Rock pulled his headset tight and heard Marge’s voice come across on their internal channel. “That was quick.”
“I told him he could monitor us from the observation console.”
“Sweet move, Boss,” Jack said.
Rock looked down and saw both Jack and Lisa typing away and sorting data as it hit their desks. They looked extremely busy and he was sure they were, though the appearance of hyperactivity helped him more with the intelligence liaison officer than anything he could say. “Let’s hope we keep our comms this time.”
“Are you seeing the new telemetry?” Marge asked.
“Damn,” Jack said. “That can’t be good.”
“What is it?” Rock asked, punching up Marge’s main monitor feed rather than searching for it himself.
“Red Horizon is now in equatorial orbit at geo-level,” she stated matter-of-factly.
“I’d call that job security,” Jack said, his tone dry.
“Adding an extra eighteen months to the mission profile will do that,” Lisa said.
“When are you going to inform the president?” Marge asked Rock.
Rock sighed. “As soon as I inform Mister Smith. I’m sure he’ll do so long before I get a chance to speak to her.”
“This latest data feed will take some time, Boss,” Jack was eager to say.
“I know. Do your best.”
“Did Craig ever give you an answer?” Marge asked. The current channel they were using was restricted to Rock’s executive command team of just the four of them.
Rock thought back a couple of days, to when he had placed a call to Craig Alders and explained the situation with Black Infinity. “He did. He said he’d pass, though he’s willing to complete the certifications for the ship as well as the final system integration checks, then he wants to turn it over to someone else.”
“Sounds like his heart just isn’t in it anymore.” Marge said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I’m surprised you got him topside so quickly.”
“He launched this morning—had to, actually,” Rock said. Every one of his team knew that the pair of orbiting transit ships took roughly under three days to transit from the Earth to the Moon and then another three to return. “Next window would have been nearly seventy hours later, and we have no time to lose if we’re going to get Black Infinity online.”
“At least he agreed to prep the ship for us,” Jack chimed in.
“Have you given thought to who you’re going to tap on such short notice?” Lisa asked.
“I have a few candidates in mind, though none of them have anywhere near the experience or hours on the ship systems. I fear this presidential order is going to carry considerable risk with it.”
“So, what else is new, Boss?” Jack said, suppressing a chuckle.
“Well,” Rock sighed, searching for the right words, very happy that their current channel was one of only three that had its recorder disabled, “Murphy has reared its ugly head and, all in all, I think we’ve managed as best we could. If only we can get through the next few objectives without any further challenges.”
“Spoken like a true director,” Lisa said.
“Did you tell the president that the Horizon doesn’t need rescuing?” Marge asked.
“She knows,” Rock said simply. “I don’t really think she believes it herself. It’s more the fact that things have gone sideways much further than any of her intelligence services could have predicted. That, and the bombshell revelation that you and Doctor Navari dropped on her, and the other branches of government. I think it shook them up.”
“Speaking of which, when do you meet with him again?” Lisa asked Marge.
“Later this week.”
“Did you two show the president the artist renderings of what we’re supposed to look like?” Lisa pressed.
“The materials were in our report, though I’m close to certain that her most trusted advisors told her to ignore the sensationalism by the SETI team,” Marge replied.
“They still holding that over you?” Jack asked.
“Always,” Marge said, cringing.
Lisa said, “You’d think, after definitive proof of extraterrestrial life over four years ago, that this would have vindicated the program and all of you who worked it.”
“One would think....” Marge sounded wistful.
“Where are you going, Boss?” Jack asked.
Rock had stood and unplugged his headset, though it was still receiving via the Bluetooth receiver. He noticed Jack, head craned, looking at him from further up and to the side of the command center. He keyed his mic. “I thought it best to get this over with.”
“Off to see the wizard, eh?” Jack said playfully.
“More like the wicked witch of the east,” Lisa said.
“I think she’s the one that died.”
Marge spoke: “Let him be.”
“I’ll be fine,” Rock said. “See to it that we have a clearer picture of what happened when I return.”
“Why tell him when you don’t have all the facts?” Marge asked.
“So I can tell him I don’t know,” Rock said. “Sometimes it’s easier that way.”
THE LAST FEW HOURS were revealing, and with the restoration of communications, the video log of Commander Julie Monroe said it all. Rock had returned to view it, and eventually so had Mister Smith. It had been classified and then distributed to various agencies as necessary.
The NSA agent had called for a meeting, and both Jack and Lisa had protested, complaining that the amount of data to process required them to remain at their consoles. Rock relented and informed them they could skip this one. Seeing Admiral Nicholson in the second-floor conference room came as no surprise.
“So, where’s the rest of your team?” Smith asked.
“They’re busy,” Rock answered. “Let’s get started.”
Smith sat, as did Rock, Marge, and the admiral. “I’ve spoken to the president and she’s agreed with the move that your crew members executed.”
“Since the move was made prior to any illicit authorization, and is irreversible, I’d think she would have little choice but to accept it.” Marge said.
“Your crew is fortunate that the move was pre-authorized in the scenario orders given to them,” Smith countered.
Rock nodded at Marge, who placed her hands in her lap and remained silent. Rock said, “It was either that or risk a third attack on the ship. After that, there would be no further replacement chips to withstand another electromagnetic attack, and then the Red Horizon really would require rescuing.”
“Have you reviewed the approved military entries by our SEAL team?” Admiral Nicholson asked.
“Yes,” Rock said. “They did a fantastic job considering.”
“Most kind of you to say so,” the admiral said.
Smith fidgeted in his seat and gave his counterpart a good look before speaking. “If we’re finished with the pleasantries, we need to address the current situation and come up with a plan that the president will approve.”
“What plan?” Marge couldn’t resist. “You’ve already ordered the impossible, despite what we’ve told you.”
Smith glared at her, then looked at Rock and spoke as calmly as he could. “Perhaps all of your team members should have remained at their work stations?”
The insult was quick and obvious, but Rock responded professionally. “Doctor Jones’ expertise will be of benefit to us here.”
“As you wish,” Smith said. “Now, we need to finalize a launch window for the Black Infinity. It needs to leave in time to reach Mars before the normal ships do.”
“You’re referring to the Hohmann transfer supply vessels?” Marge asked, a hint of disdain in her tone.
“Yes, the Ark for us and the....” Smith opened his portfolio and started searching through a veritable stack of papers.
“The Soaring Song and October Revolution,” Marge said.
“Why is our ship’s name so short and simple while t
he Chinese and Soviets’ are elaborate and elegant?” Smith asked, putting his papers away. The question was met by silence, though Rock and Marge did take a moment to look at one another.
It took the admiral to break the stalemate. “Perhaps we can move past that point and onto the planning of the next phase of our operations?”
“Very well,” Smith said, oblivious to the fact that he was bailed-out on that last question. “The resupply ships are all necessary in order to prolong our missions with respect to Mars. Intel shows that the Chinese and Soviet ships are also carrying additional armaments that could be used in future ... shall we say, challenges.”
Both NASA members were expecting him to say the word “hostilities,” but apparently the man had more diplomatic training than they gave him credit for. Rock spoke first. “You want our ship to arrive before the resupply ships?”
“Exactly,” Smith said, a grin crossing his face. “The timing windows and flight profiles you provided show that, if done correctly, the Black Infinity can reach Mars six to seven weeks before the supply ships.”
“Sounds right,” Marge said calmly.
“So, we can’t afford to allow our adversaries the opportunity to resupply their current teams before we are able to take control of the alien technology.”
“Is this what we’re really talking about?” Marge asked, glaring at Mister Smith.
Rock turned to the admiral. “Are we really going to risk more lives in a simple race to secure alien technology? How many more people must die before we learn our lesson?”
Nicholson held a hand up to silence Smith, who was about to make a rather nasty retort. “We understand your concerns, Director Crandon. In fact, no one has more to risk and lose than I do. Those are my men risking life and limb for our country and our way of life. The real issue isn’t so much in securing this technology, but in preventing it from falling into the hands of our rivals. Try to imagine our president at a United Nations meeting with the two largest vetoing members wielding unimaginable control over our military forces.”
There was silence as the NASA team contemplated the admiral’s words. Smith said, “It’s useless; they can’t see the forest for the trees.”
“What does it matter?” Marge finally said, her voice low. “The president has already ordered the dispatch of our final interplanetary ship. What are we here for?”
“The exact nature of the voyage, as well as its objectives and mission parameters, will be classified at the highest level,” Smith said. “We need NASA’s support in order to make this happen. The ship is yours, the engine is ours.”
“Don’t you mean his?” Marge said with a nod at the admiral.
“You know what I mean, Doctor Jones,” Smith said rather smugly.
The seconds passed, and the two sides looked at each other warily. Rock sighed and realized he’d have to cooperate. “The military briefings you allowed us to view now show the construct under the command and control of the Soviets. How did that happen?”
Nicholson fielded that question. “The Spetsnaz were originally ordered to take out the alien transmitter. They were redirected to assist our SEAL team since we had lost communications and were under attack. During the exchange, the secondary orders that would have pulled the Soviets out were lost in transit. That was not planned.”
“Your own crew received her message” —Smith pointed an accusatory finger and stare at Marge— “to vacate the premises without challenging NASA’s orders. What do you think our team up there did? Hmm? They did as she ordered and got the hell out of dodge, leaving the place wide open for our adversaries.”
“As I said,” the admiral cut in, trying to regain the floor from Mister Smith, “the directions for the special forces units, which would have had all units vacating the alien base, were not delivered.”
Marge looked to Rock then back to Smith. “You mean you’re giving the Soviets false orders?”
Smith regained his smile. “We have our ways.”
“Sounds like there was a major failure if you think turning the complex over to them was part of your ... way,” she said.
Smith’s outer lips curled down quickly, and he scowled. “The plan is working perfectly. There is only a slight delay in transmitting the correct orders to remove the Soviet special forces team from the alien base. This was due to their ship also taking a direct hit from the alien’s little stun gun.”
“Okay,” Marge said, standing to leave. “I think I’ve heard enough of the man’s plans to know that we’re going far astray on this one, and you can count me out.”
“Sit down,” Smith ordered, also standing.
“Let her go,” Admiral Nicholson said to Smith.
Rock looked at her and nodded towards the chair. “I need you.”
Marge stood, looking at her boss, and understood. He’d never order her, but he was making the request as best he could. “Fine,” she said, resuming her place at the table.
Smith tried to refrain from flashing a smug smile at her as he also resumed his seat, but Rock wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
“Smith, let’s get to the nuts and bolts. You have already ordered the preparations for the Infinity’s departure. What is this really about?”
Smith sat straighter in his chair and then spoke, his voice stern. “Need-to-know and not for consumption out of this room.”
“Agreed,” Rock said.
“The president has authorized the use of nuclear force if necessary in either securing the alien base, or destroying it.”
“Good God,” Marge said.
“No,” Smith responded. “I can assure you this is completely man-made.”
“You’re talking about arming the ship with a nuclear warhead?” Rock half asked, half stated.
“That is exactly what we’re discussing, and more than one to be exact.”
Marge looked at Rock. “And we thought using a fully functional atomic reactor was bad enough. She can’t be serious.”
Smith looked at her. “I can assure you she is. There are things happening that you are not aware of.”
“Like what?” Marge challenged the man.
“How about a world war, for one?” Smith continued to stare at her.
Marge made a face at him, one conveying disgust and contempt. “The crisis has been averted. Anyone watching the news can see that.”
“You can’t believe everything you see,” Smith said.
“Enough,” Rock said, gaining Mister Smith’s attention. “We know what the public story is—are you saying there’s something else going on?”
“Need-to-know,” Smith responded.
Rock and Marge both sighed in frustration.
Admiral Nicholson seriously upset the NSA agent by saying, “The Chinese are on the brink of civil war.”
“What?” Rock said, leaning forward in his chair.
“The chief architect of their space program has gone rogue, and he’s taken considerable assets and resources with him,” the admiral said.
“This is not for NASA’s ears,” Smith protested.
“You have your orders and I have mine,” Nicholson responded. “My men are under attack millions of miles from here, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to play monkey games with our space department.”
The rebuke was intense and, most importantly, effective. Smith could only mutter, “It’s your neck, then, on the line.”
Nicholson looked at Smith for a few seconds longer then resumed. “Listen, Director Crandon. We simply need to ensure that our ship can depart on time and reach Mars before the resupply ships. There is intel that leads us to believe the Chinese have additional weaponry on their ship, the Soaring Song. It’s in our best national interest to have options for responding up there. Do you understand?”
Rock looked at the man then glanced at Marge, who only shrugged, indicating it was his call. He leaned back in his chair and continued to think while watching the body language of the two men across the table. H
e knew they’d do what they wanted to, but the mission would have a higher chance of success with NASA fully behind the executive branch of the government. With a little reluctance, he asked, “What can we do for you?”
The admiral nodded, as if giving appreciation for the offer. “You have astronauts up there already. Select the ones that you feel have the best chance of succeeding with the mission profile we’ve given you and get that ship ready to ... boost, if I remember the word correctly.”
“You do,” Marge said.
“Then what?” Rock asked.
The admiral kept his steely gaze, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Then we protect your crew and my men as best we can. We need people like her to tell us what we’re facing.” The admiral pointed to Marge, and all eyes turned to her.
Rock responded, “Yes, we do need her, and you’re very wise for recognizing that.”
Smith fumed, but the admiral simply nodded, then said, “Then we agree for a change. Forget the manifest, power source, and anything else that is controversial to you and work the problem. That is what we need.”
“Then I think our time is up,” Rock said, standing. “We’ve got work to do. You both know where you can find us if you need us.”
Smith had to get the last word in. “Yes we do, Director Crandon. You can bet on it.”
Marge and Rock walked out and didn’t look back.
Chapter 11
Victory and Failure
VOSTOCHNY COSMODROME
Siberia, Russia
In the near future, Year 4, Day 182
“CONGRATULATIONS, MY old friend,” Dmitry said, his voice full of compassion and glee despite being digitized over the secure landline from Moscow.
Vlad felt dizzy and wanted to throw up. “Ah, yes, thank you, sir. It was most fortunate for us that Colonel Popov agreed to the order modification.”
“You are too modest, Vlad. Accept the accolades from the Premier Kolik himself. He’ll be calling you this evening. Well done.”
“Thank you, sir,” Vlad said, leaning forward in his office and trying not to faint at the news.
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