by Bobby Akart
As a result, Gunner began to realize that upon his return from flying experimental aircraft, the questions always surrounded the plane itself and not Gunner’s surviving the test. Heather’s career was similar. Certainly, when NASA suffered tragedy, they came together as a family to offer solace. But when a mission was completed and the crew arrived safely, only family said, “I’m glad you’re home alive.”
It saddened Pop to see how Gunner had changed in the last three years without Heather. A large piece of his soul had been lost that fateful day, and he wondered if his son would ever recover. But, for now, he wanted to make sure Gunner came home, to Earth, alive. And when he did, Pop would hug him like he’d never hugged him before.
After one final look around Dog Island, wondering what it would look like when he returned, he made the lonely walk down the dock to the Cessna and climbed into his seat. As was his custom, he prayed for a safe flight and added a few words for their home. Then he took off into the sky, focusing his eyes on the heavens and wondering if his son was holding up okay.
*****
“I hear the plane!” shouted Cam as Bear emerged from the cabin. He’d volunteered to carry in all of the supplies if Cam promised to find a place to store everything. The smallish, twelve-hundred-square-foot log cabin home contained three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a large open living area that included the kitchen, a stone fireplace, and a cast-iron wood-burning stove with a cooktop.
Cam’s father had been in the military and over time became somewhat of a conspiracy theorist. He frequented websites like Infowars and Zero Hedge, soaking in all of the latest theories concerning activities in Washington and relating to the threats America faced.
Stationed in the Middle East until his unfortunate accident resulting in his death, he learned from several members in his unit about the concept of preparedness and the likelihood of societal collapse in the event of a catastrophic event.
Their cabin in the woods soon took on a different look from when Cam was a young girl. In between deployments, Cam’s father had modified the cabin so that it was completely off the grid. A solar array was installed first, followed by alternative heating and cooking methods. He had a well dug and installed a pump that was tied to the solar array. As backup, he purchased a tri-fuel generator that could operate using diesel fuel, solar power, or propane gas.
As a teen, Cam and her family would practice bugging out from their home to Fort Mills, the name that was adopted after her father began to prepare in earnest. Cam wouldn’t say that her father was obsessed, but he was certainly committed to protecting his family in case the nation suffered a catastrophic event.
Now, he and Cam’s mom had died, and she was facing a planet-killing asteroid that would arrive in just three days unless her best friend in the world could successfully divert it.
“Sure enough,” said Bear as he ambled down the grassy hill toward the dock. Earlier, Cam had moved their fishing boat around to make room for the Cessna to taxi up to the dock. It was a tight fit, but without the issues of tides causing the water levels to fluctuate, the plane should be secure. “I’m so impressed with the way he handles that little plane. Did you know he refuses to let me fly it?”
Cam laughed. “Gunner has probably told him about what you’ve done to some of the aircraft you’ve flown.”
“Hey,” he protested, giving his partner a playful shove. “I can’t help it if we get shot down sometimes. Or run out of gas.”
“Or clip the tops of those kapok trees in Brazil. Do you remember how far we had to walk through the jungle to meet the extraction transport?”
“Yeah, well, at least we made it. The Russians were pissed that we took out their munitions depot in Venezuela.”
Cam started walking toward the dock, still reminding Bear of his piloting exploits. “I told you we were flying too low.”
“Blah, blah, blah, Cam. I got us out of there and that’s all that matters.” Bear pouted as he caught up to Cam, who was waving Pop over to the dock.
Cam wrapped her arm around the muscular teddy bear of a man. “I’m just bustin’ your chops. Listen, before Pop arrives, I wanted to tell you that I spoke to Ghost briefly a moment ago. He’s given me several secure frequencies to contact him and the Jackal if necessary. He tells me Washington is very concerned about the state of affairs around the country. If we get slammed by the leftovers of IM86, whatever that might look like, he thinks it might be difficult to get Gunner here.”
Pop was waving his arm out the window as he idled toward the dock. Bear got into position with the dock lines to tie the plane off. He turned to Cam. “Maybe I should go out to Vandenberg and meet his, um, whatever the hell that spaceship is called.”
“Starhopper,” offered Cam.
“Yeah, that. Starhopper. I could help Gunner get here, you know, the two of us working together.”
“I already brought that up. Ghost said that, depending on the circumstances, they’d be able to give him a lift. But, Bear, there is something else.”
“What?”
Cam hesitated and spoke quickly as Pop cut the engines to the seaplane. “If Gunner can’t outrace the asteroid, then Vandenberg may not be an option for him to land.”
“Where else would he go?”
Cam took a deep breath and responded, “Anywhere he can find a place to set it down.”
Chapter 45
Wednesday, April 25
On Board the Starhopper
Mark Twain once wrote that the two most important days in your life were the day you were born and the day you found out why. Gunner Fox felt that he was born for this moment, a single day in his thirty-four years on Earth, plus now five days in space. He set his jaw, determined to focus on the next eight hours until he could get up close and personal with the asteroid heading toward its bull’s-eye—Earth.
“All right, Gunner, we can get a pretty good look at this booger now,” announced Chief Rawlings, who’d been working with Artie to align the telescope to focus on IM86. The passing solar storm had left a wake of solar particles that distorted the horizon in space, causing IM86 to mysteriously appear and disappear for several hours.
At first, Chief Rawlings was beginning to believe that the Russians had succeeded in their mission, and Houston was simply unaware of what they’d accomplished. Artie dashed his hopes by making the necessary adjustments so that IM86 was now on clear, full display for Gunner and Chief Rawlings to observe.
“It’s different than what I expected,” said Gunner as he leaned toward the monitor to get a closer look. “I expected it to be smoother.”
“Artie, please transmit these images to Houston.”
“Yes, Commander Chief Rawlings.”
“Gunner, this is the first close-up look we’ve had of the asteroid. We’re really pissed at the Russians for not sharing their findings, which is part of the reason that I don’t give a rat’s ass that Sokolov is butt-hurt over how I’m handling this mission.”
“Chief, look at it. The surface is much stonier than I expected, and the debris field has created a defined tail, a lot like a comet, although much smaller.”
“We’ll get a better look as each hour passes,” said Chief Rawlings. “However, the makeup will have an effect on how we attack this thing.”
Gunner remained focused on IM86. “It looks like it’s exploding, doesn’t it, especially at the rear. As it tumbles, it appears to be spewing out dusty, gravel-sized debris.”
Chief Rawlings chuckled. “That gravel-sized debris, as you call it, is gigantic boulders the size of a football field. Any one of those could destroy a midsized American city when it strikes the planet at this velocity.”
“It’s the result of its tumble,” commented Gunner. “Think about when you picked up a clod of dirt and threw it as a kid. Sure, the bulk of it hit the side of a tree, or whatever, but as it flew along, loose pieces fell off in all directions. The difference with the asteroid is that the pieces are being pulled along by its gravity.”
Artie complied, bringing the view much closer to reveal the rocks and boulders of various sizes and chunky and irregular shapes, instead of being sleek and smooth.
Gunner studied the image, which continuously blurred and then refocused. It was difficult to get a sustained look because of their distance from the asteroid.
“Artie, are you too far away to map the surface?” he asked.
“Yes, Major Fox. To provide you an accurate analysis, we will have to establish an orbit.”
Gunner glanced over his shoulder to confirm they were alone. Then he whispered, remembering that Artie could not differentiate between the decibels a voice projected, “Artie, can you determine if the asteroid is inhabited?”
“I must allow for several rotations in order to scan the surface for life on unexpected objects.”
Chief Rawlings smiled and looked at Gunner. “Great question.”
Suddenly, the image began to blur again, and the telescope struggled to find its focus. The point of view kept widening, pulling back on its zoomed-in view of IM86 until the ability to see the detail provided by the first image was lost.
“Major Fox, I cannot make a determination at this time.”
“Artie,” Gunner whispered again, “please continue to analyze the surface and look for evidence of human beings or spacecraft on the surface. Also, please scan the asteroid’s surroundings in search of an orbiting spacecraft.”
“Yes, Major Fox.”
Chief Rawlings, who’d dug out his pouch of Levi Garrett earlier, spit into a Ziploc bag and quickly sealed it up before the liquid floated through the flight deck. He leaned over to Gunner and whispered, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Chief, the debris could be because the Russians are already breaking up the asteroid by attempting to divert it. That means they’re already on the surface and have managed to keep tight-lipped about it.”
“A first,” mumbled Chief Rawlings sarcastically. “But a brilliant strategy. Which begs the question, why would they acquiesce to this mission?”
Gunner leaned back against his seat and continued to stare at the monitor as Artie tried to make adjustments. “They couldn’t say no. They had to know the president would move forward anyway, and their excuse of AI error on shooting down Falcon Heavy wouldn’t fly a second time. If they shot our second launch out of the sky, nukes would be flying and the planet would be destroyed before IM86 got the chance.”
“So they allowed us to move forward. Secured three seats on board, led by a sketchy commander in Sokolov.”
Gunner finished his thought. “And then do everything in their power to delay, hinder, or otherwise sabotage our mission. They can claim we failed and their mission saved the day. A win-win because they have control of the asteroid and significant bragging rights as well.”
Chief Rawlings shook his head in dismay. “They don’t want us to succeed, which means they’ll pull out all the stops to bring about failure. We’ve got to stick together and make sure they stay out of this flight deck.”
Chapter 46
Wednesday, April 25
On Board the Starhopper
Semenova had used the same sexual enticements against the weaker French astronaut, Favier, that she’d unsuccessfully attempted upon the American major. It took less than five minutes of pretend lovemaking to watch him lose his inhibitions, and then lose his life. The lethal dose of ricin could easily be discovered in an autopsy, but his body would have to be recovered from Russia, where the cosmonauts intended to land the Starhopper after the Americans’ mission was foiled.
Chernevsky had stationed himself just behind the entrance to the flight deck, eavesdropping on the conversation between Major Fox and Chief Rawlings. They were only three hours away from intercept, and the onboard telescope was beginning to provide detailed images of the asteroid’s surface. When Chief Rawlings and Gunner began to discuss the fact that the Russian orbiter was nowhere to be found, Chernevsky slipped away to locate his commander.
Sokolov gathered his team and issued his orders. One by one, the others must be eliminated, by incapacitation or death. Semenova was to lie in wait for the next person to check on the Frenchman. Chernevsky would ambush the Starship commander while he slept.
For his part, Sokolov would pull his favorite diversion tactic—technical failure of communications. There could be no witnesses to the sabotage of Project Jackhammer. It was a method of subterfuge he’d used before with success.
*****
Chernevsky prepped his injection. He would not use the inhalation method preferred by Semenova. The risk of an accident resulting in his own death was too great. He quietly went toward the crew quarters while Sokolov made his way to the lower deck where the advanced avionics were housed.
He’d arrived in the sleeping quarters before Semenova and found the Starship commander’s sleep module empty. He immediately made his way to the galley and recreation room. The element of surprise was still available to him, as he doubted the American astronaut expected to be attacked face-to-face.
Chernevsky casually entered the kitchen galley, where he found the commander of the Starship making an ISSpresso, a soluble coffee available for use in space. The aroma was enticing to Chernevsky, and for a moment, he considered sneaking the ricin into the zero-gravity espresso carafe for all to enjoy, except his comrades, of course.
However, there was no time to waste waiting for the commander’s body to respond to the diluted poison. Within minutes, Semenova would have made her second kill and the communications between the Starhopper and Earth would be lost.
“Greetings, new friendship,” said Chernevsky, feigning a lack of fluency in the English language. He, in fact, had a greater command of vocabulary and grammar than his Russian comrades.
The commander laughed at the misuse of words. “Yes, a new friendship, indeed,” he replied, forgetting the distrust he had for the cosmonauts. It would prove to be a fatal mistake. “Comrade, would you like some coffee?”
“Da!”
“Cream or sugar?” asked the American.
“Nyet. But you will enjoy yours this way!”
Chernevsky rammed the needle into the base of the commander’s skull and scowled as he quickly depressed the plunger. The larger man swung around in a last-ditch effort to defend himself. As his eyes rolled into the back of his head, he dropped the carafe of hot coffee onto the floor, causing his feet to slip out from under him.
“Chert!” grumbled Chernevsky. It would be impossible to clean up the mess and hide the man’s body. He took a deep breath, retrieved the commander’s coffee off the counter, and took a sip. He stared down at the dead body, giving the American’s head a slight kick, checking for a response. “American scum!”
Another sip of coffee later, and Chernevsky was dragging the dead man across the mid-deck.
*****
Semenova positioned herself in a sleeping module across from Favier’s. She took long, deep breaths, forcing her body to relax as the adrenaline coursed through her veins. Killing was not difficult for her anymore, at least, not after the first one. She’d never done it on Earth, but in space, she became a different person. Assassin. Black widow. Hunter.
The female American astronaut nonchalantly made her way into the sleeping quarters of the Starhopper. She was completely unaware of Semenova’s presence in the shadows of the module. The woman stuck her head into Favier’s module first and called out his name. “Jean-Louis? Are you feeling better?”
Semenova managed a sly smile and thought to herself, No, you twit. He’s dead.
Semenova readied the syringe, placing it in her right hand like an assassin’s blade, to be plunged into her victim’s back. Her motion would be swift and decisive, landing into the base of the woman’s neck, immediately forcing the deadly poison into h
er spine, causing paralysis.
Now! She moved across the hall and raised her arm high as the female astronaut began to panic over the discovery of Favier’s dead body. She couldn’t manage a scream, but instead, recoiled out of the sleeping module and crashed into the approaching Semenova.
There was, however, no struggle. Semenova acted quickly and stuck the needle into the American’s throat before depressing the syringe. The lethal dose of ricin burned into her body, causing her mouth to open wide as it gasped for air. Death would come fast for this one, unlike the other two on the Moon. By now, their bodies were rotting away from the inside out.
With her task completed, Semenova dragged the dead body to another sleep module and unceremoniously dumped it on the floor. She kicked the astronaut’s lifeless limbs in order to clear the door, which she gently pulled shut.
She looked in on Favier and whispered, “Sleep tight, sweet prince. You were a good kisser.” Semenova glanced in the mirror, adjusted her space suit, and fixed her hair. She allowed herself a smile. It was time for another kill.
*****
When Commander Sokolov arrived in the isolated part of the spaceship, he immediately became confused. The Starhopper’s systems were unlike anything he’d seen on the space shuttles or within Russia’s own space fleet. Hundreds of individual buttons, knobs, and dials were mounted on three walls toward the nose of the spacecraft. Despite advanced technology being available to create the Starhopper, there was still a remarkable amount of old-school hardware on board.
Sokolov took his time to study the panels that controlled navigation, management of the flight deck consoles, and hundreds of other functions that powered the spacecraft. He was tempted to sabotage them all, but that might be akin to sentencing himself to death.