Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “Houston, this is Canaveral. Apollo 21 has cleared the tower. You have the ball. Confirm,” came the announcement as the bottom of the rocket cleared the top of the launch tower.

  Rock clicked his mike open, taking a deep breath. “Canaveral, this is Houston. Confirm, we have the ball. I repeat, Houston has the ball.”

  Rock noticed a slight nod from his boss from the corner of his eye before he put it out of his mind. The rocket continued to accelerate as it burned fifteen tons of propellant per second and accelerated at a constant velocity as it slowly started to disappear from sight.

  “Commence roll,” the guidance technician said from one of the twenty consoles in the control room.

  Rock watched as the rocket started to roll slightly, its gyroscopes now allowing a command to adjust its angle ever so slightly so that it started to cross the Atlantic. The video feed of the interior of the capsule showed both astronauts strapped in, shaking mildly in their seats as over seven and a half million pounds of thrust propelled them skyward.

  “Radar shows optimum track,” Lisa said as she monitored her console. Being the integration specialist, she was now supervising eight other system controllers from her desk, feeding relevant data to Marge and Rock’s consoles as well as comparing projected trajectory data versus actual.

  “Jeff and his team did a fantastic job, didn’t they?” Marge said via the private channel, interrupting the slow but steady stream of T-plus information as they counted toward the first stage of separation.

  Rock clicked his push-to-talk button. “Yes, they did. The rover compartment looks a bit wide on top, but the entire module is quite the feat of engineering, considering the weight.”

  “I count almost three times the weight that the Apollo missions had when they took a rover with them,” Marge said.

  Rock knew she was referring to the Apollo 15, 16, and 17 missions where the astronauts took the mini dune-buggy-looking rover with them. This time their rover had to be bigger, more heavily shielded, and capable of traveling a much farther distance and back than anything that had ever been conceived before. They were counting on technology to give them an edge compared to the old rovers of the late sixties and early seventies.

  “Good thing the Saturn can handle the payload,” Rock said, watching the rocket wobble a bit onscreen as the camera had to zoom in on it to keep it visible.

  “It’s mainly fuel. We’ve never attempted something like this before,” Marge said. Rock thought she felt nervous, probably because this entire mission profile was her idea.

  “Don’t worry, Marge,” Rock said, his voice calm as he tried to display a bit of confidence in her plan as well. “We’ve calced the hell out of this. It will work.”

  Marge nodded and cut her mike. After nearly three minutes, it was time for the first separation. Rock almost held his breath as the first stage broke away after burning its entire fuel load of over a half million gallons of kerosene fuel and liquid oxygen, its explosive bolts separating it from the rest of the rocket as it gently glided to the peak of its arch and then began its forty-two-mile trip back to the surface, eventually to land somewhere in the Atlantic.

  The second stage took over, attempting to lift the craft into orbit, and Rock watched as the Saturn continued on its trajectory for twice as long as the first stage. After a total of just over nine minutes, Rock watched as the craft approached the African continent and the second stage detached, allowing the third and final stage to ignite and propel the craft to orbital velocity.

  “Looking good,” Rock heard Jack say from his console, and it broadcasted on the public channel. One of Marge’s technicians continued to calmly call out data milestones as the craft passed various speeds and distances. He noticed that Marge let out a large breath of air when the second stage separated and the third successfully ignited.

  Rock decided to add a human touch to the monotone monologue coming from the data technician. “How you doing up there, Craig?” Rock asked, flipping his push-to-talk on the public channel that the astronauts were using as well.

  Craig gave a thumbs-up on the monitor as his bulky gloved hand temporarily released its hold on the chair armrest. “Good.”

  “Julie, how are you feeling?” Rock asked.

  “Feeling good, Houston. Quite a ride. Give our regards to your crew. This is a fine ship to pilot,” she said.

  “We feel the same down here, Apollo. Your telemetry is five by five, and we’ll have you in orbit momentarily. Make us proud.” Rock clicked his mike off and smiled as he got a thumbs-up from Julie as well.

  The monotone voice called for final engine shutdown, and the third stage would not be reignited until they had orbited the planet one and a half times. Rock watched as Lisa took the radar readings from Spain and then, thirty minutes later, from India. The craft reached an orbital height of over one hundred miles, and Marge and her crew were calculating the burn ratios from low earth orbit to the moon.

  Australia picked up the Apollo 21 craft and then finally Hawaii. Houston would be able to track them across the Western Hemisphere. There was a series of discussions on equipment and vector alignment between Marge and the Apollo as they completed their first orbit of the planet in a single hour.

  Rock’s mike clicked open as Jack queued him on the private frequency. “Wasn’t that long ago that most people thought the world was flat. Now we’re circling it in a mere hour.”

  Rock smiled as he watched the radar track superimposed on a map of the world. “Right you are. Geologically speaking, it was a mere blink of an eye. Makes you wonder where we’ll be in a few more centuries.”

  Tom had joined them in the intercom. “Nowhere at the rate Congress funds us. We’re lucky we’re even headed back to the moon now.”

  “Don’t you have a system to monitor?” Jack chided Tom.

  “I have less systems to monitor than you have frequencies,” Tom retorted. Neither of his technicians looked up from their consoles, and any casual observer would be at a loss if they were listening in.

  Rock let it go as time passed and the last stage crossed over the Indian Ocean. Marge’s team had calculated the orbit at one-hundred-two-point-four miles overhead by the same margin. A perfect circular orbit, not that it surprised Rock since the Apollo 16 mission had achieved much the same decades earlier.

  “Ignition in three, two, one, mark,” the data technician said through her microphone as the third stage rocket reignited and the thrust vectors sent the craft up and away from low earth orbit pointed at the moon.

  Rock watched as the rest of the propellant was consumed and the radar track updated to show the Apollo spacecraft within a quarter of a degree of their plotted trajectory.

  “Nicely done, everyone,” Rock said over the public frequency. There was a round of applause when the data technician cut in and declared the ship on target.

  “Blackjack to Houston,” Rock heard the intercom crackle with Craig’s voice coming from the ship. “We are headed to the moon, Houston.”

  Marge looked at Rock and gave the go ahead nod. “Houston to Blackjack, confirm transmission. Blackjack inbound to the moon. All systems go, over and out,” Marge said.

  “Blackjack?” Rock asked, clicking on his team’s private channel.

  “It was Tom’s idea, and Craig and Julie ran with it,” Marge said.

  “Yeah, like in Apollo 21, Blackjack in Vegas,” Tom said.

  This mission should have been Apollo 20, but since that mission was aborted, the superstitious but scientific NASA team always advanced the mission number in order not to jinx the operation. If Apollo 20 was a bust, then Apollo 21 would be their lucky number. It would be their Blackjack.

  22 Gambit

  People’s Republic Space Command

  Beijing, China

  In the near future, Day 46

  * * *

  It had taken the general less than ten minutes to discuss the veteran engineer’s recommendation and finally approve it. Hun had to explain it to Colonel Sing p
ersonally, and he was almost brought to tears at how the older man handled the news. It was, of course, offered as a voluntary course of action, but the colonel knew what it meant and, with great grace and honor, had accepted the new mission profile.

  The general had taken a few moments to discuss the objectives with Colonel Hen Sing before returning control back to Hun. Engineer Wu had figured out the only solution short of simply returning empty-handed and never hesitated to offer it to Central Control.

  “Bastard,” Hun heard Chon whisper into his ear.

  “Not now, Chon,” Hun said, looking sideways at the hallway doors where the general had left not long ago. Hun was sure that General Wang would be watching from the upper control room overlooking the main consoles here in Beijing.

  “He just ordered the man to his death,” Chon persisted.

  Hun waved him away and sat down in his chair, relieved to see that Chon had returned to his desk.

  “Report when you are secure in the main lander,” Hun heard Lin say over the main frequency.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Hun ordered. Lin looked at her boss once and then clicked her mike off. Hun would take responsibility for the instructions that would seal the man’s fate.

  The new mission profile called for Colonel Sing to separate the lander by manually overriding the emergency explosive bolts, which would detach the lander and the command module from the energy/fuel pod. This would allow him to land on the moon’s surface and return to orbit with the alien device.

  He would not be able to re-dock with the first pod that contained the energy and fuel stores because the explosive bolts would destroy the docking collar. He would, however, be able to place the device in one of the smaller storage bins that he could access from the outside, and then the secondary module could be remotely piloted back to earth, leaving Sing and the control module orbiting the moon for eternity. Sing would live until his oxygen supply ran out four days later.

  “Crimson Glory, this is Beijing Control, do you copy?” Hun said, his voice calm but determined.

  “Beijing Control, the Crimson Glory copies. Do you have instructions for me?” Sing said.

  “Affirmative. On my mark, you will engage the emergency protocol on the dual pod release mechanism. This has been wired now so that you can simply press the red ‘detach’ button on the right of your console. Are you ready?”

  “Crimson Glory ready and able.” The old man’s voice crackled as it proceeded around the side of the moon.

  Hun waited for the countdown timer. They had several minutes to spare, and the timing had to be perfect if the craft was to land successfully near the target. It had the bare minimum fuel requirement in order to even reach the moon, so most of the trip in would be coasting with some short, strong burns of the motors to arrest the ship’s velocity and keep it within maintainable maneuvering levels.

  “Detach in ten seconds,” Hun said. “Three, two, one, detach now.”

  The external cameras clearly caught the metallic fragments as twelve bolts exploded, separating the lander and command module from the energy pod. Hun had to hand it to the colonel, the man never hesitated.

  Hun noticed Lin and Chon still working furiously at a plan to transfer fuel from the secondary module to the primary one. Hun knew it would be futile, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame his crew for trying. The main issue was that the heavier lander and control module carried only enough fuel to make it to the moon. The fuel reserves were on the secondary module which, after docking and mating with the command module, could not be pumped or otherwise transferred to Sing’s lander.

  The lander doubled as not only the lunar transfer vehicle but also the earth to moon and return control module. It had to in order for the lighter lift Long Reach rocket to be able to reach the moon with that size payload. A separate command module and lunar lander was considered wasteful. There was no astronaut staying in lunar orbit; therefore, no command module was needed.

  Both modules were still traveling together, but the lander was falling steadily behind as the inertia from the explosive bolts slowed its velocity by a half meter per second. The timing was designed for only a minute to pass before Hun ordered Sing to begin the retro-burn and slow the lander.

  “Retro-burn initiated,” Sing said, his voice calm and professional. Not what Hun expected from a man who just had his death warrant signed and sealed.

  “Decrease burn in three, two, one, mark,” Hun said. The control center room was completely silent except for the faint humming of cooling fans coming from the many electrical devices and computers hard at work.

  “Burn decreased,” Sing said, his hand on the piloting stick ready to take over in case the computer didn’t make the necessary course corrections.

  “Communications transfer in one minute,” Lin said.

  Hun watched as the Chinese lunar lander continued its butt-first approach to the moon’s surface. The lander was about to be eclipsed by the moon itself, and they would only have another two minutes communications via the transceiver on the secondary module still orbiting the moon before it, too, went out of coms with Beijing control.

  “Communications successfully transferred,” Lin said right after the video feed blacked out and then picked back up again.

  “Trajectory is going long,” the voice of one of the center’s mission controllers came across the intercom.

  Hun watched as the trajectory showed the lander extending higher above its intended track. If this kept up, it would overshoot its target.

  “Crimson Glory, increase thrust by fifty percent,” Hun ordered into the mike. “Chon, what’s the computer doing?”

  Chon looked confused for a second until he punched up some additional data. “The burn rate is set, but the fuel isn’t burning as efficiently as it should.”

  “Communications black out in thirty seconds,” Lin said, panic creeping into her voice.

  The video feed started to deteriorate as the seconds passed. “Glory, did you copy? Increase thrust by fifty percent,” Hun repeated. “Chon, will he have enough fuel to return?”

  “Yes, as long as he commences the burn now.”

  “Thrust increasing by fifteen percent,” Sing’s voice came across the channel, static starting to win the communications battle.

  “Negative,” Hun said, his voice now booming but calm. He had to make sure the man heard him. “Fifty percent burn for twenty seconds. Follow the readout on your navigation screen. I repeat, fifty percent burn for twenty seconds. Do it now, Colonel Sing, commence burn now.”

  “Communications blackout,” Lin said, defeat in her voice.

  “Did we get trajectory data on his track?” Hun asked.

  “Coming now, sir,” Chon said.

  Hun watched as the data fed into his monitor with an overlay of his planned flight path. Sing did indeed increase thrust, but the vector still went long. Unless he heard the command, he would overshoot his landing site by a large margin. It would be a long wait till communications could be reestablished once the orbiter cleared the far side of the moon. Hun just hoped they wouldn’t find Colonel Sing dead from the impact.

  Gordust Space Station

  Near the moon

  In the near future, Day 46

  * * *

  “Look at that signal strength,” Olga said, her eyes never leaving the monitor from where she was strapped in at her console seat.

  Yuri glanced over at her main monitor as his screen displayed radar and navigation data from where he was piloting the flying brick. “It matches what our orbiter relayed, but yes, it is quite high considering we are just now approaching the moon.”

  “How long do you think we’re going to deal with this lack of communication?” Olga asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Yuri pondered, pulling up the short and cryptic text message they had received a few hours earlier. Maintain course and speed. Four words, and despite the clear orders, Gregori had been trying every few minutes to raise Moscow Control to no avail. It was
as if they had turned a switch off.

  “There it is. I have a track on the Chinese craft now. Our orbiter should be clearing the far side within the next fifteen minutes as well,” Olga said. “Do we self-insert?”

  “What other options do we have? We’ll have to commence the orbital deceleration burn within the next hour.” Yuri changed his screen to pull up the display showing the tracks of several objects orbiting the moon. Flying off into deep space would not be advisable. Orbital insertion around the moon was their only option short of simply circling it and returning to the earth.

  “I’ve got someone on channel three,” Gregori’s voice came across the intercom system.

  “Tune them in, Olga,” Yuri said, continuing to monitor the moon’s artificial satellites.

  Olga tuned to channel three and activated the interior speaker so they could both hear the communications in their command module.

  “This is Vostochny Control. Confirm acknowledgement of orders,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  “This is Ruski Gordust confirming,” Gregori replied. “Identify yourself.”

  “Isn’t that what they just did?” Olga asked, her face conveying a look of confusion.

  “He’s ex Spetsnaz. He wants to know exactly with whom he is speaking,” Yuri answered.

  There was a pause, some static, and then a new voice, calm, authoritative, and assertive came across the frequency. “Ruski Gordust, this is Director Vladimir Berdenko of the Ruscosmos space base Vostochny. Moscow Central Control is no longer active. Vostochny Control is now primary. Confirmation code alpha two, delta three, one four seven echo. Confirm orders and communications.”

  Another pause while Gregori presumably confirmed the authorization codes. The codes were only used when and if a secondary channel was used and any other entity other than Moscow Central Control was directing activities. Normally all communications were encrypted and sent on a central frequency that didn’t require verification, but this new procedure for communicating was different and involved a completely different set of radio protocols.