Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  Despite the bigoted remark, no one seemed to notice, didn’t care, or were simply used to Tom’s antics. “T-minus twenty seconds,” came the call.

  “Lisa, are you seeing the pressure in the second stage?” Rock heard Marge asking Lisa over the mission intercom which was a separate frequency than the tower. The launch frequency was the one that everyone was listening to, so Rock’s team was still speaking privately to a certain degree, if one could call two dozen participants private.

  “Just now seeing it. It looks marginal at best. You want to notify the tower?” Lisa responded.

  “Watch the gauge while I dial them up,” Marge started to say, and then Rock heard Lisa cut in.

  “Oh shit! We’re losing second stage compression,” Lisa exclaimed, her words frantic.

  “Abort, abort, abort!” Marge started to call over the tower frequency, but the tower was on top of the issue and the two spoke over one another.

  “T-minus eight, seven.” Then a pause as the tower aborted the countdown. “Launch aborted. Status stand down at T-minus six,” came the monotonous female voice.

  Rock watched the screen as suddenly a large plume of white gas started to vent from the gasket seals between the first stage and second stage of the immense Saturn V. The walkway bridge was frantically being pushed into position to evacuate the astronauts. A large amount of liquid hydrogen suddenly started to gush out as the leak became worse, spraying the tarmac and coating the entire lower side of the rocket.

  Technicians secured the bridgeway and then assisted the astronauts from their seats as they headed toward the express lift at the rear of the launch tower. Rock could see everyone struggling to move quickly as Julie and Craig were wearing suits with extra shielding that weighed nearly twice the current streamlined ones, and the technicians all had fire-resistant suits that covered them from head to toe.

  Finally the crew and support staff left the tower in a low floor mini bus, racing out of site as the constant drone of the tower announcer spoke over the main public address system. Rock noticed a nod from Jack, and finally Rock broke with protocol and looked over his shoulder just in time to see the president leave with her staff. It appeared the U.S. would not make it to the moon anytime soon. Rock leaned forward and put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

  18 The Russian Strike

  Gordust Space Station

  Low Earth Orbit

  In the near future, Day 44

  * * *

  Yuri checked his straps for a third time, pulling hard on each one and making sure the buckles would hold. The G-forces for the slingshot maneuver had been increased from five to eight. The pressure suits would help, but they would not be helmeted in order to read the gauges easier and to react if necessary. Despite the computing power of today’s machines, the need for a human presence always prevailed, and this would be no exception.

  “Nikolai, Gotov?” Olga asked over the intercom system.

  “Ready Nikolai,” he responded.

  Yuri listened in as Gregori, Viktor, and Ivan all reported their status as ready. The lander had arrived two days earlier, and after two days’ worth of spacewalks, it was secured to the station and the fuel pods were attached as well. The newsfeed was sporadic depending on their orbital positioning, but they were watching with interest the Chinese video stream of their lone astronaut preparing to enter lunar orbit.

  “Damn bold of them, eh, Yuri?” Olga said, punching in the last commands on her data console and securing her gloves and helmet to her chair.

  “You mean the Chinese?”

  “Of course. You can’t think I mean the Americans, do you?”

  “Nyet. Their little fiasco yesterday secures our lead today.” Yuri checked the strap to his helmet to make sure it was also secure and it wouldn’t float away or be slammed into the rear bulkhead once they ignited the rocket motors.

  “You’re forgetting the Chinese are almost there. What does Moscow think we will do once we arrive if the man has already claimed the prize?” Olga asked, a bitter tone in her voice.

  Yuri finished his checks and then turned to his copilot. “If I know Moscow, we’ll pull down his flag and plant our own. It’s six against one with no chance for them to reinforce.”

  “That’s just plain stupid, Yuri,” Olga shot back. “I was serious when I asked. We can’t undo history if their video feeds show them landing and claiming the device for themselves.”

  “Da, I know. We’ll just have to show up late to the party and see what we can do. This isn’t over by a long shot.” Yuri nodded.

  Moscow Central Control addressed the Gordust at that point, and Yuri prepped the station by initiating an x-axis burn to point the station at the oncoming earth horizon.

  “Initiate burn in ten seconds,” the command came in, and Yuri noted the half second delay as the signal was bounced off a satellite. The delay didn’t matter as the computer was synched to the earth-based one atomically and the audio countdown was as much for show and a false sense of control as anything else. When the timer hit zero, the rocket motors would ignite, propelling the station on a downward vector coming within a hundred twenty kilometers of the planet’s surface from their current altitude of over ten thousand kilometers.

  “Three, two, one, ignition.” The command came a tad late as Yuri felt himself pressed back into the command seat as all four rocket motors came to life, hurtling the Gordust at over thirty thousand kilometers per hour toward the curvature of the earth.

  The flight was one that didn’t really require piloting. The trajectory was a ballistic one, and Olga was monitoring their flat path against not only the ground-based radar track but also the planned flight path, looking for the slightest deviation. Once noticed, she relayed that information to the navigation computer which would either adjust the thrust of the four motors accordingly or, if major enough, also add lateral thrust via twelve positioning thrusters that used compressed nitrogen ejected into space to give the station a push one way or the other. If done early enough, the slightest deviation would change or correct their trajectory by hundreds of kilometers once they slung themselves toward the moon.

  The entire trip would take them just less than ninety minutes. Yuri smiled as he recognized the North American continent rapidly approaching them along the horizon. Moscow Central Control had also waited for the correct alignment of not only the moon but the correct trajectory to keep the Gordust away from Asia at its lowest approach. Rumor was that the Chinese still had at least one, if not more, anti-satellite killers in orbit above its country. Moscow would take no chances, and for once Yuri agreed with them.

  The flight in was uneventful until they reached perigee and the station began to vibrate violently. The small shield panels that were erected on the left side of the station weren’t even remotely designed to be aerodynamic. The large station size combined with the literal wall of shielding panels managed to capture, ricochet, and otherwise collide with every hydrogen atom in their way, or so Yuri thought.

  He knew it was going to be rough when Olga stopped her navigation monitoring and gave him a long look bordering on a stare.

  “Are we still at optimum angle?” Yuri asked politely, attempting to distract Olga with one of her duties.

  The question had its intended effect as Olga looked down at her console and punched a few more buttons to zoom in on their current path. “Da, tochno,” she said, a nod of her head.

  Yuri could hear a commotion from the living quarters pod despite it being over ten meters from their command module. Normally, procedure indicated that the corridor between the pods would be sealed shut with the pressure doors, but the entire crew felt that if the station suffered that kind of failure, it would be catastrophic and unrecoverable. They wore their suits in case of depressurization during the maneuver with only Yuri and Olga not securing their helmets during the flight.

  “Gregori, you all right back there?” Yuri asked, having tuned their coms channel to the intra setting, leaving Moscow i
n the dark.

  “Da, no problem. We all good now,” the lunar mission leader responded. Gregori would have control of his team members once they reached the moon, and Yuri was the station leader. Whatever it was, Yuri let it go. It wouldn’t be the first time he had seen or heard of a national hero pissing his pants during something heroic. It only mattered if it was made public, so Yuri clicked the intra channel off, allowing Gregori to handle his own crew.

  The shaking lasted only ten more minutes until the Gordust started to gain altitude, and Yuri watched as Europe approached while the Americas had disappeared behind them. They would never really orbit above Asia as their trajectory led them up and out from the western edge of Spain.

  “There she is,” Yuri said, almost to himself.

  “Ochen krasivaya,” Olga responded, also speaking as if in a dream.

  “Very beautiful, indeed,” Yuri said, clicking the network server to life and allowing all internal data to be streamed to the geosynchronous satellite off to their right. The moon itself still seemed so far away—a large white ball with grey specks on it—but it was fully lit as if it faced the sun. A full moon, Yuri thought, how appropriate.

  “Hard to believe we’ll be there in less than three days,” Olga said, continuing to stare at the earth’s sole natural satellite and quickly forgetting her fear from the tenuous touches of the planet’s atmosphere.

  “Hard to believe, indeed. It worked, Olga, it worked,” Yuri stated, elated at their success.

  Olga smiled and then looked at Yuri with glee. “We are making history, comrade.”

  Yuri nodded and returned the smile. The first, most likely, ever since they were put together in such close proximity six months ago. Russians had never made it to the moon’s surface before. Now that would all change.

  Vostochny Cosmodrome

  Siberia, Russia

  In the near future, Day 44

  * * *

  “Suxha sin,” Alex said from his seat in the observation lounge as they watched the large monitor. “It actually worked.”

  Vlad watched intently as the radar track from the Gordust showed the station, now more like a ship, clearing the earth’s lower orbit and heading toward the moon. “Incredible. I was worried, but this is fantastic.” He looked at Alex and smiled.

  “You gave them more than enough propellant, Vladimir,” Alex said, looking at his laptop and pulling up a small window on his browser tab.

  Vlad looked at his tablet as well and tapped the fuel icon where the status bar showed nearly forty percent left in the fuel pods. The plan called for a minimum contingency of fifteen percent as a reserve and they only needed ten percent to escape the moon’s gravity well, so that left nearly fifteen percent extra fuel for a very large safety margin.

  “You know some suit in Moscow will call it a waste of resources,” Vlad said, a slight frown on his otherwise happy face.

  “Perhaps, but the crew will be more than satisfied. This gives them a few options with regards to their lunar operations.”

  “Yes. They can enter a lower orbit or perhaps transfer fuel to make more than one lunar landing. That wasn’t in the original plan, but now that would be feasible,” Vlad stated.

  Alex nodded. “Especially if they go with a lower orbit.”

  Irina approached the men, bringing one of the secure radio phones the base used when communicating with Moscow. “Minister Osnokov on the line, sir.”

  “Thank you, Irina,” Vlad said, taking the phone and nodding at Irina, who quickly turned and retreated to the support room with a half dozen other staff. “Hello?”

  “Ah, Vladimir, you watched the flight, then?” Dmitry asked from Moscow.

  “Da, excellent results, sir. I congratulate you.” Vlad adjusted the phone to his other hand so he could see the screen and speak with his boss comfortably.

  “The praise is one for the entire team. Our superiors are most pleased, Vlad. I wanted to personally congratulate you and your team on your outstanding efforts to lift all the necessary equipment and supplies into orbit. I made sure the politburo heard your name.”

  Vlad half smiled and wondered if that would be such a good thing or not at this stage of the game. He also wondered at all the optimism considering the fact that they were running three days behind the Chinese, despite being ahead of the Americans, who had apparently had their pants pulled down on them in front of a global audience.

  “Sir, if I may ask, how is it that our mood can be so . . . celebratory considering our current positioning?” Vlad asked, more than a bit confused.

  Vlad couldn’t see his old mentor and current boss, but the elation in his voice was enough to perk Vlad’s ears. “Let us worry about the Chinese. The Americans aren’t the only ones with a dose of bad luck.”

  “Sir, what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Vlad asked, looking at Alex, who shrugged since he was listening to only half a conversation.

  “In time, my good friend. Due to our security issues that we discussed last month, I can’t discuss the details with you, but rest assured the race has yet to finish. We have much work to do, and as I said, the politburo is more than pleased with our handling of the program, Vlad. There’ll be medals for everyone for this one. Trust me on this.”

  Vlad nodded though his superior could not see the gesture. “Understood, sir. We’ll have to wait, then, and wish our real heroes well.”

  Dmitry comprehended immediately. “Yes, they will be very busy soon, and we expect nothing short of perfection on this. We’ll have the video lines installed by the time they reach the moon.”

  “Yes, I know,” Vlad responded. Vlad knew they had the ability to teleconference already, but Moscow had implemented a new security protocol that required the laying of special optic fiber wires that in the past had been considered blasé, to say the least. Wireless communicating, as well as cloud storage of data and information, had been all the rage for at least two decades now, but in a world of serious hacking, it was back to some old school technology, and Vlad’s base was being connected to an older fiber optic system that connected directly to Moscow. It would be impossible to intercept.

  “Good. Pass on our congratulations to your crew and let them know they have done well. We’ll talk again tomorrow,” Dmitry said.

  “I will, Dmitry, and our congratulations to you and the mission team there as well.”

  Dmitry hung up the phone, severing the connection so only static came over the radio phone.

  “Well, what was that all about?” Alex asked, his face screwed up into a tight ball, brow furrowed.

  Vlad almost laughed. “I don’t know, Alex, but it seems our competition may have the lead but they won’t cross the finish line anytime soon.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m not. It appears our efforts may not have been in vain. We may indeed reach the moon’s surface first.” Vlad nodded and smiled at his chief engineer.

  “Interesting. I wonder what could have happened to the Chinese cosmonaut?”

  “I wonder as well, my friend,” Vlad said.

  19 Regroup

  People’s Republic Space Command

  Beijing, China

  In the near future, Day 44

  * * *

  “Pull the manual lever up and secure it before pressing the ‘separate’ button,” Chong said from his console at Wencheng.

  Hun watched as Sing recharged the lander’s separation device manually, pushing the handle several times in quick succession and then locking it into place and hitting the button that would normally detach it and allow him to pilot it to the moon’s surface. Sing pressed it several times and then recharged yet again before repeating the process without instruction from Chong.

  “Is it possible to detach from outside the module?” Lin asked Chong through their newly established video connection.

  “Not without the correct tool,” Chong said.

  “Someone’s going to ask,” Chon said from next to Lin.

  “W
ho would have thought we’d have two failures in the same system?” Chong said, a slight tone of defensiveness in his voice.

  Hun knew that as the chief mechanical engineer for this mission, the military would place a large amount of blame on Chong, and by extension his feet, despite the fact that they weren’t responsible for the actual construction of the lunar lander. Both the automatic release and the manual lever had malfunctioned, and the explosive bolts didn’t fire either. In that regard, Hun considered it more of a triple failure.

  “Mission control, did you copy my last transmission?” Sing said, and Hun lifted his mike a bit higher to respond.

  “That’s affirmative, Crimson Glory, we copy. Standby while we troubleshoot.” Hun clicked his mike off and looked at Lin. “Is the signal strength still the same on all wavelengths?”

  Lin looked at her computer from her desk in front of Hun’s. “Yes, all readings have been the same with the peak readings occurring during perigee above the device. Those readings are at least eighty percent higher than we calculated.”

  “They don’t exceed the shielding threshold, though they come close at their highest point,” Chon added from his desk next to Lin’s.

  Hun thought about that for a moment. They couldn’t blame the device nor its odd transmissions for the detachment failure, and a triple one at that. The entire docking operation had been a resounding success as Sing’s craft, the Crimson Glory, docked with the first module that had been launched two days prior containing the primary energy source and fuel pods. Sing’s craft had been operating on only battery power, and Hun was sure the mission would be seriously criticized if something had happened during the three-day transit to shut down the power on the Crimson Glory.

  Once coupled, the decaying plutonium reactor on the energy pod would provide more than enough power to not only recharge the command module but to also provide for a longer mission profile, if necessary. They would run out of food and water before they did power.