Asteroid Discovery

by Bobby Akart

  Gunner took over the communications with the Jackal. “Jackal, you’ve got her on recon?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s in and walking casually between smallish buildings toward the west end of the complex.”

  “Recording,” whispered Cam into her microphone.

  “Well done, Major,” said Ghost, who had been monitoring the entire operation, but rarely interrupted the team. “If you can, stop now and film the entire opening of the Mobile Service Tower.”

  Cam obliged and, crouching below a series of oil drums, she slowly panned up and down, filming another rocket housed inside. Except this one was far different from the easily recognizable Soyuz-2 out in the open.

  “Major,” said the Jackal, “I’ve got two vehicles headed in your direction. I don’t see a sense of urgency on their part, but you might want to move on to task two.”

  “Roger that,” said Cam.

  She resumed her trek deeper into the compound until she was staring up at the Soyuz-2. As she walked past the umbilical mast, she filmed the base of the rocket until she heard Ghost’s voice come across the communications system.

  “As suspected. It’s hollow. Continue, Major, it’s another few hundred feet until you can see the rear of the assembly—”

  “Major,” began the Jackal in the closest thing she had to an urgent tone of voice, “those vehicles have suddenly picked up speed and are speeding in your direction. May I suggest you move very quickly?”

  “Roger that. Gunner, meet me on the west side of the compound.”

  “How are you gonna scale the wall? I can create a diversion …” Gunner’s voice trailed off as a sound resembling an air-raid siren pierced his ears.

  “It’s awwwn now,” said Bear as he started the vehicle and drove toward the west, hugging the ten-foot security wall as best he could to avoid being seen from inside the compound.

  “You’ve got to go faster, Major,” the Jackal calmly instructed Cam.

  “I need an exit,” she replied.

  “Understood. If you continue on a due west course, you’ll see a stack of what appears to be railroad ties, or maybe short telephone poles. I can’t—”

  “I see them! Are you getting the footage?” Cam was running and recording back over her shoulder.

  “We are, Major,” replied Ghost. “You focus on extraction.”

  “Where should we position our—? Oh shit!” Bear slammed on the brakes just as Cam flew over the top of the wall. She did a perfect gymnast tumble right in front of the vehicle and landed on her feet.

  “Major, they’re coming!” The Jackal urged Cam to get into the truck. Gunner reached back and opened the door for her; then he readied his weapon. She jumped headfirst into the backseat and Bear slammed the gas pedal to the floor, causing snow and slush to spew around the rear end.

  “Which way?” Bear screamed his question.

  “Straight, then right!”

  Bear followed her instructions, and as soon as he’d cleared the turn, he faced two Russian patrols speeding in their direction.

  “Thanks, Jackal!” Bear said sarcastically.

  The Jackal continued to advise them. “Just past the radio tower up ahead, there’s a service road that leads into the forest. It will take you toward their processing complex, where we’ll have a couple of options.”

  “Ghost, permission to engage,” said Gunner.

  “Do what it takes to get your team out of there, Major,” came the reply.

  Cam had caught her breath and was already rolling down the left rear passenger window. “I’ve got left.”

  “I’ve got right,” said Gunner, who leaned out the window and released a barrage of the 6.8 mm rounds in the direction of the oncoming patrol trucks. His bullets ricocheted off the grille and hood, with one finding the windshield of the lead vehicle, smashing it open.

  The trailing truck veered off to its right, leaving Bear no choice but to split them as they raced toward one another like a two-on-one joust.

  Bullets stitched the front of their vehicle as the Russians were now fully aware that they were in a gunfight.

  “You’ve got more coming,” announced the Jackal.

  “Roger,” said Gunner as he focused his sights on the front tires of the oncoming vehicle. He let out a quick burst and his bullets found their mark.

  At first, the oncoming truck veered toward its left and almost crashed into the security wall. The driver overcorrected and cut directly across the path of Bear, who slowed momentarily. The Russian driver’s eyes were wide open as he pulled into the path of his partner’s truck. The T-bone crash caused both vehicles to burst into flames, sending a fireball into the sky.

  “They’ll see that in space,” commented the Jackal before giving Bear further instructions. “Turn now!”

  “Got it,” he said as his abrupt left-hand turn caused the rear of the vehicle to slip in the snow-covered gravel. “Now what?”

  “Keep on this road. The processing complex is ahead. I don’t see any security as of yet. You’ll bear left around the buildings, and then you’ll come to a fork in the road.”

  “Okay,” said Bear.

  “Major Fox, may I suggest staging an accident by taking the right fork? There’s a retention pond that the vehicle can be driven into. Then you can double back around their tracking station and head back into the mountains.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” replied Gunner.

  Bear drove at a more reasonable speed in an attempt to avoid drawing attention as they navigated around the processing complex where the Soyuz rockets were assembled. Right after the fork in the gravel road, as the Jackal had stated, a retention pond came into view that was about forty feet below the road grade.

  The three of them jumped out of the vehicle and pushed it toward the hill leading down to the water. They didn’t bother to see the results, as they were now fully aware that they would be lucky to escape Russia alive.

  Chapter 40

  Sunday, April 8

  The Oval Office

  The White House

  Washington, DC

  The West Wing was immersed in bedlam. The 60 Minutes episode forced speechwriters to tear up large parts of the president’s address and start over. The media had descended upon the White House Press Room, demanding answers. World leaders lit up the switchboard, even sending their diplomats to demand an audience with the president, his chief of staff, anybody who’d hear them vent about being kept in the dark.

  The White House lost control of the messaging and they now found themselves on the defensive. The issue raging through the media like wildfire was not the impending threat of IM86, but why the administration had refused to disclose this sooner.

  “Mr. President,” began Chief of Staff Maggie Fielding as she entered the Oval Office surrounded by her aides, on call and ready to be dispatched to deal with one flash fire or another, “I can hold off the media by ignoring them. Prime Minister Johnson and France’s President Le Pen, however, deserve an explanation.”

  “There’s no time!” shouted the president. “I’m supposed to address the nation in fifteen minutes. Can you imagine either of those conversations taking less than that? Not to mention the fact that my speech, you know, the one I’ve been working on for two days, is over there in the garbage can.” The president pointed toward a small plastic wastebasket surrounded by yellow balls of crumpled paper, only a few of which had found the receptacle.

  “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “We can’t worry about them being miffed, to put it mildly. I’ll have my staff put them off until after your address. What about the media?”

  “What about them? Do you want an executive order shutting them all the hell up? Bring it to me and I’ll sign it!”

  The aides in the room could be heard laughing, which drew a smile from the president.

  “You wish, sir,” Fielding said with a grin.

  The brief moment of levity worked wonders at easing the tension in the room. The president found his chair, which had b
een shoved near the predominantly blue flag of the President of the United States. He slid it back to his desk and flopped into it.

  With a deep breath and a pronounced exhale, he addressed his team. “Okay. You know what, I had confidence in our approach to this crisis before 60 Minutes gummed up the works. The bottom line is we wanted to fully assess the threat before we spoke out of turn. I’ll caution the American people, and world leaders, from overreacting to hyperbole and sensationalistic news. We have the finest minds on the planet analyzing this asteroid and putting together a plan to protect our planet from its approach.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, that’s exactly right,” his chief of staff said in a calm voice. She’d dealt with the president’s meltdowns in the past and was glad to see that he was regaining his composure before the most important address to the nation of his young presidency. “We stick to the plan because it’s solid.”

  “The world is in a panic because the doomsday pundits have taken over. I’m sure they’ve already written us off as dead and stinkin’. I’ve got to show them that we’re one hundred percent confident in our plan, and there’s no need to panic.”

  “Sir, one of the issues that isn’t fully addressed in your address is the nuclear option. Russia, France, and China will suggest that IM86 be nuked.”

  “Will they?” asked the president. “I’ve noticed that in the list of world leaders demanding answers, you haven’t mentioned the Russians. The lack of contact from Beijing doesn’t surprise me. Xi Jinping waits to speak after everyone else shows their cards. It’s infuriating, but effective.”

  “Perhaps the Russians are waiting for you to speak?” suggested Fielding.

  President Watson stood and wandered over to the windows overlooking the South Lawn of the White House. Three eleven-foot-tall windows overlooked the large area of perfectly manicured grass. He reflected for a moment and turned to his chief of staff.

  “Something’s not right. Do we have any intelligence on their activities at Vostochny?”

  “They’re still inside Russia, sir,” replied Fielding. “However, I don’t have any details from the Pentagon.”

  The president’s chief speechwriter arrived in the Oval Office with two of his top political strategists in tow. The clock had reached a couple of minutes before the eight o’clock hour.

  “Mr. President, your address has been uploaded to the teleprompters,” he announced.

  “Will I approve of the changes?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir, or at least I hope so. We go live in a moment.”

  A production team filtered into the room and took up their positions. The president received a final touch-up of powder to his forehead, glanced at photographs of his wife, grown children and grandchildren for support, and awaited the countdown.

  Three—two—one.

  “My fellow Americans, this is the first time I’ll speak with you from the Oval Office, and it won’t be the last. My presidency is less than one hundred days old, and the world faces a threat that is like no other faced by modern man.

  “In the coming days, you will learn more about asteroid IM86, a recently discovered near-Earth object that is projected to come very close to our planet. Preliminary trajectory projections indicate we are in potential danger of an impact event unless we take action.

  “We have the brightest minds in the world working within NASA and related agencies. They will be collaborating with international space agencies in order to reach a consensus on how to divert this threat, with the goal of protecting our planet.

  “I have implemented our government’s emergency-response plans. Over the last two days, while NASA has developed a strategy to neutralize this threat, our military and law enforcement agencies have been directed to preserve order and protect our citizens from opportunists. After this address, my administration will be making a series of announcements, coupled with the signing of multiple executive orders, designed to prevent price-gouging, initiate curfews, and generally keep the peace. We will not allow a few to take advantage of the public because we face this time of adversity.

  “Tonight, I ask for your prayers to give our brightest minds the strength to repel this threat, and for those who are tasked with carrying out this monumental task, the courage to do so. Like you, when a crisis arises, I fear for my children and grandchildren. At times, we have to deal with evil, and now, we have to defend ourselves from above.

  “This is a day when all Americans, together with every person in the world, from every culture and walk of life, should unite in our resolve to support one another in the face of potential catastrophe.

  “God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.”

  Chapter 41

  Sunday, April 8

  The Vostochny Cosmodrome

  Amur Oblast

  Far Eastern Russia

  “As expected, they’re reacting to the activity,” said the Jackal calmly. “We’ve got infantry platoons and armored vehicles deploying from your south out of the residential barracks. They’ve cut off access to the town and have sealed off the entire compound except to the north.”

  “I guess that makes it our lucky day,” added Bear.

  “Well, actually, Sergeant, it might be. Thus far, I don’t see any activity at the airport to your west. Their first efforts appear to be focused on securing the facility. The distraction will hopefully buy you time to return to your aircraft.”

  Gunner slapped Bear on the back and pointed toward the processing complex they’d just driven through before wrecking the vehicle. “We’ve just added another few miles to our hike, not to mention that it’s all uphill from here. Let’s go.”

  The three of them sought cover along the road and began the trek through the forest. The never-ending sirens wailed from the launch facility, and shouts emanated from the processing complex as orders were given to secure the perimeter. For the next thirty minutes, Gunner and his team fought through the underbrush, relying upon their GPS devices and updates from Fort Belvoir to make their way back toward the AV-280.

  Bear led the way as the team entered a small clearing. “What do we have here?” he asked, using the sights on his rifle to sweep the perimeter of a small nondescript building surrounded by small geodesic-dome-shaped structures.

  “Looks like weather satellites,” responded Cam.

  “Affirmative,” added the Jackal.

  Suddenly, flashes of muzzle fire winked at them through tiny slits in the block walls of the weather station. The AK-47 rounds tore into the turf in front of Bear and thwacked tree trunks behind him.

  Bear ducked and rolled behind a small mound of dirt while Gunner returned fire to give him cover. Cam immediately moved to the right along the tree-lined expanse of the opening. Gunner sprinted to the left, leaving Bear to face the shooter head-on. Although it was fruitless to return fire, as the small windows would require a perfect shot, Bear did anyway to provide cover. He also hoped to keep the shooter occupied and therefore unable to alert the Russian security forces.

  The west side of the building was devoid of windows, and a solitary door faced the parking lot, which contained one vehicle. Gunner decided to use a shock-and-awe approach.

  Swiftly, he ran across the clearing until he reached the gravel parking area. Without slowing down, he trained his weapon on the steel door’s hinges, its weakest point because it was attached to a wooden frame.

  The silenced weapon emitted a hail of bullets, the rapid-fire spitting sound was muted by the frame being ripped apart. Without hesitation, Gunner ran and kicked the door open with his left foot, allowing his weapon to lead the way.

  Two Russian military personnel, dressed in fatigues, huddled in the corner of the building. Gunner swept the open space and was satisfied that he’d captured the only two occupants.

  “Clear!” he said into his communications mic. The female soldier was crying uncontrollably, and the male, who sat with his feet pulled up under his thighs, held his hands high in the air.

&n
bsp; Cam and Bear entered the room, quickly removing the rifle from the proximity of the weatherman. Cam used her best Russian to determine if they’d contacted security. The woman responded that they had not because they didn’t have time. They’d only received a warning notification moments before.

  The team bound and gagged their hostages. It was not their day to die, despite the fact one of them, most likely the man, had opened fire on Bear.

  Gunner and Cam stepped outside, under the now cloudy sky. He looked up and smiled.

  “I’d like to make our way through the woods while it’s still daylight,” Cam began as she studied her GPS. “We’ve still got a tough five-klick hike until we reach the Valor, but it doesn’t appear that we’re being chased.”

  “They’ll come looking for these two, or check in on them, at some point,” said Gunner. “We need to get rolling.”

  “Do you see any benefit to taking off at night?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Coming in, Bear flew low, in the canyons, to avoid radar. The biggest concern was being identified from the ground. This low cloud ceiling will help us on the way out, and darkness certainly will, too, but it won’t protect us from their radar.”

  “The digital camo skin should, especially at night,” added Cam.

  “True, but they’re gonna be on alert now. We shot them up pretty good, so they’ll have no doubt that a special ops team was involved.”

  “Majors,” interrupted the Jackal, referring to Cam and Gunner in the plural, “we’ve got inbound Kamov Black Sharks from the west. They appear to be landing at the airport, probably staging to run sweeps of the perimeter.”

  Bear emerged from the weather station. “I’m ready.” He tossed energy bars to Cam and Gunner, who quickly opened them. The group hadn’t eaten anything since they’d left the USS Ronald Reagan.

  “I feel good. How about you boys?” asked Cam.

  “I know where you’re headed, and I agree,” responded Gunner. “Double time. We can rest on the plane ride home.”