by Jack L Knapp
“You’re sure it came from there?”
Frenchy tried to watch Lina and Chuck. Lina had stopped in mid-tirade; something serious had happened. Chuck’s face was pale.
“I’ll get to the base as soon as I can. Ask Wolfgang to stand by, and see how many pilots are willing to fly a mission. Point out that there’s some risk involved. Bonuses will be authorized. If necessary, I’ll fly the mission myself. I’ve got a problem here to sort out first.” The room was silent; only the soft crackling of the phone as someone continued the call. Finally, Chuck sighed and ended the connection.
“It’s bad, Frenchy. Lina’s here, I need you to make sure the twins are okay. I’ve got to go. It’s Moonbase. The North Koreans launched a missile, one of the new ones they announced two months ago. No question about who fired it, but the tracking radars dirtside lost it. They thought it failed, or maybe went into orbit. It looks as if the breakup they thought they’d spotted was a planned separation of the second stage; the first stage had already dropped away. Anyway, they lost it. The third stage fired an hour later, heading for the moon. The trackers lost it again when it passed behind the moon’s edge. This time, the North Koreans weren’t bluffing. They had a hydrogen warhead, and it blew up over Moonbase. The crew that was working on Disco is gone. Panatela was inbound from Mars and spotted the flash, so she diverted and took a look at Moonbase, or what’s left of it. Apparently, the rocket missed, but it was close enough. The crater is less than a kilometer away, but the surface has been scoured clean. Moonbase is gone, so is Axel and his assembly crew. Twenty six men, just wiped out.”
The phone burred again. Chuck frowned and tapped the screen, accepting the call.
“What now?” The faint scratching noises began again. “Where?”
“Okay, tell them not to approach it. Passive scans only. Photos, anything you can get. Abort the survey until we decide what to do. Put a lid on it...” The scratchy noise went on.”
“Lovely, just lovely. I guess it doesn’t matter, it was going to leak anyway. This is too important. I wonder what the dirtside nations are going to do?” The faint noise continued.
“Tell the crew well done. As for blabbermouth, let him know quietly that I’m not happy. But just that, no punishment, okay?”
Chuck ended that call too, but this time the anger had gone.
“Frenchy, I’ll talk to you in a minute. Frisbee found something, just off the edge of the Jupiter Trojan asteroids. I need to call the police. See if you can hire someone to stand watch here, private security. Maybe the police will send someone.”
Frenchy nodded as Chuck punched the screen again. Moments later, he had a police representative on the line. “I need to speak to the officer in charge, please.” Apparently Chuck didn’t get the answer he wanted. “I don’t give a damn what he wants. You get his ass on the fucking phone now, or I’ll call the damned minister in charge. If your man is too busy to talk to me, I’ll keep going until I find someone who isn’t. Or I’ll put my own armed fucking guards outside my wife’s room, you got that?” The voice on the other end sounded alarmed at this; the noises got louder.
“So fucking sue me. Get that asshole on the fucking phone now!”
Another voice took the place of the first. “This is Chuck Sneyd. My wife reported that she was approached by a man with a gun! I’ll have my own security as soon as I can hire some, but I need a police officer at the hospital as soon as possible. Maybe two of them. Armed.”
This time the silence lasted more than a minute while Chuck absorbed what the voice told him.
“No guns? Just a piece of paper? You’re sure?” The quiet scratching noise resumed.
“I’ll still feel better if a police officer can watch the room until I can get my own people. Okay, no guns. But I’ll be having a word with that ambassador!” Chuck ended the connection.
“The two men were employed by the American Embassy. They had a photo deck with pictures of all three of us, Will too. The men don’t have criminal records and they didn’t have guns. They had a note on embassy stationery asking one of us to speak with the ambassador. The man you saw, Lina,” Chuck looked to where Lina listened to this, openmouthed, “was trying to keep the note from getting wet. Give the American Ambassador a call, Frenchy; I’m going to be busy for a while. Oh, and that other call? Frisbee’s crew spotted something. It appeared to be blinking, so they decided to take a closer look. They don’t know what it is, but it’s not natural. It didn’t come from Earth, either. It’s just a big ball that reflects light. It looked like it was blinking because it’s spinning, a complete rotation in about two minutes.”
“Strange. It’s just a spinning ball? Like a big Christmas ornament?”
“That’s the first impression, yes. The other part...I would have had to release the information anyway, but one of the crew was on the radio to Stogie at the time. They chatted about it, and the guy on Stogie transmitted it back to Mars. It wasn’t even encrypted, so as soon as someone on Earth picks up the radio spill, they’ll know. I told our guys not to get close.”
“Sounds good, Chuck. You’ve got your hands full.”
“Yeah, you take care of Lina and the twins. I’ll get back as soon as I can. You talk to the American ambassador, I’m not interested in diplomatic speak at this point.” Chuck turned and left the room.
“He didn’t even stop to kiss me goodbye,” Lina said wonderingly. “Dad, what is he going to do?”
#
“Wolfgang, how many of our pilots signed on for the near-space runs?”
“All but two, Chuck. They’re older men with families. The others,” he shrugged. “They understand that they’ll be drawn in anyway. Countries will need pilots, these guys are the best we could find. They can fly for us or be drafted to fly for someone else. They like flying our birds, and the money doesn’t hurt either.”
“So be it. It’s time to offer them another choice. How soon can you collect everyone who’s not already on a run?”
“They’re in the lounge, Chuck. I think they understood something was up.”
“Let’s go, then.”
The two men walked down the corridor. The low buzz of conversation stopped as they walked in. Chuck picked up a cup and drew coffee, then turned and faced the pilots. All conversation had stopped.
“Our birds will eventually be armed, but it won’t happen overnight. The armament will be defensive, but as for protecting Moonbase, I waited too long. By now you’ve heard. Axel’s crew was working on Disco when that North Korean missile hit. They’re dead.” Chuck paused to let the bald statement soak in.
“It’s time for the bullshit to stop. My people are not targets. From this point on, if anyone attacks NFI, we will strike back. No exceptions. You may be tasked to strike your home country. Think about it carefully before you decide. The best defense is an offense that can’t be stopped, one that I’m willing to use. I need four volunteers for a hazardous mission. If none of you volunteer, I’ll fly it myself. But it will be flown, and if necessary, flown more than once.”
Wolfgang interrupted Chuck. “You won’t fly a mission unless you fire me first. That’s my job. I’ll have volunteers, or I’ll fly the bird. Axel was a friend. I’m going to have to see his wife...did you know he has two little girls?”
“No, I knew he had a family, but I never got to meet them. As for who flies, let’s see who volunteers. Any of you can leave now, no questions asked, no recriminations. But this is the last time. From now on, you’ll take missions as assigned or submit your resignations. No exceptions.” Chuck waited to see who would leave. None of the pilots moved. Finally, one drawled, “We all knew Axel, the guys on his crew too. They worked on our ships before they started building Disco. I want some North Korean ass. If you don’t need all of us, we’ll draw straws.”
Chuck turned away long enough to get his feelings under control. Finally, he turned back.
“Thanks. I won’t forget. Here’s what we’re going to do...”
Chuck went back to
his office to let Wolfgang decide who would fly the missions. A blinking light announced a video-mail, source Frisbee. Chuck tapped the screen, calling up the message.
“Mister Sneyd, I’m Commander Victor Smith. I am the pilot for the Green Shift crew. Blue crew found the object, but my crew collected the data. The screen insert shows what we’ve been able to find out.”
Chuck paused the message and looked at the inset. The object floated against the black of space, most of it hidden. Slowly a glow began, grew stronger, then faded. Above where he’d seen the first image, another glow began. It took him almost a minute before he decided he knew all that a visual image would tell him. Different areas of the object were illuminated at different times. He was able to pick out a triangular depression as the glow began, then another as it faded.
Pressing the screen, Chuck resumed the message. “As ordered, we recorded the image and backed away. The image you’re seeing was taken more than a hundred kilometers from the object. We measured it on radar, and found that our radar image was blinking at the same rate as the visible light image. We processed what you’re watching through our on-board spectroscope; the radar return does this automatically. It’s how we know whether a contact is approaching or receding. We approached the object side-on; we didn’t realize it was moving at first. The object’s image shows the equator. We did not maneuver above or below it, so we don’t know what the axial poles look like.
“We saw no sign of an engine. It may be possible for the object to move under its own power, or it may have been placed here. We don’t know. The exterior is smooth and transparent, we got that much from reflected light coming from Jupiter. We also analyzed light from the sun and compared the spectral signatures with what we got from the object. We found no discernible difference. We therefore conclude that the blinking is reflected light, and that the object is not moving in relation to nearby spatial objects.
“The view into the interior is not clear and we were unable to improve on the definition you see in the insert. One of our men thinks the objects are essentially corner reflectors, intended to bounce energy back to a source. Radars use such a device for calibration, and as I mentioned, some of the reflectors are sized to reflect millimeter-wave radiation. Some reflect visible light, and they are color-specific, within limits. Some reflect in the infrared band, others red-yellow, while slightly smaller ones reflect in the green-blue band. We observed some which were even smaller, but we had no means to check. We think they reflect in the ultraviolet and X-ray bands. Some may respond to gamma rays, but again, we had no test equipment so we couldn’t be sure.
“The object is unlike anything we know of. We conclude it is extraterrestrial in origin. We believe it to be passive, hence harmless, or at least neutral. Since the reflected radiation matches the radiation of nearby sources, we were unable to determine the object’s composition.
“Best guess, and we have two, is that it’s a lighthouse in space or a warning beacon, something like what’s used to mark channels so ships aren’t endangered. Both are similar in intent. If it’s meant as a warning, there may be others. I recommend searching the other Trojan group and the asteroid belt itself. If the object is a kind of lighthouse that responds to any electromagnetic frequency, then there should be others to warn travelers of the hazard zone. If it’s meant to mark a safe passage for spaceships to use, there may be others, but perhaps in a line. Which means they could be anywhere, or there may be no others. At any rate, we believe further investigation is warranted.
“Frisbee, proceeding as ordered. Captain Smith, reporting. Message ends.”
Chuck cleared the screen and leaned back, thinking. Wolfgang found him there half an hour later. “We only had two ships available, both converted Insect Class. They’re big enough and both have undergone recent maintenance, so I don’t expect problems there. I picked four volunteers, none of them Asian. No reason to borrow possible trouble. Would you bring up a world map, please?”
Chuck nodded and looked at the screen as the image formed. “The target is almost due north, so the time there is the same as it is here. The two ships will travel to the Terrestrial Trojans, astronomers found the big object, but we had to issue astrogation warnings to our people so they would know to avoid that area. Anyway, they’ll select two as close to what the mission calls for as they can find. As soon as both are loaded, they’ll rendezvous at the edge of the leading L4 zone and head for Earth in company. Planned reentry point is just north of Okinawa. Descent will take some time and positioning must be exact, so their course allows time to make adjustments as needed. By the time they pass through the upper atmosphere, rotation will have brought the target into view. Planned separation point is here, north of Chuju-do. We estimate a flight time of twenty-eight minutes forty-three seconds. The upper atmosphere winds are expected to have negligible effect, and weather in the vicinity of the target is clear. The pilots have had their briefing, and they should be taking off just about now. The only thing we’re not sure of is how long it will take them to find suitable objects. Too small won’t have enough of an effect, too large will create more collateral damage than needed. If they can’t find what we need, we’ll abort this mission and reschedule, using lunar resources.”
“Good plan, Wolfgang. Are you satisfied with it?”
“I am. I would fly the mission, but it’s not my place any more than it is yours. As for the pilots...one of them mentioned he’d read about the guy who flew the Enola Gay, Paul Tibbets. He wondered back then how Tibbets felt. He said that he no longer needs to wonder.
Chapter Thirty-five
Frenchy called Chuck. The break was welcome; Chuck fretted. Somehow, waiting for something to happen was worse than taking part. Had it been the same, waiting with his fellow marines for an attack to commence? Frenchy got right to the point.
“The police have given me a copy of the note. They’ve questioned the two men who were walking toward Lina and they’re satisfied with their story. No criminal background, no weapons, they never actually got close enough to touch Lina or even speak directly to her. She reacted, understandable considering her history, but that wasn’t the fault of these two. They had no way of knowing. Get this, one of them has an application pending with us! He wants a job with NFI!”
“Can you handle it? If you want to hire him, go ahead. But if there’s any doubt, the answer is no.”
“I agree. What do you want to do about the note? It’s signed by the US Ambassador.”
“Scan it and send me a copy. I’ll decide what to do after I read it.”
Chuck punched in the phone number listed in the note. The call did not go well.
“No, I won’t speak to his administrative assistant. Put the ambassador on the phone immediately or I’m disconnecting. Tell him it’s Chuck Sneyd calling, and he’s got one minute to get on the line. He wants to talk to me, I couldn’t care less if I talk to him. Understand?”
The ambassador was on the phone ten seconds later. Chuck’s temper had not improved.
“What the hell do you want?”
“Mister Sneyd...this is Mister Sneyd, is it not?”
“It is.”
“First, allow me to apologize for the unfortunate accident your wife suffered. I just received an update; she’s doing fine, as is her unborn child, but is fretting at being kept in the hospital.”
“Apology accepted. Now why are you so anxious to talk to me?”
“I’m just the messenger, Mister Sneyd. Can I call you Chuck?”
“No. If you’re the messenger, then this is another call from your president.”
“It is, Mister Sneyd. He’s tried repeatedly to establish contact, either with you or someone in your company.”
“Got a number?”
“Yes, Mister Sneyd.” The ambassador waited politely for a moment. “Go ahead. The conversation is being recorded, I’ll get the number from the record.”
The ambassador dutifully read off the number of the White House switchboard, and
as soon as he finished, Chuck ended the call. The ambassador looked at the phone and sighed. All those weekends, raising money for the president’s first campaign, and now this? Maybe it was time to go back to being a simple businessman.
Chuck punched in the number sequence and got a recorded message. Angrily he pressed zero, which got a response.
“White House. This call may be recorded in the interests of security. May I help you?”
“This is Chuck Sneyd. You have one minute to get the president on the phone. No assistant, no secretary. One chance only; if he wants to talk to me, this is the only opportunity I’ll give him.”
“Yes, sir. One moment please.”
Chuck drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting. A canned announcement indicated he was on hold, which didn’t improve his mood. A few minutes later the announcement stopped.
“Mister Sneyd, you’re a hard man to talk to.”
“I have nothing to say to you, as far as I know. I hold you responsible for the death of one of my people. Sven Nelsen is presumed lost, killed when Tesla sank. He behaved a lot more honorably than your people have.”
“Mister Sneyd, I had no direct knowledge of this. If the US Government bears responsibility for this, let me sincerely apologize for it now. I’ll look into the matter and when I find out what happened, I’ll get back to you. I was told your ship sank accidentally.”
“That’s not what my sailors said. Tesla was being pursued by boats while two of your warships shadowed her. That’s not an accident. Tesla was in international waters at the time.”
“Well, let me look into the matter. I’ll see what I can find out. If we’re in the wrong, I’ll also speak to Congress about reparations.”
“Reparations, you son of a bitch? Captain Larsen is dead and you think reparations will get you off the hook?” Chuck was working his way into a full rage. His secretary opened the door when she heard the shouting, then softly closed it, deciding this was a good time to get a soda.
“See here, Mister Sneyd! There’s no call for that!”
