Lunar Discovery: Let the Space Race Begin

by Salvador Mercer

“I know, but what else could it be?” Rock asked.

  “So why you being so nice and sharing this with us, eh?” Tom asked Mr. Smith.

  “Because if they are willing to risk an act of war on this space race, then they may very well aim for something more personal and relevant next time.”

  “Jesus Christ Almighty! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Tom asked, genuinely shocked for a change.

  Rock looked at Smith, who stared back without saying a word, but his facial expression told Rock all he needed to know. “So there’s a chance that any launch we execute could be met with something similar? It doesn’t matter who is doing it; the fact that it was done means the risk and the stakes just got that much higher. Am I right?” Rock asked, continuing his stare down with Mr. Smith.

  “You are correct, Crandon. This means you and your team may have to either alter the payload to accommodate anti-missiles or some other configuration to allow any launch a direct path to the moon in order to avoid a similar fate,” Smith said.

  “You can’t just launch a rocket to the moon like in the Looney Tunes,” Tom said, leaning back as a food service worker entered with a rolling cart and set down a tray of sandwiches with two bowls of soup along with a pitcher of coffee and a cup of tea.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here, Mr. Smith. Shall I get you a cup of soup, too?” the woman with her identification badge clipped to her collar said. The name on the tag read Samantha Summers.

  “No, Mrs. Summers, I’ll just eat one of these sandwiches and I’ll get a soda from one of the machines later,” Smith said.

  “All right,” Samantha said in her southern drawl. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be here till six. You can just ring us on the phone, extension eight one three.”

  “Thanks,” Smith said, grabbing a sandwich and taking a big bite.

  Rock grabbed a bowl of soup, tomato, and opened a packet of saltines, adding them and stirring a bit as it was piping hot. “You know, Smith, if there are missiles up there, I’m not so sure there is much we could do. I mean, the heat signature and radar profile of any rocket we send up would be impossible to miss. I don’t know what you expect of us.”

  “Well, it’s early yet,” Smith answered. “Let me see what they have at Langley and Meade, and I’ll get back to you and your team, agreed?”

  “Fine, let us know sooner rather than later, though. It’s a pain in the ass to re-compute fuel figures and change payloads if you’re going to move the goal posts on us midgame, know what I mean?”

  Smith nodded and took his sandwich over to a desk on the far side of the room near the windows where he would make his phone calls privately.

  “What are you looking at?” Rock asked Tom as he took his first sip of soup, grabbing a sandwich and napkin to boot.

  “Bloody hell of a way to start a war,” Tom said.

  Chapter 9

  Russia

  Gordust Space Station

  Low Earth Orbit

  In the near future, Day 14

  Yuri watched as all four of his fellow cosmonauts were on an EVA or extravehicular activity. The orbital booster burn went as planned and raised the orbit from three hundred kilometers to well over three thousand. There was no sensation other than watching the curvature of the earth become more pronounced with the altitude gain. The higher orbit meant the station circled slower, and due to the nature of the burn, the orbit was slightly eccentric, wobbling between 3,284 kilometers and 2,955 kilometers.

  The current mission was to attach the four larger burn motors so that the station could escape earth’s gravity well. Each motor was large enough that it required four cosmonauts to attach each one to a corner of the space station structure. The first launch brought supplies for six personnel for over a month and returned the Americans to earth. The second brought a full load of both liquid hydrogen and oxygen which was transferred to the main propellant tanks. Yuri marveled at how the entire payload was nothing but fuel, and a burn of all of the fuel brought to the station only lifted it about three thousand clicks.

  Geosynchronous orbit was about fifty thousand clicks, and the station would need several burns in order to obtain that orbit. Of course, they may not need to go that high if the final trans-lunar burn was used to bring them back to a few dozen miles of earth, using the craft’s increased speed at perigee as a slingshot and building delta v acceleration enough to transit to the moon. The entire exercise was a matter of mathematics, and math was absolute, not fuzzy. What was fuzzy was the exact start of the atmosphere of earth and how closely the engineers and mathematicians in Moscow decided they needed to get in order to obtain the critical delta v impulse that would allow for a successful mission. The station had no drag or friction in space, but that would change when the mission started.

  Yuri knew that a miscalculation in either the burn or trajectory would result in the station auguring into the ground. Well, what remained after the atmospheric destruction, as temperatures soared past ten thousand degrees kelvin. The other option was that the station would “bounce” off the atmosphere, changing its trajectory to one of deep space. If the velocity was high enough to escape earth’s gravity well, then the station would leave earth orbit and become a part of the solar system, orbiting the sun and most likely never returning to earth again.

  It was against this background that the man watched his fate being prepared for him by his comrades outside. He and Olga were volunteers, of course, but there was never really any choice. Once Ruscosmos explained the situation, the stakes, and what the Chinese were doing, well, there were no other options. Yuri was going to the moon.

  *****

  Vostochny Cosmodrome

  Siberia, Russia

  In the near future, Day 14

  Vlad watched as Dmitry stepped off of the Hind M24 heavy lift chopper, holding his hat on his head and walking to the door of the landing pad.

  “Vladimir,” the old man said, entering the building, “good to see you again! Great job on those initial launches. Moscow is pleased.”

  “You sound like you did when you were commanding in the old days.” Vlad shook the man’s hand and grabbed his briefcase from an aide who looked pale, not willing at first to give up the man’s personal folders but relenting once Dmitry nodded.

  The men walked down the corridor, entering the main administrative building, stopping at the elevator. “Those were the good ole days, Vlad. Remember when we stacked the German front? I wonder what would have happened had the premier not backed down. That would have been a fight, no?” Dmitry said, a smile and a pat on Vlad’s shoulder as they entered the lift.

  Vlad hit O, which stood for observatory, bypassing the other floors.

  “We’re not going to your office?” Dmitry asked.

  “I have something to show you,” Vlad said. “I’ve set up a small table on the observatory deck where we can have a small bite to eat.”

  “Ah, sounds good, my old friend,” Dmitry said as they arrived, and Vlad motioned for his boss to exit. They walked over to the large window panes that overlooked the main launch pad about two kilometers away, and Vlad pulled a chair out for the man. “Ah . . . my aide, Tamil?” Dmitry asked, looking around.

  “Irina, can you take Secretary Osnokov’s aide to the service quarters and see to it that he gets something to eat?” Vlad asked.

  Irina came from the side lounge area and motioned for the aide Tamil to follow her. Soon after they departed, the two men sat as the late afternoon sun shone through the broad window panes overlooking the complex two hundred feet below. “Do you have vodka, Vlad?” Dmitry asked, anticipation in his voice.

  “Koneshna, only the best for you.” Vlad motioned, and the service staff brought bread, butter, sugar, lemon wedges, and glasses, including shot glasses and a large bottle of Stolichnaya vodka.

  “I see you’ve spared no expense,” Dmitry said, smiling as Vlad poured him a shot. The old man took his lemon wedge and dipped it into the shallow sugar bowl, coat
ing it, and then raised his freshly poured shot glass. “Do Sdarovya,” he said, and Vlad accepted the toast, both men emptying their glasses in one fluid motion, popping sugared lemon wedges into their mouths right after the drink.

  There was a moment of silence as Vlad looked his boss over before he spoke. “Now, Dmitry, you’ve kept me waiting for two days now sitting here wondering what could possibly be so urgent to bring a cabinet member from Moscow all the way out here. When were you planning on telling me?”

  Dmitry smiled and pulled his lemon wedge from his mouth, setting the rind down on a separate saucer plate. “You’re just like your father, do you know that? Together, I thought we’d push NATO all the way into the Atlantic, but alas, those were the old days. Now we have détente and diplomacy and reconciliation and, of course, social media. We are like dinosaurs now, Vladimir, old and extinct. Do you think there is any use for us anymore?”

  “What have you been drinking?” Vlad asked.

  “Oh, come now, you wouldn’t refuse an old man his last fond memories now, would you?”

  “Of course not, but that is the past and now we are faced with a greater challenge, are we not?” Vlad asked.

  “Yes, you are right. Enough about the old days. I come to oversee the security of our complex as well. There is evidence, circumstantial in my opinion, that the Chinese have weapons in space,” Dmitry said, looking for a reaction from his old student.

  “That would be a major violation of the London Accord. Is your evidence strong?” Vlad asked.

  “Strong enough. I don’t think at this point the Chinese care. It gets worse, Vlad. We believe they have used these weapons already.”

  “Blyad! Not possible. That would mean war. All our assets are in place, are they not? What did they hit?”

  “Not us, they took out an American spysat. Our counter surveillance satellite picked up the debris field of the American unit on infrared. There wasn’t anything to see in the visible spectrum.”

  “Bozhe, moi! Do the Americans know?”

  “I have no idea. I’m sure they know their spybird is gone, but they may not know how. Moscow is worried that they will attempt to link our forces to this act.”

  “Should they?”

  “What do you mean?” Dmitry asked.

  “Do we have weapons in space?” Vlad asked.

  “You would know, you are the administrator of Ruscosmos launch services. Of course we don’t.”

  “I’m not so sure, Dima. I’ve sent up plenty of equipment, satellites, and other space-bound equipment for our government and many other governments, but I am not privy to most payloads if they are sealed in capsules or self-contained. You know that. Perhaps I should not be asking this question?”

  Dmitry reached for the bottle of vodka, pouring himself another and filling Vlad’s glass as well. “If we do have something up there, I have not been cleared to know. Our emphasis has been on ground assets, and I do know we have more than a few of them that could do the same thing only from here, not from orbit. No need to go there, but you should be aware that we are moving to Readiness Code Two tomorrow.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, we mobilize the entire Far East Military District. Moscow thinks it’s possible that if things go poorly for the Chinese, they may just decide to make a strike at our only space launch site right here at Vostochny.”

  “Damn! I said we never should have built such a strategic asset so close to the Chinese border,” Vlad said, picking up his glass and drinking his vodka without waiting for his boss to join him.

  Dmitry drank half of his and then repeated the process of sugarcoating the lemon wedge before pulling the rind out and wiping his mouth with a napkin. “There are a few in Moscow that share your sentiment, but this is no time for finger pointing. The premier has decided to send three divisions from the west to Amur specifically for the defense of the Cosmodrome. Two of them are armored divisions and the third is a mechanical infantry. They will beef up the twelve divisions already active here in the Far East.”

  “What good will that do against the forty Chinese divisions we are facing now?”

  Dmitry laughed. “Do not worry, old friend, that is what our nuclear deterrent is for. We will keep them at bay.”

  “I’m not so sure. Also, I want to know why Moscow aborted the heavy lunar launch. We were ready to fuel when we received the call. I thought we needed a lunar reconnaissance orbiter as quickly as possible.”

  “I’m sorry, Vladimir,” Dmitry said, using his more formal name but smiling at the younger man. “That was part of the news I shared with you today. We can’t risk losing the orbiter until we are sure we can launch without incident. It would do no good to take the only functioning spacecraft we have only to have it shot out of the sky before it could accomplish its mission.”

  “My God, this is getting out of control,” Vlad said.

  “Perhaps. We simply need to take precautions first. The lunar heavy launch will take place in a week. We must give the Red Army forces time to prepare. The Defense Minister informed me that we will have something special prepared for their space weapons.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing in Moscow. This could turn out badly for more than just our country.”

  “Nonsense, Vladimir. We have the Americans to help us.” Dmitry laughed. Seeing the confusion on Vlad’s face, Dmitry explained, “We will share the data we have with them. They will know who took down their precious spy satellite and act accordingly. Soon the Chinese will have more on their plate than they can handle when the Americans learn about their attack.”

  “Like I said, old friend, this is getting out of control.”

  “You may be right, but in the meantime, would it be too much to eat dinner for tonight? We can worry about world domination another day.”

  Vlad smiled and then started to chuckle, waving over the service staff who were waiting anxiously near the elevator with two carts laden with food. Let the Chinese deal with the Americans, and they would reach the moon first. Things were looking better already, if not less dangerous. Vlad enjoyed his meal.

  Chapter 10

  Payload

  NASA Space Center

  Houston, Texas

  In the near future, Day 15

  “The president has personally cleared your team for clearance level Red One. That is why you received the extra briefs this week,” Mrs. Brown informed Rock and his team as they sat for their daily meeting before work began.

  “So reassuring,” Jack said.

  “So the Russians held back on launching their lunar reconnaissance craft due to this Chinese threat? Are we understanding this report correctly?” Marge asked, leafing through several sheets of paper marked Top Secret across the top in red.

  “Yes, it appears from our intel that the Chinese somehow managed to get some anti-satellite missiles into space sometime during the last two years, if our data is correct,” Mrs. Brown answered.

  “It hasn’t been in the news,” Jack said.

  “What are we going to do about it?” Tom asked. “We should shoot two of their birds down for that. I can’t believe the president won’t respond.”

  “It’s under advisement, and the politics of the current situation are not relevant to your group,” Mrs. Brown declared. “I advise you all to focus on the task at hand and leave the diplomacy and . . . counter reaction response to the military.”

  “Damn, this could start World War Three,” Jack said, releasing a sigh in response to the news.

  “I agree with Mrs. Brown; we should focus on getting Julie and Craig up there safely and leave the posturing to the technocrats,” Rock said, looking at each team member in turn.

  “Fine,” Marge said, setting her papers down and returning Rock’s gaze. “How long till we receive a lunar landing pod from JPL?”

  “They’re still modifying it to fit two astronauts. Remember it was designed as a larger rover for the Mars mission next decade, so to suddenly be asked to expand th
e design to accommodate crewmembers places a lot of strain on the engineers,” Rock said.

  “I’ve looked at the life support systems, and they are adequate, if not robust,” Lisa said from her perch on her stool at the drafting table. Usually they held their briefings at the conference room table next to the lab room, but Mrs. Brown was late and Rock’s team started to work.

  Tom pulled up the relevant schematic and flipped the table light on so it was clearly visible.

  “So this is what you’ve been working on?” Mrs. Brown asked, looking over Jack’s shoulder at the diagram.

  Rock’s entire team looked at her with a wide range of emotions etched on their faces. This was the first time the NSA spooks seemed to care what they were doing.

  “Yes,” Lisa said, pointing to the spacecraft drawing on the table. “This was where the rover would have been secured on top of the lander. It actually acted sort of like a cargo bay where the rover and its instruments would ride the lander to the planet’s surface. In the past, we’ve used airbags, parachutes, and rockets to land our equipment there safely. The Adomite-300 was going to use rockets for the Mars landing, so now we simply added a crew bay here”—she glided her fingertip to the command module—“and then used shielding around the base and outer walls to prep it for a human presence.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” Mrs. Brown said.

  “That’s just the beginning,” Jack said. “The rockets were designed for the rover’s payload, not the crew’s command module, so we have to adjust the thrust of the rockets to account for the extra weight.”

  “Not to mention the extra fuel load,” Marge chimed in.

  “Which changes the weight of the lander, that has to factor in the fact that the original rover design was meant for a one-way trip. This lander has to be able to return to lunar orbit as well, so it has to have more than twice the fuel load in order to escape the gravity well of the moon,” Rock added.