Lunar Discovery: Let the Space Race Begin

by Salvador Mercer

  “Flight and docking mission objectives accomplished to date. Currently troubleshooting the detachment issue with the lander, sir,” Hun said, a tone of formality in his voice as he steadied himself after standing so abruptly.

  “There will be no chance for Morning Glory to fail, is that understood?” the general asked.

  “Understood, sir. We’ll find a way to separate the Morning Glory from the Crimson Glory.” Hun nodded, his arms now at his side.

  “You have less than forty-eight hours. Show him.” The general nodded, and one of his aids pulled out what looked to be a picture of a star field followed by another one with a blurred space station. The Russian station, if Hun remembered what the Russian Pride looked like.

  “What are these?” Hun asked.

  “This is the Russian space station in route to the moon. They departed earth orbit this morning and will arrive in less than sixty-eight hours. It is imperative that Sing reach the moon’s surface before they arrive.”

  Hun looked at the pictures he was given and saw both Lin and Chon looking his way, but they didn’t approach. “We will find a way, sir.”

  Hun tried to return the pictures, but the general shook his head and his aide retreated his hand. “See to it that it happens, sooner rather than later. Keep the pictures as motivation.” Wang left the room, and Hun could still hear the click-clapping of their hard-heeled boots against the polished floor. The next time Hun heard that, it could mean something far worse if they didn’t fix this dilemma.

  *****

  Tower Operations Launch Center

  Cape Canaveral, Florida

  In the near future, Day 45

  Craig was more than upset, but Julie seemed to be taking it all in stride as they sat in the Canaveral debriefing room and listened to the analysis of their close call. The primary gasket seals between the first two rocket stages had failed. It was indicated that the rubber part suffered a serious deficiency during the curing process, and when exposed to the super cold liquid hydrogen, it became brittle and started to crack. The materials expert said it was fortunate that the failure was as catastrophic as it was, causing the crack and subsequent leak to become noticeable before the actual launch. Had it failed slower, then Craig and Julie’s bodies may have never been discovered and their final resting place would be somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic.

  “So what’s the next phase?” President Powers asked via the teleconference system.

  “We are prepping the second Saturn V, the prototype one, and it should be ready in two to three days,” Jeff Wheeler said, motioning to his monitor as a schematic of the project Gant chart appeared showing the progress on the rocket’s preparation on everyone’s screens as well as the main Houston control monitor.

  “So this puts us last.” It was a statement more than a question, and no one answered the president’s rhetorical musing. “How long afterward till we can launch?”

  Rock pulled his mike closer as Jeff looked his way. Once the rocket was ready, the launch procedure would fall on Rock’s team. “We can be ready in twelve hours assuming there are no problems with mounting the lander on the new rocket and that the weather holds up.”

  “What is the forecast?” the president asked.

  Jim Montgomery, NASA’s chief meteorologist, spoke up from one of the back wall chairs around the large conference room overflowing with NASA employees. “The skies look clear for the entire week. I think we caught a break there.”

  “Madam President,” Mr. Smith chimed in, “the real issue now is do we still launch at all? Perhaps Plan B is in order?”

  Rock had no idea what Plan B was, but the president’s dour expression didn’t convey any favorability for it.

  “No, I think we continue as planned and allow our astronauts the chance to at least reach lunar orbit. If nothing else, they can observe what’s happening with the Chinese and Russians on the moon’s surface.” The president nodded.

  “So our crewmembers will observe only?” Director Lui asked from his seat next to Rock, his tone one of disdain if not defeat.

  “Perhaps,” Powers said, looking intently at her monitor. “We don’t understand why the Chinese are delaying their landing. We think maybe they have reached some sort of agreement with the Russians for a joint expedition to the surface, but we can’t confirm this yet.”

  Rock stood almost instinctually before responding. “I’ve worked with the Russians and their space program, Madam President, and while I’m not a history expert, I would say that despite both countries being communist in the past, I don’t see them working together when it comes to this particular matter.”

  “No, you’re not a political expert, Mr. Crandon.” Powers looked at Rock as directly as any monitor could convey. “We don’t know what’s going on up there with any degree of certainty, so we have to be prepared for all contingencies. I want the new Saturn on the launch pad then in seventy-two hours ready to go, and both of our astronauts fully briefed and equipped for the mission.”

  Director Lui subtly grabbed Rock’s arm and gave it a gentle pull, just enough to have Rock sit back down again. “We’ll be ready, Madam President.”

  President Powers nodded, and then someone disconnected the video feed and the screen went dark. Several people started to file out of the room, and Rock’s team gathered around Director Lui and their team leader.

  “Well, that would just be peachy if true,” Tom commented, pulling up a chair that was just vacated by one of the director’s administrative assistants.

  “You’ll be okay?” Lui asked Rock.

  “Yeah, we’ll have a pow-wow first, and then back to the drawing board. Thanks for the support.” Rock smiled.

  Lui left the group and headed out the door, leaving Mr. Smith and Mrs. Brown in the corner of the room eying Rock and his group suspiciously.

  “They seem intent on something,” Marge said, motioning with her head at the two NSA employees.

  “Forget about them,” Rock said. “We need to make sure there are no other screw-ups. We got awfully lucky with this last launch.”

  “Don’t you mean unlucky, boss?” Jack said.

  “Yeah, very luckily unlucky,” Rock said. Jack and Lisa chuckled while Tom scratched his head.

  “I’m just glad Craig and Julie aren’t here to hear us,” Marge commented, a sour look on her face.

  “Oh, come on now, Marge, you know we dodged a bullet, and sometimes a little humor is what we need to take the edge off,” Tom said, looking at his junior leader intently.

  “Well, you’re both right,” Rock stepped in, cutting off any retort by Marge, who never looked happy when engaged with Tom. “Either way we are late to the party and may not even get to dance. We can, however, still execute a flawless mission with the utmost safety and professionalism even if it’s for last place in this screwed up race we find ourselves in. I’ll need your best, so let’s make sure we give this our A game, all right?”

  Everyone nodded at Rock, and he took a deep breath. “Marge, have you and Jack had a chance to look at the data embedded in the RF signals yet?”

  “Yeah, during some downtime we managed to get a sample of the feed and look it over, but nothing makes sense.” Marge leaned back in her chair.

  “So the goons gave you access, eh?” Tom asked.

  “I thought you said they were spooks?” Jack responded.

  “Well, now they’re goons.” Tom arched a brow at Jack.

  “Would it be helpful to have access to the entire data feed?” Rock asked Marge.

  “Of course,” Marge responded, “but we had to pull teeth to get them to give us a sample. Top secret, compartmented and all that,” Marge said.

  Rock stood and motioned to Smith and Brown, getting their attention, and then sat back down again when they walked over. “Mr. Smith, can my team have access to the entire data stream from the alien device?” he asked.

  Brown leaned over and whispered into Smith’s ear before Mr. Smith responded. “Why do you
want to analyze the alien signal?”

  “That’s part of our job. Send up the proper equipment for our astronauts to do their work. Being able to analyze what, if anything, the signal is intended for could help us to equip them properly,” Rock said.

  “Your team has already been given a sample of the signal and failed to decode it,” Smith said, looking at Marge. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Jones?”

  Rock held his hand up to silence Marge. “A sample won’t cut it, Smith. We need to look at the entire data stream from start to finish, including any pre or post data info, so this would include the countdown as well.”

  Marge stayed silent, and Mr. Smith looked at Rock closely, if not actually scrutinizing him and his intent. Finally Smith responded. “What makes you think your team can do anything with this when we have over a hundred SIGINT analysts working the problem twenty-four-seven?”

  “I don’t think; I just want full access to whatever’s up there if I’m responsible for the lives of two of our own. Besides, you said it yourself, you have a hundred experts looking at it right now. What harm is there in a couple of my folks reviewing it?”

  “Over a hundred,” Mrs. Brown interjected.

  Smith took the time to look at each team member in turn, pausing long and hard to look at Tom.

  “What? It won’t be me. I want nothing to do with no signals from little green men.” Tom shrugged his shoulders and held his hands palms up out to his side.

  Smith paid him no more attention and turned to Rock. “Fine, I’ll release the complete data stream on one of our secure laptops that you can check out from Mrs. Brown. When not working on it, the computer must be returned to us for safekeeping. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Rock said, nodding his head and watching as the two security handlers left the room.

  “You know they’re just in the hallway, not like they’d leave us alone for any great length of time,” Jack said.

  Marge looked at Rock, her face conveying surprise and a hint of a smile. “I can’t believe they agreed to your request so easily. It took Jack and me nearly a week to even get them to give us a small sample.”

  “That’s because they’re afraid Rock will call his girlfriend if they object and she’d just give him what he wants,” Tom said, his tone serious.

  “You mean the president?” Lisa asked.

  “Oh yeah, she has a crush on ole Rock here. Seen it from day one.” Tom smiled now.

  “I should have known,” Lisa replied. “Sally would smack you good for saying that.”

  Tom held his hands up again, conveying the idea of surrender. Rock looked around at his team and then thought for a second before speaking. “Find out what our astronauts are going to face up there, Marge. I don’t want to get caught again with my pants down.”

  The group nodded, and everyone started to get up and leave. Rock could just hear Tom’s comment to Lisa as they left. “Now that’s something I didn’t want to visualize.” Rock suppressed a smile as he heard stifled laughter coming from his team.

  Chapter 20

  Difficult Decisions

  People’s Republic Space Command

  Beijing, China

  In the near future, Day 46

  Hun didn’t know if he would see Chang again. After two days with no results, Hun woke on the third day to the news that his chief engineer had been relieved of duty. Lin and Chon were both unusually somber and not very talkative. A military engineer had been assigned to work with Chang’s replacement, a very old engineer by the name of Wu.

  Wu spent most of his time pouring over the schematic of the lander Chang and his team had built. Hun checked in with the old man every two hours, and each time he had the same thing to report—still working on the problem.

  The only good news was that there was no sign of General Wang. It didn’t take long before rumor had it that the general had been called to the State Council to report. By early afternoon, the radar track of the Russian space station was being broadcast on one of the smaller monitors while the main monitor continued to display a somewhat clear, if not boring, image of astronaut Hen Sing as he meditated. On more than one occasion, the health and wellness technician broadcast a signal to Sing just to get a response even though his vital signs could be seen on one of the smaller accessory data terminals.

  “Why does he do that?” Lin asked, looking at the smaller bank of screens across Hun’s console. Hun had asked for Lin and Chon to pull up chairs at his workstation to discuss their latest update.

  “Forget Sing and his sleeping, I’m surprised the military is allowing us to watch the Russian track,” Chon said, looking at the main array of screens at the front of the room in mission control. “It’s interesting that they are taking a retrograde orbit. Any idea why?”

  Hun shook his head and looked at the monitor showing the Russian craft as it was approaching, prepared to enter lunar orbit in about twelve hours, circling in a retrograde path across the equatorial band of the moon from east to west instead of the standard west to east configuration that most spacecraft took when orbiting an object.

  “It will make it more difficult to land with that orbit,” Lin said, also watching the radar track update every few seconds.

  “The Russians won’t mind. They sent up enough fuel to descend to the surface and return more than one time, even in a more costly retrograde orbit.” Hun sighed, remembering the latest news casts that were filtered into his country. It was technically illegal to be listening to Russian broadcasts and Hun didn’t speak the language, but the English version from Vladivostok was clear enough, even if it wasn’t meant for Chinese ears.

  “You listened, too?” Chon whispered at Hun.

  “Who doesn’t, especially now?” Hun responded.

  “That doesn’t explain their choice of orbits,” Lin said. “Why do something that is more difficult if it isn’t necessary?”

  Hun thought for a moment and again rubbed the stubble on his head. He immediately noticed the slight grins coming from his rapidly reducing mission crew. “What?”

  “You should have kept some hair up there,” Chon said. Lin wouldn’t dare tell her boss something that direct, but Chon and Hun went way back.

  “Yes, I often wonder if I rubbed all my hair away or if I cut it. It’s been so long, I can’t remember. No matter,” Hun said, shifting subjects, “if the Russians are taking the hard way, you can be sure they have a pretty good reason. In the meantime, Lin, get a projected track on their craft and plot just how close it will be to our orbiter. I’d hate to have something happen up there now.”

  Lin immediately returned to her console, and Chon adjusted his seat for better comfort. It looked like he was going to stay awhile. “You don’t really think they could get that close to our Crimson Glory, do you?”

  “No, of course not,” Hun said. Space was vast, and there were only three objects in orbit above the moon at that time, unlike tens of thousands of objects whizzing around the earth. It was relatively sparse, and the likelihood of any near miss was on par with one’s lottery chances. “I do, however, think the Russians may purposely route their orbiter near ours in order to take readings of our systems, or to even observe what we are doing.”

  “That would give them a very short window to observe. The rate of closure would be phenomenal between the two,” Chon said.

  “They only need a few milliseconds to have their scanners pick up whatever we are transmitting, as well as to take a thermal reading of the Crimson Glory and the moon’s surface near the object. They’ll be able to tell if Sing is on the surface or still in orbit.”

  “You think they would do something to our craft?”

  Hun raised an eye at his technician. “I don’t know, but I wouldn’t put it past them considering the stakes. Probably they won’t once they realize we are stuck in orbit.”

  “They won’t know that for sure, will they?”

  “Not for sure. The dark side of the moon is never visible to our earth-based scanners, but every
two hours their unmanned orbital reconnaissance probe is taking pictures and reading data feeds from every conceivable source as it passes the alien device. They would know if we had landed as it would take much longer than two hours to get there and return to orbit. No, Chon, I think they will speculate, quite accurately if I may add, that we have not been to the surface, and then they will act accordingly.”

  Lin returned then, looking excited. “The Army already plotted the Russian track, sir, but they left something off that I found interesting.”

  “Go ahead,” Hun said, leaning forward now in his chair.

  “If they vector in at about the same altitude as their orbiter, their trajectories will be opposite each other,” Lin said, excitement in her voice as she looked to Chon and then back to her boss.

  “What exactly do you mean?” Chon asked, not quite following.

  “She means they will always have one of their two crafts on the far side of the moon,” Hun explained for Lin, who simply nodded and smiled.

  “Things are going to get uglier before they get better, aren’t they, sir?” Chon said, defeat in his voice.

  “I’m afraid so. There is no way to detach the lander without destroying the mating collar. Even if Sing could land and come back to the orbiter, he would have no way to return to earth.” Hun and his team knew that the lander doubled as Sing’s life support module and transport vehicle. The energy module could return to earth, but without its astronaut. Hun’s team had come to that very conclusion after only a day’s work of effort, but kept the fact secret.

  “The old man is going to figure it out, isn’t he?” Chon asked, looking over his shoulder at the empty monitor that was streaming a live feed from Wenchang.

  “Yes. He may be slow, but he’s thorough. I think he’ll figure it out in the next work session or two,” Hun said.

  “Oh no . . .” Lin said, her face turning pale. “You don’t think . . .” She left the rest of her sentence unspoken.

  Hun sighed. “If I know the general, then I think Sing’s medal will be awarded posthumously. He’ll order it for sure.”