Enigma

by Terrance Mulloy

  “I understand. And again, apologies for the methods that were employed. But I’m sure you can appreciate our need to keep the location of this facility a secret. Aside from Air Force, there are quite a few vested parties currently involved here.”

  “Involved in what exactly, sir?”

  “We’ll get to that. Now, I understand you’re quite the rising star at LAAFB.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, sir. My role is quite modest.”

  “You’re assisting with their Superiority Systems Directorate, is that correct?

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you enjoy it there?”

  Lucas nodded earnestly. “Very much. Being part of Air Force Space Command - it’s an exciting area to be working in.”

  “I agree. And what would you say your primary role over there is?”

  “Well, aside from developing and equipping unrivaled offensive and defensive counterspace, situational awareness, and special access capabilities required to maintain space superiority, we also sustain space-enabled global communications - in support of POTUS, Sec-Def, and all our combat forces.”

  The tiniest hint of a smile curled around Coleman’s lips. It was a well-scripted response. He knew it well.

  “I believe you were a fighter pilot before this?”

  Lucas visibly bristled upon hearing that question. “I also flew a range of orbital test craft - both at Edwards and Wright-Patterson.”

  “You enjoy flying into space?”

  “I do miss it. Quite a lot.”

  “Then why are you flying a desk now?”

  Lucas couldn’t help but be taken back by Coleman’s frankness. This was a topic that was still very raw to him. At that moment, he realized just how woefully unprepared he was for this inquisition.

  “I— I guess it had something to do with not having The Right Stuff .”

  Coleman’s heavy-set brow creased as he mulled over Lucas’ answer. “What if I could get you back up there?”

  There was a stunned beat from Lucas. This, he was not expecting. “Sir… I— as a test pilot?”

  “Pilot on a real mission. You, and the five personnel you traveled herewith. You’d be reinstated and promoted to the rank of Captain, under the direct orders of TEN-CAP.”

  Lucas stared blankly at Coleman without blinking.

  “Tactical Exploration of National Capabilities.”

  “Sorry, I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Most people haven’t. And that’s by design. It’s a covert arm of U.S. Space Command. We send operatives on highly clandestine missions into space.”

  “Ah… what kind of missions?”

  “The kind with no Congressional oversight. Real black ops.” Coleman leaned back into his chair, allowing Lucas a few moments to take it all in. Then, he continued to probe. “Your file says you’re not married.”

  “Divorced.”

  “Kids?”

  None… Um, sir, I haven’t flown in over a year. You want to send me back up there?”

  “Actually, we want to send you to the Moon and back.”

  Lucas continued to stare with disbelief. He was now starting to think this could all be some kind of highly elaborate prank.

  “You’d be brought up to speed piloting a new version of the XF-500. Slightly modified, of course. But the core dynamics would remain intact.”

  “I’ve never been further out than Earth’s orbit.”

  “You do understand astrodynamics, hyperbolic trajectories, and celestial mechanics, correct?”

  “Of course… but… my last test flight… this must be a mistake.”

  “Lieutenant, I know what transpired during your last test flight, but there’s been no mistake. I can assure you; your flight record has been scrutinized more than any other candidate for this mission.”

  “There must be dozens of other pilots better suited for this.”

  “If there were, you wouldn’t be sitting here. Those other pilots don’t understand how this aircraft flies under duress. You know its flaws and its mechanics. You’ve clocked more flight hours with this prototype than any other pilot we have.”

  Lucas worked his jaw. His mind raced with a thousand questions. Most of them bad.

  “I’m not ordering you to do this. You must volunteer for this mission. So, think very hard before you respond.”

  But Lucas already knew his answer. “Sir, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I don’t think I can.”

  Coleman immediately stood and gave Lucas a taut nod. “Thank you for your time, Lieutenant Hernandez. I’ll get you on the next available bird back to LA within the hour.”

  Lucas watched Coleman gather his things and head for the door. “Sir.”

  Upon reaching the door, Coleman turned around to face Lucas. “What is it, son?”

  “You never said what the actual mission is. Why the Moon?”

  “I can’t tell you that. Not unless you agree to be a part of it.”

  Lucas swallowed the lump in his throat. He could not deny the seductive lure of a second chance. It was being offered to him in a way he never thought possible. He was a pilot, and he wanted his wings back.

  Chapter Four

  L ucas, and the six crew members from the transport bus, were all seated inside a sparse amphitheater-styled room with a large screen dominating the front of it. Everyone now wore teal-blue jumpsuits.

  One of Lucas’ teammates, Vihaan Chakma, leaned over and extended his hand with an overly friendly smile. Chakma was a twenty-nine-year-old systems engineer and designer. Born in Mumbai, he migrated to America with his family when he was a toddler, growing up near Chicago’s Devon Avenue. “Hi. Vihaan Chakma. Computer genius.”

  Lucas turned to face him, unable to tell whether Chakma was joking or serious. By the look on his face, it seemed to be the latter. Lucas shook his hand. “Lucas Hernandez. Pilot for hire.”

  “Oh, you fly spaceships. Very cool. Helluva job description.” Chakma leaned in closer with a mischievous grin. “Dude, bet you’re drowning in tits and ass,” he said with a low voice.

  Lucas scoffed. Clearly, this guy was the joker of the group. “Computer genius, huh? That your official title?”

  “May as well be. Technically I’m a SAT-COM systems integrity officer. I design interfaces and AI systems for our defense satellites.”

  Lucas nodded with approval. “Nice.”

  “Thanks. So, any idea what this little upcoming Moonwalk is all about?”

  “I’m guessing it’s bad, otherwise they wouldn’t have brought us here.”

  “Right. By brought , you mean drugged, thrown onto a school bus, and driven out into the middle of the fucking desert by a bunch of guys who look like mercenaries.”

  Lucas chuckled and shook his head. “Exactly.’

  “Then why did you volunteer for this?”

  “Same reason you did, pal. Intrigue and adventure.”

  Chakma grinned and leaned back into his seat. He was starting to like Lucas already.

  Lucas glanced over to his other team members.

  Four of them were chatting softly among themselves.

  Lucas then turned to the lone, thirty-seven-year-old woman sitting two seats up from him. Her name was Mia Perez. He raised his eyebrows and gave a friendly nod.

  She returned it, then looked away.

  Suddenly, all eyes turned to the front of the room as Coleman and three other USAF Generals entered. “Thank you all for being here today. Each one of you is considered the brightest in your respective field - therefore, we believe you are the best candidates to carry out this critical mission.” Coleman took a moment to scan the room. “Time is of the essence here, so I’ll go right ahead and jump in.”

  Lights went dark and the screen came to life. The Generals accompanying Coleman took their seats, waiting for the briefing to start.

  Coleman turned to the screen as blueprint schematics for Lunar Base One appeared. “As you are all aware, an array of U.S. defense and intelligen
ce agencies have begun constructing a fully manned outpost on the far side of the Moon. The purpose of this facility would be to provide us with intel gathering, SAT and ICBM monitoring, and eventually nuclear launch capabilities, if, heaven forbid, it was ever necessary.” Coleman waved his hand and the more blueprints began to wipe across the screen. “Last Monday at 1300 Pacific Standard Time, we suddenly lost all communications with the construction site and its crew. Shortly after they went dark, their own orbital SAT went down. Loss of signal. Completely dead.”

  Coleman gave the room a moment to absorb that. A few murmurs broke out.

  Lucas gingerly raised his hand.

  Coleman acknowledged it, already knowing the question that was about to be asked. “Captain Hernandez.”

  “Sir, are we talking sabotage here?”

  “Possibly. There’s been some contention from foreign multinationals over this base, and their eagerness to mine the Moon.”

  “There’s a lot of prospecting opportunities up there. Surely these companies know there’s more than enough cheddar to go around.”

  “We can’t rule anything out. Aside from our own interests, there’s a lot of competition from other nations to establish a permanent military presence up there. They’re all scrambling to claim territory.” Coleman waved his hand again and new imagery appeared.

  It was surveillance footage of the Lunar One base. It looked eerily deserted - like the ancient ruins of some forgotten colony.

  “We re-routed one of our satellites to do a fly-by, and as you can see from this image, there’s no visible damage. It appears that all their primary systems are still online, but nobody’s home. It’s as if the entire crew just vanished.” Coleman paused again, giving himself enough time to frame his next words carefully. “Your mission is to fly there, land on-site, assess the situation, and search for any survivors. This is the greatest military construction project in the history of our nation. It has already cost over one trillion dollars. That’s not including additional contributions from our private contractors. We need to know what happened to that crew. But more importantly, we need to know if this was an act of aggression against the United States. We may already be at war.”

  While the Generals traded nervous looks among themselves, Lucas and his team sat there in silence, chewing over the dire implications.

  Chapter Five

  I n the base’s chow hall, Lucas took a seat at a small communal table and placed his food tray down. He was nestled between Chakma and Olivia Kwong - a smart and tough, thirty-four-year-old Chinese American. Her and Chakma were already in the middle of a fierce debate about what happened to the missing crew.

  “…Space is a tough gig,” Chakma said. “Plenty of reasons why a disgruntled crew member might want to sabotage O2 supplies or breach the airlocks.”

  “It’s Coleman’s job to think the worst,” Kwong replied. “Maybe it was a ruptured tank. Maybe a wiring malfunction shorted the air filters. Could have even been some corrupted code that screwed up their climate control.”

  Another team member, a thirty-six-year-old African American named Amos Adams, looked up from his food. He was an ex-Seal turned Engineer, and built like a Bradley tank. Lotta brawn, but mostly brains. The salt-and-pepper goatee did little to lessen his menacing build. “Sorry, I don’t buy any of that.”

  Kwong looked over at him and shrugged while chewing a mouthful of food. “Just theories.”

  Adams snickered. “You wanna know my theory? That base was sabotaged. Big time.”

  Lucas chimed in. “By who?”

  “Take your pick,” said Adams. “There’s no shortage of foreign governments who hate us. Even some of our so-called allies.”

  Kwong blew out a tired sighed. “Well, if they did do something to expose themselves, it’ll be obvious the moment we arrive.” Kwong looked over at Lucas, as if just suddenly being aware of his presence. She leaned over and extended her hand. The look on her face was all business. “Olivia Kwong. Radar tracking.”

  Before Lucas had a chance to respond, Chakma intervened. “And, might I also add, one of the few women to ever hold the Army’s coveted Ranger Marine badge. Jesus, don’t be so damn modest, Kwong.”

  Lucas smiled warmly at Kwong, reached over and shook her hand. “Lucas Hernandez. That true?”

  Kwong gave a small nod without looking up. She wasn’t a fan of tooting her own trumpet.

  “Nice.” Lucas took a mouthful of food and spotted Jamie Mitchell eying him from across the table. This guy hadn’t spoken a single word to Lucas yet. But the look on his face said everything.

  Mitchell was a cocky former Marine who ended up in the private security sector. A heatseeker from Arkansas who did not have time for idle chit-chat. There was a mission to be had. “Guess you’re the hotshot who’s going to fly us up there, huh?” he said in a blatantly dismissive tone.

  Perez looked up from her food and snorted. “Mitchell, only people who aren’t pilots call pilots hotshots .”

  Mitchell’s stony gaze pivoted to Perez. “Oh, you mean just like people who aren’t actually real soldiers, call U.N Peacekeepers real soldiers?”

  “Just trying to make a difference,” Perez retorted. “The fuck you ever do?”

  Mitchell extended his forearm across the table to reveal a tattoo of his former Marine regiment. It was a skull and crossbones entwined around an Eagle clutching a wreath. “Plenty.”

  Perez went back to her food. “Duly noted. But I doubt giving your hick brother a handjob also counts.’

  Kwong, Chakma, and Adams burst out laughing. Perez just slew him.

  A shit-eating grin etched into Mitchell’s chiseled jaw as he glared. “Keep runnin’ that mouth of yours, Perez.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I will.”

  Mitchell glanced at Lucas before going back to his food. “You never answered me. Are you a pilot or not?”

  “Very much. I’m also mission commander.” He made sure Mitchell saw him looking at him when he said that. He’d met cocksure operators like him before, and if Mitchell was going to potentially become a problem, this might serve as an indirect warning.

  But Mitchell simply shrugged and went back to his food.

  “Hey, you flew a bunch of test aircraft at Edwards, right?” Adams said to Lucas.

  “Yeah, how’d you know that?”

  “I’ve got a buddy over there. Pretty sure he mentioned you by name once. Said your call sign was Kangaroo .”

  Lucas couldn’t help but groan with embarrassment. “Yeah, long story. Maybe I’ll share it one day.”

  But Chakma wasn’t having any of that. “Come on, man. I’m flying to the Moon. I can’t go up there without knowing why they called you that.”

  Lucas blew out a defeated sigh. “It’s really kinda stupid.”

  “Dude,” Chakma said firmly.

  “OK… well, I was on detail a few years ago in Tyndal, Australia. We were testing these new F-45s. Electromagnetic propulsion, dielectric optics, real crazy stuff. Anyway, I hit a Kangaroo at eight-thousand feet with a pulse-bomb.”

  Chakma burst out laughing. Adams reached over the pounded fists with Lucas. Ice, officially broken. “Boom! There you go, Skippy.”

  Kwong looked at Perez, baffled at the sudden outburst of masculine comradery. How was that funny?

  Lucas caught Perez looking at him with a smirk. ”Impressive.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just make sure you don’t pull any of that stupid dude-bro shit when we’re hundreds of thousands of miles from Earth.”

  “Not planning on it.”

  “Good.” After an awkward moment, Perez looked back up at him with a grin. “Eight-thousand-feet?”

  Chapter Six

  W hite-hot stars burned against the blackness of space as a tiny chip of technology screamed silently through the void, headed towards the Moon. The XF-500 was surprisingly small considering its flight capabilities. Nevertheless, it was aerodynamically impressive on every level; delta-shaped,
with a sleek bank of rear thrusters.

  Inside the cramped cockpit, Lucas and his crew were strapped into their jump-chairs. They each wore high-tech spacesuits that appeared to be woven to their bodies. Various digital and telemetry readouts were reflected on the inside of their helmet visors. Upfront in the console, Lucas piloted the craft, keeping a close eye on his holographic instrument array and trajectory models. Behind him, sat Kwong, Mitchell, Perez, Chakma, and Adams.

  Outside, the dead, luminous sphere of the Moon filled their primary viewpoint. It loomed large, almost close enough to reach out and touch. In a few moments, it would be.

  The ship began to slow, orienting for its descent. It banked into a graceful orbit, the glow of its thrusters softening.

  Lucas kept his hand firmly on the stick as the ship shuddered. “Starting orbital insertion maneuver. Now descending. Altitude, three-hundred-and-seventy miles.”

  Kwong studied the altitude display on an overhead screen, relaxed with the confidence of a woman who had never failed at anything.

  Through his visor, Adams could be seen grinning ear-to-ear. He was loving this.

  Perez watched the lunar surface rushing up to meet them. She couldn’t help but gulp nervously.

  Chakma and Mitchell were also staring ahead in quiet awe. At this altitude, the lunar surface was nothing short of magnificent. Ancient. Barren. Completely alone.

  The ship crested the curvature of the Moon’s horizon, plunging into darkness as it swung around to the far side. Despite the lack of sunlight, some lunar features were visible. There were endless clusters of craters, some the size of cities, mixed with fractured massifs and basins. The scarred geography bore silent witness to billions of years of cosmic violence.

  Lucas turned his attention to an alarm pinging on his instrument console. The ship was starting to drift slightly off their designated trajectory.

  Perez spotted something new on the overhead screen. “There it is,” she said, barely above a whisper. As Lucas began righting the ship, the rest of the crew averted their gaze to the display above.