Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “I’ll put my money on the pants shitting,” Alex said, a smile crossing his face.

  7 Nasa

  NASA Space Center

  Houston, Texas

  In the near future, Day 10

  * * *

  “You gotta be shitting me!” Jack said, looking at the paperwork Mrs. Brown had given to their team.

  “I told you so,” Tom said, also flipping pages from the report.

  Marge set her report down. “I don’t see how they could do that. Could the station structure handle the stress?”

  Tom was the mechanical engineer. “It would have to simply have a high tensile rating. With no weight involved, the structure only has to withstand the g-forces that would be applied, and a long, slow burn might do it, if it has the right strength.”

  “That explains the off load of our people,” Rock said, looking at the details of the report and wondering just what, in the name of all that was sane, would make the Russians attempt to boost the station out of low earth orbit and journey across space to the moon. “Jeff, what do you make of this?”

  Jeff Wheeler set his paper down from where he had been leaning over the table and sat down in his chair, taking a deep breath. “Sounds risky to me, Rock. We sure this is their actual plan?”

  “Assume it is,” Mrs. Brown said, frowning from the outburst and looking like a school teacher about to scold a misbehaving student. Rock hoped Jack would keep quiet.

  “Why are we being given access to this data?” Rock asked the woman. Mr. Smith was otherwise occupied, and Mrs. Brown was temporarily in charge.

  “Because you’ll have to explain to the president what’s possible, what’s not possible, and what the likelihood is for each of the scenarios outlined in the brief,” she said.

  “Doesn’t she have her own scientific and national security advisors?” Jack asked.

  “She does, but their expertise is more along the lines of a broader interpretation of what is happening right now.”

  “It means they don’t know shit,” Tom said.

  “Enough with the expletives. You guys are worse than college students, I swear,” Lisa said, displeased with the profanity from her two colleagues.

  “So she’s coming for sure?” Rock asked Mrs. Brown, ignoring his team members for the present.

  “She will be landing soon. The announcement last night delayed her,” Brown said.

  Rock understood the delay. After the Saturday evening statement, there was a series of unforeseen consequences to the announcement. Not that everyone was panicking. Many were excited at the news, and there was much hope and speculation about how humanity could benefit from the benevolent wisdom of a caring, kind, and intelligent alien race. Not everyone felt that way, however.

  Some were saying the president’s disclosure allowed roughly one million or so fanatical, or nearly fanatical, conspiracy theorists to spring into action. Personally Rock thought it was like throwing gasoline on the embers of a smoldering fire. The internet was ripe with anti-government theories, and many simply pointed to Roswell and said, “I told you so.”

  Monday was worse than anticipated. A quarter of the American population freaked, another quarter rejoiced, and half decided it was time for a holiday. Schools were closed, many because the students never showed up. Most factories were not operational as workers stayed home with their families to watch the nonstop coverage on various news shows. Emergency workers, the police, fire departments, and hospital staffs were about the only people to show for work that day. Those workers and the transportation agencies in most cities, if simply to take home those few that did show up for work and now were departing early in the afternoon. Everyone knew it was serious when trading on Wall Street was suspended. Nothing stopped the flow of money unless it was serious.

  So Rock and his team watched the president address the nation again on Monday evening to calm those who were fearful and to declare an executive order preventing the rise of any prices for any reason. There had been a run on the stores all day long by the conspiracy wingers and those who saw no reason for panic found that they may not have gas or water if their fellow Americans horded all at once, so that created a proverbial run on the bank with regards to supplies at the grocery and department stores. Most of the stores closed early, and there were only a few reports of looters in some inner city neighborhoods. The entire day had been less than productive.

  “Is this the list of questions for us?” Lui said, holding up a packet with papers stapled together, three or four of them.

  “Yes, read them all and use the reports from the last few days to prepare for the briefing tonight,” Brown said.

  The president finally arrived, and Rock and his team were waiting for the meeting to start. They were in the large auditorium where press releases were normally held, and the Secret Service was all over the place.

  “This looks like a lot of people,” Rock said to his boss, John Lui, while looking around the auditorium that was quickly filling with various agency personnel. Rock recognized the FBI and Secret Service agents easily enough. There were also a few military types in uniform from the various services. So far so good. His team members and even Jeff’s engineering staff were easily recognizable to him since he knew them personally, and some of the academia could be spotted by their manner of dress. It is just . . . different, Rock thought.

  The other people in the room—well, he knew some had to be from the president’s staff and, with the exception of Mrs. Brown and Mr. Smith, though not identifiable, he was sure there were both security and intel people in attendance as well.

  Everyone took their seats as an aide announced the arrival of the president. Rock stood with his boss beside him a few rows up while his team members were in the row in front of him. President Powers took a seat at a table facing the auditorium audience along with several of her advisors and cabinet members. Rock was hoping she wouldn’t call on him, and he was relieved when the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Montgomery, stood at the podium and began to talk.

  The usual threat assessments and security facts were covered ad nauseam, and Rock fought from yawning, which he knew was more than unprofessional, wishing he could simply get back to work. Then a national security advisor to the Director of National Security gave another intel briefing about the various and usual mundane threats to our beloved United States. It wasn’t until they reached the part about the Chinese efforts that Rock’s ears were tickled.

  “After the purging of several Space Command executives and intra-departmental directors and managers, the PLA has taken control over the program and initiated a massive effort to build a rocket large enough to launch nearly five hundred tons into lunar orbit,” the advisor said.

  Jack leaned back, turning around to whisper at Rock. “Did he just say the Chinese Army is in charge over there?” Rock nodded, only looking at Jack briefly in the process.

  “In order to further our various objectives, we will be breaking into a series of compartmentalized groups, but under the direct command of the president through the Director of National Security.”

  The aide went on to separate their various assets into the ELINT group, Electronic Intelligence, SIGINT, Signals Intelligence, and HUMINT, Human Intelligence. Rock’s group was placed, as predicted, in the SIGINT group. The briefing was adjourned, and the participants broke for their respective working locations. The press corps was kept at the guest building near the main entrance, and Rock was relieved that they were being kept at a good distance from their working locations. It was like a zoo out there, and the fact that the president activated the Reserves for all branches of service was a hot topic with her pundits.

  Rock’s team grabbed a few cups of coffee before heading to conference room three that faced south, away from the main gate. The view was rather peaceful, and only the occasional security patrol driving by interrupted the warm, sunny spring day.

  “Richard, I’d like you to meet a couple of our team members,” John
Lui said as two people dressed in NASA jumpsuits and carrying notebooks stepped around the large table.

  “Hey, Rock, good to see you again,” Craig Alders said, presenting a hand to shake.

  “Likewise, Craig,” Rock said, shaking the man’s hand vigorously, a big smile across their faces. “You’re just back from the Russian station, no?” Rock asked.

  “Last Friday they poked and prodded us for sixteen hours and then let us spend a weekend with the fams before shipping us back here,” Craig said.

  Rock stepped to the side, nodding at Craig’s news, and greeted Craig’s companion. “You must be Julie Monroe,” Rock said, shaking her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Crandon. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Julie said, returning the shake albeit a bit more formally than Craig.

  “Have you two worked together?” Jack asked, stepping up to greet the two astronauts.

  “No, Jack, Julie came onboard right after our rotation and has been working with Fred Greer the last two years,” Rock answered, referring to the current mission leader for the space station ops.

  “So why isn’t he here?” Jack asked, finishing the handshaking and looking at Rock.

  “Mr. Greer has other orders right now, Jack,” Director Lui said, answering for Rock. “For now the Feds have requested that Richard handle the lunar ops from conception to execution.”

  “Hello, Julie, how have you been?” Lisa said, entering the room, a cup of coffee in her hand that she quickly sat on the table. The two women gave each other a quick hug, smiling.

  “You guys acquainted?” Jack asked.

  “Didn’t you know? Julie and I were in the same prep class together and served in the same air wing back in oh twenty,” Lisa said.

  “They’ve had me busy, but good to know,” Jack said.

  Rock felt the situation a tad awkward as Julie and Lisa had competed for the same astronaut spot and Lisa fell short. If she was holding a grudge or felt slighted, she sure wasn’t displaying it, and Jack’s inattentiveness wasn’t helping.

  “People, could we take our seats, please?” Mrs. Brown said, motioning everyone to be seated.

  “I’ll be damned,” Tom said. “Another meeting?”

  “Just suck it up, old timer,” Lisa said, giving Tom a wink. Rock wondered at this display of friendliness from Lisa since she wasn’t very fond of Tom and his “antiquated thinking,” as she liked to refer to the man’s ramblings.

  “It’s just a quick focus session,” Mrs. Brown said. “We’ll be done in less than half an hour and you can return to your duties.”

  “Just not our families,” Jack said under his breath.

  “What was that, Mr. Connors?” Mrs. Brown asked.

  “Nothing, dear, Jack was just getting seated,” Tom said, being about the only man in the room who would dare “dear” Mrs. Brown.

  Rock shook his head and sat down, dreading another session.

  “Director Lui, would you like to make a quick introduction so all the team members are familiar with one another?” Mrs. Brown said.

  “Maybe we should all wear name badges,” Marge said, taking a seat near Rock.

  “Did Marge just say what I thought she said?” Tom asked, his brows arched.

  “Maybe there is a sense of humor buried under that façade,” Jack responded.

  “Gentlemen,” John Lui began, standing, but before he could continue, the doors opened and several Secret Service agents entered the room.

  A man in a black suit talked to Mrs. Brown and then left the room. “We will have a few visitors, so please remain seated and remember your manners,” Mrs. Brown said, sounding far too natural for a spook.

  President Powers, her aides, and the Director of National Security entered the room as well as several more Secret Service Agents and a lone military officer, a four star general. The president and staff seated themselves at the head of the conference table. There are no other military or academia types, making this meeting much more intimate, Rock thought, wondering why he was so fortunate to always have the president attend his mission meetings.

  “Please continue, Director Lui,” Mrs. Brown said, seemingly un-phased by the president’s presence.

  “I was just making introductions, Madam President.” President Powers nodded at Director Lui. “Julie Monroe and Craig Alders here have joined our team as of today. I don’t think particulars need to be discussed, but at the highest levels we have been mandated to execute Operation Twenty-One in order to acquire or otherwise secure the unknown object on the far side of the moon.”

  “Where do they come up with these original mission names?” Jack asked.

  “Better to call it Operation Been There, Done That,” Tom said.

  Director Lui ignored the jests, and Rock noticed Mrs. Brown’s countenance had hardened considerably. “We’ve added Jeff Wheeler to represent electrical engineering, and if necessary, we’ll add a few academic members once the nature of the object is understood more fully.”

  “What kind of academia?” Rock asked.

  “Linguists, geologists, metalurgists, those kind,” Lui said.

  “Can you go around the table, please, Director Lui,” Mrs. Brown asked in her best schoolmarm tone.

  Lui seemed inconvenienced but addressed the group a tad more formally now. “So, Jeff Wheeler, electrical engineering. Tom there, mechanical. Julie and Craig, I already mentioned, are the ops arm representing our astronautic section, so any ideas you come up with as a team will most likely be putting their lives on the line. Make sure you take this into consideration.” Lui paused for effect.

  “You guys volunteer or get drafted?” Tom asked.

  “We’re voluntary,” Craig said, and Julie nodded.

  “Lisa Wilson here,” Lui said, nodding toward Rock’s team member, “represents our advanced systems analyst while Jack Connors is our signals expert.” Both team members nodded.

  “Finally, we have Marjorie Jones, our chief science officer and assistant mission lead, the number two in command behind mission lead, Richard Crandon.” Rock nodded when his name was called. “And you all know Mrs. Brown, second liaison between NASA and the NSA,” Lui finished.

  “Thank you, Director Lui.” Mrs. Brown resumed her role as the group facilitator rather quickly. “For Mr. Wheeler, Mr. Alders, and Mrs. Monroe, I’d like to add that the team liaison, Mr. Smith, is not available at the moment but is the representative of the executive branch at this time. Any requests for resources, materials, financing, or other related questions can be addressed through either one of us. Are there any questions?” No one spoke.

  “All right, then, you’ve all heard the news as well as what some of the world’s foreign powers are implementing. I understand you have the workings of a base plan?” Mrs. Brown asked.

  All eyes turned to Rock. Director Lui may be his boss, but he was thoroughly entrenched in the day-to-day politics, being more an administrator than a scientist, so it was natural that everyone looked to him for their leadership.

  Rock stood up since the president was attending. “Everyone. We’ve had enough time to brainstorm a bit, and with Jeff’s help, we’ve come up with a rough idea on how to get to the moon in the shortest and safest”—with this, Rock looked over at Julie and Craig, giving them a nod—“amount of time necessary.

  “The main issue is lift capability. We’ve let our space exploration program languish, and we found ourselves buying rides on board the Russian rockets in order to meet our orbital needs. Everyone knows the international space station has all but been decommissioned and only the Euro Union and the Jap-Kor alliance are keeping it operational. The last few years’ attempt at détente with the Russians after the Ukraine War had us financing their newest station while we participated in manning it and conducting our scientific programs.

  Well, I’m no politician, but the recent eviction we received last week has pretty much ended that line of cooperation between our two governments. I won’t get into the ambassadorial parts of it, b
ut our most urgent need is lift capability.” Most eyes had moved to the president as Rock discussed the political aspects of what had been happening, but when there was no discernable change in the president’s affect, everyone returned their gazes to Rock.

  “Currently we contract out with Space Corp for smaller satellite lifts of less than fifty tons into low earth orbit.” Rock used the actual term instead of the acronym as he knew for sure Mrs. Brown would interrupt him, asking him to clarify if he didn’t. “The Sparrow rockets were designed for just this. What we need is our heavy lift capability again, and it would take months, if not years, to design, build, test, and commission a new class of rocket capable of reaching lunar orbit, with a sufficient payload to accomplish our mission.”

  “Again?” President Powers asked, managing to gather the attention of everyone in the room.

  “Yes, Madam President. I’m referring to re-commissioning the Saturn V from storage and building new ones based on their schematics for service,” Rock said, sitting down.

  The president’s National Security Advisor, David Rose, said something to the president and then asked, “You’re talking about technology that is well over half a century old. Isn’t there something newer we could discuss?”

  “Yeah, what kind of ride are you trying to give us, Rock?” Craig said, a smile across his face demonstrating support for his idea.

  “Sir,” Rock began, addressing the director, “the Saturn Vs were the only rockets ever produced that could even reach trans-lunar orbit. We have never had funding for more than that. I think the Apollo program at its peak took nearly a half percent of our GDP to fund it.”

  “But we’ve sent landers to Mars and spaceships to Jupiter, Saturn, and even Pluto,” Director Rose complained. “How is it that we can’t send a man to the moon without using antiquated equipment?”

  The room was fairly silent, and while Rock liked his boss, he saw there would be no help from that quarter. “The rovers on mars, the probes into Jupiter, and even the flybys that we conducted on Neptune and Pluto consisted of very small payloads using much lighter rockets. We’re talking about a half ton at the most, and for many of the missions much less—only a few hundred pounds at most.”