Powersat

Book 0: The Grand Tour

by Ben Bova

Genres: Hard Science Fiction; Visionary & Metaphysical; Vigilante Thrillers

Synopsis

Two hundred thousand feet up, things go horribly wrong. An experimental low-orbit spaceplane breaks up on reentry, falling to earth over a trail hundreds of miles long. And in its wake is the beginning of the most important mission in the history of space.

America needs energy, and Dan Randolph is determined to give it to them. He dreams of an array of geosynchronous powersats, satellites that gather solar energy and beam it to generators on Earth, freeing America from its addiction to fossil fuels and breaking the power of the oil cartels forever. But the wreck of the spaceplane has left his company, Astro Manufacturing, on the edge of bankruptcy.

Worse, Dan discovers that the plane worked perfectly right up until the moment that saboteurs knocked it out of the sky. And whoever brought it down is willing—and able—to kill again to keep Astro grounded.

Now Dan has to thread a dangerous maze. The visible threats are bad enough: Rival firms want to buy him out and take control of his dreams. His former lover wants to co-opt his unlimited-energy idea as a campaign plank for the candidate she’s grooming for the presidency. NASA and the FAA want to shut down his maverick firm. And his creditors are breathing down his neck.

Making matters even more dangerous, an international organization of terrorists sees the powersat as a threat to their own oil-based power. And they’ve figured out how to use it as a weapon in their war against the West.

A sweeping mix of space, murder, romance, politics, secrets, and betrayal, Powersat will take you to the edge of space and the dawning of a new world.

A Blackstone Audio production.

Release date: October 31, 2006

Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

Print pages: 400

Sample

Powersat

FLIGHT TEST
"California in sight."
Test pilot Hannah Aarons saw the coastline as a low dark smudge stretching across the curving horizon far, far below. Beyond the cockpit's thick quartz windshield she could see that the sky along that horizon was bright with a new morning coming up, shading into a deep violet and finally, overhead, into the black of infinite space.
The spaceplane arrowed across the sky at Mach 16 and crossed the California coast at an altitude of 197,000 feet, precisely on course. Through the visor of her pressure suit's helmet, Aarons saw that the plane's titanium nose was beginning to glow as it bit into the wispy atmosphere, heading for the landing field at Matagorda Island on the gulf coast of Texas. She began to hear the thin whistle of rarified air rushing across her cockpit.
"On the tick, Hannah," she heard the flight controller's voice in her helmet earphones. "Pitch-up maneuver in thirty seconds."
"Copy pitch-up in thirty," she answered.
The horizon dipped out of sight as the spaceplane's nose came up slightly. All she could see now was the black void of space high above. She concentrated on the display screens of her control panel. The digital readout of the Mach meter began to click down: 16, 15.5, 15 … . The shoulder straps of her harness cutting into her by the g force, Hannah heard her breath coming out harsh, labored. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the leading edge of the plane's stubby wings turning a sullen deep ruby. In seconds they'd be cherry red, she knew.
Suddenly the plane pitched downward so hard Hannah banged her nose painfully against her helmet visor. Her neck would have snapped if she weren't in the protective harness. She gasped with sudden shock. The air outside her cockpit canopy began to howl, throwing streamers of orange fire at her.
"Pitch-down excursion!" she yelled into her helmet mike as she pulled at the T-shaped control yoke at her left hand. Her arms, even supported in their protective cradles, felt as if they weighed ten tons apiece. The plane was shaking so badly her vision blurred. The controls seemed locked; she couldn't budge them.
"Servos overridden," she said, her voice rising. Through the fiery glow outside her cockpit she could see the ground far, far below. It was rushing up to meet her. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay calm!
"Going to wire," she called, thumbing the button that activated the plane's backup fly-by-wire controls.
"No response!" The plane continued its screaming dive, yawing back and forth like a tumbling leaf, thumping her painfully against the sides of the narrow cockpit.
"Punch out!" came the controller's voice, loud and frantic. "Hannah, get your butt out of there!"
The plane was spinning wildly now, slamming her around in her seat as it corkscrewed back and forth in its frenzied plunge toward the ground. She could taste blood in her mouth. The inflatable bladder of her g suit was squeezing her guts like toothpaste in a tube.
"Hannah!" A different voice. "This is Tenny. Punch out of there. Now!"
She nodded inside the helmet. She couldn't think of what else to do. No other options. This bird's a goner. It took a tremendous effort to inch her right hand along its cradle to the fire-engine red panic button. Just as she painfully flicked up its protective cover the plane's left wing ripped away with a horrible wrenching sound, flipping the plane upside down.
Hannah's arm snapped at the wrist. White-hot pain shot all the way up to her shoulder. She was still trying to push the eject button when the spaceplane broke into half a dozen blazing pieces and fell to earth in smoky meteor trails, scattering wreckage over several hundred square miles of flat, scrubby west Texas.
Copyright © 2005 by Ben Bova