Asteroid Diversion

by Bobby Akart

  “Robinson?” Ghost leaned forward and gritted his teeth. There was something sketchy about that guy, he was sure of it.

  “Because of the overall hostilities between the two nations and the circumstances regarding lost communications in the past on the ISS, Colonel Robinson became the liaison between Moscow and Houston. Everything passed across his desk or through his ears.”

  Ghost leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. He exhaled and then asked, “Agent Cuccinelli, are you saying that Colonel Robinson knows something about what happened that day?”

  “Sir, I think he might know everything.”

  Chapter 35

  Sunday, April 22

  Artemis

  Earth’s Moon

  “Well, it’s official,” began Chief Rawlings as he joined Gunner for coffee. “Commander Sokolov will lead his team of Chernevsky and Semenova on board the Starhopper. Two males and a female, to counter our contingent. The Frenchman, Jean-Louis Favier, will be the sole European on board. By previous agreement, our people will have complete control over the mission, from liftoff, to detonation of the nukes on the surface, to your return to Earth. The Russians and Favier are nothing more than political figureheads to create a false sense of cooperation.”

  “Very false,” snarled Gunner. “I don’t want anything to do with those three ass-clowns. In fact, I’ll stay in my quarters until it’s time for me to pull the trigger, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Chief Rawlings laughed and finished off his coffee. He glanced around and slyly reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of Levi Garrett chewing tobacco. The three-ounce bag generally lasted him a day or so. After he’d packed some in his cheek, he slipped it back into his pocket.

  “I’m not the only one capable of carrying contraband,” he said with a smile as the nicotine entered his body.

  “That wasn’t my marijuana,” Gunner protested.

  “I know, Major, relax. I have my suspicions, but it doesn’t matter at this point. In forty-eight hours or so, this thing will be over, and I’ll be joining you at Vandenberg for a beer shortly thereafter.”

  Vandenberg Air Force Base, located in Santa Barbara County, California, was home to the 30th Space Wing of the Air Force Space Command. It’s fifteen-thousand-foot runway was ideal for landing the Starhopper under these circumstances.

  The modifications being made to the spacecraft to carry the nuclear weapons also required specialized landing gear to be installed. The engineers at SpaceX were up to the task, as they’d already designed the modified version upon a request by the Air Force years ago.

  Mounting the nuclear armaments had to be done on the Moon, as the risk of detonating the devices was too great upon liftoff from Earth. Escaping the gravitational pull of the Moon took far less power and thrust.

  “Chief, I’m ready. I’ve forgotten about all that crap on the ground. In fact, our tour guide kinda helped me transition from the troubles on Earth to the mission ahead of me.”

  “Well, I think you and I are both ready to see the new design of the Starhopper and get to know the rest of your crew,” said Chief Rawlings. “Let’s take the high road and greet our Russian comrades, maybe putting a thaw on the cold war. Whadya think?”

  “Chief, you don’t wanna know what I think, but, in the interest of goin’ along to get along, I’ll be on my best professional behavior.”

  The two men gathered up the remainder of the American astronauts and made their way to the Russians’ table. Commander Sokolov was unusually cordial, but the other two astronauts, not so much. They finished their breakfast and barely made contact with the Americans. During the small talk with Sokolov, the French astronaute, Favier, joined them. After several minutes, the group of eight, led by Chief Rawlings, left for the transport garage and crammed in one together.

  “Thankfully, the Starhopper has more room than this,” said Chief Rawlings jokingly. “This reminds me of the old Apollo spacecraft. They were before my time, but I have taken the opportunity to sit in them.”

  He was doing his best to defuse the tense atmosphere in the transport. Chief Rawlings didn’t care if these people liked each other. He just needed them to work together to put Gunner in a position to do his job. After a twenty-minute ride through more of the mining operations, the transport approached a launch facility that could be seen by lunar mission control from a distance.

  Once inside, they took a brief tour of the Starhopper’s modifications, led by a SpaceX engineer. Other members of the retrofit team were on hand, including a space engineer familiar with the nuclear missiles. After a brief explanation of the modifications and how they might affect the spacecraft’s maneuverability, he addressed the issue foremost on everyone’s minds—the nuclear missiles.

  “Without going into the debate of whether the use of nuclear weapons to attack IM86 is the proper method of diversion, I will say that we may not have much of a choice at this late juncture.”

  The three Russian astronauts talked among themselves, revealing an angry reaction to the engineer’s lack of confidence in their still ongoing mission.

  Undeterred by their attitude, the engineer continued. “Nonetheless, we’ve been tasked with pulverizing this asteroid, or at the very least, sufficiently dismembering it to either divert it from its present trajectory, or minimize the magnitude of the impact event. We’ve studied this in computer simulations for years. The opportunity to test it has never come about until now.

  “Let me say this, it will take the force of ten atomic bombs to completely destroy IM86, and that’s based upon certain assumptions. We know that asteroids are mainly comprised of iron and rock, but we have very limited data on their surface and interior composition. The study of Bennu a decade ago shed some light on this, but Bennu’s size paled in comparison to IM86.

  “The space rock that you’re going to tangle with is likely very old, stripped of most loose material after numerous trips around the sun. This explains why IM86 has a very low reflective nature.”

  “We’ll have onboard AI to determine the asteroid’s points of vulnerability,” added another scientist. “In a laboratory setting, we set up experiments using high-speed cameras to predict how rocks on Earth fissure and crack when struck with a projectile. We then extrapolated that data, accounting for the low-gravity environment that exists in the limited atmosphere around the asteroid.”

  The space engineer continued. “Geologists have studied the results of the testing. What they found was a spider vein effect. By that, I mean that the first crack leads to a collective behavior of cracks, all trying to move really fast, interacting with each other. Now, the resiliency of the asteroid will determine how numerous and quickly these cracks spread across the outer surface.

  “That leads to the second aspect of this mission. Once the asteroid has been mapped, using AI, and your points of vulnerability have been established, you’ll begin unloading your nuclear arsenal.”

  He turned around and pointed toward the Starhopper. “As you can see, there are four nuclear weapons mounted to the sides of the spacecraft. Earlier I said that it would take ten to pulverize IM86. That hypothesis still holds, but you’ll only have four at your disposal.”

  The astronauts began to talk among themselves, questioning whether they were going into this mission without sufficient firepower to be successful.

  “Will the computer update the targets after the initial strike?” asked Gunner.

  “Very astute question, Major. You’re spot on with it. Once the first missile strikes the asteroid, its composition will change. The cracks and fissures that I mentioned will begin to race around the surface. Your vulnerability points will still be identified, but most likely reprioritized. In other words, it’ll be up to you to pick and choose your targets for maximum effect.”

  “How much firepower do we have?” asked Gunner.

  “We’ve supplied you with eighty gigatons of TNT, containing roughly the equivalent of four million Hiroshima-size bombs, or for
our Russian friends, that’s nearly two thousand Tsar Bomba devices, the most powerful nuclear weapon ever detonated. It’s four times more energy than previous estimates of what it would take to destroy an asteroid of this size.”

  “Because?” asked Chief Rawlings.

  “Chief, this new estimate by our geologists takes into account the complex interactions between the surface fissures created on impact and the depth of the blast. It’s possible that a second strike in the same location will cause the asteroid to split. Then a third and fourth strike of the two halves will divide it even further, revealing the core.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do,” commented Gunner.

  The Russians laughed among themselves. One of them muttered, “Samouverennost’.” This was translated to mean overconfident.

  The space engineer, who was fluent in Russian, disregarded the remark but took it upon himself to remind Gunner of the difficult task he faced. “Major, one thing that you’ll have to remember is that IM86 is going to fight back. In the vacuum of space, Newton’s third law will apply, and the action of blasting the asteroid will send debris in all directions around it. You will have to fly through the debris, avoiding being struck by the material, so that you can return to take that second shot.

  “After your second missile launch, assuming that you’ve been successful, the amount of space debris increases significantly. The last two missile strikes may be impossible under these circumstances. You’ll have to be careful.”

  “I intend for all of us to live through this, and do our duty,” said Gunner proudly.

  “Well, Major, then there’s one more thing you should know. After you are successful, the remaining parts of the asteroid will hurtle towards Earth at even faster speeds. The nuclear detonations will act to shove it towards the greatest source of gravity in its vicinity, Earth. While you’re circling your target, aiming to take the shot, part of IM86 will likely be streaking ahead.”

  The space engineer paused and looked at each member of the Starhopper crew. “To put it simply, you’ll be in a race with a massive meteor storm to get home.”

  Chapter 36

  Sunday, April 22

  Artemis

  Earth’s Moon

  The act of killing another human being had its own gravitational pull. Once you get the taste of taking another human being’s life, you’re drawn to killing a little closer. Soon, after several kills, you’ve stayed on the dark side of humanity too long, and you can’t break free.

  For Russian space commander Anton Sokolov, murder became an easy, acceptable means to solve a problem. He’d never forgotten his first kill. He had been vying with another cosmonaut to ride into space as part of the early group of Russians to man the International Space Station when it was launched in 1998.

  Sokolov saw his opportunity slipping away as his rival continually outperformed him in both written and practical testing. So he reverted to a method he’d learned from his father in the KGB—poison.

  Exotic poisons have been a mainstay of Moscow-ordered assassinations dating back to the days of the Czars. Castor bean, a KGB favorite, was an exotic addition to any garden. With beautiful, oversized tropical leaves, many Russian gardens contained this plant. One of the features of the castor bean plant, its bizarre seed pods, produced a bean that contained ricin.

  Ricin, one of the most deadly and toxic substances on Earth, caused acute gastroenteritis. The bean itself closely resembled a coffee bean and was easily smuggled by Russian agents until it was ground up and ingested by an unsuspecting victim. It was the poison of choice for Commander Sokolov and had served him well over the years.

  He’d perfected the dosage, knowing exactly how much to use to cause death, or simply a bad case of gastroenteritis, an inflammation of the lining of the intestines often associated with a virus or bacteria. Commonly referred to as the stomach flu, gastroenteritis can be treated with medication and bed rest.

  Commander Sokolov was a highly respected Russian cosmonaut who’d been associated with international space programs for thirty years. He was a loyal soldier, willing to carry out whatever Mother Russia called upon him to do. Unlike Gunner and Chief Rawlings, who had to use subterfuge to bring their contraband into Artemis, Commander Sokolov simply put in a request for his favorite coffee, several bags of which were always on hand in his quarters.

  Until now, he’d not found a reason to dig into his preferred problem-solving tool. Certainly, the Americans at Artemis annoyed him from time to time, but overall, he and his top lieutenants, Chernevsky and Semenova, stuck to themselves with the other Russian scientists on the Moon.

  That evening, he had little time to execute his plan. He enlisted the aid of Russian kitchen personnel in the housing unit, who were sworn to secrecy and bribed through perks given their families back home.

  Their window of opportunity was brief. One of the waiters in the dining hall was instructed to offer coffee to the American astronauts after they finished dinner. The Russian baker who worked in the kitchen was instructed to create a coffee whip dessert made up of heavy whipping cream, miniature marshmallows, and coffee from grounds.

  The coffee of choice for both after-dinner treats—Sokolov’s Special Blend, laced with ricin.

  He didn’t want to kill the Americans. That wasn’t necessary to accomplish his purpose. Severe gastric problems would ground them for days, more than enough time for his comrades to land on the asteroid and proudly plant the tricolor flag on the surface. The Americans might have beaten them to the Moon, but Mother Russia would claim the asteroid as their own and reap the benefits.

  Like the night before, the Russians sat at their usual table tucked in a corner of the dining hall. They intently observed the Americans as they ate, laughed, and engaged in conversation in the center of the room.

  Khorosho, he thought to himself. Good. Let the Americans feel comfortable and loose. Let your guard down and enjoy the moment. Your arrogance will soon cost you days of agony in the infirmary.

  First, coffee was offered and served to only two of the American astronauts. Sokolov scowled at the waiter as he sent a subliminal message for him to insist upon pouring a cup for everyone. Still, three declined, including Chief Rawlings and Gunner.

  Sokolov lifted his own cup of coffee and took a sip, hoping to make eye contact with Chief Rawlings. He was successful and provided the American elder statesman of space exploration a pleasant smile. Chief Rawlings smiled back, but still didn’t take the hint.

  “Piz-dets!” he mumbled to the others at the table. Dammit!

  Only Chernevsky and the beautiful cosmonaut Semenova were left sitting with him now, both of whom were aware of the operation to poison the Americans. If their efforts to ground their military man Major Fox failed, Semenova would take more drastic measures, using her sexuality to get close to the handsome combat pilot.

  The waiter approached the table with a tray of the coffee whip desserts topped with ricin. Rather than offer them to his guests, one was placed in front of each of the astronauts, together with friendly words of encouragement to try the delicacy.

  Once again, the two astronauts who partook of the coffee dug into the dessert. Sokolov chuckled to himself and stifled a smile. They’d get the worst of what ricin had to offer. The infirmary was ill-equipped to diagnose the poison and most likely would assume their illnesses were isolated due to poor hygiene.

  He became more frustrated when he saw Major Fox push the dessert to the side and begin to leave the table. As he was saying his goodbyes, Sokolov patted Semenova on the thigh and whispered to her, “You make love to him, and when he sleeps, three drops of this into his mouth or allow him to breathe it in. He will never awake.”

  Sokolov slipped a small vial of polonium-210 into her hand. Po-210 was a radioactive isotope used by the Russian space program for decades in its lunar landers to keep the spacecraft’s instruments warm at night. It was also a deadly poison more toxic than hydrogen cyanide. The radiation travels through the body an
d immediately begins to decay vital organs.

  “Da. I will.” Semenova turned on the sex appeal. She sashayed across the dining hall, swaying her hips and drawing the attention of every male in the room. She picked up the pace in an effort to catch Gunner as he made his way down the hallway to his quarters.

  Semenova glanced over her shoulder to confirm she was alone with her target, and then called out to Gunner, “Major, may I speak with you for a moment.”

  Gunner turned around to face the Russian muse.

  Semenova was fluent in English, having taken acting classes in which she learned to drop her Russian accent when speaking the Americans’ language. In this moment, however, that wouldn’t serve her purpose. She wanted to be exotic, exciting, and mysterious. She spoke in softer, hushed tones. Her Russian dialect was intended to be enticing, irresistible to the handsome man who lived alone.

  Her touch was soft, loving, graceful as she reached out to Gunner’s arm in an attempt to make physical contact. She almost succeeded in sucking him into her web of deceit. A black widow with a deadly poison in her pocket.

  But Gunner was uninterested. To be sure, this was a challenging moment for the man who’d not shown any interest in another woman since Heather. He was in a foreign world, far away from anyone whom he was close to. It was the night before his mission to save Earth would likely lead to his death.

  And it was for that reason that he recoiled from her touch. He would not disrespect his wife by giving in to the sexual advances of a stranger. He didn’t need the touch of a woman’s body to make it through the night.

  Gunner Fox said goodnight, entered his quarters, and brusquely shut the door behind him, locking it as he did.

  Chapter 37

  Monday, April 23

  Artemis