“I’m just saying what Tom would say if he was here.” Jack looked from Marge to Rock.
“That he doesn’t trust the Ruskies,” Rock said.
“Exactly,” Jack responded.
“I’d agree, but science is science and facts are not disputable,” Rock said.
“As long as the facts are accurate,” Jack countered.
“Let’s hope for our sake that they are. If things go as planned, even with the best-case scenario for both of them, we should have a few days to do what we need to do without fear of them attacking us, nuking the alien site, or trying to pirate our ship.”
“That’s where we’ll find out how good Major Carter’s men are,” Jack said.
“Again, let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that.” Rock looked at both his staff with a serious expression on his face. He wasn’t making light of the fact that anything could happen up there.
“Ah, Lisa is motioning for you, boss,” Jack said.
Rock looked down to where Jack was looking and saw Lisa sitting quietly, motioning with her hand as discretely as she could for Rock to come over to her console. Rock was about to take his first step there when Smith verbally called him from the doorway. “Mister Crandon, a moment, please.”
Rock looked at Marge and motioned with his head toward Lisa. Marge got the message and nodded, walking to Lisa’s console, and Rock headed in the opposite direction toward Smith. Jack made one last remark before turning to return to his own console. “Good luck, boss.”
Rock nodded slightly and bent his head down to take the slight steps as he walked up toward the main door to the control center. “What is it?” he asked rather abruptly.
“President would like to speak with you,” Smith said. “You can take the call in your office if you want.”
“I’ll take it in the conference room,” Rock said, heading to the stairs and skipping the elevator. Sally had been getting on him the last year about his widening girth. Age had a way of sneaking up on you.
Moving into the vacant room, the lights came on automatically with the motion sensor picking him up. He hit the speaker phone and dialed the main operator, telling the man he wanted to connect to the White House. The operator was expecting him and patched him through.
“Richard Crandon here,”
“One moment, sir,” came the White House operator, different from his NASA board.
It took closer to three minutes before Rock heard a familiar voice. “Director Crandon?”
“Yes, Madam President.”
“This is the second time I’ve had the pleasure of speaking with you today.”
“I know, Madam President—”
“Enough already with the formalities. It is just you on the other end, correct?”
“Yes,” Rock said.
“Then Gloria will do for now. I’ve also had the pleasure of speaking with your NSA liaison officer not long ago, as he insisted that this was a matter of national security.”
“Aha,” Rock said, grimacing, though he was relieved that this wasn’t a video chat.
“Since I’ve already congratulated you and your team on a successful departure, we’ll skip over the pleasantries and get straight to the point. You heard what your handpicked commander said to the Soviet commander during their flyby?”
“Yes, we were monitoring live, and we took control of the—”
“Yes, yes,” Gloria Powers said, cutting him off for a second time. “So you’re aware of the implications of such an action on her part?”
“I do,” Rock said as shortly as he could to prevent a third interruption.
There was a long pause on the line, and then the president spoke. “Good, let Commander Monroe know that I approve . . . this one time.”
Rock didn’t know what to say. “Ah, yes, Madam President . . . I’ll be sure to convey your . . . ah . . .”
“That will do, Director Crandon. See to it that any future diplomatic interventions are first sanctioned by the executive branch, before NASA implements them. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rock said.
“Wonderful, now keep us posted if there is anything requiring my attention. I’m busy keeping the world at peace for the moment.”
“Understood, ma’am,” Rock said.
“Good-bye, Director Crandon.”
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
The phone went dead, and Rock hit the speaker button, ending the tone that came up after the call disconnect. He sighed audibly and then made a mental note to flag Commander Monroe for etiquette and protocol upon her return.
Instead of returning to the main floor, he walked over to the wall and dimmed the overhead lights and then took a dozen steps to reach the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that overlooked the control center. He watched as Marge and Lisa were discussing something intently while Jack was at his console monitoring the Horizon’s flight. Smith was probably still in the room, but at the very back, directly underneath Rock and not visible from his vantage point.
Rock pulled a chair from the nearby conference table and wheeled it over to the window, taking a seat and looking at the main screen. It showed the relative position of the Red Horizon as it passed within fifteen thousand miles of the Earth-moon Lagrange point one, where the Soviet ship, the Red Star, was orbiting around the small Lagrange point, opposite a Chinese spy satellite.
His thoughts were pulled to the moon operations and the fact that literally nothing was recoverable from the alien site that had been obliterated by the Chinese strategic nuclear weapon. Estimates from their national security team had put the nominal yield of the device at over five megatons. This was only a tenth of the largest yield of any actual tested device, but it was significant because it was one of the highest yields for a rocket-launched platform. Much larger yielding devices would be too large to mount and carry into a lunar intercept trajectory.
The good news was that Smith indicated that this was most likely a prototype and the only device that the Chinese had ready at the time. Rock wasn’t so sure that this would be the case, as four years had passed since they last used it. Security estimates were that the nuclear payloads for the missiles that they had currently attached to their three ships were in the half megaton to one megaton range, most likely due to propellant concerns and mass versus impulse issues of their ships.
He wasn’t sure what the Soviets or the Chinese would do in the next twenty-four hours, but he figured they would find out soon enough. Within a half day, the Horizon would pass the lunar orbital plane, taking humans further into space than at any time before in recorded history. Yeah, Rock had to put that disclaimer in there, because now there was no telling how far a human had actually traveled beyond their own Earth-moon system. All they could say for sure was that this was the first in recorded history.
Rock enjoyed the moment, watching the culmination of many years of work as the ship sped away from Earth. He understood that man was taking its first baby steps so to speak, and while he wouldn’t be around to see it, he could only dream of the day when mankind explored its own backyard and then boldly ventured to one of its nearest neighbors light years away. The shear immensity of space was humbling for the man, and he always struggled to wrap his mind around just how vast the distances of interstellar space were. This trip would be history, and Rock had helped make it happen. He was honored.
He noticed that Marge had looked up and seen him even in the dim light of the conference room. She smiled at him, and Rock felt fortunate to have the chance of working with such a great team of professionals. He would make sure they knew how he felt about them, but first, he had to hurry up and wait in order to realize their dreams, dreams of a red planet and a new horizon for all mankind.
Chapter 19
Gambit
NASA Space Command
Houston, Texas
In the near future, Year 4, Day 128
“Can you say that again?” Doctor Navari asked, turning to face Marge from their small table in the
makeshift medical lab that they were using to simulate cellular activities of affected, genome-sequenced tissue in lab mice.
“I said, I don’t think the rash is actually the chromosomal design, but rather a side effect,” Marge stated, looking up from her microscope that she had focused on a tissue sample of skin from one of the hairless rodents. They had removed the hair in order to observe the skin changes.
“Am I missing something?” Rock asked as he entered the room.
“Nothing special, just the usual,” Marge said, flipping her hair back behind her ear and standing fully upright to greet him.
“Doctor Navari,” Rock said.
“Good morning, Director Crandon,” the man said.
“Rock will do.”
“Of course,” Navari said. “We are making progress, but it’s difficult to extrapolate the intent of the design, assuming that we have even achieved that part somewhat correctly.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t follow you,” Rock said, pulling up a lab stool and seating himself between the two.
“We’re discussing the context of the genome code,” Marge explained. “What it is, why it is, and how it is.”
“To help us understand the purpose of the two anomalies in the code,” Navari said.
Rock understood the doctor was referring to the scales and the possibly obesity abnormalities in the code that they sequenced. “Well, keep at it. We’re a little over halfway to our goal, and any light you can shed on what our crew could expect would be a great help.”
“We will,” Navari said.
“I hope so,” Rock replied. “The mission’s success may hinge in the balance of what find or don’t find.”
*****
People’s Republic Space Command
Beijing, China
In the near future, Year 4, Day 133
It is complicated, was all that Hun could think when preparing himself for the updated brief on their progress since the American ship left Earth orbit and raced toward Mars at an incredible rate of speed. Hun sat outside a room where members of their government, leaders, and their military elite had called for weekly sessions to strategize and plan for the impending intercept at the red planet.
The first casualty of the mission was the Wise Snake. It was cannibalized in order to outfit the other two ships in order to meet the parameters of their newly set mission objectives in light of the change of schedule forced upon them by the Americans. Hun had to split his female crew, one to the Dragon and one to the Tiger, in order to accommodate the new staffing levels for the two ships.
They had transferred two crew pods, and both of the primary fuel tanks, to the Roaring Tiger in order to have four of the six commandoes as well as three crew members onboard their first ship to arrive at Mars. The other two commandoes, along with the three crew members, remained on the Divine Dragon, which had boosted on something close to the American’s flight path, augmented slightly by extra fuel. It would arrive a full week after the Red Horizon. That was the bad news despite the fact that it was going to make the trip a full ten days quicker than originally scheduled.
The good news was that by using their full fuel stores for boost and deceleration upon arrival at Mars, they were able to get the Roaring Tiger to Mars only two days after the Americans. It had taken them a full day to make the necessary changes in configuration to their ships even though all three of them were docked together on specially constructed scaffolding that included the equivalent of a moveable crane in order to move equipment, cabin pods, fuel pods, and the like from one ship to another.
It was hard to define the ship as a ship, for that matter. Each of the three spacecraft were literally like the scaffolding, with strong points and load-bearing braces all along the main axis of the ship. It was like an immense erector set that a child would play with to build larger and bigger constructs. It made the Chinese very nimble with regards to mating a pod to a ship frame, but that didn’t stop the finger pointing.
It was widely criticized that once this new configuration was conceived, that it should have been the initial plan all along. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, and the original plan did not call for two ships to be launched on one-way trajectories. The mission profile for all three nations were to arrive within the Oster Transfer, which would allow from a week to an entire month depending on the departure speed and vector to loiter at the planet before being forced to return or miss the window and be forced to stay on Mars for well over a year and a half after their scheduled mission end date.
Now, the resupply ships that all three nations had prepared were beefed up with supplies to last for the extended mission times in order to keep their crew members alive. All of the ships had left a week and a half later, taking the Hohmann Transfer, which required the least amount of fuel to expend and dictated that the ships would arrive at the eight and one half month mark of the mission start.
This particular transfer was simply a solar, elliptical orbit of the craft where its perihelion, or closest approach to the sun, was at Earth’s orbit where it started. Its aphelion, or furthest point of travel away from the sun, was at Mars’ orbit, which was its intended destination. The key to using this economical orbit was to time the transfer at the same time that the destination planet and orbit of the craft would intersect. Unfortunately, this took eight and a half months, and the return trip to Earth was delayed until the orbits of the two planets aligned again over five hundred days later. This was the predicament that Hun found his mission facing for the time being.
The door opened, and a military attaché called his name. “Director Hun Lee.”
Hun nodded and picked up his briefcase and then walked into the room and sat at the lone table in front of the higher dais bench in front of him in a shallow semi-circle. Over a dozen members of the space oversight committee was seated in front of him, and he took note of the armed guards at both sets of doors. Security was tight. Hun laid his case in front of him, opening it and pulling out a notepad as well as a folder with relevant papers and documents. He hoped he wouldn’t have to pull the other ones out.
He sat in silence for a moment while the committee talked amongst themselves. Hun noted that General Wang sat right next to the chairman and was talking to him, leaning close to his ear while looking sideways directly at Hun. Hun’s mouth went dry, and he reached for an empty plastic cup and a pitcher of water, pouring it and drinking liberally. He had no shame in quenching his thirst and preparing himself to talk.
“The meeting is called to order,” the chairman said. “Director Hun Lee, are you ready to give your status report?”
“Yes, Mister Chairman,” Hun said.
“Director Lee will be giving the basic operational update,” General Wang said. “The military brief will be held by myself in a closed door session.”
Hun thought that was odd, considering the fact that there was no press in the room and no spectators. It was already a closed-door session for all intents and purposes, and the state-run media would report what they were given. Still, that didn’t deter Hun from giving his report.
“Understood, General Wang,” the chairman said. “Proceed, Director Lee.”
Hun cleared his throat and looked longingly for a moment at his nearly empty cup before proceeding. “Nothing much has changed since my last briefing. The few facts that we’ve been able to clarify and confirm may, however, be of note.
“The first is that we spent forty-six percent of our available fuel for the Roaring Tiger in order to boost successfully enough to stay within forty-eight hours of the American ship. The deceleration burn will require approximately the same amount of propellant, leaving our ship with only an eight-percent reserve for altitude adjustments after its initial orbital insertion into the Martian orbit.”
Hun was interrupted by one of the committee members. “Why couldn’t we have used this eight percent to beat the Americans to the planet?”
Hun nodded, expecting the question. “The eight percent seems to be a significant a
mount, but most of our delta . . . I mean, our speed, was acquired by the initial burn of the first half of the fuel. Burning half of the fuel meant only an increase in twelve to twenty-four hours to our arrival time, not enough to make a difference, and the risk of losing the ship with a failure to enter orbit upon arrival was exponentially higher.”
“You’re saying we could have lost the ship?” the member asked.
“Yes, from a virtual one percent now, to over fifty percent, as the entire remaining load of fuel would be required to decelerate enough to enter orbit. Any adjustments to the approach would have doomed the ship and its crew,” Hun said matter-of-factly.
“Go on,” the member said.
“So, the three crew members, and four military staff, have been testing systems and verifying the various components of the ship. The military has trained in the zero g gravity, and despite the constant sickness and disorientation from the short radius of our centrifugal force machine to counter the debilitating effects of zero gravity, we’ve used an anti-nausea drug to satisfactory effect.”
“Does the drug impair the ability of the crew to act at peak performance?” a lady on the committee asked.
“No, ma’am,” Hun said. “The side effects are longer termed, and in the meantime, the drug is only used to counter bone and muscle mass loss. Once we arrive at Mars, we’ll discontinue the use of the drug as we transition into planet-side operations.”
“Which you’ll have a full report after this,” General Wang clarified.
“Then I won’t ask about the status of our nuclear weapons,” one member said.
“Correct. I’ll handle those questions,” General Wang said.
“Moving on,” Hun continued. “The radiation levels have been within normal parameters, and our shielding, though lightweight, has proved to be robust and has done an adequate job of protecting the crew.”
No one asked any questions, and Hun wasn’t going to discuss the extra radiation that the crew would be subjected to with the extended schedule of the mission until he was asked specifically about it. With a nod to proceed by the chairman, Hun continued. “Food supplies are adequate for the mission from arrival to plus twenty-two days, so it is imperative that the Divine Dragon arrive on time in order to resupply the Roaring Tiger.”
Red Horizon: The Truth of Discovery (Discovery Series Book 2) Page 18
