Kirchner's aide confirmed that the marines in the dimple had picked up a blip on their scanners.

"Take it aboard," Kirchner said. "We're going to be getting a lot more in a day or so if this goes all-out."

"Yessir—several more launching already."

A screen before Lanier rolled up a picture of the OTV approaching the bore hole. Suddenly, the OTV expanded into a glowing sphere. Silently, quickly, the sphere dissolved at its edges and darkened to dull orange. Debris scattered in silhouette against the diffuse shells of gas.

"Sir," Kirchner's aide said, "they're seeing dark transits out there, blocking stars. Behind the OTV."

"The OTV's gone," Lanier said. "Captain, they've snuck in behind our ship."

"My God," exclaimed a voice over the hissing and crackling loudspeaker. Pickney had opened the marines' frequency to all in the room. "Something's taken out our ship. Am I seeing—"

"Transits, transits! No blips."

"Durban here. I'm getting dark spots but they have to be retinal."

"No way. I didn't see the flash and I'm getting four, five, six transits blocking stars. Big suckers."

"They're going to come down the pipe," Kirchner said. "Get the OTV tanks rigged to block them. Team A, release your cables."

Cameras in the bore hole showed ghostly infrared- and low-light-enhanced images of men in suits moving behind the first rotating dock. Mortar-like cannon fired coiled steel cable across the hundred-meter diameter of the bore hole. Harpoons fixed the cables in the opposite wall. Seven were fired in rapid succession, making a web in the bore hole. Three discarded OTV tanks were maneuvered up from the sides and fixed in position with more cables. All this was done in less then ten minutes.

"They won't come into the staging areas," Kirchner said confidently. "It would be a waste of time. If they come down the pipe, they'll go for the chambers. They can mop us up later. I hope Oliver's soldiers are prepared."

In the commotion, Lanier had directed his eyes away from the screens displaying the Earth. He returned his attention to them.

Tiny orange spots blossomed along the Soviet coast west of Japan, simple suborbital rockets deploying solid debris to bring down low-orbit satellites and battle stations. "Pop-ups," Kirchner said.

One of the marines outside the bore hole said something garbled. Then, as Pickney enhanced the reception, the voice continued, "Sir, they're blowing the masks."

The large screen switched to a view down the bore hole. Stars twinkled beyond the flare-lit rotating dock and the outer lip of the bore hole. Three shadows moved against the stars. Then, fire rimmed the shadows and pie slices of black material drifted away, revealing shapes difficult for the eye to define. The mirrored noses of the intruders were reflecting the dark interior of the bore hole and the illuminated prime dock. "Signature," Kirchner's aide said. "They're Russian, ocean-launched heavy-lift cargo vehicles. First is in the pipe."