Red Horizon: The Truth of Discovery (Discovery Series Book 2)

by Salvador Mercer

  Chapter 4

  Ceremony

  Arlington National Cemetery

  Arlington, Virginia

  In the near future, Year 2, Day 7

  “Will you be all right?” Sally asked her husband as she walked up to him.

  Richard “Rock” Crandon put his arm around her shoulders and stood in front of the pair of coffins that were laid out in front of them. They had American flags draped over them until the end of the ceremony, and then they were folded and handed to the surviving family members at the conclusion. Most everyone had walked away, and only a trio of workers stood patiently and respectfully nearby, waiting to inter the finely made wooden caskets into the ground when everyone had left.

  “It’s hard is all,” Rock said, struggling to find the words that could convey his emotion at this particular moment in time.

  “Tom was very old,” Sally said, trying to assuage his grief. “It was his time.”

  Rock stood still, his arm holding his wife tightly as the pair, dressed all in black, remained standing at the side of the coffins. One was empty. Captain Jose Sanchez’s body would never be recovered. Instead, his family had put mementos from his life in the casket, and invited the NASA team to do the same. Pins, badges, uniforms, even his favorite toy from his childhood, a replica of an air force fighter jet, were all placed inside.

  The second casket held the body of Tom McClain. Heart failure, the coroner had designated the cause of his death. Tom died at the mockup of the shuttle as he worked to save the crew. There were two fatalities that day, not just the one that was reported on the national news. Tom had few family members, and most of the people there to pay him respect were from NASA.

  The president had awarded the Congressional Space Medal of Honor to Sanchez on behalf of Congress and by recommendation of the NASA Administrator, who happened to be Rock in an acting capacity. Tom wasn’t eligible for the medal as it was reserved only for astronauts, and Tom had never gone into space before. Instead, President Powers had granted Tom the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his deeds that day. This was the highest civilian award that could be given.

  Both men were veterans and were also honored with burial at the National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia. Rock and his crew were allowed to leave Houston and fly to DC in order to attend the ceremony once the Red Horizon had successfully rendezvoused with the space shuttle Polo One, and retrieved the crew. The journey back to Earth would take nearly two weeks in order to conserve fuel, as NASA was going to allow the gravity well of the sun to help pull them back to Earth. That was just one of many problems that they were going to have to solve in the near future.

  “It’s still my responsibility,” Rock said softly, not taking his eyes off the two caskets that lay silently on their supports, awaiting one final act.

  “What was that?” Sally asked, turning her head to look at him.

  Rock sighed a moment and looked back at her. Her light blue eyes seemed to have lost none of their luster after the three decades of marriage that they had shared together. Her wrinkles made her look more beautiful to him in his mind. She smiled at him, and it gave him comfort, and he understood exactly why he loved her so much. “You know I love you?”

  She squeezed him around his waist as well and laid her head on his shoulder. “I do, and I love you very much.”

  Rock allowed themselves another moment in silence before speaking again. “You ready to go?”

  “Yes, though I daresay the president is waiting for you. I never thought I’d see a day when that would happen.”

  “She’s got class, that’s for sure,” Rock said, referring to the president of the United States.

  “I think she’s rather fond of you,” Sally said, eliciting a look from Rock as he turned his head down at her, and she in turn brought her head back up to look at him.

  “You’re starting to sound like Tom now,” Rock said.

  “Then that would be a good way of honoring his memory,” Sally said. “Did you know he was as close as he was to Astronaut Sanchez?”

  “No,” Rock began, looking back at the coffins. “Jack had to tell me, and I felt as if I should have known.”

  “Lisa told me he treated the young man as if he were his own son,” Sally said. “She also said that he did a lot to get the young man into the space program.”

  “I heard,” Rock said.

  “I think losing someone like that was just too much for Tom to bear. His heart simply gave out.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll never know for sure, but I do know that we lost two good people that day, and we’ve set the mission in jeopardy now.”

  “That’s not your fault, Richard. You need to let that go.”

  Rock looked at his wife, who gave him one of those expressions that told him in no terms he was going to heed her advice . . . or else. He tried to chuckle at her, but his affect was flat, and all he could muster was a snort of some sort. “Fine, I’ll move forward, then, and let this go . . . eventually.”

  “Was it confirmed about the small meteors?” she asked him.

  Rock nodded. “The micro-meteorites were the cause of the multiple failures. It’s actually a miracle that they didn’t hit anything more vital than they did.”

  “I heard the news saying that they did hit vital areas, several in fact,” Sally said, tilting her head slightly as she waited for Rock to clarify.

  “Well, they did hit some vital areas, but we either had backups or the hits were not catastrophic in nature. The entire ship could have decompressed, for example, had something blown the hull out against the crew compartments. Also, they could have hit the main oxygen tank as well as the carbon scrubbers, and that would have spelled the end of all of them.

  “How so?” she asked.

  “The Red Horizon would have reached the ship only to find the entire crew dead from asphyxiation.”

  “Oh dear, that is serious,” Sally said. “Such bravery, though . . .” She let the words trail off.

  “Yes, that was a courageous sacrifice. Let’s hope we don’t have to experience another. Good-bye, Captain Sanchez. Good-bye, Tom,” Rock said softly, gazing for one last time at their caskets. “Let’s go.”

  Sally nodded. “What will you do now?”

  The pair turned their backs and walked to the waiting presidential limousine. “Now I have to give the president some bad news.”

  *****

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  In the near future, Year 2, Day 7

  The trip didn’t take them long. They simply had to cross the Potomac River and travel past the Lincoln Memorial to the White House. A specially modified Boeing 787 from the State Department stood on loan, waiting for them at Andrews Air Force Base. They would return immediately after their meeting to Houston to oversee the necessary modifications to their operational plans for the mission to Mars.

  Rock went through the usual security and found himself in a secondary lobby, waiting for the main conference room doors to open, allowing them to all be seated. Sally remained behind a second security screened area for them to return. A familiar face walked up to him.

  “Mr. Crandon, I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you very much, Mr. Smith.” Rock took and shook the other man’s hand.

  “How’s your team holding up?” the NSA man asked.

  Rock released the other man’s hand and took a moment to set his briefcase down, leaning it against his leg as he used both hands to straighten his tie. “They’re doing as well as can be expected.”

  “Good to hear,” Mr. Smith said, getting right down to business. “I’ve had a chance to read your report and subsequent recommendations, and I have to say I’m a bit appalled at the idea that we have to give up our advantage so quickly.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Rock said, finishing with his tie and picking up his briefcase.

  “Don’t you think we could rethink the timeline a bit, perhaps get some additional fue
l sent out to the ship in route in order to maintain our original schedule?”

  “Well,” Rock began, “we could if you have a different mathematician in mind who can alter the flight parameters as well as change a few laws of physics . . .”

  Mr. Smith gave him that frown that he was accustomed to receiving. “I’m serious, Mr. Crandon. We can’t go in there and tell the president that we’ve lost every advantage we’ve worked for the last four years.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to tell her.”

  There wasn’t a chance to answer as the doors opened and an aide called those waiting to enter and be seated. As was the last time he was here, he looked for his name and found it quickly, happy to see that he wasn’t seated next to Mr. Smith, though that didn’t stop the man from making one last remark as they were being seated. “We need to discuss this.”

  Rock simply nodded and laid his case at the side of his chair, looking around the room as several people entered from multiple doors. He smiled for the first time that week when he saw Marge come in and walk over to his side. “Sorry, we got lost,” Rock said, standing again to get her seat and then noticing her frown.

  She was looking at the chair to his side and then the other one. To Rock’s left, it said Jack Conners, but where she was about to sit, it said Admiral John Nicholson. “That’s odd.”

  Rock watched as Marge picked the admiral’s name card up and walked slowly around the table with it till she stood next to Mr. Smith. Looking down at his side, she grabbed the name card there, replacing it with the one in her hand, and then walked back over, setting it down next to Rock, and sat down.

  Rock looked at the name card. It said Dr. Marjorie Jones. “I thought they placed us where they wanted us,” Rock said.

  “They do,” Marge said, shrugging, “but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit next to Mr. Smith for an hour. The admiral can adjust.”

  Rock smiled at her and sat back down, pulling his seat up to the table. He waved at Jack and Lisa as the pair entered another door and came over to be seated, Jack next to Rock and Lisa next to Jack. “Where’d you run off to?” Jack asked him.

  “I’m sorry,” Rock said. “I took a bit longer back there to pay my respects, and we got separated.”

  “You’re telling me,” Jack said. “We sat down thinking we’d wait for you, and the damn driver took off like a bat out of hell.”

  “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop when we asked him to,” Lisa chimed in.

  Marge nodded as Rock looked back and forth at his staff. “We asked him to go back, but he refused. National Security, he said.”

  “Well, again, I’m sorry I indulged myself back there, but I figured we’d meet up here soon enough,” Rock said.

  “I’m glad it was in time to fix our seating arrangements,” Marge said, smiling at someone who stood for a moment behind Rock. Rock craned his neck to see a navy officer looking at the table opposite the president’s seat. “You may want to look a bit further down there,” Marge said, gracing the man with a smile and letting her hair whip around her neck as she gestured with her head.

  The man walked further down, and Marge chuckled slightly. It was finally a bit of easing after the funerals, from what Rock could tell. “You all holding up all right?” he asked.

  “We’re fine, Richard,” Lisa said. “We’re eager to get back and see this through.”

  “Good. I’m glad the president agreed to meet with all of us this time,” Rock said.

  “I’m not so sure she had a choice,” Marge noted.

  “She always has a choice,” Jack said. “She’ll do as she damn well pleases.”

  “Well, she agreed this time, so feel free to chime in if you note anything of worth,” Rock said.

  “I’m leaving the technical stuff to you and Marge,” Jack said.

  “All rise. The president of the United States,” an aide said, interrupting their conversation. The entire table stood as Gloria Powers walked into the room and sat at the table.

  “You may all be seated, please,” she began. “I wish to keep this as brief as possible. I understand that we still have a rescue mission underway, though we are past any point of crisis. I did, however, feel it was important for us, not only as the executive branch and the government but as an entire nation, to take the proper time to pay our respects to our fallen heroes.”

  Many around the table nodded in approval at the choice of words she used, and two men said, “Hear, hear.”

  “I’d like to focus on our alternative plans for the primary mission.” With this, she looked directly at Rock. “Mr. Crandon, how is Director Lui doing?”

  Rock was surprised that she’d called on him so quickly, and with a question that she had to know the answer to, but that appeared to be protocol when dealing with politicians, though she was one he was actually rather fond of. “He’s doing well, though he may need to remain hospitalized for another month or two.”

  “And his wife?” she asked.

  “She’s been released, though she is staying close to his side,” Rock said.

  “Be sure to pass on our warmest regards to them when you next see them,” the president said.

  “I will, ma’am,” Rock said.

  “Do you require any further resources in the role as the acting NASA Administrator?”

  Rock shook his head. “No, ma’am. I have everything I need right now.”

  “That’s good to hear,” President Powers said. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to get right to the point with our NASA team here first so that they can return to Houston.”

  She looked around the table and received several nods in the affirmative. Rock looked to his right to see Mr. Smith looking directly at him. The admiral seated next to him seemed to have adjusted, and no one spoke of the seating change implemented by his second-in-command. She should have had a seat next to him, so he wondered why she was seated next to Mr. Smith. He’d have to look into that soon.

  “Who is presenting, then, for NASA?” the aide asked politely.

  “I have a short brief that is simply in the report I filed after the Polo Incident,” Rock started. “You all should have had a chance to see it by now. As you know, the shuttle Polo One, took a direct hit by several micro-meteorites as it transited from lunar orbit back to Earth. The details of the incident are in the report, so I’ll skip right to the recommendation.

  The Red Horizon was immediately dispatched to intercept and rendezvous with Polo One, which survived its brief encounter with the Earth’s atmosphere. Luckily for us, the trajectory of the shuttle was spun outward, away from the sun. This slowed the craft down each subsequent hour as it fought against the sun’s gravity well, in addition to Earth’s. We calculated a six-day intercept at a seventy-degree angle from the Earth-moon axis with a slower return approach to conserve fuel stores.

  “In summary, we’ve spent over fifty percent of our total fuel on the rescue of Polo One, which equates to about sixty percent of our actual fuel requirements. It will take considerable time to replenish the fuel stores on the Red Horizon to acceptable levels in order to begin the Mars mission.”

  President Powers leaned forward and interrupted him. “Can you do it in six weeks?”

  Rock shook his head. “We’ll need closer to ten weeks considering that Polo One is a complete loss. Why do you ask?”

  “Because,” Powers said, “we have intel that leads us to believe that the Chinese and the Russians will begin their trips at that time.”

  Chapter 5

  Russian Roulette

  Vostochny Cosmodrome

  Siberia, Russia

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 7

  Vlad looked through his binoculars at the immense minefield in the far distance. The Red Army had sent two entire divisions to this Cosmodrome, solely tasked with its defense. One armored, the other motorized. The base itself was completely encircled with several large minefields, and the small areas that did not have them were used for both traffic into and out o
f the base and as chokepoints for defense. An incoming invading army would find themselves the target of pre-sighted mortars, ranged artillery, and landing points for an entire battalion of advanced Katushka missiles.

  The tank company he was currently watching was moving into preset bunkered positions that allowed them to shoot at defilade and have more than two meters of reinforced concrete above them for protection from artillery and missiles. Each armored company was accompanied by an infantry company from its sister division, with fully encased firing positions for increased defense.

  The air defense companies were closer to the base, especially the SAM’s, with long-range surface-to-air missiles. The newly created Zsu-57-4 was a variant of the old Zsu-57-2 self-propelled anti-aircraft gun. It was primarily used against attack helicopters and low-level attack fighter craft with the same-sized shell, but enhanced with depleted uranium and four barrels instead of two to increase its rate of fire. Those were deployed with the outer ring of armor for protection.

  “Very impressive, is it not?” Aleksey Gorky said as he entered the observation deck from the rear elevator.

  Vlad turned to face the man, lowering his binoculars. “They have done a lot of work the last year. I did not realize that the closest defense ring was so close to our operations.”

  “You disapprove, boss?”

  Vlad motioned to a table, the very same where he had lunched with the minister years ago. The view was incredible, and the setting sun always made the luscious green of the Siberian forest too beautiful and vibrant at night. The two men sat and looked out over the much closer launch pad.

  “Well,” Vlad began, “I don’t like the idea of our cosmonauts having to abort after takeoff and their chutes taking them into one of those minefields.”

  Alex nodded. “Agreed, but you do know how remote the possibility of that is?”

  “I do, but so are most of our contingency plans. They do, however, add up cumulatively, one with another, so that we are prudent to take in every possible risk and mitigate it.”