Asteroid Discovery

by Bobby Akart

  Right Ascension: 08 hours 42 minutes 13.3 seconds

  Declination: -21 degrees 01 minutes 39 seconds

  Greatest Elongation: 20.0 degrees

  Nominal Distance from Earth: 0.30 Astronomical Units

  Relative Velocity: 27,992 meters per second

  Chapter 1

  Friday, April 13

  National Control Defense Center

  Russian Ministry of Defense

  Moscow, Russia

  “You cannot fight in here. This is the war room and now, we may be at war with the United States!”

  Sergei Mikalov had lost his composure as his subordinates argued with one another over the tactics used against the American rocket. The long time Minister of Defense who’d shepherded the Russian Federation through the annexation of Crimea, the protection of Syria’s president Bashar al-Assad, and the installation of a puppet government in Venezuela, was uncharacteristically perturbed.

  He kept glancing nervously at the double doors leading to President Putin’s private office suite at the Russian Ministry of Defense building. Then, his attention was focused on the video of the American’s space orbiter being destroyed

  The three-tier, multibillion-dollar control center may have been fortified against nuclear armaments dropped from above, but nothing could protect the occupants staring at the movie-theater-size screens from the wrath of President Vladimir Putin.

  The facility’s legendary nerve center was designed to coordinate Russian military activity around the world, and beyond. Knowingly violating every treaty in existence, or even those proposed regarding the strategic nuclear deployments in space, the top brass under Mikalov’s command watched in dismay as the artificial intelligence of the Astra Linux computer operating system developed to meet the need of the Russian armed forces and intelligence agencies, refused to respond to its human operators demands to stand down.

  The result was not only catastrophic for the American’s space mission, but may also result in the commencement of World War III. In a single mishap, Russian’s nuclear space program was exposed, eleven American astronauts were killed, and the world would be bracing for nuclear Armageddon.

  Mikalov knew who would be held accountable. His fate would rival those of his counterparts in North Korea, he surmised.

  Except, he was wrong.

  The double doors swung open and the sound of the heavy leather boots donned by President Putin’s security team marched along the tile floor with the loud claps of a quarter-horse. The small-statured Putin, somewhat frail after decades of restoring Mother Russia to its greatness, walked into the room with his head held high and a smile on his face.

  The entirety of the staff turned to observe his entry, averting their eyes from the diplomatic train wreck that unfolded thirty minutes ago. Every man and woman in the National Control Defense Center prepared themselves for a tongue-lashing. What they got astonished them all.

  President Putin stopped and began clapping. “Bravo! Bravo! Otlichno!” He was commending the team on their excellent work. In fact, he could hardly contain himself.

  He strutted over to Mikalov and stuck out his hand to shake. Mikalov, slightly older and much more obese, was still sweating, but made a quick attempt to dry his right hand on his uniform. President Putin shook it heartily, causing sweat to spray off the Defense Minister’s forehead.

  “But, sir, the Americans will be, um, are —.” Mikalov stuttered as he tried to remind his president of the ramifications of the nuclear strike.

  “Oh, who cares about the Americans,” Putin said, waving his had as if to erase the thought from the air. “They won’t do anything. They never do. Be happy Sergei. Your nuclear defense system is a success. We just sent a message to the world that not only do we have superior offensive strike capabilities, but no nation dares test our defenses, or their rockets will suffer the same fate as the American orbiter.”

  Mikalov furrowed his brow and nodded. “Yes, Mr. President, I suppose you are correct. Our fail-safe system performed as expected, only the artificial intelligence did not respond to our direct counter-commands.”

  President Putin wasn’t interested in putting a damper on his nation’s success. Once again, he waved his hand through the air with the intent of dismissing his Defense Minister’s concerns. “A minor glitch that I am sure your technicians will correct. Better to make a mistake and live than succeed and only to die, da?”

  Mikalov shrugged, somewhat confused by Putin’s meaning. “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Good. Now, Sergei, advise your staff to continue monitoring the skies and I will attend to the diplomatic issues.”

  President Putin looked around the room and beamed with pride. This was his baby, built during a period of a massive, decade-long modernization of Russia’s military capabilities.

  The hundreds of billions of dollars needed to create the facility was made through a combination of oil sales and extortion from despots like Venezuela’s Maduro and Syria’s al-Assad. President Putin’s modus operandi was a simple one. We will provide you protection and ensure your reign. You provide us unfettered access to your natural resources or geographical points of significance.

  During times of military conflict, or heightened cold war tensions, President Putin often came here to observe missions in real-time. To be sure, their surveillance capabilities had some holes, as evidenced by the American operative’s advancement to their Cosmodrome in Far East Russia, but overall, Russia’s military capabilities were now second-to-none, and with China as a strong ally, the American’s influence in the world had been greatly diminished.

  The downing of the orbiter was just more egg on Washington’s face, and it delighted President Putin immensely.

  An aide rushed through the doors and rushed to President Putin’s side.

  “What is it?”

  “I have an update on our mission to the asteroid, sir. And, well, the American’s are, um, shall I say—apopleksicheskiy?”

  President Putin roared with laughter, once again drawing the attention of everyone in the massive tri-level war room. “They are? Apoplectic? Good! Let’s go pretend to apologize!”

  He began laughing again, something that didn’t happen often unless he was truly pleased with himself.

  “Yes, Mr. President. Exactly so. They have already demanded a United Nation’s inquiry.”

  “Who cares? Another waste of time.”

  “Um, yes sir. Also, they are demanding our envoy’s presence at the White House immediately.”

  President Putin began to march away from the aide and back toward his office suite. “Has Minister Lavrov arrived?”

  The aide scurried to keep up with the president who was marching with a purpose. “Yes, sir. The Mister of Foreign Affairs has just arrived. Ambassador Antonov is awaiting his instructions.”

  Still beaming, President Putin slowed to take one last look around, before exiting. In his mind, he’d already prepared a statement to give the Americans, one that would confound them and provide his cosmonauts time to land on the asteroid.

  Chapter 2

  Friday, April 13

  Presidential Emergency Operations Center

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  In the White House, the mood was anything but celebratory and President Mack Watson’s demeanor was far from jovial. Unlike his Russian counterpart who was shaking hands and patting backs for a job well done, the U.S. president had a panicked look on his face as he was rushed into the bowels of the East Wing toward the Presidential Emergency Operations Center, commonly referred to by its acronym—PEOC.

  In early years of the Cold War, beginning in the 1950s, and continuing through the Reagan Administration of the eighties, America’s defense warning system evolved from duck-and-cover protocols to advanced computerized responses being initiated to defend the nation’s citizens, and prepare the military for an attack.

  The PEOC, initially constructed during the Roosevelt administration, had under
gone substantial changes over many decades so that it was impenetrable to any form of nuclear missile threat.

  President Watson glanced up at the low hanging ceilings and the elaborate network of pipe that contained hardened wiring designed to protect the facility’s electronics from an electromagnetic pulse attack. In the event of a nuclear delivered EMP, the PEOC’s communications and mechanical equipment wouldn’t be destroyed by the massive burst of energy.

  The president was escorted through the final stretch of tile-covered hallway into a reception area. Several members of his Cabinet had gathered in the small conference room near the entryway. He nodded his head toward them, but was abruptly pulled away by his security team toward a large conference room that adjoined the main command and control center of the PEOC.

  White House Chief of Staff, Maggie Fielding, was huddled around the conference table with several aides and uniformed members of the military. She was the first to notice the president enter the room.

  “Mr. President!”

  Everyone came to attention and stood to the side so the president could make direct contact with Fielding.

  “Maggie, what the hell happened?”

  She gestured toward a chair at the head of the conference room table but the president didn’t move. He glanced through the large, one-way mirror that overlooked the PEOC’s nerve center, the equivalent of the Situation Room that was located below the Oval Office in the West Wing.

  He began to pace the floor, which was his nature, causing the other occupants of the conference room to make way. He strutted back and forth along the wall of mirrored-windows, periodically stopping to observe the frantic activity going on below them, and turning to Fielding as she spoke.

  “Mr. President, we are still awaiting details from our recon satellites. We’ve analyzed video obtained from the news networks, as well as footage provided to us by India. It’s apparent that shortly after the main-engine cut-off phase of the launch at which time the orbiter came under its own power, a tactical ballistic missile of unknown origin and throw-weight struck the spacecraft, completely obliterating it.” The throw-weight of a ballistic missile refers to its nuclear payload.

  “Come on, Maggie, we know it came from Russia!” The president was incensed, losing concern for his safety after entering the PEOC.

  “That’s just it, Mr. President. We have no indication, nor do any of our allies, that the missile was launched from Russia, or any other land-based battery.”

  “Air-launched?”

  “Possibly, sir. Again, based upon our best suppositions, the Russian Kh-47M2 Kinzhai air-launched ballistic missile certainly has sufficient range to down our orbiter. If they were tracking the Falcon Heavy’s launch, and had intentions of shooting it down, then this ordnance could easily make that happen.”

  “Then drag their asses over here and demand some answers!”

  Chief of Staff Fielding once again gestured for the president to take a seat. “Sir, please, would you like to sit down?”

  “No, Maggie. Out with it! What else is there?”

  Fielding inhaled and continued. “Sir, there is a real possibility that the origin of the missile was space-based.”

  The president turned toward the glass and raised his arms over his head, pressing his palms against the window frame. He was eerily calm as he asked, “Are you saying Moscow has ballistic weapons deployed in space?”

  Fielding, whose military point of view was invaluable during a crisis like this one, quickly responded. “Russia’s Aerospace Defense Forces successfully created a hypersonic interceptor missile that is certainly capable of destroying our orbiter. It has never been deployed to space, as far as our intelligence has been able to confirm.”

  “Do they have other means of bringing down the orbiter?” the president asked.

  “Sir, this might have been done via laser technology. Both of our Defense Departments have been working on putting interceptors in space. The difference is that we’ve abided by the treaties and, based upon the initial analysis of the explosion, they have not.”

  President Watson turned to Fielding, who was now joined by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “How am I supposed to give direction and formulate a response without information? Right now, three-hundred-million-plus Americans think I’m a fool. I promised them we’d keep them safe. Now, our means of doing so, not to mention the lives of eleven damn-fine astronauts, are scattered all over Greenland.”

  The president wasn’t a military veteran, but he certainly respected the work they’d done in protecting the nation from attack. He felt the need to rush out of the conference room, get away from the eyes that were awaiting him to take leadership, or ownership, of what happened.

  He was stupid to include a nuclear payload in the Falcon Heavy launch. The Russians were always one step ahead of the U.S. For all he knew, Putin had a man in the room at that very moment.

  “I need to walk, and think. Give me ten minutes and when I return, I want to know when I’ll be face-to-face with the Russian Ambassador and more importantly, I need to discuss our next move against the asteroid.”

  “But, Mr. President, there isn’t—.”

  “Maggie, I’m not going to sit in here and commiserate or wring my hands. You folks get your game plan together and brief me in ten minutes.” The president walked out of the conference room and turned toward the carpeted stairwell that led to the multi-level PEOC operations center. Then he shouted, “And get me that damned Russian Ambassador!”

  Chapter 3

  Friday, April 13

  Presidential Emergency Operations Center

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  President Watson paced along the upper level of the theater-style operations center. He tried his best to appear presidential, commander-in-chief-like, but his emotions came through. Putin had gotten the better of him and it would make him look weak in the eyes of world leaders, and especially the American citizens.

  Politically, he’d be in a much stronger position if he hadn’t insisted on including a last-resort nuclear payload on board the orbiter. NASA had gone along with his directive reluctantly because they were fully aware of the threat IM86 posed to humanity. The president didn’t have the time to go the United Nations to debate the matter, only to be vetoed by the UN Security Council. He had to be bold, and his go-it-alone approach may have cost the lives of eleven American astronauts.

  He stopped to rub his temples as a headache began to set in. His doctor had counseled him about his stress levels, and since he’d learned that he had a forty-seven percent blockage in his carotid artery, he’d heeded the warnings. He cut out the alcohol, changed his eating habits, and incorporated some moderate exercise into his routine. However, the nation’s chief adversary, President Vladimir Putin, a pain in the neck of every administration for decades, remained one for President Watson.

  The two prior administrations had placed a heavy emphasis on creating a Space Force and colonizing the Moon. Many believed the Space Force, designed to be an independent branch of the military, was absolutely essential to promote U.S. dominance in space and necessary to protect national security. Others argued that weaponizing space would militarize a domain where peaceful cooperation should prevail.

  Then, the Chinese landed a rover on the far side of the Moon and the stakes were raised. His predecessor intended to focus his administration’s limited budget on establishing a lunar outpost and the successful mining operation was applauded around the globe.

  Putin, however, had other plans for his budget. While Americans were digging up dirt and rocks on the Moon, he beat the Americans into space with a weapons defense system and now, they effectively destroyed a nuclear-laden space orbiter.

  President Watson recalled a campaign speech he’d made just a year prior at a rally in Brevard County, Florida. The words rang in his head as he stared at the monitors below him, many of which were replaying the point of impact in slow motion.

  “In a way,
space is already a competitive and a militarized domain. The task now is to protect U.S. and allied military interests in space and to guard against catastrophe resulting from overreaction. That means both strengthening U.S. capabilities to deter and defend against strikes on its satellites and working with other nations to establish accepted rules of engagement.

  “The most important norms are against attacks on so-called strategic-warning satellites, which underpin nuclear deterrence by detecting missile launches in real time. The reasoning is obvious. Such attacks could be interpreted as a prelude to a nuclear strike and result in unintended nuclear war.”

  Russia was notorious for using cyber warfare as a prelude to invading another nation. Their cyber attacks had caused instability in Georgia, Estonia, Lithuania, Ukraine, and Venezuela before the Russian military gained a foothold. President Watson envisioned a similar military tact in which Russia would disable American’s reconnaissance satellites prior to a nuclear attack.

  He began to process the events surrounding the orbiter’s destruction. The Russians had made no statement, and they hadn’t made any additional overt militaristic moves. Although the ramifications of these events for both countries were monumental, there was no time to debate geopolitical brinkmanship. He still had to deal with the incoming asteroid.

  His chief of staff interrupted his thoughts. “Mr. President, the Russian Ambassador has arrived.”

  “Good, Maggie, let’s hear what he has to say. Am I meeting him in the conference room, or upstairs?”

  “Sir, under the circumstances, because of the uncertainty in all of this, we’ve set up a video conference with him from the Diplomatic Reception Room.”

  The Diplomatic Reception Room served as an entrance to the White House from the South Grounds for arriving ambassadors. Oftentimes, the president would meet his guest there for a more formal gathering. Sometimes, depending on the nation, the ambassador was shown directly into the Oval Office. The Russian Ambassador hadn’t made it past the Diplomatic Reception Room in a dozen years.