by Dale Brown
“But you think Sky Masters can?” Farrell pressed.
“Yes, sir. We have the advanced equipment and we have the know-how,” Brad said firmly. “The plan’s not that complicated, although the execution’s definitely tricky. Basically what we have in mind is this: NASA launches the unmanned Orion crew vehicle aboard a Falcon 9 or some other rocket in that class and has it dock with Eagle Station. Then we send the ESA-built service module up aboard a Falcon Heavy. Once everything’s in orbit, a Sky Masters team will assemble the crew vehicle and service module—and then slot them onto the Falcon Heavy’s second-stage booster.”
He allowed his enthusiasm a little more free rein. “Then NASA’s astronauts come aboard, maneuver away from Eagle Station, and light off that Falcon’s Merlin-1D engine. And, zoom, our guys are on their way to lunar orbit.”
“Do you have the facts and figures to prove this space-based assembly concept of yours is workable?” Farrell asked seriously.
“Yes, sir,” Brad assured him.
“All right, then,” Farrell said in approval. “If your numbers pan out, I’ll get buy-in from the National Security Council and we’ll wrestle NASA into submission. The agency can bitch all it wants, but if necessary, I’ll damn well override them in the national interest.”
He stood up, a move followed by everyone else in the room. “Let’s get going, people. It’s high time we kicked this country’s manned lunar program into high gear.”
Thirty-Two
Morrell Operations Center, Space Launch Complex 37B, Cape Canaveral Space Force Station, Florida
A Few Weeks Later
From her command station, Space Force Colonel Kathleen Locke peered intently at her monitor. Floodlights showed a large orange-and-white rocket connected to a tall mobile gantry out at the launchpad, close to seven miles away. The 236-foot-tall Delta IV Heavy, with its core booster and two equal-sized side boosters, weighed more than eight hundred tons. Clouds of vapor curled away from the rocket, bright white in the lights.
Around her, the operations center’s officers and senior enlisted personnel were equally intent on their own tasks. If anything went haywire with the Delta IV Heavy on its way into orbit, they would trigger its self-destruct systems. Locke mentally crossed her fingers. Her senior commanders had made sure she knew the classified payload aboard that rocket was critically important to America’s national security. If this launch failed, it would take months to prepare a replacement.
Through her headset, she heard a steady stream of reports and announcements from the launch controllers.
“Minus fifteen.”
“Go for ignition.”
On-screen, showers of orange and white sparks started flaring out from under all three boosters.
“Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six—”
“Booster start.”
Jets of orange flame curled out from under the massive rocket, growing rapidly in size and intensity as all three huge engines throttled up to full power—producing more than two million pounds of thrust. Through the operation center’s speakers, a deep, crackling roar echoed across Cape Canaveral’s marshlands. Flocks of birds, stirred out of sleep by the sudden glare of light and thunderous noise, fluttered uneasily up into the air.
“Liftoff!”
Three steel gantry bridges pivoted away. Slowly at first, and then faster, the Delta IV climbed into the Florida night sky, borne aloft on three pillars of blinding fire. Within seconds, the rocket was visible only as a flickering column of flame powering higher and higher as it curved eastward across the Atlantic.
“Core booster going to partial thrust mode. Strap-on boosters look good in full thrust mode,” a controller reported calmly. “Vehicle trajectory looks good. Right down the middle of the range track.” Locke breathed out. Throttling down the center rocket motor was a normal measure to conserve fuel in the main engine. It was also another possible failure point, if the Delta’s automated systems had glitched.
Long-range cameras tracked the rocket as it soared higher into the atmosphere. Nearly four minutes into flight, the same controller said, “Port and starboard boosters are throttling down.”
For a brief second, a haze of pale, orange-tinted light surrounded the distant pinpoint of fire. It vanished as both side booster rockets shut down. Suddenly, two tiny lights sheered away from the speeding Delta IV. Each speck of light was a large 57,000-pound rocket engine and fuel tank now tumbling toward the ocean dozens of miles below. “We have jettison of both strap-on boosters. Core booster is throttling back up to full power.”
Locke heard herself muttering, “Go, baby, go,” under her breath. Embarrassed, she shot a quick glance at her second in command. His lips were moving too, in the same fervent prayer.
Five and a half minutes after launch, she heard, “MECO! Booster engine cutoff. Standing by stage separation.”
Seconds later, they got the confirmation. “We have a good indication of booster separation.” The Delta IV’s second stage and payload were now ninety miles high and nearly five hundred miles downrange from the launchpad. They were traveling at nearly fifteen thousand miles per hour. “Good ignition on the RL-10 engine!” a launch controller crowed. “Payload fairing jettison.”
A few minutes later, Locke and her team were able to confirm that the second-stage booster and its payload were in a stable orbit. While the civilian contractors and younger Space Force personnel exchanged jubilant high fives, she sat quietly, still feeling the tension in her shoulders. Her direct responsibility for the success of this mission might be over, but she knew there were more hurdles left to clear.
The next one came two orbits later.
She was listening in over the circuit to the Space Force Operations Center out at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado. Terse reports flowed through her headset as the Delta’s second-stage RL-10 engine began its next scheduled burn. Minutes ticked by while controllers evaluated their tracking telemetry. Finally, she heard them report: “That was a good burn, Command. And we show booster stage separation. Our Topaz radar reconnaissance satellite is on its way to the moon.”
Now Colonel Locke allowed herself to relax. Once that radar satellite was in lunar orbit, the United States would finally be able to learn just what the Russians and Chinese were doing.
Command Center, Central Military Commission of the People’s Republic of China, Beijing
That Same Time
President Li Jun waited impatiently for his secure connection to Moscow to stabilize. Routing an encrypted video signal through multiple satellites belonging to their two countries was a complicated task. They could have used a direct fiber-optic cable link, part of the ERMC network running from Hong Kong to London. But neither he nor Marshal Leonov was willing to trust their most prized secrets to a line that could be tapped anywhere along the six thousand kilometers between their two capitals.
At last, he saw Leonov’s image appear on his monitor. “You know about this most recent American rocket launch?” he asked.
The Russian nodded. “We’ve tracked it continuously from the moment it left the pad.” He frowned, reading a new report just flashed from his own Space Force. He looked up. “Apparently, it has just completed a successful translunar injection burn.”
“Do you know yet what its payload is?” Li asked pointedly.
“Not yet,” Leonov admitted. “And unfortunately, we won’t be able to acquire any imagery from either of our Okno space surveillance sites before the American spacecraft passes out of range.”
Russia’s two Okno (Window) complexes were networks of powerful telescopes and high-definition, low-light TV cameras. One was located high up in Tajikistan’s Sanglok Mountains. The other, Okno-S, was located on a mountain just north of Vladivostok in Russia’s Far East. At night, but only at night, their instruments were capable of detecting and photographing satellites and other spacecraft up to fifty thousand kilometers above the earth.
Li nodded. “That was undoubtedly deliberat
e, a major factor in Washington’s decision to conduct this launch from Cape Canaveral well past midnight, local time.” Tajikistan was nine hours ahead of Florida, so it was already daylight there by the time the American spacecraft’s initial orbit took it over the Russian surveillance site. The same applied to Okno-S, which was fourteen hours ahead. A thin, humorless smile crossed his narrow face. “Fortunately, we are not entirely dependent on technology for answers in this case.”
“You mean your spies penetrated U.S. security around this launch,” Leonov said bluntly.
“Correct,” Li agreed. “Which is how I know that the Americans just sent a modified Topaz radar satellite toward the moon.”
Leonov’s eyes narrowed. “Modified in what way?”
“Apparently, they’ve increased the power and fuel supply of its thrusters and engine, enabling them to place that satellite in lunar orbit.”
The Russian scowled. “How long have you known what the Americans were planning?”
Li shrugged. “For several days.”
“And you said nothing to us?”
The Chinese leader smiled dryly again. “Not all space launches succeed. There was a possibility the Delta IV rocket would either explode on liftoff or fail to place its payload in a stable orbit. So it seemed . . . unnecessary . . . to pass this information to you before now.” Left unspoken was his natural aversion to revealing anything that might compromise the Ministry of State Security’s espionage networks inside the United States. Or elsewhere, for that matter. China’s current alliance with Russia was based on shared strategic goals. But it did not necessarily reflect a permanent alignment with Moscow. From the sour look on Leonov’s face, he knew the other man clearly understood both his reasoning and his motivations.
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the Russian evidently decided to let the issue drop. They now faced a more immediate threat. If there were any silver lining to this black cloud, it was the fact that Korolev Base’s primary weapon was already operational. “Based on its current trajectory, this American spy satellite will reach orbit around the moon in just fifty-six hours.”
“Yes, that matches General Chen’s assessment of the data,” Li said.
“And once that happens, the Americans will learn that we’ve established a permanent lunar base. More important still, they will know exactly what we are doing there.” Leonov’s gaze hardened. “Now we know why Washington was in such a hurry to deploy its own secure communications relay to the L2 point. Unless we act to prevent it, every radar image obtained by that Topaz satellite’s sensors could be in President Farrell’s hands within minutes.”
Li looked back at him. “That would be unfortunate.” His own eyes were cold. “I suggest that you send the necessary orders to your own satellite at the Lagrange point. And to Colonels Tian and Lavrentyev at Korolev Base.”
Leonov nodded. He lifted a secure phone and then paused. “You understand that our actions will inevitably escalate the situation? No matter how the Americans first interpret the results?”
“Do you fear an uncontrollable escalation?” the Chinese leader asked calmly. For his part, he doubted the Americans would overreact. They were squeamish about suffering large-scale casualties.
After more thought, Leonov shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He pondered the possibilities for another moment. “However, we do have two more space missions scheduled to launch shortly.”
Li frowned. One of those missions was another combined Federation-Chang’e flight intended to land two more crewmen at Korolev Base. The other would send a fourth Mă Luó automated cargo lander to the moon with additional supplies and equipment. “Are you afraid the Americans will attack them?”
“Not really,” Leonov assured him. “In the short term, President Farrell’s retaliatory options are extremely limited.” He spread his hands. “Over time, though, it becomes somewhat more difficult to anticipate how he might react, either using his own forces or those of his mercenaries.”
“Scion and Sky Masters,” Li said tightly.
“Just so,” Leonov agreed. “Even now, the Americans appear to be trying to assemble a manned lunar mission in orbit, using one of their Orion crew vehicles. In the circumstances, we should not assume this will be a peaceful, unarmed flight.”
Li nodded. China’s own ground-based telescopes and satellites were closely monitoring the recent surge of space activity around America’s Eagle Station. At first, Chen Haifeng’s Strategic Support Force analysts had pegged the arrival of an Orion crew vehicle at the space station as a routine test flight. Now, with a European-built support module and Falcon second-stage booster also circling the earth near Eagle, the intended American plan was clearer.
“That’s why I think it would be wise to modify the payload planned for our next cargo lander mission. Merely as a precaution, of course,” Leonov continued.
Li stared at him in confusion. “Modify the payload? In what way?”
“My best scientists and engineers have been working very hard to adapt some of our most advanced weapons systems for use on the lunar surface,” Leonov said coolly. “They have succeeded. And just in time to reinforce Korolev’s defenses—against any possible attack.”
As the Russian explained more fully what he meant, Li felt his eyes widen. He’d surprised the other man earlier by suddenly revealing the intelligence about America’s Topaz radar satellite. Now it was Leonov’s turn to remind him that Russia could play the same game.
Thirty-Three
Kondor-L Satellite, in Halo Orbit Around the Earth-Moon Lagrange Point 2
A Short Time Later
Four hundred and fifty thousand kilometers from Earth, Russia’s Kondor-L satellite slid silently through space along its orbit around the invisible Lagrange point—held in its course by the combined gravitational forces of the earth, moon, and sun all interacting with each other. Its hexagonal radar dish was angled toward the moon. A thin metal strut connected the radar dish to the core satellite, which was a rectangular box studded with antennas, infrared sensors, small thrusters, and the nozzle of a somewhat larger orbit-correction motor. Two solar panels extended off the main body, providing electricity to power its S-band radar and other systems. From time to time, the Kondor’s tiny attitude control thrusters fired in sequence, rotating the satellite to keep the dish properly aligned.
Now, obeying instructions radioed from Moscow, a tiny spacecraft—less than a meter long and only centimeters in diameter—detached from the larger radar reconnaissance satellite and drifted away. Coated in jet-black radar-absorbent materials, this small stealth vehicle, called the Chenaya Osa or Black Wasp by its creators, was effectively undetectable by any U.S. ground- or space-based sensors.
Aboard the tiny craft, relays closed. Its battery-powered ion thrusters lit up. They glowed a faint blue as the positively charged ions stripped out of a xenon gas plasma were hurled outward into space. Compared to chemical rockets, the thrust provided by this form of electric propulsion was minute . . . but the speed it imparted built steadily over time.
Gradually, minute by minute and hour by hour, the Black Wasp accelerated. It curved away from the Kondor-L along a transfer orbit. In time, its track would intersect that of the much larger American AEHF-7 communications satellite as it looped around the same Lagrange point.
U.S. Space Force Operations Center, Peterson Air Force Base, Colorado Springs, Colorado
Fifty-Plus Hours Later
Subdued, blue-tinged overhead lighting gave the Space Force Operations Center a deceptively calm and peaceful atmosphere. Stepped tiers of computer stations were manned by officers and enlisted personnel wearing flight suits and communications headsets. Along the forward wall, displays showed the current positions of Eagle Station and two S-29B Shadow spaceplanes in Earth orbit. A large center screen showed the current status of the Space Force’s first lunar reconnaissance mission.
From an open observation platform looking down into the dimly lit room, Patrick McLan
ahan watched the icon representing the Topaz-M radar surveillance satellite move steadily along the curving path it had been following for more than two days—ever since the Delta IV sent it winging toward the moon’s predicted position at more than twenty-four thousand miles per hour. All through that time, it had slowed steadily as the earth’s gravity exerted its pull.
Now, more than fifty-five hours into its flight, the Topaz-M’s speed was down to just a little over two thousand miles per hour. But its velocity was already starting to increase again, because the satellite had crossed into the influence of the moon’s own gravitational field. As planned, it was falling toward the lunar surface. A circle not far ahead along its projected track was marked LOI, for Lunar Orbit Insertion—indicating the position at which the Topaz-M would fire its own engine for the first time, making a short burn intended to put the reconnaissance satellite into a stable orbit around the moon.
Patrick glanced at the three men standing next to him at the railing. Eager to get their first real look at what the Chinese and Russians were doing around the other side of the moon, both President Farrell and Kevin Martindale had come out to Colorado Springs in person. The third man, General Richard Kelleher, was the Space Force’s recently appointed chief of staff. As far as the media knew, the president was simply here to inspect the new Space Force field headquarters and other facilities. The Topaz-M mission was still a closely held secret.
Kelleher was short and fit, with close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. Before taking charge of the Space Force, he’d already held most of the U.S. Air Force’s space-related commands. Although Patrick didn’t know him personally, mutual friends had assured him that he was a good pick—“smart and tough enough to handle the job, and ornery enough to kick Pentagon bureaucratic ass when necessary.”
Right now, Kelleher was on a phone, getting a status report from Brigadier General Rosenthal, the senior officer on duty in the ops center itself. “Thanks, Jill,” he said. “I’ll pass the word on.” He hung up and turned to Patrick and the others. “So far, all the telemetry looks good. The Topaz’s com antennas are already slaved to our L2 AEHF relay, so we’ll be in constant touch with that satellite even when it swings around the far side of the moon.”
