Shaking his head, Bishop said, “Not for at least nine months, sir. We’re in the advanced stages of preparation for our next moonshot, and we’re close to the launch of the new module for Gateway Station.”
“Scrap ‘em,” Baker said, bluntly. “This is a damn sight more important than a new zero-gravity toilet.”
“There’s a lot more to it than that. Both of those missions have international involvement. They’re the subject of long-standing agreements and treaties that we cannot simply ignore.”
“That goes especially for Altair Eleven. We have Japanese, Korean and Indian crew aboard,” Franklin said.
“They can wait,” Baker pressed. “This asteroid can’t.”
“Mr. Baker,” Franklin said, pointedly avoiding Baker’s reserve rank, “we have gone to a lot of trouble to keep as many spacefaring nations as possible allied with the United States. I would have thought that someone with your level of expertise would appreciate the necessity of such diplomatic work. Were we to scrap the mission, particularly without good explanation, I am sure the Chinese would be only too happy to accept their rainchecks.”
“Nine months is far too long,” Cooper protested. “The European Space Agency is preparing to launch their second lunar mission. Hyperion Two. It’ll be ready to go in three, and from everything we know of its design, it would be child’s play to make the adaptations necessary to reach the asteroid. They’ve already got too much lead time as it is. The Chinese could make a run for it as well, certainly within six months.”
“The other spacefaring nations?”
“Not in the time,” Bishop said, shaking his head. “India, Brazil, Japan, Britain, none of them could mount a mission of this scale in less than a couple of years, even if they worked together. We might want to consider bringing some of them in on this, though. Japan especially. They’ve been planning asteroid mining missions for decades, and have done a lot of excellent work.”
“There’s another complication, sir,” Knox added. “We’ve got conclusive evidence that the Soviet Union launched a probe to this asteroid on its first encounter with Earth, back in early 1968. It failed, apparently, and everything was hushed up, but we found the details out relatively easily. I’m sure someone else would, also. EuroFed already knows. French Intelligence had good try and capturing us before we could report in.”
“Then you can bet that they’ll be ready for an attempt,” Cooper replied.
“Have they got the technology to move the asteroid, or are we just talking about mining?” Franklin asked.
Bishop smiled, then said, “Our best projections suggest that only we have the ability to move that much mass in a hurry, and only then because some of our private companies have been working on it. This asteroid is going to be here for maybe fourteen months. Not enough time for anyone else to prepare the sort of booster we’re talking about. If we don’t do this, nobody else will.”
“Then based on that alone, I oppose it,” Franklin said. “I presume we can send an unmanned probe?”
“Sure,” Bishop added, as though reading from a script. “JPL can throw something together. And I’m not ruling out a manned mission, not at all. Hell, this is one of the goals the Orion program was originally designed for. Nine months, twelve months, and NASA can get out there to take some samples.”
“Assuming they don’t have to pass a customs barrier first,” Baker retorted. “The Europeans and the Chinese are going to move on this, and I wouldn’t be so certain that they don’t have the capabilities to move this rock. It might take them a little longer, but they could probably pull it off eventually.”
“Possibly, perhaps, maybe,” Franklin said, shaking his head. “I’m thinking of the diplomatic firestorm that will start if we move an asteroid into geostationary orbit. We’ll have a hundred ambassadors screaming at us on an hourly basis, protests at the United Nations, and…”
“And in the end, when the dust settles and we throw around sufficient mining concessions to calm people down,” Cooper interrupted, “the United States will have an invulnerable bastion in orbit, one that can be used to protect our communication, navigation, observation systems for the next century. Not to mention a staging area for long-range spaceflights. Our latest estimates suggest at least ten percent ice. That’s rocket fuel, right there. You want to get to Mars within the decade? We could do it, using that rock up there as a base.”
“If NASA can’t undertake the mission,” the President said with a weary sigh, then all of this is moot.”
“If NASA can’t, CosmoTech can,” Baker replied. “Our Wyvern III capsules are designed to reach Gateway Station. Getting to this asteroid is about the same in terms of delta-V. No problem. We’ve got one in advanced preparations down at Dry Wells, right now…”
“That was meant as a test flight to Gateway,” Bishop protested.
“One that you have pointed out on more than one occasion is not strictly necessary, and is not intended to facilitate crew rotation. We’ll keep the pilot, and tell the paying passenger that he’ll have to wait for the next slot. I’ve known the guy for years. He’ll play along, no questions asked. We can use the same booster, as well, our new Nova. It’ll do the job perfectly. We add a second launch, a smaller one, to put up a small logistic module for support. The whole complex can be ready to go in a surprisingly short time. Certainly less than three months.”
“And the cost to the taxpayer?”
“Three hundred million,” Baker said, without missing a beat.
Shaking his head, Bishop replied, “Three hundred million handed over to a private company.”
“Out of purely academic interest,” Cooper asked, “how much would it cost NASA?”
“You know that we don’t run our figures that way,” the administrator protested.
With a smile on her face, Cooper replied, “And I know why, Doctor. We can do the mission, and we can do it before anyone else, as long as we move right away. I’d recommend we use Dry Wells rather than Vandenburg. The equipment is all there, and security will be a lot easier to maintain.”
“A private company cannot possibly maintain the same standards as a military base,” Franklin protested.
“Damn near all my people are ex-military,” Baker said. “Most in the reserves. Call ‘em back into uniform if it’ll make you feel any better. Call me too, while you’re at it. Sandy’s right. Dry Wells is quiet, out of the way, and as far as anyone knows, we aren’t planning any manned launches there for a year. Corporate espionage is every bit as involved as international espionage.” He cracked a smile, then added, “We were planning our first hop in two months. I’ll need a launch slot for it down at the Cape if we’re going ahead with this.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” Cooper said. “You can have one of ours.”
“I still have to protest this,” Franklin warned. “The mission we’re talking about…”
“With all due respect, sir, we’re not talking about the whole mission. Not yet,” Knox replied. “Right now, we only have to decide whether to send a manned expedition to this rock. We don’t even know if the second phase of the project is feasible, and the only way we’re going to find out is to put boots on the ground. I can’t see how any other spacefaring nation can be upset with that. Jealous, maybe, but nothing more.”
Nodding, the President said, “I agree. General Cooper, I will be reserving my judgement on actually moving this asteroid until the situation develops further, though I want you to be prepared to execute that option should it prove practical. For the present, sending a mission to this asteroid ahead of the others should give us some badly needed international prestige. Another first set of footprints would go down well with the public right now.”
“Very well, sir,” Bishop replied. “I’ll start work on crew selection…”
“Actually, sir,” Cooper interrupted, “I think we might want to explore another idea. I’m mindful of Secretary Forrest’s position on international concerns, and I can’
t help but think that a private team might be better. A CosmoTech team. Everyone will know that the United States government is backing it, but it’ll give some of the other spacefaring powers an excuse not to complain too much.”
“Hell, we’re ready for that,” Baker said, gleaming with glee. “We’re more than ready. We’ll have to use one of our pilots anyway.” He paused, then said, “General, why don’t you fire that rascal Knox and send him down to Dry Wells. He’s a moonwalker, he knows the systems we’ll be using, and he was in the intensive training loop up till six months back. And he’s already in on the whole deal, and the fewer people we have to bring in, the better.”
“What do you say, Colonel,” the President asked. “Ready to make history?”
“Ready and willing, sir,” he replied, unable to suppress the smile on his face.
“I had a feeling you’d say that. General Cooper, I’m happy with that if you are.”
“More than happy, sir. I just wish I could go along for the ride,” she replied. “That’ll leave two seats. Given the nature of the mission, I’d suggest we get someone from the Puzzle Palace, one of the covert satellite experts. They must have someone with the right sort of qualifications to evaluate the suitability of the asteroid to position our equipment. Maybe a scientist for the fourth seat, a geologist, if we can find one in time.”
Glancing at Antonova, Knox said, “Actually, sir, I’d like to suggest Major Antonova.”
“Really, Colonel, this is too much,” Bishop said.
“It makes sense, Doctor,” Knox pressed. “She’s got as much spaceflight experience as I have, knows the hardware we’re using, and she was on the research team that discovered the damn thing in the first place. And while she’s got American citizenship, she was formerly in the Russian Air Force, worked for Roscosmos, which should go a long way towards hiding our true objectives. Not to mention mending some fences with the Russian remnant states. And she already knows the mission. That’s critical.”
“I’m happy with that,” Baker said, as Cooper nodded in agreement.
“I don’t like it,” Franklin added, “though I have to concede that the Colonel makes a good case.”
Knox looked at Antonova, and asked, “How about it, Major? Up for one last run?”
“My countrymen were the first to reach the asteroid, decades ago. I am happy to follow in their footsteps.”
“Then it is agreed,” the President said, as Bishop continued to fume. “CosmoTech will launch the mission, with covert support to the best of our ability. On paper, a private team, but in reality, a joint Space Force/CosmoTech mission. That should cover our backs nicely.” He paused, then added, “I’ll make one caveat to this plan. If it looks like we’re not going to get there first, then the CosmoTech mission is scrubbed and we’ll let NASA make the run, and Operation Daedalus is cancelled. I’m not willing to approve the entire project yet in any case. We wait and see what we get.” He paused, smiled, then added, “Colonel Knox, Major Antonova, I look forward to meeting you in the White House when you return. Good luck to you all.” He snapped off the display, and one by one, the others dropped away, leaving only Baker and Cooper on the monitor.
“I don’t think you made any friends with the Randy Bishop,” Baker said with a chuckle. “A few bridges burned there. What the hell. We don’t need them anyway. Better to keep it nice and simple. I’ll be flying home tomorrow to get everything started down in Dry Wells. You going to run things from Vandenburg, Sandy?”
“Sure, I’ll get my people moving. Tom, you and Major Antonova will fly down first thing in the morning. I’ll have a word with the base commander and sort you out some transportation. Remember to keep a low profile. On the books, you’re both on loan to CosmoTech as consultants. Given your backgrounds, I doubt anyone will complain too much. Except Administrator Bishop, but that’s just because we’re playing in his sandbox.” She looked at the two of them, and added, “If either of you have second thoughts, the time is now.”
“No way, ma’am. Can’t wait to get my boots dirty,” Knox said.
“I feel the same way, General,” Antonova asked.
“Then I’ll see you both in Dry Wells,” Baker said. “With a little luck, you’ll be riding fire in three months. And in two years, Earth gets its new moon.”
“Assuming the President agrees,” Knox warned.
“He will,” Baker said. “After all this, he’d damned well better.”
Chapter 8
The bar was almost empty as Knox walked in, followed by Antonova, the bartender looking up at the new arrivals as they walked through the double doors. The walls were loaded with faux-western memorabilia, the only other patrons an assortment of tourists enjoying the local flavor, their only knowledge of the Old West gleaned from old movies and tourist traps such as this.
The town was called Deeth. One of the other attractions for promoters. Once, it had been a thriving town, a haunt of ranchers, cowboys and ne’er-do-wells from four states. Now it was a theme park, bought by a group of Japanese investors a couple of decades back in a bid to build an attraction for the tourists. It had the distinction of being only fifty miles from the spaceport, then another popular place to visit, but was slowly fading back into the desert as investment dried up. The type of town parents dragged their children to in a desperate attempt to force-fed history into their brains, workers from Dry Wells looking for something to do on their day off or for people who wanted to hold quiet, private meetings without risk of interruption or observation. Nobody else would come here.
Knox had called ahead, booked a booth, and a plate of nachos was already sitting on their table, waiting for them, a pair of spicy sauces dumped on either side. A bored-looking waitress walked over to them as they took their seats, notepad unnecessarily in hand, obviously uncomfortable in the film-set clothes she was wearing.
“What’ll it be, handsome?” she asked.
“Two beers,” he replied. “Anything that’s good.”
“You want good, honey, you’ve come to the wrong cantina, but I’ll see what I can do.” She turned and walked back to the bar, the bartender chuckling as he poured their drinks.
“Why are we here?” Antonova asked. “We should have gone direct to Dry Wells.”
“Ah, but we’re on vacation, a badly needed rest, remember. Nobody knows we’re here. Hell, I didn’t know we were coming here until I threw that dart into the map. Besides, the beer isn’t bad, and the food’s pretty good.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Once, a couple of years back. The Governor wanted a pet astronaut for some sort of dedication ceremony to mark the town’s sesquicentennial, and I drew the short straw. Quite a party, actually. Trick gunslingers, dancers, the works. They can put together quite a show when they want.” Looking around, he said, “If you’ve got any more lying around, invest it here. It doesn’t look like much, but when Dry Wells starts doing manned flights, it’ll boom again.”
The door opened again, and a man wearing a too-tight cowboy costume walked inside, imitation pistol in a holster at his belt, dust on his chaps. He walked over to Knox, sitting at the table and snatching a nacho chip from the plate, crunching it in his mouth.
“You Knox?” he asked.
“Last time I checked, my name was Max Peck,” Knox replied.
“What?” Antonova asked, confusion all over her face.
“Astronaut thing,” the man said. “I’m Jason Maxwell. I mean, Max Peck.” He held out his hand for Knox to shake, then said, “You the commander of this sleigh ride?”
“For my sins,” a smiling Knox said. “Where’s the horse?”
“Outside. I rode here. Beautiful morning, and I probably won’t get a chance to exercise Thunderchild as much when we get into training. Dry Wells is probably the only spaceport with its own stables.” Turning to Antonova, he said, “Pleasure to meet you as well, Major. We’ve been in space together before, though you wouldn’t have known it at the time. Servicing operations
on the James Webb, nine years back.”
“Then you’ve been beyond Earth orbit,” Antonova replied. “You have the advantage over me.”
“Sure, but I’ve only logged two weeks out there, and you’ve got, what six months? I haven’t been up in years, anyway.” He smiled, and added, “I used to work for the Puzzle Palace. Still have my security clearances, and I’ve played around with their hardware all the time.”
“What do you do now? Before this mission kicked off, anyway?” Knox asked.
“Contractor with Global Network, Inc. A group of us ex-spooks got together to see what we could do with declassified hardware. Civilian navigation and encrypted communications, mostly. We figured we’d get the edge over the competition because we already know how the new crap works. That’s the theory, anyway. In practice, we’re just too damned small. The General said we might be able to get a few government contracts out of this, long-term.”
“How long have you been out of government service?”
“Technically, I’m still Air Force Reserve, if you feel more comfortable with men in uniform. Made it to Captain before I took off the blues.” He took another nacho chip, and said, “Mind if I order a drink? We’re going to be here a while, right? Hate to think I spent five hours on the saddle for nothing.” He rose from the table, walking over to the bar, and Antonova looked at Knox with a weary frown on her face.
“He is the best the Space Force could find?”
“If he’s been out to the James Webb, then he’s come as close as anyone on Earth to actually doing this mission in the past, and his current background has enough distance from his intelligence work that nobody will suspect anything. At least, not officially. On paper, he’s working for CosmoTech as an engineer. That’s fine for me.” He looked up at the television, silently dominating the room, and his eyes widened as he saw an announcement roll across the bottom of the screen. NASA had announced the crew for its mission to Earth’s new moon.
Rocket Dawn Page 7
