Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “Good. Moscow will handle the comms and signals as well as flight telemetry and system functions, but we’ll be part of the equipment checks and deployments once the time arrives. Can you mount the lander in only three days?”

  “We’ll have it secured, don’t you worry. It was nice to have a short break, but it makes me wonder what our adversaries have been up to in the meantime.”

  Vlad looked around and then leaned forward, lowering his voice. “If word is correct, then the Chinese and Americans are knee-deep into a pissing match.”

  “We’ve heard . . . well, we’ve heard things, but nothing that serious.” Alex nodded.

  “I’m not one for politics, but if Dmitry is correct, then our superiors have maneuvered us well. We stand a good chance of reaching the moon first,” Vlad said louder, leaning back in his chair.

  Alex dropped the report on the desk, not really looking at it. If it contained something important, Vlad would have just told him. “So you think this idea will work?”

  “You tell me, Alex. You’re an engineer.”

  “Well, theoretically you could pilot a brick to the moon and back provided you had enough delta v and fuel to escape the earth’s gravity well. It’s not like the Gordust needs to be aerodynamic or anything.”

  “Agreed, and that’s why I think this plan may actually succeed. It’s audacious and cunning, bold but simple,” Vlad said, looking at his chief engineer with a gleam in his eye. “Who could have imagined a low earth space station being converted to a lunar spaceship?”

  Alex wasn’t sure if his boss’s question was rhetorical or not, so he answered anyway. “The Gordust certainly will look like a pig soaring through space; that much is sure. It looked fine as a floating station, but despite the lack of aerodynamic requirements, I think it will just look plain ugly up there. That isn’t a concern, however, as long as we make it there and secure the prize.”

  Vlad stretched his arms and yawned—not the most professional thing to do for the Director of Space Launch Operations, but he didn’t care. He was more than tired and glad for the downtime, having finally caught up on some of his sleep in the meantime. “Well, hopefully this time next week, or soon thereafter, we’ll be watching the Gordust as it heads to the moon.”

  “That will be a good thing, boss,” Alex said. “Did you see the latest pictures?”

  “Ah, you mean the ones from the horizon angle?” Vlad asked.

  “Yes, they were taken from farther away, but with the high resolution lens and the horizon angle, the alien device can be seen in an interesting perspective. Some of the newscasters are already commenting on the bulge in the lunar soil at the base. This will be very interesting once we’re there,” Alex said.

  “The signal strengths are a bit higher than we anticipated, but the shielding on the orbiter is holding and all systems are still functioning. Our signal technicians are still trying to make sense of the data stream from the alien broadcast. Between the pictures and the data, things are looking interesting,” Vlad said.

  “I was wondering if we were making any headway with the signal. This is good to know that the orbiter isn’t experiencing any of the same issues that the Chinese equipment did,” Alex said.

  Vlad nodded. “I agree, and speaking of equipment, Dmitry has asked us to review the manifest as well. That is part of the reason why I asked for you today. I hated to interrupt your downtime, but we need to assess it before the lander is mounted in order to secure any other equipment that they may need to investigate the device.”

  “I assume Moscow sent a list already along with the equipment?”

  “Yes, it’s in the report, but Irina has made copies with just the proposed equipment manifest as is. If you or Yosef can think of anything else that our cosmonauts may need, then we have to have it ready and secured in the lander in less than two days. The second launch will carry nothing but fuel pods for the trip, so this is our last chance,” Vlad said.

  “I’m sure they thought of everything already, but it doesn’t surprise me that we have only two days to review this list and secure any necessary equipment. Typical for Moscow,” Alex said, his face scrunched in a frown.

  “Well, it would be easier to load and secure any extra equipment now, but if not, you still have the three days afterward for final preparations. It will just be more difficult to work on storing the equipment when it’s one hundred meters in the air.” Vlad nodded.

  “Oh yeah, I don’t envy the crewmember who will have to scramble around inside the lander once it’s attached to the Energia. Best hope they don’t need anything bigger than what they have listed already.”

  “No worries, Alex. I’m sure they will be successful with whatever we send to them. We just need to make sure we cover our bases so those bureaucrats in central don’t have a goat to scape.”

  “What?” Alex asked, his face puzzled.

  “Never mind. It’s an English term I learned years ago. We don’t want to be blamed for any potential failure, so make sure you and Yosef give this a good once over.”

  “Understood. We’ll start on it right away,” Alex said, standing and heading out the door, stopping for one moment and turning to face his boss.

  “Yes, Alex?” Vlad asked, looking up.

  “If we don’t succeed? Has anyone discussed our options on this matter?”

  “No.” Vlad shook his head and lowered his eyes. “If we fail, the consequences would be too serious to contemplate given the nature of our mission.”

  “That serious, then?”

  “More so. Let’s not find out what fate awaits a failure.”

  Alex didn’t speak again and looked down first before leaving the office. Vlad wasn’t sure what his government would do if the entire mission failed, and he feared more for his boss and friend Dmitry. There would be no dacha, no pension, and no retirement for him if they did fail. God help us, Vlad thought to himself, pulling open the report and starting to read it for the second time that day.

  17 China Strikes First

  People’s Republic Space Command

  Outside of Beijing, China

  In the near future, Day 41

  * * *

  Hun watched the screen from the control room as two technicians strapped Hen Sing into his chair in the command module perched on top of the Long Reach. This would be the second launch in three days of the Long Reach rocket. The first one contained the power and fuel modules for the lander, and this one held the actual lander and other electronic equipment with upgraded shielding.

  The secondary screens showed the plot trajectory of the first launch as it hurtled toward its rendezvous with the moon. It had traveled nearly two thirds of the way there, and several control and command technicians were updating the telemetry on its flight path hourly. Hun knew his team was being observed by the general’s staff, as were his consoles and data streams. While he was given operational command over the mission, the entire team was compartmentalized to the extent that communications between them were impaired, if not completely interrupted.

  “How do you feel, Colonel Sing?” Hun asked through his headset.

  A thousand kilometers away, he could see the colonel tilt his head toward the internal camera, despite the helmet, and an almost imperceptible nod. “Fine, Director Lee, though the accommodations are rather tight in here.”

  Hun stifled a chuckle as he watched the two technicians finish strapping the colonel in his seat and crawl toward the exit hatch. There was almost no room for the three of them inside, and Hun knew that only someone like Sing could get away with some levity while the general’s staff was monitoring their communications.

  “You’ll get accustomed to it soon enough. The flight profile is the same as the energy module, which precedes you by a couple of days. You’ll receive updated information on your primary monitor in front of you. In the meantime, our health and wellness specialist will be monitoring your vitals and talking you through the launch. Let my team and I know if you have any issues
during the flight.”

  Sing nodded. “Very thoughtful of you. After piloting the MiG-55, I’m sure I’ll be fine handling the Crimson Glory.”

  “Very well, Colonel. Success and honor,” Hun said.

  “Success and honor,” Sing replied in kind.

  Hun watched as the door to the module was shut and sealed as red lights on one of the system consoles changed to green. Hun knew the MiG-55 required a flight pressure suit as it could pull over nine G’s in supersonic flight, so the colonel would not be surprised at the thrust and inertia factors that were about to be thrown his way. At least in this regard, he felt the general had made a fine selection.

  Hun took his headset off for a second as Lin sat next to him and leaned in to speak to him. “It would have been better if the colonel had the opportunity to spend some time in a simulator.”

  Chon looked up from his console next to Hun’s and also pulled his headset off before speaking. “The lander and entire module are new. No time for programming a proper simulation of something this complex.”

  Hun nodded. “Yes, even if we had the time to program something, the entire simulation would have needed a good testing and the military wasn’t going to allow a delay for that.”

  “The colonel is a brave man,” Lin said, her voice conveying the sincerity of her statement.

  “Yes, he is,” Hun said, placing his headphones back on his head. “A brave man, indeed. Now let’s get him there and back again safely.”

  Lin and Chon nodded, placing their headphones back on as well and turning to their consoles to prepare for the launch. Today would be their day.

  Bridge of the USS Berkshire

  Fifteen miles off the coast of Wenchang, China

  In the near future, Day 41

  * * *

  “That makes three close calls in only two days, Captain,” Lt Commander Jensen said to his superior as they stood outside the bridge facing north toward the Chinese island of Wenchang where the Chinese space base was located fifteen miles distant. The Berkshire, a navy destroyer, was shadowing the American navy trawler Orca, which was located just outside of Chinese territorial waters. Two Chinese frigates were in turn shadowing the Berkshire between it and the Orca.

  Captain Hansen lowered his binoculars and looked at his second in command. “Did we get the data feed from the Orca?”

  “Yes, sir. All data has been encrypted and forwarded to Fort Meade per orders, sir. Now can we bug out before one of them actually fires on us?”

  Hansen knew his second’s fear of hostilities between the two superpowers was more than just an idle fancy. Ever since the alien communication had been broadcasted, every government on the planet had seemed to go into defensive mode, and the superpowers were taking it two steps further by elevating the game dangerously close to something ugly.

  The flybys of the Chinese MiGs were more than provocative as they probed the resolve of America’s naval forces. The Orca had been nearly rammed twice by aggressive Chinese frigates, and Hansen couldn’t blame them. If a Chinese carrier group set up shop off the coast of Canaveral in Florida, then he was sure the U.S. would be more than a little edgy. Add to this the U.S. spy trawler which was anything but inconspicuous floating dangerously close to the edge of Chinese territorial waters, and things were starting to get out of hand.

  “That last one was not only closer but they ran four MiGs our way instead of the lone wolf,” Hansen said, looking northward at the sky.

  “They did, but the Clinton kept them at bay.” Jensen nodded.

  “Yeah, pretty amazing what a half dozen F41 Stealth Sprites will do to a wing of MiGs.”

  “They did bug out pretty quickly when our flyboys arrived.”

  “Yeah, but next time they’ll come in with an even dozen,” Hansen said, looking at Jensen for a reaction.

  “Then we’ll have to send two,” Jensen said, a grin crossing his face.

  “Do you have the latest positioning report?” Hansen asked his second.

  Jensen handed the waterproof clipboard to his captain. “Updated as of ten minutes ago.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Hansen said, looking at the chart. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

  “Awfully close, isn’t he, sir?”

  “This mark puts him less than two hundred meters from their waters,” Hansen said, shaking his head. “He’s going to start a war if he’s not careful.”

  “Probably following orders,” Jensen said, waiting for the clipboard back which was not forthcoming.

  Hansen looked to the horizon and then back to the board again. He could clearly see the trawler, a smaller black dot near the horizon followed by two larger black objects. It was bad enough that his destroyer was only three miles from the border between international waters and Chinese territorial waters, but the Orca was flirting with disaster. He was sure the U.S. carrier task force a couple hundred clicks farther south wasn’t going to calm the situation down any more than this.

  “You’re probably right. The poor bastard is more than likely doing what he’s been told to do.”

  “Just like us, eh, skipper?”

  “Oh yeah, number two, just like us sorry bastards as well.” Hansen sighed, giving the clipboard back to Jensen and raising the binoculars to observe the Orca. If one of those frigates was going to do something, he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

  NASA Space Command

  Houston, Texas

  In the near future, Day 43

  * * *

  “Are we still reading go?” Rock asked Marge from his command console in Houston. It felt good to have a full crew in the control center.

  “All systems showing go, coms are five by five, and we’re awaiting the ball,” Marge said, referring to the hand off of mission control from Canaveral Launch Command to their Houston Space Command.

  “Is she still there?” Rock asked, rolling his eyes.

  “Oh yeah, Rock, she’s still there and giving you more than an eyeball.” Marge motioned with her eyes.

  President Powers had flown in on Air Force One just two hours earlier and had taken up shop along with her staff and more Secret Service agents than Rock had seen in a long while, without saying a word to him or his staff.

  The past two weeks had been busy as they readied the lunar lander and prepared the Saturn V for liftoff. Mr. Smith had gone to the observation room to discuss the mission with the executive branch, leaving Mrs. Brown on the floor of the control room near Rock’s console. At least the woman had the sense to give me my space, Rock thought to himself.

  Craig and Julie had finished their training and were flown to Canaveral two days earlier after being given a full day to spend with their families. Rock had watched on the closed circuit video feed as they were strapped into their chairs, and gave the thumbs up sign before the tower technicians vacated the capsule.

  Rock was still in awe as he looked at the widescreen field monitor and saw the huge Saturn V sitting gracefully on the launch pad, awaiting history. From the agitation Mr. Smith displayed, and the reports he had received from Mrs. Brown, it was obvious that the U.S. was a couple of days behind the Chinese and there was no news from the Russians other than the fact that they were still modifying their space station into something dramatically different.

  What would the ramifications be from a Chinese landing first? Rock pondered the rhetorical question and then discarded it from his mind. He had to focus if they were to succeed.

  “You doing okay, boss?” Jack asked through one of the private console-to-console channels.

  Rock looked down a couple of rows and off to the side where Jack was overseeing four consoles on signals data and communication servers. “I’m doing just fine, thank you. How ’bout you and your folks?”

  Jack looked at his crew. “Doing well. A bit of nervousness as most my crew are used to handling data from robotic missions. Nothing with a life on the line, but they’ll settle down. It’s a three day flight to the moon, so that will give them som
e time to settle in and adjust. How you and Marge doing with the big eye of Sauron looking over you?”

  Rock resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He considered it a sign of weakness and would display, in his opinion at least, a lack of professionalism on his part if he was more concerned with the observers and not the mission. “We’re making do. Not an ideal set-up, but it could be worse. Just make sure we don’t miss anything once we get the ball. I don’t feel particularly fond of walking knee-deep into it with the prez watching.”

  “You got it, boss. We’ll keep things tight on this side.”

  “I know you will. Thanks for the thought,” Rock said, flipping his com channel to mute and dialing up the tower frequency from Canaveral.

  “We’re T-minus sixty now,” Marge said over the intercom.

  “Damn chinks, we shoulda kept a nuke for them on top,” Tom muttered into the mike.

  Rock flipped his com over to private and hit Marge’s push to talk on the private intercom. “Did Tom just say what I thought he said?”

  Marge never bothered to look back. “Oh yeah. Look at the newsfeed in the lower right corner and you’ll know why.”

  Rock looked at the bottom of his main screen and realized he didn’t have the news screen feeding into one of his picture-in-pictures. He looked at one of the many side screens in front of him and saw the CNN newsfeed. It looked like video of the Chinese-manned space flight that was almost to the moon. He could see the red flag, emblem, and uniformed military spokesperson making some sort of statement. The speech was closed-captioned as they had the volume muted on all sub screens except the main tower one.

  “He’s watching the news?” Rock asked.

  “What else would he be doing? His section won’t have much to do till they reach orbit,” Marge said, a slight nod in Tom’s direction.