Virago One: A Hard Science Fiction Technothriller (Ace of Space Book 2)

by John Triptych

  Located in California’s Western Mojave Desert region, China Lake had formerly belonged to the US Navy, and was their largest single landholding, used primarily for weapons research and testing. After the Great Quake devastated most of the state, the government had decided to realign the base over to the Air Force, due to a shift in the country’s overall military doctrine that prioritized the development of a space fleet. The Navy vehemently protested turning over its premiere research facility to a rival service, but they were unable to withstand the political will of both Congress and the executive branch. In the end, the Air Force agreed to hand over Eglin Air Force Base in Florida to the Navy as compensation. It was an unprecedented exchange, and it signaled a new era had begun; no longer would the nation strictly focus its military assets on Earth’s oceans, as the new battleground would now be in space.

  The Crow’s transponders worked flawlessly as the helicopter flew into restricted airspace, and it was cleared to proceed on a northerly direction while darting over the golf course. As the helicopter got closer to the China Lake Weapons Center, the chopper veered off towards the east, seemingly headed towards Valley Wells, before returning on a northerly route towards Argus Range.

  The cabin interior had side windows and Ruthven couldn’t help but stare out into the desert valley below. The side of Argus Peak had been dug into years before, revealing a massive, four kilometer long, doughnut-shaped structure that seemed to jut out from the side of the mountain. Satellite imagery of the area was somewhat hampered due to the massive steel and concrete covering on the top of the building, and there had been furious debates on the internet as to its true purpose. The government remained silent, but all the insiders knew that the Air Force was either researching or building something important enough to try and hide it.

  There were several landing strips on the valley floor, just below the base of the mountain, along with an adjoining building that served as the only land entrance to the huge structure overlooking it. The helicopter touched down, and Ruthven was escorted past the primary checkpoint using biometric scanners. A female officer with a service cap on her head walked over to him as he entered the main hall.

  She gave him a salute. “Welcome to Argus Base, Colonel. I’m Lieutenant Shaker. General Tobias is waiting for you on the second level meeting room.” She gestured at him to follow her. “This way, sir.”

  Ruthven continued to straighten the creases in his uniform as he walked alongside of her. “Meeting room? I guess this isn’t going to be a one-on-one then?”

  “No sir,” Shaker said. “The senior director for space defense will be present in this meeting.”

  Ruthven nodded silently as they got into an elevator. Trevor Ledwidge was part of the president’s National Security Council, and served as the de-facto civilian head of the entire base. If both senior leaders were meeting him, then it was clear that he would either be chosen as the new spacecraft commander, or they were planning to replace him. There was no middle ground that he could think of. What he needed to do now was to stay calm and focused. If they gave him the command, the next phase could begin. Any form of rejection at this stage meant the whole plan would be doomed to fail, and he would be placing a pistol to his own head.

  Beads of sweat began forming just above his hairline as the elevator doors opened. Following the lieutenant closely down a corridor, he used his fingers to wipe away the moistness just as she stood beside a door and opened it.

  The meeting room had lacquered wood paneling. Two men were sitting in padded chairs at the opposite side of the long table that dominated the place. Ruthven recognized General Luther Tobias and Trevor Ledwidge, the former wore a uniform similar to his own, while Ledwidge wore a black woolen suit and red power tie.

  Ruthven gave his commanding officer a salute. “Colonel Ruthven, reporting as ordered, sir.” He acknowledged Ledwidge with a polite nod. “Mr. Ledwidge.”

  General Tobias gestured at the empty chair in front of him. “Sit down, Colonel.”

  Ruthven did as he was told. He heard the door close behind him. “Thank you, General.”

  Ledwidge leaned forward while placing his elbows on the plastic table. “We have a situation. Colonel Jared Levy has gone missing for the past forty-eight hours and is presumed dead. Wreckage of the charter boat he rented has been recovered by the Coast Guard.”

  Ruthven pretended to be surprised. “Was it an accident?”

  “We don’t know, Colonel,” General Tobias said. “Due to the timing, we suspect foul play is involved. Either way we can’t take any chances. That’s the reason why I sent the boys to fetch you. From now on you are restricted to this base until further orders.”

  Ledwidge leaned back on his chair. “General Tobias here has briefed me on your team. As the reserve crew leader, we would like to designate you as the new spaceflight commander for Virago. Do you accept?”

  Ruthven held his enthusiasm. He was over the hurdle, but it wasn’t finished yet. He couldn’t do it by himself. He needed his right-hand man. “Do I get to choose my own crew?”

  General Tobias gave him a quizzical look. “Colonel, your team has already been chosen. The primary spaceflight crew is only missing its commander, and now that’s over to you. Once we insert you in with the rest of that team, then all it takes is a little bit of time for acclimation.”

  “With all due respect, General,” Ruthven said. “I’ve been training with the reserve spaceflight crew for almost a year, and I would be more comfortable if I could take the entire team with me instead of the primary crew.”

  Ledwidge’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to replace the entire primary spaceflight team with your own?”

  “Yes, Mr. Ledwidge,” Ruthven said. “We’ve stuck to each other like glue these last few training sessions. I know how each of them thinks, and what buttons need to be pushed. If I use Levy’s team, I will have to learn their own nuances, and I don’t think there’s enough time to do that.”

  General Tobias frowned as he flipped open a folder and looked at set of papers on it. “Your executive officer is going to be a problem. Major Lawson’s most recent psychological evaluation is not satisfactory. I was going to bring this up with you in the near future to replace him, but I wasn’t expecting Colonel Levy to disappear at a time like this.”

  Ruthven leaned forward. “General, Major Vince Lawson has been with me through thick and thin. We’ve saved each other’s lives back in the Spratlys conflict. While I admit he’s a little bit eccentric, I know he’s a proven XO, and I must insist on keeping him in my crew.”

  “Let me see that,” Ledwidge said as the general handed him the folder. “It says here that this Major Lawson suffers from post-traumatic stress, and is not recommended for any spaceflight deployments. He’s out.”

  “Mr. Ledwidge, that is only one psychologist’s opinion. If you look at the following page on that report, there is a second evaluation written by another, which refutes the first one,” Ruthven said.

  “Colonel, you and I know that dual psych evaluations are standard operating procedures these days, and we never send a man up into space unless both evaluations are positive,” General Tobias said before staring into his eyes. “Are you sure you want to push this, Marlon? You realize I can designate somebody else as spacecraft commander for Virago, right?”

  Ruthven took a deep breath before answering. “I understand, General, and it’s your privilege to do so. All I can say is that the negative reports on him are not accurate. Major Lawson is somebody I can trust with my life, and I know if he were put in the same chair as me, he would defend my qualifications just as I am doing it for him right now.”

  General Tobias glanced over at Ledwidge. They had both talked about the possibility of having to replace Ruthven due to his extended loyalty over his own crew, especially when it came to his second-in-command. But the man sitting at the opposite end of the table was the best officer qualified to command the mission after Colonel Levy’s unexpected loss. To commit to an
other replacement would hold back their selection process for months. It was additional time they could not afford.

  Ledwidge nodded and turned to look at Ruthven. “Although this isn’t what we hoped for in regards to your answer, General Tobias here says you are the best candidate we’ve got. Very well, I have no objections to this.”

  A huge sense of relief washed over Ruthven. He knew Lawson had become unhinged over the past few years since his wife had divorced him, but his second-in-command was completely loyal, and he needed that more than anything if the plan was to succeed. “Thank you, Mr. Ledwidge. I won’t let the country down.”

  “Make sure that you don’t,” General Tobias said. “This mission will either make you the idol of the American people, or it will end your career, Colonel.”

  There was already a problem the moment he walked out of the meeting room. A master sergeant of the Space Command’s Elite Guard, wearing his unit’s distinctive blue beret, approached Ruthven as he stepped out into the corridor. “Colonel,” he said, saluting. “We have a situation with Major Lawson. We brought him back to this base a few hours ago, and now he’s in his quarters.”

  Ruthven returned his salute. “So what’s the complication then, Sergeant?”

  The non-commissioned officer seemed almost reluctant to explain, but he did. “The major had apparently smuggled in a bottle of whiskey and consumed a hefty portion of it. There is a standing order: no alcohol is to be consumed by all personnel in this base, sir. When an airman attempted to escort him for a meeting with you, the major became … violent.”

  Ruthven pursed his lips. “I see. Have you alerted Base Control about this yet?”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Not yet, sir. General Tobias has given our unit strict orders that all issues with your spaceflight crew are to be directed over to you first.”

  Ruthven nodded. He had the general’s confidence, but it wouldn’t last long if incidents like this continued. “Alright, tell your unit to stand down. I’ll handle the major. Can you give me directions to his quarters?”

  “I’ll take you to him, sir.”

  It took them half an hour to head over to the other side of the installation. The residential quarters were located beneath the base of the mountain peak. As they passed through numerous corridors, Ruthven took notice that much of the electrical systems in the entire structure had been either hardened, or had been completely replaced by optical control units. The intensive briefings on the Virago project explained that the breakthrough in fusion technology had revealed unexpected side effects. The Air Force therefore had to be reoriented and reequipped to fight in a new kind of war, should it ever come about.

  Walking into a side corridor, they came upon a fire team of four Elite Guards in full battle gear keeping watch over the passageway. A medic attended to an airman with a bloody nose at the other end of the hallway. As soon as Ruthven came upon them, everyone stood at attention and saluted.

  Ruthven returned their salute as he stood outside the door. He glanced over at the technical sergeant who was in charge of the security team. “Is he in there?”

  The second NCO nodded. “Yes, sir. He didn’t want to leave his room and threw a punch at the airman over there because the young orderly insisted,” he said, pointing at the enlisted man who was being treated for his injuries. “As per our orders, we kept him bottled up inside and awaited further instructions.”

  “I want everyone to stand down,” Ruthven said. “Your team can accompany the injured airman over to the infirmary. No report is to be logged over this incident. If your CO has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

  The technical sergeant was surprised. “Sir, I think he’s dangerous.”

  Ruthven gestured at the others to go away. “I said I’ll take care of it. That’s an order, Sergeant.”

  The master sergeant who escorted him began to quickly usher the others out of the passageway. In less than a minute, Ruthven stood alone in the corridor. He rapped his knuckles on the front of the door.

  A muffled hiss came from within. “Go away, leave me alone!”

  “Vince, it’s me,” Ruthven said, rotating the door knob. “I’m coming in.”

  The room was a mess. A small table and two chairs had been tossed around. Pieces of glass and bits of plastic were all over the floor. The sheets on the bunk bed were all torn up and the mattress stuffing had been forcefully separated from its cover. As soon as Ruthven made it inside, he closed the door behind him.

  Vince Lawson was sitting on the floor, his eyes staring out into space. The major’s jacket was lying at the other end of the small room. His collar was unbuttoned, and the tie he was supposed to be wearing was nowhere to be seen. Lawson glanced over to him, his chiseled jaw line trembling a little bit while he held on to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. When they made eye contact, Ruthven could see that his subordinate’s eyes were bloodshot. It was clear he had been drinking since the early morning when they recalled him back to base.

  Ruthven crouched down and sighed. Of all the things that could have happened, this was a major setback. “Looks like you made a mess out of things again, Vince.”

  Even though he was intoxicated, Lawson still had respect for the man who saved his life all those years ago. “Colonel, they wanted me … they wanted me … to fire on that ship a second time.”

  Ruthven knew his trusted friend was reliving the nightmares of previous battles all over again, a textbook symptom of post-traumatic stress disorder. Lawson was one of the toughest men he ever knew, but all the major’s wartime experiences had finally taken its toll. Stooping forward, he took the bottle from the other man’s hand and downed the remaining fifth of the rye whiskey himself. Ruthven figured it would be the last drink he was ever going to take.

  Lawson held up his right hand, revealing the extensive scarring from the countless skin grafts that had been inserted into this body. Underneath his dress shirt, most of his chest and back had extensive burn scars, like thick, flesh-colored spider webs that crisscrossed his body. He looked up at Ruthven with tears in his eyes. “I won’t forget … I won’t forget. You saved my life that day. Why didn’t they give you a medal for it?”

  Ruthven smiled slightly as he patted Lawson’s right shoulder. “Don’t you worry about the damned medals, pilot. I did what I had to do. I wasn’t going to lose my best squadron commander just because his plane was on fire.”

  Lawson swallowed. He felt like crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Colonel. I know you told me to eject, but I thought I could bring her in safe … and the ground crew could … just fix it up again so I could go out for another sortie.”

  “You did okay,” Ruthven said softly. “Your wizzo was hurt bad, and his ejection system failed. You brought him back. He’s alive today because of you.”

  A single tear slid down Lawson’s left eye. He remembered his strike craft taking some hits from a Chinese anti-aircraft gun, and his weapon systems officer, who was sitting in the rear seat of the fighter’s cockpit, got hit. WSO’s were always referred to as wizzos by all military branches that had two-seater aircraft. Even though his stealth fighter was heavily damaged, Lawson still made it back and got several medals for his heroism. “I thought I was gonna die,” he said. “But you pulled me out of the burning aircraft, Colonel.”

  “You don’t owe me anything, Vince.”

  “But I do … I do,” Lawson said. The effects of the alcohol were starting to seep away from his brain, and the guilt trip had begun. He let out a single sob while placing his hands over his face. “I messed up again, didn’t I?”

  Ruthven chuckled a little to help ease the tension. “You did. But I took care of it for you.”

  “You took care of this? There won’t be a court martial?”

  Ruthven moved over until he was face to face with his executive officer. “I did it, Vince. We’re now the primary spaceflight crew for Virago. That’s why you were brought back here.”

  The major blinked a few times. “So
what you told me … are we finally going through with it?”

  Ruthven nodded solemnly. “It’s what I want, and that’s the reason why I worked so hard with you and the others. But I have to tell you, Vince … what I’m about to do … it’s going to mean we’re traitors. You don’t have to do this. If you want to back out now, I won’t think any less of you.”

  For the first time that day, Lawson let out a faint smile. “I’m with you, Colonel. All the way. Just tell me what needs to be done, sir.”

  Ruthven narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure about this? Even if we pull it off we’d be most likely be dead anyway.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Lawson said. “I was already dead the day you pulled me out of my aircraft. This is my second life, and I’ll follow you beyond the farthest stars because I owe you, sir.”

  Ruthven’s voice was now a faint whisper. “If you commit to this, we will end up killing a few of our own. If I were you I’d walk away.”

  “God kills those he loves too,” Lawson said. “If we can get another crack at the Chinese, then I’m all for it. They owe me, just like they owe you for Taylor, Colonel.”

  Ruthven placed both hands on the other man’s shoulders. He knew Lawson would never tell, even when he was drunk. That was how dependable he was. “Okay, if that’s what you want. From now on, no more drinking. We’ve got a job to do.”

  “Yes, Colonel.”

  Chapter 5

  The electronic beats of the club’s music system was deafening, and Vlad Utkin had to shout in order to be heard. “So where are you two devochki from?”

  The teen girl sitting to his right giggled. She had recently dyed her hair platinum blond, and the scintillating ultraviolet lights from the dance floor gave it a neon glow. “We’re both from here, silly.”

  Vlad chuckled as he leaned forward, took a filled shot glass of vodka from the table, and downed it in one gulp. “You know, this is my first time in America. It is … not bad.”