unrecorded to provide immediate evidence in any internal investigation as well as dissuade wrongdoing. 

     “Sir, thank you for the positive feedback but I saw that I’m still lagging in the highest rating percentile. Refuelers with half my time in service are starting to pass me on the staff promotion boards.”

     Robbins’ posture slightly stiffened. “Well, refuelers lead the way. Only refuelers can truly visualize the space domain and articulate its unique requirements to our senior decision-makers.” 

     “Sir, that’s just a quote from Space Force Doctrine Document 1-1... Sir, I work in the Doctrine Division.”

     “For good reason, Major. Thanks for stopping by. I hope to see you before our feedback next year.” The colonel stood up and walked behind his desk. Feedback was over.

                                                                              *  *  *

     WO1 Caldwell paused just long enough to ensure her usual confident demeanor was securely in place before she entered the Space Operations Center. She swung the glass door open, revealing the sounds of chaos. There were shouts for action, requests for information, and a way-too-young LT sitting at Reeve’s station.

     “Status, LT?”

     He turned from the holographic projection of United States satellite sectors. His eyes showed relief, but his gelled hair looked as if he had constantly run his hands through it for the past hour. “Ma’am. Some sort of EMP attack on a few of our systems. No one can find the source.” 

     Reeve leaned over the LT’s shoulder. “Stay there. You need to learn somehow.” She started pulling up satellites with both hands, sorting each of them for details that the LT could not make sense of any pattern to her efforts. Several of the objects were flashing red which indicated their network failures. “LT, you need a heck of a blast for an electromagnetic pulse to do any real damage. You’re going to see the origin point because it means we have some sort of nuclear detonation.” 

     “Reeve, do you have anything?” Jake was zoned into the main viewscreen which took up two-thirds of the SOC’s wall space. His fingers were flying over his own console without his looking down.

     “Not yet. I’m guessing this is a network issue, not a pulse or any other kinetics.” 

     Her holograms began showing a spiderweb of virtual connections among all U.S. Space Force assets in orbit as well as their connection to ground-based control stations and critical infrastructure nodes. These lines of communication were green, indicating full mission capability, except for the few red lines in the sky. Reeve grabbed each red line and examined them as if they were thread about to go through a needle. “Jake? Has anyone called Cyber?”

     “I’m here!”  Major Serena Smith stepped onto the operations deck, taking her place along the back wall behind Jake. “Sorry, I was at the gym.”

     Reeve was not in the mood for excuses. “We may lose GPS for America, but at least you’ll have a perfect score on your fitness test.” The surrounding chaos, unfortunately, drowned out Reeve’s thoughts on the Cyber Liaison Officer’s mission commitment. 

     Major Smith squeezed the wireless phone chip that looked like a simple diamond stud earing. She turned away from the space operators to speak with U.S. Cyber Force while competing with alarms and voices. In two minutes, Smith nodded and squeezed the earring again to end the call. “Ms. Caldwell, we need to reboot the offline satellites.”

     “Got it.” Reeve did not hesitate to slap the reboot icon in the corner of the holographic display. The red lines disappeared from the projection while the affected satellites darkened and then solidified into a glowing green icon. The formerly red lines were now green as well. “Appears like that may have worked, Major.”

     Jake’s intensity visibly lessened as his posture slackened. “Great job, Reeve. Thanks, Major Smith.”

     “No problem, Jake.” Reeve stretched her back, realizing she had been intensely leaning over the LT for possibly a few minutes too long for her age. Maybe she should have been at the gym, too, rather than receiving the worst feedback in her career from someone who will learn of this emergency via official report. Reeve needed fresh air, or at least air different from here.

     The LT remained in Reeve’s chair, yet to unclench his hands from the console.

                                                                         *  *  *

     Various awnings provided shade from the afternoon sun. Even this early in Colorado’s springtime, it could still be quite warm especially when everyone was accustomed to sweater weather. Reeve sat on a stainless-steel bench. The lunch crowd was starting to thin out as people returned to work, leaving her increasingly isolated under her shaded perch. The food court workers emptied trash cans and unrolled plexiglass doors to close customer service areas. 

Reeve did not care about food now. She had not eaten anyway, instead chewing thoughtfully on E-gum. The supplement provided energy along with the minimum meal caloric requirements. At least this piece of gum had a decent citrus flavor. E-gum was free to space operators but there was little choice in what flavors were available. One had to purchase actual food if they were particular about such things. Instead, Reeve splurged on a bottle of fresh water, not recycled water requiring a flavor to mask the chemical taste. 

     This was not the Space Force career she had envisioned ten years ago.

     She slipped on her media-glasses. “News.” Her clear view of the courtyard dissolved into a newsroom complete with a traditional anchorwoman reading headlines.

     “Breaking: U.S. Cyber Force aided our U.S. Space Force to avoid catastrophe.” The anchorwoman’s software program paused for the viewer’s response.

     “More.” 

     The news continued, “Department of Defense spokesmen stated that there was no imminent threat to U.S. national security. Cyber and Space Force operators maintained control of satellite functions at all times with only a minimum delay in service to a small percentage of Americans. DoD also assured us that no red lines were crossed by other nations. Although no discernible acts of war have been legally clarified by the U.S. or U.N. in the cyber and space domains, DoD emphasized that today’s events did not rise to the severity even requiring such a public discussion. More details can be found at the U.S. Cyber Force and Space Force official news sites.” 

     Reeve took off the glasses, stuffing them back into her uniform jacket pocket. She slumped, chugging half the fresh water from the bottle. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I should have joined the Air Force.”