Starfire Read online

  “I do not want to listen to your tiresome American aphorisms, Ells,” Titeneva said, “and I told you never to call me by my first name in this or any other venue! Russia will not allow the so-called partnership to use modules built by Russians if the international community will not do something to assure Russia’s national security interests, and we certainly do not want any nation antagonistic to Russia to freely use our modules. You will vacate and surrender them to Russia immediately, or we will take action.” And at that, Titeneva turned and departed the chamber, followed closely by Naryshkin.

  SAN LUIS OBISPO, CALIFORNIA

  ONE WEEK LATER

  James Ratel entered the back room of his dojang south of the city of San Luis Obispo to find Brad McLanahan already doing push-ups on the linoleum. “Well well, five minutes early . . . much better,” Chief Ratel said. “And you came ready for a workout. Maybe you are trainable after all.”

  “Yes, Chief,” Brad replied, hopping to his feet and standing nearly at attention at the edge of the blue mat.

  “Are you warmed up?”

  “Yes, Chief.”

  “Good,” Ratel said. “So far we’ve been concentrating on strength training, and I’ve seen progress. From now on you will continue these exercises on your own, on your own time. You don’t need to go to a gym for a good workout. Push-ups, crunches, dips, and pull-ups, all to muscle failure, with no more than ninety seconds rest in between. Every week I’ll test you again, and every week I expect to see improvements.”

  “Yes, Chief,” Brad responded.

  “Today will be your first self-defense lesson,” Ratel went on. He handed Brad a package. “From now on, you will wear a beol, or training outfit, what is called a gi in Japanese. Once we start more practical training, we’ll do it in street clothes so you’ll learn the feel in a more realistic way, but for now you’ll wear this. You have thirty seconds to change.” It took Brad less than fifteen. Ratel showed him how to properly tie the white belt, and then they were ready.

  “We’ll start with the most basic self-defense tool first.” Ratel picked up a simple wooden walking cane with a pointed crook and two grooved grips carved into the wood, one near the crook and another farther down the shaft. “Many years ago, after the First Korean War, a South Korean master taught a school of self-defense called ‘Joseon,’ in which he used canes and farm tools for self-defense. The style was taught because during the Japanese occupation of Korea during World War Two, and during the North Korean occupation, South Korean citizens were not allowed to carry knives or guns, but canes, walking sticks, and farm implements such as rakes, saws, and thrashers were very common. A U.S. Army serviceman noticed that the canes were used by the locals as very effective self-defense weapons, and he developed a method for training others on how to use a walking cane for self-defense. It became known as Cane-Ja, or cane-discipline. For the next several weeks you will walk with a cane and carry it with you at all times, even if you travel on an airplane or go into a school or courthouse. After you learn Cane-Ja, you will advance to other, more violent forms of self-defense, where the cane may not be necessary, or that can be used if you lose or break it.”

  “A cane? You mean, like an old guy?” Brad protested. “I’m supposed to act like an old crippled guy and walk with a stupid cane, Chief?”

  “You should not act like an old man,” Ratel said. “Never try to be something you’re not—most people can’t pull it off, most others can detect it, and you’ll call attention to yourself. Act normally. You don’t have to walk with a limp, put any weight on it, or even have the tip of the cane on the ground all the time, but you should carry it with you, have it at the ready, and never set it down. Loop it over your arm or belt, but never set it down because you’ll forget it. You can loop it through straps on your backpack as long as it’s easily within reach. And never refer to it as a weapon or as something that is necessary for self-defense. It is a walking stick—you will just happen to know how to use it as something else.”

  “This is stupid, sir,” Brad said. “I’m supposed to carry around a stick with me? On the bicycle? In class?”

  “Everywhere,” Ratel said. “Everyone around you must associate you with the cane and the cane with you. It must be your constant companion. People will see that bruise on your head and face, see the cane, and add one plus one, and that correlation will survive long after the injury is healed. Aggressors, on the other hand, will see the two and think you are weak and vulnerable, and that gives you an advantage.”

  Ratel held up the cane. “Notice that the cane has a round crook that is pointed at the tip, and grips cut into the shaft at two places and a grip cut into the crook,” he said. “There is also a ridge along the back spine of the cane. We will adjust this cane for your height, but I estimated this one so it should fit well.” He gave it to Brad. “As with any cane, it should be long enough to provide support for your body if you lean on it, but not too short to diminish its striking power or have you assume a weak stance. Hold it alongside your body.” Brad did as he was told. “Good. Your arm is not quite straight. We want just a slight bend in your elbow. If you did lean on it, it should look natural, like you can really put a little weight on it.”

  Ratel picked up his own cane, a well-worn version of Brad’s, for a demonstration. “You normally stand with one or two hands on top of the crook and form a triangle with your legs, like so,” he said, standing casually before Brad. “This is the ‘relax’ position. You’re not really relaxing, but the idea is to appear relaxed and casual yet let a potential attacker that you have identified by your observations or instincts see that you have a cane, which might either deter him or embolden him. Obviously, with the kind of attackers we’re preparing for, the sight of a cane is not going to deter them, but they might think you are weak. If you need your hands you can hook the cane on to your belt, but return to the ‘relax’ position when you can. This is the first warning position to an attacker, the green light.”

  He slid his hand off the crook down the shaft to the uppermost set of grip ridges, with the open end of the crook facing downward. “Now your attacker is coming toward you, and you see him, so you take this position, which we call ‘regrip,’ the yellow light. The crook of the cane is in front of you, and you are holding the upper grip. The crook is facing downward. This is the second warning. To a casual observer or adversary this may not seem like a warning position.

  “From here, there are a number of things you can do,” Ratel went on. “The easiest, of course, is to use the cane to keep someone away simply by poking at him.” He took a couple stabs at a mannequin that had been stationed nearby. “These, along with verbal warnings, are usually effective enough to deter an aggressive panhandler or young would-be robber. Obviously, with the adversaries we are preparing for, that would probably not be enough. I will teach you later on how to counter someone who grabs your cane.

  “From the ‘regrip’ position, if you are attacked with fists or a knife, you swing the cane from the outside, striking your attacker’s arms between the wrist and elbow, as hard as you can. That twists his body away from you, and you have the advantage. You can strike with the crook on his knee, hip, or groin. Be warned, a blow to the head with the crook of the cane will probably kill or seriously wound. Killing in self-defense is permissible, but exactly what is ‘self-defense’ is debatable in a court of law. Defend yourself at all times, but always be aware that your actions have consequences.”

  Ratel had Brad practice the moves against the mannequin, doing each move on Ratel’s orders, increasing speed as they went. Soon sweat was glistening on Brad’s forehead. After just a few seconds of practice, Brad’s arms were definitely getting weary. “Break,” Ratel said finally. “Once we build up those arms and shoulders, you should be able to both speed up and increase your hitting power.”

  “But I won’t be hitting an opponent for a long time, will I, Chief?” Brad asked.

  “Our objective is to build up muscle memory so your
moves become second nature,” Ratel said. “It’ll take time and practice.” He motioned Brad away from the mannequin, then assumed the green-light position with both hands on top of the crook. He then assumed the yellow-light position, and then the red-light position with a loud “Stop!” command, the cane held out straight at the mannequin. The next instant the cane was nothing but a blur of motion as Ratel pummeled the mannequin from seemingly every possible angle, striking for an entire minute before assuming the three stances all the way to the relaxed green-light position.

  “Holy crap,” Brad exclaimed. “Incredible!”

  “There are more strikes and techniques we will learn,” Ratel said. “Until then, your primary assignment is to simply get accustomed to carrying the cane. That is the hardest task for new Cane-Ja students. You must learn the best place to keep it when it’s not in use, remember to retrieve it after you set it on a bus or car seat, and always keep it with you. I guarantee, you’ll lose your cane more than once. Try not to.”

  “Yes, Chief,” Brad said. Ratel had Brad practice the swinging and striking moves on the mannequin until their session was up; then Brad changed back into his workout clothes, left the beol in a small storage box in the dojang, and headed back to Cal Poly.

  Finals week was fast approaching, so after a quick shower and a change of clothes, Brad headed over to Kennedy Library to study. He found a desk, plugged his laptop in, and started going over lecture notes and PowerPoint slides provided to him by his professors. He had been at it for about an hour when Jodie Cavendish walked up to him. “Hello, mate,” she greeted him. “Well well, look at the conchy. Thought I’d find you here. Ready for a smoko?”

  “I don’t know what you just called me,” Brad said, “but I’m hoping it’s something good.”

  “Just that you’re a hardworking dude, and I think it’s time for a coffee break.”

  “Then I’m in.” Brad locked his computer up in a small cabinet next to the desk and stood up to follow Jodie.

  “Do you need to take that?” she asked, motioning back to the desk.

  Brad turned and saw that he had left the cane at the desk. “Oh . . . yeah,” he said, and they headed to the stairs. “I knew I’d forget it.”

  As they went downstairs, Jodie noticed that Brad really wasn’t using the cane to help him walk. “What’s the cane for, mate?” she asked. “You look like you’re moving fine to me.”

  “I still get a tiny bit dizzy once in a while, so I thought I’d carry it,” Brad lied.

  “But you’re still on the bike and jogging, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” Brad said. “I don’t need it all the time. In fact, I mostly need it just standing still.”

  “I hope nothing’s wrong with your noggin, mate,” Jodie said. “The bruise has gone away, finally, but maybe you’re still affected by the whack.”

  “I’ve had an MRI done, and they found nothing,” Brad said. He tapped his head and added, “In fact, they literally found nothing.” Jodie laughed at the joke and changed the subject, and Brad was happy about that. Maybe it was time to ditch the cane, he thought. Chief Ratel said he was going to start unarmed martial-arts training soon, and when he got as good with that as he was getting with Cane-Ja, maybe the cane wouldn’t have to be with him all the time.

  The coffee shop on the first floor was almost as crowded as it was in the daytime, and they had to take their coffee outdoors. Fortunately, the early-evening weather was ideal. “How’s the studying going?” Brad asked after they found a bench.

  “It’s apples,” Jodie said. “I can’t believe I used to study for finals without a laptop computer and all my professors’ PowerPoint presentation slides—I actually relied on my own notes to pass finals back then! Insane!”

  “Same with me,” Brad admitted. “I take lousy notes.” His cell phone beeped, indicating he had a message, and he looked at the number. “Someone in Administration, but I don’t recognize it. Wonder what’s going on?”

  “Why are they calling so late?” Jodie wondered aloud. “Better return the call.”

  Brad tapped the number on the smartphone and waited. “Hello, this is Brad McLanahan, returning a call from a few minutes ago. I just picked up the message . . . who? President Harris? You mean, the university president? Yes, of course I’ll hold for him.”

  “What?” Jodie asked. “President Harris wants to talk to you?”

  “Maybe this is what we’ve been waiting for, Jodie,” Brad said. “Yes . . . yes, this is he . . . yes, sir, in fact, I’m here with one of the team leaders . . . yes, sir, thank you.” He tapped the screen and put the call on speakerphone. “I’m here with Jodie Cavendish, sir.”

  “Good evening to both of you,” university president Marcus Harris said. “I have good news. The news actually came in about a week ago, but we have just finalized the agreement and signed the papers. Your Starfire project was one of three projects selected for research and development funding by Sky Masters Aerospace. Congratulations.” Jodie and Brad jumped to their feet, Jodie let out a yelp of glee, and she and Brad hugged each other. Harris let them celebrate for a few moments, then said, “But that’s not all.”

  The students sat down. “Sir?”

  “I am also pleased to tell you that your project received half of the Sky Masters Aerospace grant money—twenty-five million dollars,” Harris went on. “That makes Starfire the highest-awarded undergraduate aerospace engineering research project in the history of Cal Poly.”

  “Twenty-five million dollars?” Jodie exclaimed. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Congratulations, you two,” Harris said. “Brad, find a time when your entire team can get together as soon as possible, call my office, and set up a time for a press conference. I know we’re coming up on finals, and I don’t want to take too much of your time, but we want to make a huge splash about this before everyone takes off for the summer.”

  “Yes, sir!” Brad said. “I’ll contact everyone tonight. We usually have a team meeting every day at eleven A.M., so that might be the best time tomorrow.”

  “Perfect,” Harris said, his voice sounding more and more excited by the second. “I’ll get your schedules and drop e-mails to your professors telling them you will be late for class, because I’m sure the presser and photo ops will take some time. We’re going to go international with this one, guys, and we’re looking to break more funding records with it. Wear something nice. Congratulations again. Oh, one more thing, as long as I have Miss Cavendish on the line.”

  “Sir?”

  “Miss Cavendish has been awarded a full scholarship to Cal Poly to finish her undergraduate degree, including tuition, books, fees, and housing,” Harris said. “We can’t have one of our best undergraduate students leave when she was so instrumental in getting such a large grant, now, can we? I hope you’ll accept, Miss Cavendish.”

  “Of course I will, sir!” Jodie cried in stunned glee. “Of course I accept!”

  “Excellent,” Harris said. “Congratulations to the entire Starfire team. Well done. Good night, Mustangs.” And the connection was broken.

  “I don’t friggin’ believe this!” Brad exclaimed after he hung up. “Twenty-five million bucks just dropped in our lap!” He gave Jodie a big hug. “It’s unbelievable! And you got the scholarship you were looking for! Congratulations!”

  “It’s all because of you, mate,” Jodie said. “You’re the jackaroo. You’re my jackaroo.” And Jodie put her hands on Brad’s face and gave him a big, deep kiss on the lips.

  Brad savored every moment of that kiss, pulled back, then gave her one in return. When they parted after the kiss, Brad’s eyes were telling Jodie something, something powerful and incredibly personal, and her eyes were immediately saying yes. But to her dismay, she heard Brad say, “I’d better contact the others. Tomorrow will be a big day.”

  “Yes,” Jodie said. She was content, at least for the moment, to put an arm around Brad and sip her coffee while he texted on his phone.

 
; Brad contacted the entire team leadership by text messaging, then included the Cal Poly engineers, professors, and students who had helped with the project, then decided to include anyone who helped with the project who was within a couple hours’ driving distance of the university, as far away as Stanford and USC—he was determined to fill that press conference room with Starfire supporters. When he was done with that, he decided to text anyone who had supported the project, whether or not they could possibly make the press conference—everyone associated with the project should be aware of the presser and the impending worldwide publicity, he thought. Anyone associated with this project should not hear about the grant from anyone else but the team leader.

  He read off all the text acknowledgents to Jodie, save one. It was the only Central Asia country code in all the messages he received, and it was from Kazakhstan, which had no Starfire contributors. The message read simply, Congratulations. D.

  When Brad put the phone keypad letters against the numbers that appeared on the message screen, the sender’s name spelled Resurrection.

  It was a few days later, and the weather, which had been outstanding during most of April, still couldn’t completely shrug off winter, so they had days of rather cold, damp mist and rain. For the past three days, Brad had taken the bus instead of riding his bicycle. It was an enjoyable and relaxing trek to the dojang south of the city: an easy jog from Poly Canyon to the Route 6B bus stop near the Kennedy Library; an easy seven-minute bus ride to the Downtown Transit Center; switch to the Route 3 bus line; a longer twenty-minute bus ride to Marigold Shopping Center; and then another easy run from there down Tank Farm Road to the dojang, which was just north of the airport. He had lots of time to do some reading or listen to audiobooks or lecture recordings on his tablet computer. Brad wished he could take the bus all the time—it was free for Cal Poly students—but he wanted the exercise, so he stuck with it whenever the weather was cooperative.