by Jim Melanson
Why weren’t they firing at me? Why hadn’t they destroyed me? Something was definitely odd here. I took a tentative step towards them. Nothing. I took two more steps. Nothing. I started walking slowly towards them and therefore, towards the W-Hab. Within a few steps they did start moving. The centre one was backing away from me slightly, with each step I took. The other four were slowly moving around me, encircling me. By the time I had moved 50 metres, I was in the centre of a Mexican firing squad. I stopped moving, and slowly turned a full circle; training my weapon on one after another, until the energy weapon was lined up on the first one again. Still nothing. They weren’t killing me. They weren’t doing anything except watching me.
“Castle Cellar, safe all weapons. Authenticate, alpha kilo five, two, seven, authenticate.”
“Thermobaric one, two and three are powering down.” After a pause, “All weapons are in a safe state. Bay number one is secured. Bay number two is secure. Platform is secure.”
I lowered my energy weapon, holding it with both hands, but now pointing it at the ground. I turned a slow full circle again, watching the shimmering spots of air. Halfway through the turn, the shimmers were suddenly replaced by five solid-looking metal balls that looked exactly like the one from my last encounter, without the damage of course. They were no longer cloaked. They just hung there in the air, not even bobbing. That meant they were no longer concerned about stealth. This game they were playing had just changed, and I just wasn’t sure what it meant.
I raised the weapon slightly to hold it at port-arms, and then started slowly walking, sauntering would be more precise, towards the W-Hab. As I slowly walked homeward, the five grey ships followed me in perfect step. They held their positions from each other and from me, keeping in step with me. This continued without change until the lead orb was about 20 metres from the W-Hab. It then moved its position to be directly above me. I stopped at that and looked up at it a few moments, having to lean back to do so. It didn’t look any different from the bottom. No exhaust ports, no obvious propulsion system. The small round indentation with the nubbin of the weapon was visible, but that was all that was visible on the surface. I was too far away from them to see any of the faint seams or joints that could be seen when you were upclose to them.
I looked forward again, thought for a moment and then shrugged my shoulders to myself, “Whatever”.
If they were going to kill me, they were going to kill me. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou art with me. I slung the energy weapon over my shoulder again, and finished my journey, walking at a normal pace, studiously ignoring the five alien vessels. I entered the W-Hab airlock without looking over my shoulder again. The small space pressurized, I took my surface suit off, and cleaned up the dust. I returned the energy weapon to its locker, and then headed upstairs. If they weren’t going to fire at me, I wasn’t going to fire at them. I had the sneaky feeling that they wanted me to fire at them. Knowing a little bit about what it’s like to encounter bullies at school, in the workplace, and in private life; I was fairly confident I was now onto their game. I believed that they did want me to fire at them first, or to take some action that would appear to be attacking them. I was sure then, that had I indeed fired my puny energy weapon at them, the colony site would be a debris strewn series of blackened and smoky craters at this very moment.
I went to the control panel and activated the display of the exterior cameras. The grey orbs were no longer visible. I activated the Mar-Sat and Jalopy-Sat displays: nothing seen. I put the W-Hab COM panel on VOX.
“Castle Cellar, status.”
“The Platform is in a safe state. Referential targets one through five are withdrawing from your location. There are no new targets.”
“Vector and speed of targets one through five?”
“All targets are bearing 343 and moving at 3 kilometres per hour.”
“Activate new target voice notification system.”
“New target voice notification system is engaged. Please state the area of compromise.”
Oh what the hell, “Five hundred kilometres.”
“Area of compromise is five hundred kilometres. New target detected, new target is an unknown hostile ref …” there was a pause. I winced. That was totally not supposed to happen, but given how things had been going, I wasn’t surprised. If Castle Cellar was failing, I was in more trouble than I realized. To my relief, sexy voice started again, “New target detected, new target is a classified reference, designate referential target number six.”
A classified reference? Okay, not a dust devil then. What the hell is a classified reference?
“What is the classified reference?”
“Command not recognized. Please restate your command.”
Oh for frak sake, this was getting silly.
“Castle Cellar, you identified the new target as a classified reference, provide the identification of target number six.”
“You are not authorized for that information.”
I was about to yell at the computer interface, when the panel suddenly displayed two red lights. Then the messages came up telling me that I had lost connectivity with both Mar-Sat and Jalopy-Sat.
“Umm, Castle Cellar? Status?” No response. Oh yes indeed, this was going to be another very long day.
Pyongyang
Kang Hyo-Sang sat in disbelief. He couldn’t believe his ears. He wasn’t sure what was more incredible; what he was hearing, or the fact that he was hearing it. The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea) wasn’t that big on openness and transparency. Mr. Choi had to be pulling his leg, “This has really happened?”
“Yes, it has,” was the benevolent, smiling, simple response of Choi Je-Ha. “We have been working on this for many years under the auspices of the Great Leader, Kim Il-Sung. His plans have been carried forward most loyally by his son and grandson. You know, the West has accused us of making missile tests under the guise of satellite launches. They weren’t always missile tests at all. Many of those launches were tests of interplanetary craft and their launching systems, one of the primary focuses of this project. I know for a fact that NASA has images of our test craft that landed on Mars ten years ago.”
“I’ve never heard of this, why has it never been reported in their media?”
Mr. Choi smiled, “Do you think the Americans would publish pictures or reports of technology on Mars when they had no idea where it came from? We were very careful to make it as nondescript as possible; and to have no identifying features.”
“Ten years …” his mind did the simple calculation. “That was before the formation of the National Aeronautics Development Agency”.
“Yes, its predecessor, the former Committee of Space Technology, was more than just a research institute. We did more than just build satellites.”
“I’m confused. Ten years ago our country signed the Outer Space Treaty. You are telling me that since that time, our country has been working on more than just satellites? We have been working on manned Mars missions?”
Mr. Choi sighed benevolently and leaned forward to rest his arms on his desk. After pausing a moment, he sipped the last of the tea in his cup, and called the steward for a fresh pot. While waiting, he continued.
“Kang, there is much you do not know. In 2008 we landed our first robotic on Mars. This was many years after our robotics first landed on the Moon. On Mars, we landed our packages far away from the American, Soviet, and Chinese robots. They thought it was a satellite launch and paid not much attention to it when it disappeared and didn’t fall back to Earth. It has been in operation ever since. After the new millennium, we had pursued a satellite program aggressively. We only have one satellite in orbit right now because of planned deception. The first three real satellite launches failed because we designed them to fail. We were making great strides in what we wanted to do, but we didn’t want anyone to know that. The beauty of operating in our Republic is that we
can be both open and secretive at the same time.
In 2013 we formed NADA to make the world think that we were scrapping old ways, and starting fresh, from the beginning; but we weren’t. The hills between the launch assembly buildings at Sohae are riddled with underground research and manufacturing facilities. Our underground facilities have entrances at both Sohae launch sites. It was from that facility that we launched our missions to Mars last year, only a few hours, as it happened, after the Swedish colony company sent that Canadian.”
“What about Tonghae?”
“We used Tonghae Launch Facility to misdirect the attention of the West.”
Kang Hyo-sang was now getting excited, “You said ‘Missions’. Plural?”
Choi Je-Ha smiled, “Yes, missions. Plural. We have landed two of our people on Mars, about 3000 kilometres south of the colony site being established by Sweden. We also landed two of our people on Deimos and two more on Phobos. This is in addition to the four people that recently arrived on Earth’s moon.”
“On Mars’ moons? On our moon?” Kang practically came out of the chair. Eyes wide, mouth open, hands wanting to gesticulate, but having nothing certain to gesticulate to. His childlike enthusiasm and excitement was uncharacteristically evident. He sat down heavily, and snapped his mouth shut. Choi watched him carefully; he could see the young man’s mind now working over several problems with the information given.
“They all arrived successfully?”
“Yes,” Choi nodded.
“The men, they are all alive?”
“Men and women, yes, they are all alive.”
“You sent women to space?”
“Each crew is one man and one woman. Each crew is married to their crewmate for the Mars missions. The mission on our own moon is all men.”
Kang continued thinking things over. Finally he asked the two questions that were most obvious, the first was, “Why Mars?”
Choi smiled, easy answer, “Juche.”
Kang nodded and continued to look thoughtful, then asked the second almost as obvious question, “Why Phobos and Deimos? Why on our moon?”
Choi got up and put his hands behind his back as he walked slowly over towards the windows in his office. He peered out from behind the heavy curtain; the curtain interwoven with electrically charged metallic threads, like the ones running through the walls. His office was, more or less, a Faraday cage. He looked down at the sonic device attached to the windows. It vibrated the glass at a subtle, but high frequency, which prevented laser intercept of their voices vibrating the glass. The room was swept twice a day for listening devices as well. Choi was confident no one was able to hear them.
“We landed on Phobos to provide overwatch. With its rapid orbital period, we are over our surface landing site three times a day. We also get to cover a significant portion of Mars visually and electronically without the higher cost and transparency of putting an actual satellite in orbit. We have placed our people on Deimos to provide a first response in case someone got the idea of sending reinforcements after we take over the colony site. They are armed heavily.”
“Take over … the colony site … the Canadian?”
“Yes.”
“And the astronauts, how long can they survive?”
“Each of the moon Landers carries basic food replacements and water with the same recycling systems used by the Mars colony missions. They can survive without resupply for four years. The surface crew on Mars can survive for six years.” He turned to look at Kang with an intent expression, “Our people are dedicated.”
“When will they come home?”
“Those on Mars most likely won’t.” Choi continued to face young Kang. “They went on a one-way mission. They volunteered for it. They know how it may end. Those on our own moon, well, their return is simple, and can occur at almost any moment’s notice.”
“May end?” Asked Kang a bit incredulously, “Wouldn’t you say it was a certainty?”
“No, I don’t believe it is. I believe there are options. These six on Mars and on Mars’ moons are only the first stage. There are six more in transit to Mars as we speak, and there are more launches being prepared. We have a cadre of future heroes of the People’s Republic in training right now, at secret locations.” Choi paused, and then turned to face the young man about to be given a surprising opportunity, “I believe we have a good plan, and that it will succeed.”
Kang adjusted himself in his seat as the steward came in with a pot of tea. The steward poured a fresh clean cup for each of the men, fixing the Managing Director’s tea the way he liked it, a touch of milk, and three sugars. The old, leather-skinned and well-tanned steward took the few steps to Mr. Choi, and handed the teacup to him with practiced deference. The steward then withdrew from the office, bowing respectfully as he did. Kang could see the bulge of what could only be a handgun, under the back of his jacket, as the old man was bowing.
Choi sat down on the couch along the wall facing his desk. He watched Kang turn his chair around to him with a freshened teacup in his hand. His hand was slightly trembling. He lifted the cup and sipped the hot and sweet tea with focus.
“I have a question for you Kang Hyo-Sang.”
Kang looked at the managing director of the National Aeronautics Development Agency. The old man continued to assess him carefully. The younger man, about to turn forty-eight years old, looked both excited and apprehensive. He set the teacup and saucer on the desk behind him, and gave Choi his full attention, sitting ramrod straight, with his palms flat on the top of his thighs.
Choi proceeded, “Do you want to be part of the most glorious and prestigious endeavour of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea? Do you want to be part of the most ambitious space gambit by any Earth power, acting solely on their own, that has ever taken place? Do you want to be a powerful part of a solar system that bows before the magnificence of Kim Jong-Un? Before you answer, I must warn you: if I proceed with what I am about to tell you, you become part of the inner circle. Once in, you may never leave this inner circle. Ever. If you try to leave this inner circle, well, serious consequences may befall you.”
There was only one kind of serious consequence when it was referenced in that manner. Kang knew it was a serious consequence that ended with a deep hole, and a hollow-cavity lead bullet.
The septuagenarian Choi Je-Ha formalized the question, “Take a few moments to decide Kang Hyo-Sang, but I must have your answer before you leave this room. Do you want in or do you wish to return to your former life?”He stood and looked down at him, “There will be no repercussions and no punishments if you say no. There will also be no second chance to say yes.”
Choi walked over to the small sideboard beside the office door. He set down his teacup and saucer, then stepped back, folding his hands behind his back. He looked up smiling and bright eyed at the portrait of Kim Jong-Un, the Dear Leader of the DPRK.
NADA Mission Control Room #3, Sublevel 6, NADA Headquarters, Pyongyang
The newly appointed Second Assistant Mission Manager, Project 57-3 (Deimos), held the door open for the Managing Director of the National Aeronautics Development Agency. As he stepped through the door, Kang’s neck became a rapidly panning swivel for his head and his wide eyes. He was trying to take in everything at once, but there was just too much to take in.
The large room contained four distinct Mission profiles, each one wedge shaped and pointed to a not-too-small, raised round platform in the centre of the room. The wide ends of the Mission profiles were the four walls of the room. Kang could see telemetries and images that could only be coming from Earth’s moon; and on the adjacent wall, telemetries and images that could only be coming from Mars’ surface. The other two walls showed images and telemetries that had to be coming from Phobos and Deimos; the source being obvious by the sense of motion imparted by the camera’s facing towards Mars. Phobos had a much more rapid transit profile than Deimos, due to its relatively shorter orbital period.
After
leading him up the stairs of the raised platform, Choi Je-Ha took great pleasure, as well as his time, in explaining all that was displayed. He then explained the layout of the room, and gave a detailed overview of all the stations for each of the four missions. It was evident that the managing director took great pride in his own operational knowledge. He patiently answered all of Kang’s questions. Two hours after arriving, Choi lead Kang down the steps from the raised platform and its workstations, to the side of the room specified for Project 57-3 (Deimos).
His new team was alertly on duty, and as they approached, the Mission Manager a few years Kang’s junior turned to look at them. She stood and straightened her tunic, then stepped forward extending her hand to the Managing Director.
“Good afternoon Mr. Choi,” she said in perfectly accented midwest American English. She smiled at his smile, and then bowed slightly.
Mr Choi very easily began speaking in English as well, with a perfect west coast American accent, “Allow me to introduce your new teammate, Second Assistant Mission Manager Kang Hyo-Sang.” He turned slightly to Kang as the two new teammates shook hands, “This is my niece, Hahm Soo-Joon. She is the manager of Mission 57-3, and it is to her that you will report.”
Also in flawless west coast English came his perfunctory but earnest response, “Ms. Hahm, I am honoured to be in your acquaintance, and look forward to working closely with you.”
Looking over his shoulder and then back at the two of them, Choi Je-Ha said with gravitas, “They are about to make contact on our own Moon, I must excuse myself.” He then turned away from them, and hurried around the raised platform to stand underneath it with the Mission Manager for Project 57-4 (Luna).
Kang watched him go with a confused expression. He asked Hahm, “Contact?”
The corner of her mouth started to curve up, “Wow. You really are new. Have you not yet been fully briefed?”
“No. When I accepted the offer, we immediately came down here. It wasn’t part of his explanations after we arrived,” he paused, “I guess I need to play a bit of catch-up.”
