“That’s still not acceptable. What will be done to regain control of it?” Director Chui asked, pacing the floor in the dim conference room. Hun knew Director Chui had just avoided being sacked as well, and his own boss resigned in disgrace once the mission had failed. Well, resigned was a nice way of saying quitting before getting fired, and the old man was under house arrest, though no one would use that word publicly. The only saving grace for his former boss was the fact that something appeared to be interfering with their mission and indeed could have been a factor in its failure.
“Has the signals section found a cause for the transmissions at the landing site?” Mission Technician Lin Fu asked from behind her glasses, perusing the report they all had in front of them.
“We have the source’s frequencies and strength profile but not any rational or intent for the transmissions,” Signals Technician Chon Chu said from across the table.
An aide walked into the room, handing a note to the space director, who read it quickly and moved to a secure phone against the near wall.
“Any ideas on regaining control or will the mission be terminated?” asked Lin, whispering from across the table.
Hun knew that the political politburo was fickle when it came to technological missions, and the Space Command was a fairly new organization with more scientists in it than bureaucrats, which was most uncommon in the government, even in the twenty-first century. In a country of well over one and a half billion people, the leadership sometimes preferred to simply start over when making sweeping staff changes. Lin was simply expressing a very valid self-concern.
“I’m not sure, Lin, but I think we’re focusing on the wrong element here,” Hun said, also in a hushed whisper, careful not to disturb the director.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Lin, leaning over.
“You should know better than most, Lin. We’re not even sure what we encountered or from what country it belongs,” Hun said.
Lin leaned back. “Perhaps we’ll see some information on this soon. I’ve already informed the leadership that the signal strength coming from the structure is most likely too high to be from any source other than the Americans.”
“What would they be doing with lunar base and how could it be kept a secret for so long?” Chon asked, obviously not buying the idea that the Americans were involved.
Hun never got a chance to respond, and neither did Lin. “New plans,” said the director, hanging up the phone and returning to the table. “Hun, your group will be secondary advisors. We have been ordered to report to the Wenchang Command Center immediately. It appears the People’s Army has identified the source of the radio signals, and maybe even the cause of your team’s failure. A lift chopper will pick us up on field three. Gather your things and meet me in the lobby in ten minutes.”
The insult was not acknowledged, the team mission members having been accustomed to such direct talk during their careers, and being relegated to “secondary advisors” was more than enough information to infer the future of their fate, and it wasn’t promising.
“Damn,” Lin said, picking up her papers and stuffing them into her portfolio that she pulled from the floor.
“No time for a change of clothes?” Chon asked, his eyes wide.
“Quiet, Chon. Be thankful you don’t suffer the same fate as Wang,” Hun said, referring to his old boss, leaving off the man’s title as was customary when one was disgraced.
*****
Minister of Space Command’s Office
Kremlin, Moscow, Russia
In the near future, Day 2
“Vladimir, how have you been, old friend?” Dmitry asked, walking up and embracing his longtime comrade.
“Good, Dima, and you?” Vlad responded, returning the heartfelt greeting and grabbing the man by the shoulders, arms outstretched so he could get a good look at his onetime mentor.
“I’ve seen better days, Vlad.” The smile disappeared as Dmitry motioned for Vlad to take a seat at a chair near the window and away from his desk.
“Chai?” Dmitry asked, looking to the door.
“No tea for me today. I’ve had my morning coffee and my doctor says to limit my caffeine,” Vlad said, sitting in the chair near the window, which overlooked the Kremlin’s grounds, and setting his briefcase on the floor where it leaned against the small table’s leg.
“Elena, just one tea, please,” Dmitry said to his assistant at the door.
“You’re looking well despite the years,” Vlad said, smiling, trying to lighten up the mood a bit and wondering what could be so urgent that the chief of the Roscosmos space program would summon him in person from his duties at the Vostochny Cosmodrome in the Far East.
“I should have been on the pension years ago,” Dmitry did say, managing a small smile. “I’m sorry for the long trip, Vlad. We have work to do, and something has come up that will require your presence in Moscow this week.”
“What happened now?” Vlad asked, leaning back and allowing Elena to set the tea on the table, observing Dmitry as he gave her a smile and took the cup, pausing to blow on it, taking a sip, and nodding in satisfaction.
“Elena may not know how to type quickly, but she makes a good chai,” Dmitry said, setting his cup down. “The issue at hand involves the Chinese . . . this time, at least.”
Vlad looked at Dmitry closely to see if this was some jest or not. “Not the Americans?”
“Oh no, that is old news, my friend. I would be polite and ask about the new space station, but we don’t have the time for formalities, I’m afraid.”
Vlad knew his boss was well informed of the Russian space station’s every detail. He reviewed the daily reports to the old man personally, so the reference had to be polite. “That’s fine, Dima, tell me why I’m here.”
“The military in you shows again, direct and straight to the point,” Dmitry said. “You are familiar with the Chinese lunar program?” Vlad nodded. “It made an interesting discovery two days ago at the landing site for its lunar rover before it was incapacitated.”
An odd word to use for a piece of equipment, Vlad thought. “What happened?”
“Something was triggered on the moon and it’s broadcasting a signal, several, in fact.” Dmitry watched Vlad’s face for any sign of expression. “The signals have been determined to have originated from an unknown origin; however, the assessment is that the newly discovered object the Chinese stumbled upon is most likely extra-terrestrial in nature.”
“Blyad!” Vladimir said, nearly spilling Dmitry’s tea as he smacked the table with his knee.
“No need for profanity, Vlad,” Dmitry said, half chuckling at his former student’s outburst. “It took us nearly an entire day to accept the concept even though we had the data right in front of us.”
Vladimir composed himself. “Based off of what data? You understand the significance of what you just told me, no?”
“Of course I do, and so does the Kremlin. The task now is to reach the transmitting object and secure it before anyone else does.”
“So you’re serious. No joking, Dima.”
“Deadly serious, Vladimir,” the man said, taking the time to use his full name to emphasis the point. “You’ll be debriefed in”—Dmitry looked at his watch—“just over an hour from now. We’ll have a car ready for us in twenty minutes. You arrived late this morning.”
“Traffic to the center is difficult at this time of the day, especially from Domodedovo.”
“Yes, sorry to make you fly commercial, but we didn’t want to send any signs that we’ve caught on to what has happened.”
“The Chinese don’t know that we know?” Vlad asked.
“From what our source inside Beijing is telling us, they are clueless. The Americans, on the other hand, are a different story. They secured their scientific team in Houston and took their observation leader and flew him to Washington. We think they understand the data the same way we do.”
“Understand it as in not fro
m our planet?”
“Well, there is civilian confirmation of the signal, and its potential source, from at least ten countries, and that should double before the week is out. You haven’t seen the detailed reports yet, but when you do, you’ll understand.”
“This sounds intense, Dima. Do we have a plan?” Vlad asked.
“A very simple one, Vlad. Get there first. All other considerations are secondary.”
“You know what this means?”
“I do,” Dmitry said, reaching for his tea. “It will get very ugly, very quickly. That is where you come in.”
*****
NASA Space Center
Houston, Texas
In the near future, Day 2
Marge Jones sat at her console looking at what data streams were still active ever since they were sequestered. Her team wasn’t very happy, and being forced to stay in the control room wasn’t making things any better. Jack was starting to smell ripe, and Lisa had to be restrained more than once. If Rock didn’t get the detention lifted soon, she was sure something unpleasant would happen.
“It’s a violation of our constitutional rights,” Lisa began again, and Marge was sure it wouldn’t be the last time.
“Keep your panties on,” Tom said, looking tired if not upset.
“Easy for you to say, Tom. You don’t have the same issues some of us do,” Lisa shot back.
Jack stood up, stretching. “Come on now, Lisa, that’s not fair to Tom or the rest of us. My wife and kids have no idea either. You’re not the only one with family wondering what is going on.”
“At least your kids are older,” Lisa said, sitting back down.
“Not that much older, and you don’t have a wife calling the main gate to make sure I haven’t left. Ann is sure I’m messing around despite all the security,” Jack said.
“That’s her problem, and any trust issues between the two of you are your problems to solve. Not my fault she feels that way. John isn’t questioning my actions.”
“That’s cause John is a guy,” Tom said.
“Enough of that, Tom. I know you’re an old timer, but the misogynic remarks aren’t helping,” Marge said.
“Well, if she’d just keep her panties on—”
“Tom!” Lisa stood up again.
Rock’s phone rang, and Marge hushed all of them, running up the two short steps to pick up the receiver at Rock’s console. “Hello. Uh, yes, we do. Yes, understood. When? . . . All right, thank you.”
“News?” Jack perked up and Lisa paused.
The locks to the main doors were audibly moved, and then the doors were thrown open and secured by two of the FBI agents that had been standing guard in the hallway.
“We’re free to go for now,” Marge said. “We meet here at oh four hundred hours, though, so get some rest.”
“That’s barely twelve hours from now,” Jack said, moving his arms around and gathering a few of his personal belongings from his console desk.
Marge looked just as tired as he felt. “I know. Rock will be here, and we have another mission to perform. No details were given other than we were free to go under the condition that we don’t discuss the operation with anyone.”
“Nothing new there,” Tom said, also getting up rather stiffly from his chair. “Maybe this time they’ll let us win.”
The group gathered their belongings and headed to the parking lot. The hot, humid weather hit Marge hard, but she felt good breathing the non-conditioned air and letting the afternoon sun warm her skin.
“What the hell did Tom mean?” Jack asked, catching up to Marge in the parking lot.
“Who the hell knows what Tom means half the time,” Marge said, looking at their cars in the lot and realizing there were only five of them, including Rock’s. “Go home and get some rest, Jack. I got a feeling we’re going to be busy very soon.”
Chapter 4
Race
CIA Charter Plane
Houston Air Space
In the near future, Day 4
Rock was watching Houston fly by underneath him as they banked and headed for the NASA strip southeast of the city. The previous two days had been difficult to say the least, and the press was starting to ask questions. He wondered just how long the discovery would stay a secret.
“You finish the daily brief?” Mr. Smith asked from across the aisle. Rock thought he would be cursed forever with this man.
“Yeah, I finished it an hour ago. Is it true about the Russians?”
“Oh, yeah. They are bringing our astronauts down from the space station on Friday, those bastards.”
Rock closed his folder and then rubbed his eyes. “What did you expect? The briefing said they are aware, and it’s obvious they won’t work with us. Did we even try?”
“That’s need to know, Crandon, but I’m sure the State Department reached out to them.”
“I wish I had a better picture of what’s happening behind the curtain, so to speak.”
“Actually, you will if what my boss says is correct,” Mr. Smith said without emotion showing on his face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rock asked, not in the mood for games.
“It appears you made a good impression on the president yesterday afternoon. Word is you’re going to be tapped to lead the upcoming project to secure the object.”
“Just great. When was someone going to tell me about this?”
Now Rock’s discomfort seemed to have an effect on Mr. Smith as the man leaned forward in his seat, trying to conceal a slight smile on his face. It was obvious the dislike was mutual between the two men. “Very soon. It’ll be made official by tomorrow, or at least that would be my guess. She may be president, but you still have to be vetted for the SCI clearance and that takes time despite the urgency.”
“Keep your damn secrets. I just don’t see how we’re supposed to make any progress when we scuttled our shuttle program and contracted out for heavy boost capacity to the Russians. We literally have no way of reaching low earth orbit, much less the freaking moon, for Christ’s sake. What exactly did you bureaucrats think was going to happen?”
“That will change soon enough, and not all of us are in the same boat, Crandon. Try not to lump us all together.”
No, you get a special category all to yourself, Mr. Smith. All to yourself, Rock thought, holding his tongue and preparing to land as the flight attendant called over the small plane’s PA system for the usual safety precautions to be taken.
The landing and subsequent trip to NASA headquarters was less than eventful, and within an hour Rock was reunited with his team in the large conference room in the main administrative building.
“Those twelve hours went too damn quickly,” Jack said. He is looking worse than he did the day before despite the half day off or so, Marge thought.
“Good to see you, too, Jack,” Rock said, greeting his team and finding a seat before noticing Jeff Wheeler across the table. “You in on this, too, Jeff?”
“I’m afraid so. Seems your team is going to get much larger despite the security,” Jeff said.
“You been briefed?” Rock asked.
“He has the necessary clearance, otherwise he wouldn’t be here,” Mr. Smith said, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for a couple of unknown aides to start passing out folders stamped TOP SECRET on them.
“Oh, you,” Marge said, looking at Mr. Smith.
“No need to be testy, Dr. Jones,” Mr. Smith said without looking up from his papers. “You may be famous soon one day.”
“I don’t see how, considering our little ET object is transmitting signals that would be difficult for a high school science teacher to miss,” Marge said.
“Can we begin?” Rock asked, eager to get through one more meeting and hoping they wouldn’t need to spend any more time with the DC suits.
“Of course,” Mr. Smith said. “We have one and only one objective at this time.”
“We know, reach the ET object and secur
e it for further analysis,” Rock said. “The issue is we don’t have a way to reach the moon right now. Nothing is even remotely on the drawing board that could fulfill that objective.”
“That’s why I’ve asked Chief of Engineering Jeff Wheeler to be here. You and your team are going to have to find a way to get there and do it in only three months,” Mr. Smith said, shuffling his papers into some kind of unknown order that only the man could decipher.
“I’ve told you twice already, even if we worked around the clock, we’d need close to half a year to get anything worthy to attempt this mission. It’s impossible.”
“I didn’t think you NASA types were so pessimistic,” Mr. Smith said.
“Not pessimistic, realistic. Just the safety protocols alone will take several months.”
“That’s why there will be no safety protocols, Crandon. You just need to get us up there and do it fast. No other mission parameters.”
Rock sighed, looking around the table. He saw no appetite from any of his team members to even join the discussion. In fact, it looked like Marge despised the man and Lisa had a look on her face indicating physical violence was being contemplated. Jack just looked tired, and Tom, as always, appeared to be bored with their conversation. Only Jeff was listening intently, apparently not accustomed to dealing with Mr. Smith on a regular basis.
“You understand the implications of what you’re saying?” Rock asked.
“Completely. Remember, Crandon, you’ll have nearly unlimited resources once congressional approval has been secured.”
“That’s not the part that worries me. Where do you think we’re going to find suitable volunteers for a mission like this with a high risk and, if I may be blunt here, a likely chance of death?” Rock said, frustration rising in his voice.
“We have just the right people in mind,” Mr. Smith said, displaying his unusual smile that reminded Rock of a hyena just before it was about to feed.
Lunar Discovery: Let the Space Race Begin Page 3
