by Andrew Mayne
We go through a barrier of black rubber slats and enter a chamber with a tall capsule under a tarp.
"Help me out, Dixon," says Jessup as he hands me one end of the tarp. We pull it down, revealing a very close copy of the Unicorn.
"Look familiar?"
"Yeah. I know a guy who would rent one to you for a hell of a lot cheaper than what you probably paid for it."
"But not like this." Jessup walks around the vehicle to a large hatch, twice as big as the one on the Unicorn. It seems too large for a vehicle this size and would unbalance it.
He turns the handle and pulls the massive door open. "The real money is in what's inside..."
Instead of seats and control panels, the capsule looks empty. I try to focus on a sharp cone-shaped shadow and realize I'm actually staring at something.
Jessup uses a pocket flashlight to show the outline of the blacker than black thing. It's two-meters wide and shaped like a rifle bullet. Other than the shape, I can't see any surface features.
"This material absorbs just about everything you can throw at it."
"What good does that do inside the outer capsule?" I ask.
"It doesn't stay there. The DarkStar is its own spacecraft. It launches from the capsule after it achieves orbit. A counter thrust cancels out the ejection. Assuming – big assumption – that everything works right, to any observers on the ground, the launch looks textbook. We have the second stage eject some chaff, making radar surveillance a little hazy, just for good measure."
I stick my head in to get a closer look at the spacecraft. "How does it dock?"
"There's a hatch on the bottom."
"Interesting. Wait, this thing is obviously too small for propulsive landing and if the hatch is on the bottom, where's the heat shield? It's not the light absorbing stuff is it?"
"No. It's inside."
"Inside? How does that work?"
"It's not for the craft. It's an inflatable heat shield for the occupant."
"Hold up...you mean re-entry is a space jump from orbit?"
"Yep."
"Jesus. Your SEALS are even braver than I thought. That's never been done. An inflatable shield has never been human-rated."
"This craft has a whole bunch of firsts associated with it," says Jessup.
"How many times have you sent this model up?"
He shakes his head. "Never."
"Good luck on that."
We turn around at the sound of footsteps. A stocky man with a buzz cut and impossibly straight posture is standing there. He looks like the man Captain America wants to be when he grows up.
Jessup introduces him. "This is Captain Prescott, he's the brave soul that has agreed to ride this thing – assuming we can get it on top of a rocket."
"AFI ten," Laney whispers to me.
Prescott gives my hand a firm shake. "Mr. Dixon. I understand you're going to tell me how to fly this thing?"
"Me?" I turn to Jessup. "I don't know the first thing about it. Where are your technicians and the people who made this?"
"Congress stopped funding four years ago. Right now the entire support crew for Space Ops consists of the people in this hangar and a few volunteers making their way here. The Captain is retired and volunteered for the mission."
I size him up. "Where did you do your astronaut training?"
"Aside from playing Star Wars as a kid? It'll be here with you in the next few hours."
57
CRASH COURSE
PRESCOTT IS SMART. Real smart. He's in Bennet and Peterson's league. Possessing all-around intelligence and athleticism, he could have been a physicist or pro quarterback.
As Laney pours through the dusty manuals for the DarkStar, I give Prescott a crash course on space survival, starting with the suit.
The Space Ops suits are based on the iCosmos ones, but are predictably all black and the gloves and hands have built-in electromagnets for adhering to the outside of a space station.
"Modern spacesuits are light years beyond the ones used just a decade ago," I explain to Prescott. "More so than the pressure suits of the last century. Once you step inside, the onboard intelligent assistant will let you know if you're doing something stupid."
"I suspect that will be a constant thing." He grins.
"Yeah, try not to poke a hole in the suit or take your helmet off to get some fresh air. The more important thing is understanding what it means to work in zero-gravity." I hold up the glove. "I'm sure these magnets are a clever idea, but I'm not sure I would trust them my first time out. You don't want to reach for something and find out that you're drifting away from the space station."
I think of the example Bennet gave me. "Once you step outside your craft, you have to imagine that you're a mountain climber – you never take a break unless you're fastened down to something. You're under the constant threat of falling off that mountain. While your suit has some built in jets that can take you back to the station or your craft, that's only if things are actually all working. If you get a power failure or some kind of software glitch, you might find yourself in an even more dire situation. Your first priority is something to hold on to. Your second is air. Everything else is a distant third."
Prescott picks up what I'm telling him fairly quickly, asking a few questions here and there, but never needing me to repeat anything.
Laney and I do our best to explain the controls of the DarkStar as we try to make sense of them ourselves.
While we do this, Jessup and Markov work on their scheme to get this onboard an iCosmos flight without anyone knowing what's up.
Because iCosmos is able to rapidly recycle its rockets and maintains a packed launch manifest, at any given time there's a rocket heading to the pad just a few miles away from us.
The Navy and the Air Force contract launches from them frequently and can do emergency launches, bumping commercial contracts. The key is to get this quickly on top of an Alicorn booster and not have it appear suspicious.
After getting a rudimentary understanding of the DarkStar and the suit, we all step into a dusty conference room to go over the layout of the K1.
Laney fires up the projector and the familiar cross-shape of the station fills the screen giving me a moment of pause.
I put what happened behind me and focus on explaining which module probably contains the nuclear device.
"I'd imagine that under the current situation at least one of the commanders is inside that section at all times. But before you get to them, you have to gain access to the space station." I turn to Markov who has been watching from the corner. "Can we get any help from your friend onboard?"
"Yes. Our insider will let you in through the airlock they use for EVAs. They will use the excuse of checking an air sensor they've rigged to give a malfunction warning. After they've let you inside, you'll wait until they return to the main crew section."
"And should I abandon the DarkStar at this point?" asks Prescott.
"Is there an advantage to doing that?" Markov asks me.
I think it over for a moment. I know he means beyond providing Prescott with a way to return home. I get the chilly realization that the Captain expects this to be a one way trip.
"No. Prescott will need to be tethered to the DarkStar until he gets to the K1. At that point he can use a magnetic clamp to attach his tether to the K1. With sufficient slack it won't affect things, unless they do an orbital position change, which I don't expect. I think the most prudent thing is to not abandon the DarkStar."
I see Laney watching me out of the corner of her eye. She's thinking of all the situations where having another craft so close to the K1 could compromise the whole mission. But I think she also understands that neither of us want to send this man on a suicide mission – well, more of a suicide mission than it already is.
"And once inside, how would you recommend I proceed to the secure module? Should I take off the suit?" asks Prescott.
"Good question. I was able to maneuver through the K1 wi
th mine fairly well, but I'm sure it also cost me several seconds compared to how I would have moved in just my thermal. I guess that depends on whether you want maneuverability or body armor. I had mine on when I escaped the K1. Your goal is different. If it were me, I'd keep it on because some of those cosmonauts are built like gorillas."
I can see Prescott weighing the matter over. "I think I'll go without the suit."
Translation, he's going to stealthily sneak through there and kill anybody who gets in his way. He's thinking offensive. I'm thinking defensive. I get an image of him crawling through the modules with blacked-out face paint and a commando knife in his mouth ready to slice enemy throats.
After going through the technical specifics, Jessup joins us to discuss the tactical details.
"We worked out a variety of different entry techniques," he explains. "One is a knock-out gas. The problem with that is each module has its own air handler and sensors that will shut the hatches if they detect a foreign substance. Sadly, before this project was closed down, we were working on a reactive agent that could spread through an entire facility then change into an anesthetic. As far as weapons go, we have some gloves with stun guns built into the palms that will allow you to keep your hands free."
I want to ask where these tools were when Bennet and Peterson were conducting their clandestine operation, but keep my mouth shut.
"Stun gloves are great," I reply. "But how do we get the commander in the secure module to let Prescott inside? If they've figured out how to hot-wire the bomb, the moment he sees an American face poking his nose into the porthole he's liable to trigger the device."
"We are hoping they have not improvised a trigger yet," says Markov. "But in either event, we need a way to get Captain Prescott into the module."
Prescott steeples his fingers and thinks it over. "What if I kill the other commander and hold his head near the porthole?" asks Prescott.
I'm about to laugh at the morbid joke then realize he's serious. Jessup and Markov take it into consideration while Laney and I exchange quick glances.
These are the stakes. Prescott's solution is ruthless, cold-blooded and exactly the kind of tactic it takes to win.
"May I suggest a simpler way?" asks Laney.
58
COUNTDOWN
"WHY DON'T you just give the man an injection and knock him out?" says Laney.
"Trust me, I'm not eager to kill anyone," replies Prescott. "But that doesn't always work and getting close enough to someone with a needle is tricky. Even with a combat syringe."
I gloss over the fact that I'm not even sure I know what a "combat syringe" is supposed to be. "Listen, I'm no pacifist and these commanders are fully onboard with the whole nuclear option, so sending them to heaven doesn't really bother me all that much. But there's another consideration here. How exactly would you plan on killing this cosmonaut so you can use him for your puppet show?"
"A knife to the throat. It's kind of our specialty."
"Charming. To my knowledge this has never been done in space before. But I have seen a video of what happened when an astronaut tried to slice open a bag of cranberry sauce for a Thanksgiving dinner. It could have been the outtake of a Quentin Tarantino murder scene. A human heart pumping gallons of blood through a gashed jugular is going to be far worse."
"You have a point," says Prescott.
Yes, and I still have a very vivid image in my head of Peterson leaving a trail of blood through the K1 right before she died before my eyes.
"What about strangulation?" asks murder machine Prescott.
"Yes...if you're not worried about the effect that will have on the commander's face. Bulging eyes and burst veins might be a tip off that something is amiss."
"Mr. Dixon, I hope you understand this is not a game where we get a do-over. The stakes are far too high," says Markov. "If the Captain uses anything other than a non-lethal on the commander and it fails to work, so does the mission."
"I get that. I'm not trying to take the pacifist approach. Hell, I put bullets in three men yesterday because I didn't see any other way out." As I say it, my words make the memory more intense.
"So you understand the need to use whatever means necessary?" asks Markov.
"Yes. I would tell the Captain to try anything that didn't put him at greater risk."
Laney holds up her hand. "Okay, may I suggest an alternative approach?"
"Yes, Ms. Washburn?" asks Markov.
"Well, if the danger is in getting Captain Prescott close enough to the commander to use something to incapacitate him – whether it's lethal or non-lethal – then the solution would seem to be use your spy onboard the K1. Maybe she can?"
"She?" replies Markov.
"You kept avoiding a gender specific pronoun. That usually only happens when you're trying to indicate a female when normally you'd assume a male. Anyway, why not let her do it?"
"Interesting assumption," Markov says, not actually confirming her observation. "The problem is that this person has limits to what they will and won't do. I think this may push them too far if we ask them to help kill their commander."
"And that's why it should be a non-lethal, like a fast-acting paralytic. Could the Captain pass her a syringe that she could then use?"
"Perhaps. Captain, what do you think?" asks Markov.
"Well, I'm a soldier. I'm not really familiar with the whole social engineering solution. But Dixon makes a very compelling and graphic case as to why I shouldn't knife the commander. And strangulation puts me in close quarters with someone who has a lot of combat training. I don't doubt I could take the man out, but it might not be as clean as I like."
I interrupt. "And he has the advantage of having spent months in zero-g. In your case, we're not even sure if the anti-nausea drugs will do their job, let alone how quickly you can adapt. No offense."
"None taken. Dr. Markov, I can certainly pass a syringe to your operative, if you think they'll go for it."
"I believe if they understand this is the least violent of the solutions, they will accept this solution. This still leaves us with the second commander. After you gain entry to that module, you need a way to deal with him."
"You could use your knock-out gas once he opens the door," I suggest. "It's a small enough chamber that the gas will quickly fill it before the air handler has a chance to pump it out."
"That could work," says Prescott. "Here on Earth that's how we'd incapacitate someone in a similar situation. When we practice infiltrating enemy submarines we do that. We also have special rounds that are designed to go through people but not hulls."
"Spaceships and stations are different than submarines," I reply. "Some parts are literally as thin as a Coke can. You're in a balloon waiting to pop."
Prescott makes a note of this in his little journal. "Okay. I'll need a gas mask. Is there a problem if I strap one to my chest inside the space suit? I'm not sure what exposing the filter to extreme cold or vacuum would do."
I get a sinking feeling at the realization of all the different variables going into this. "I think you should be fine with that."
There are so many things that can go wrong. We don't even have a chance to do a dry run. And the man we're sending up to do this has never even been in space before.
Granted, neither had I until a few days ago, but I had the benefit of years of training and weightlessness onboard our vomit comet airplanes. I knew as much as you could know until actually doing it.
I tell myself to relax. Prescott is the best of the best. He's built for this intellectually and physically. His combat experience far exceeds my pilot and astronaut training.
Markov checks his phone. "Hmmm. Unfortunate news. The sensor unit malfunction on the US/iCosmos station that prevented you from docking has spread to another module and they're afraid their water supply may be contaminated with bacteria."
"Oh wow," says Laney. "That's horrible."
"Yes, it is," he replies. "It would seem they asked the Russians
for help and they declined – not surprising. Now they're requesting an emergency resupply from iCosmos. Captain Prescott, it looks like we will be sending you into space quite shortly."
"You clever bastard," says Admiral Jessup. "How did you arrange that?"
"Sometimes serendipity must be seduced."
59
STATE OF THE ART
THE ALICORN ROCKET used to send the Unicorn spacecraft into orbit consists of two stages: The upper and the lower stage.
The lower stage is the big cylinder on the bottom that uses nine engines to send the upper stage to the edge of the atmosphere, disengaging at about Mach 10 then falling back to Earth where it uses the carefully calculated fuel left onboard to land on a platform at the far end of the iCosmos assembly bay.
The second stage pushes the Unicorn into orbit, reaching 17,500 miles per hour, then heads back down to Earth top first, using a heat shield to slow it down before it does a somersault and lands like the first stage on another pad adjacent to the assembly bay.
There's a third landing pad for the Unicorn to land on, but I have no personal experience because I decided to take a side trip to Rio.
After landing, each component of the rocket is pulled into the iCosmos assembly bay where they're inspected for damage and any parts that need refurbishing are replaced.
The entire rocket, all three sections, are designed to be reused like a passenger jet. This reusability is why iCosmos, SpaceX and Blue Origin have been able to radically change space travel.
It hasn't come easily or cheaply. These companies were the pet projects of some of the richest men in the world who had a grand vision about the future of space.
Several years into this era, the improvements and changes are still happening. The iCosmos assembly building is like one huge machine. Rockets go out one side, come back used through another, and are carried along on tracks as robot arms inspect the surface. AI diagnostic software checks the internal systems and the engines are X-rayed for stress.