Ten minutes after pulling into the Pentagon parking lot, Karen Vail was getting out of the basement elevator. She made her way through the biometric scanners and was heading down the hall to the conference center when Douglas Knox stepped into the corridor.
“Glad you could make it on short notice.”
“Hot Rod was … quite persuasive. The serial killer I was in the middle of questioning didn’t know what hit him.” Literally.
“That’s why I sent him.”
“So what’s going on?” Vail asked as they walked. “Am I working this as an FBI agent with the Bureau’s resources behind me?”
“No,” Knox said, “this is an OPSIG matter, which will become clear in a minute. Your investigation is top secret, with far-reaching diplomatic, foreign policy, military, counterterrorism, and global security implications.”
“So nothing too terribly important.”
Knox frowned. “I’ve recommended you for this mission because we need your investigative skills. And assuming we’re successful and find a person of interest, we’ll need your interview skills. A majority of OPSIG operators are, well, operators. For obvious reasons. This mission has many tentacles, but this part of it plays to your abilities.”
“I would think that Uzi—”
“Agent Uziel is involved.”
“In another one of those tentacles.”
Knox made a noise—Vail thought it was a cross between a grunt and a groan. “Let’s get in there. You need to get up to speed.”
Seated around the table were director of central intelligence Laurence Bolten, CIA director Earl Tasset, director of the National Security Agency Elliot Stern, and Secretary McNamara. Knox and Vail took their places at the head of the room.
“Anyone here not know Special Agent Vail?”
Stern raised an index finger. He was tall and thin, with closely cropped gray hair and thick-framed bifocals. The two made introductions and shook hands.
After ten minutes, Vail had been brought up to date on pertinent aspects of the mission, the properties of caesarium and the danger of it falling into the hands of aggressive and rogue nations. The attack on the Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory was outlined in detail—as much detail as they had at the moment. Lastly, she was briefed on the assignment DeSantos and Uzi had been given.
Tasset got up and pulled the lid off his paper coffee cup. “We have reason to believe that we’ve got a leak, and probable theft, of information from NASA and/or the Pentagon.”
“The NSA and US Cyber Command are running a parallel investigation,” Stern said. “They’re focused on a potential cyberattack. That might bear fruit because these breaches occur on a daily basis in one form or another. But based on the information we’ve gotten from foreign entities, we believe there’s something more expansive at play.”
“Such as?” Vail asked.
“Such as one or more moles.” Tasset spoke with his back to the room as he stirred some sugar into his cup. “A full-blown spy operation. Worst possible scenario. And it also wouldn’t be the first time—not by a long shot.” He turned to Knox, who stood up and started pacing.
“In the seventies, when NASA started designing the space shuttle, they discovered, too late, there’d been a leak. Ten years later, Russia launched its own shuttle, the Buran, that looked just like ours.” Knox pressed the remote and a photo of Discovery appeared, the room lights dimming automatically. He stopped by the edge of the screen and hit the controller again. The shuttle picture slid left and another image, bearing the USSR’s “CCCP” designation, appeared beside it. Aside from the rocket boosters, the Russian and US spacecraft looked identical.
“Our designs were sold to the Russians,” Tasset said. “The Buran only flew once, in 1988. It was successful, but the Soviet Union collapsed several months later and the program was mothballed.”
“We’re not aware of a cyber breach at NASA,” Knox said, “so we could have another spy who alerted the Chinese about caesarium. China’s been working on their space program aggressively. Before Chang’e 3 they sent several unmanned craft to the Moon, so it’s hard to say when they found out about it. He turned to face them. “But we have to assume we’ve got a mole until proven otherwise. There’s too much at stake.”
“We’ve got high confidence that the mission they just launched is intended to bring back caesarium,” McNamara said. “It takes a long time to plan this kind of thing, select the best weather patterns for a launch, build and equip the lander, and so on. The US military’s Future Combat Systems program estimates China would only need eighteen to thirty-six months if they had equipment and systems already built for follow-on Chang’e missions. The breach, if there was one, likely occurred within this eighteen- to thirty-six-month window.”
Bolten set his pen down. “I’ve asked the NASA administrator, Nora Peabody, to join us.” He pressed a button and told the receptionist to show her in. “She’s been briefed on certain aspects of the operation and obviously knows about the OPSIG component, though not the operational specifics—so let’s keep all that under wraps.”
The door swung inward and a short, middle-aged woman walked in, walnut tinted hair tied back into a bun and wearing a formfitting business suit.
Vail nodded and the men stood.
“Major General Peabody,” Knox said, “glad you could join us on such short notice.”
She nodded and took a seat between Vail and Stern, near the head of the table. “NASA takes these breaches very seriously—and I don’t mind telling you I’ve been sick to my stomach since we hung up the phone.”
Vail introduced herself, then said, “Can you assemble a list of employees who could’ve supplied information to a foreign country?”
“Right now the administration has roughly 23,000 employees. The list could include nearly all of them. I assume you’d want to narrow that down somehow.”
“First and foremost, it’s about access,” Vail said. “If we can eliminate those who don’t have access to the sensitive information, whoever’s left had the ability to steal, and pass on, that data. I’m guessing that’ll slice a large group off our list.”
“Of course.” Peabody took a deep breath. “Well, as you know, a federal agency like ours, which deals in sensitive science, research, and engineering with potential military applications, has several levels of compartmentalized security clearances.”
“Right. The higher the level, the more sensitive the information he or she has access to.”
“It’s not that simple, Agent Vail. We’ve got some engineers who work on multiple aspects within a single project. Orion/SLS is an incredibly complex endeavor that’s been in development in various forms for over a dozen years. It’s being designed and tested at multiple NASA centers all over the country. So an engineer in California might’ve worked on propulsion and guidance, then also consulted with the engineers at the Florida or Texas centers. Not to mention the work they’ve done with contractors who were building out the hardware and software that were integrated into our mission objectives.”
“Contractors,” Vail said. “How many are we talking about?”
“Five majors. Two aren’t even in the United States. But there are hundreds of others. About 3,000 people work on Orion—contractors, civil servants, subcontractors, suppliers, and small businesses.
“NASA engineers meet regularly with the engineers at these companies. But everyone undergoes vetting depending on what they’re working on. There are also some contract employees who work at NASA centers doing jobs that are virtually the same as their civil servant counterparts in the adjacent cubicle. Others work at aerospace companies building hardware on contract to NASA. So you can see this isn’t a simple question.”
I can see is that this is a fucked up system as far as security is concerned.
“NASA employees—and our contractors—get background checks, depending on t
heir level. Level 4 positions are ‘special sensitive’ jobs involving top secret information. Level 3 positions are ‘critical sensitive’ jobs involving secret information. Level 2 positions are ‘noncritical sensitive’ positions.
“Like any federal agency dealing with these kinds of things, access to the most sensitive information is granted on a need-to-know basis to individuals considered mission critical for a particular task. It’s a good system. I don’t see how anyone could subvert it.”
Vail cleared her throat. “I don’t have to remind anyone in this room that Edward Snowden was an NSA contractor with extremely high classified clearance. And we all know how that turned out.”
Everyone was silent. Mentioning Snowden in this room was like a nuclear strike on the Pentagon.
“Okay,” Vail said, realizing she had made her point. “This is a daunting task, so we have to filter out as many people as we can to make this manageable.” And possible. “As I said, access is key, so we’ll first eliminate everyone we can based on access to the type of information that could be compromised. Once we’ve done that, we’ll carve off another group of people.”
Peabody cocked her head dubiously. “It’ll take some time to do that.”
“After that,” Vail said, pressing forward, “we’ll see if any of the remaining people have, or had, any kind of ties to Russia or China—relatives, friends, phone calls. And financial or investment deals. Always follow the money, right? This obviously might not mean anything, but it could be significant and it could also help chop away at the list.”
“We have to be careful with paring it back too aggressively,” Tasset said. “I’d highlight those people who get flagged but I wouldn’t remove anyone from the list based solely on known ties to a country. Some spies purposely have no obvious connections to their employer.”
“Good point.” Vail faced Tasset. “What countries are we talking about?”
“The usual bad actors—North Korea and Iran now have to be in that basket, even though the likelihood of spies coming from North Korea is a great deal lower than China or Russia. They just don’t have the sophistication or infrastructure to pull off something like this. Yet.”
“Let’s not leave out social networking hits, friends, photos.” Vail turned to Stern. “I assume that’s NSA territory?”
“I can get my people on that,” Stern said. “We’ll have something for you within an hour of getting the full employee list from Administrator Peabody. I think it’d be best for us to work from the complete database without any filters. We’ve got very complex systems that can pick up things you may inadvertently eliminate. And I don’t want to miss anything.”
“There’s something else you should know about,” Peabody said. “Three years ago, the deputy administrator’s laptop was stolen from his car. The media focused on the confidential information lifted from the hard drive—tens of thousands of social security numbers, names, and birthdates. We initiated a review to determine how something like this could’ve happened and what procedures needed to be changed so it wouldn’t happen again.”
“What was not publicized,” Knox said, “was that the laptop also contained info on employees’ personal lives from their background checks. Like the OPM hacks a year or so later, it exposed sensitive information on key people. Opened them up to potential extortion.”
“If you’ve got something on somebody,” Bolten said, “details of their life they don’t want released, you can leverage them. Blackmail them. ‘I need you to get some information for me. Oh, you don’t want to help us out? Fine, we’ll let the world know you had a rape expunged from your record when you were a minor.’ Or that he’s got a child by another woman he’s paying support to.”
Stern nodded. “The kind of stuff that could be extremely embarrassing on social media or damaging to your marriage, your family, your career.”
“Oldest trick in the spy book for turning someone in a key position,” Tasset said. “We’ve used it more times than I care to count.”
“And that could be exactly what happened here,” Bolten said.
“Do we know who was behind the theft?” Vail asked.
Stern adjusted his glasses. “No. It’s not like a hack where there may be a trail or fragment of code we can trace or identify. The info taken off that hard drive was probably sold on the dark net—a secret overlay network that requires certain nonstandard encryption protocols to communicate. It’s where cyber criminals sell and share pilfered data.”
“If that’s the case,” Vail said, “if it’s a key person with clearance who’s been leveraged, info on caesarium may not be the only thing he or she has passed on to the Chinese.”
“We’ve discussed that,” Peabody said. “And we’re looking into it, a review of all systems. We’ll let you know if we find something.”
“About that,” Knox said. “Your people are not moving fast enough. A USCYBERCOM team is en route. Make sure they get all the cooperation they need.”
“Would’ve been nice if I was informed.”
“You just were.”
Peabody scribbled a note on her pad. “Terrific,” she said under her breath.
“And a reminder—the OPSIG part of this is not to be mentioned. To anyone outside this room. Are we clear?”
“Clear,” Peabody said.
Knox and Bolten rose. The others followed.
“When can you get that employee list together?” Vail asked.
Peabody picked up her purse. “We’ll get started on it immediately.”
8
Astronaut Training
Vandenberg Air Force Base
Lompoc, California
The jet landed and a black SUV ferried Eisenbach, DeSantos, and Uzi across the Air Force base.
“Can you walk us through the space-based part of the mission?” Uzi asked. “Overview.”
Eisenbach looked out the windows at the passing buildings. “The Orion follows the original Apollo concept: the Hercules II, a thirty-story rocket, has multiple stages, each one with engines designed to propel you to the next point in your journey. As the fuel burns out in one stage, the engines on the next stage kick in and start their burn. After getting into low Earth orbit—like where the space shuttle flew—you’ll make one or two revolutions around the Earth until conditions are right. Then we’ll fire the engines again in translunar injection, or TLI.”
“And that blasts us out of Earth orbit,” Uzi said.
“Right. Once you escape orbit, you’ll fly at 30,000 miles per hour on a trajectory toward the Moon. The onboard computer will make minute course corrections, if needed, to keep you on target. This is vital, because if you’re off by even a few degrees you could miss the Moon and go off into outer space.”
“And that’d be a bad thing,” DeSantos said.
“No,” Eisenbach said. He took a sip of his drink. “That’d be a very bad thing. Because of weight and space constraints, you’ll only be carrying enough fuel, oxygen, water, and food for this mission. Nothing extra. You could ration and buy some time, but there’s not going to be a rescue party. We don’t have that capability.”
DeSantos did not need to have it spelled out: they would have no way to get back. They would die in space without food. Without water. Without oxygen. Basically,” Eisenbach continued, “Orion seats four astronauts, two stacked atop the other two. It’s bigger and a whole lot more advanced than Apollo. Our engineers and scientists have had decades to fine-tune, research and develop technology, gather data, brainstorm, think, learn from mistakes, and debate. But basic physics and current rocket science dictate that it’ll still take about three days to travel the quarter-million miles between here and there.
“About 225,000 miles into your journey, you’ll enter the sphere of the Moon’s influence and you’ll start to accelerate because its gravity will pull you toward it. When you get within eighty mile
s of the Moon, your rockets will fire and you’ll enter lunar orbit on the dark, or far, side. Because the Moon will be between you and us, we’ll lose radio contact with you.
“You’ll move into the lunar lander and it’ll separate from the Orion crew module. For Apollo, the pilot stayed aboard the command module, which orbited until his two crewmembers returned from the surface. But Orion is fully automated. The crew module remains in orbit while all four astronauts make the landing.
“After you finish your mission, you’ll lift off from the Moon in the ascent stage, leaving the descent portion of the lander behind. You’ll dock with the Orion crew module then fire your rockets and begin your journey back to Earth, where you’ll splash down in the Atlantic just north of the equator.”
“Splash down?” Uzi said. “That’s so … 1970s.”
Eisenbach laughed. “Vertical landings are all the rage now. But they require tons more fuel, which you’d have to haul all the way to the Moon and back—and your launch vehicle would need to be a whole lot bigger. Didn’t make sense for this type of mission.
“NASA, Lockheed, Aerojet Rocketdyne—and hundreds of other contractors—have had dozens of design team engineers testing parts, fairings, avionics, and rockets to make sure that their analyses matched up with how the systems would actually work in space. Based on the test results, they made changes and additions—because that system has got to do its job when the computer tells it to. Your lives, and this mission, depend on it. Most of the systems have undergone significant infrastructure testing and an exhaustive design validation process.”
“Most of the systems?” Uzi asked.
“Most of the systems.”
DeSantos knew there were substantial risks, and because of the sophisticated and complex technology involved, more hazards than he cared to think about. He chose to focus on the things he had control over.
“How reliable is this thing?” DeSantos asked. “Level with us.”
“I’m not gonna give you odds. The military’s been involved with testing and validating Orion, its rockets and engines, reentry, and recovery. NASA has run vacuum chamber simulations and dozens of trials on the ground and in the lab, as well as a number of in-flight tests. They blew the pyrobolts on the fairings and ran a full suite of vibration and acoustic evaluations. They stressed it at the system level in a variety of environments. Parachutes were tested at Davis Monthan Air Force Base, avionics at Holloman Air Force Base, and splashdowns at the Kennedy Space Center. They placed a thousand sensors all over the crew module then blasted it into space and monitored everything. Changes were made as necessary.
Dark Side of the Moon Page 6