“That was exciting,” said Gustavo. “Did you plan that in advance?”
“Yes. José asked me to do something that would excite the crowd, and igniting the fusion engines early was all I could think of.”
“Good thinking, especially now that we are not trying to keep our departure location secret.”
“Yes. Gear up.”
A few seconds later Gustavo replied, “Gear up, three green lights.”
“Roger, three green,” responded Felipe, continuing to accelerate. “How are our passengers doing?”
Gustavo turned in his seat and saw the two passengers tightly belted in their seats, stoically looking forward. No facial expressions that he could see.
“They seem OK. At least they are not complaining, and their eyes are open.”
In another thirty minutes, the Passaro II found itself in orbit, twenty-two thousand miles above the Earth.
“Primeiro Control, this is Passaro II in planned orbit with TCC transponder on, over,” called Gustavo.
“Roger, Passaro II, Primeiro Control is receiving telemetry indicating all systems are go for maneuver, over.”
“Passaro II leaving orbit for maneuvers, out,” responded Gustavo again.
“Well let’s see what fun we can have in this bird, Gustavo. Check on our passengers again.”
When Gustavo turned to check on the two test engineers, he was surprised to see them unseated and standing behind them.
“What the—” Gustavo started to ask, but a flash from a small gun near his forehead quickly ended his life.
Before Felipe could react, the second technician shot him also in the head with his silenced .22 caliber pistol. Being small, the .22 rounds entered the head but did not exit. They did cause extreme damage, and both pilots were dead instantly.
Quickly the two known as Carlos and Jorge removed the astronauts from their seats, moved them to the passenger seats that they had recently used, and strapped the limp bodies in. The one called Carlos sat in Felipe’s former seat and took control of the spacecraft. Jorge opened the “test” package, pulled out a cord, and connected it into a spacecraft socket installed by Chao Ping. This allowed the two to control the TCC telemetry to Primeiro Control, simulating chosen malfunctions in the craft’s systems and establishing specially coded transmissions back to Earth. Then Jorge moved forward to take Gustavo’s former seat.
“Passaro II, this is Control, over,” repeated the Primeiro Control flight officer several times without response.
“What is going on?” asked José.
“Unknown, sir. The Passaro II is not responding, and the TCC telemetry is saying that there are several major malfunctions in the flight controls.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, sir, that the spacecraft is not under pilot control and we cannot establish a remote link. In addition, they are starting to descend.”
“Descend? Where are they going?”
“The Gobi Desert is coming up on their horizon, and if they maintain their current direction and rate of decent, it is likely that they will arrive there.”
“You mean crash there!” José said with tears in his eyes and stress in his voice.
“Yes, sir,” said the controller softly.
“Can you raise any other space control authority?” asked José.
“Yes, sir. In that location, the nearest control is Beijing Aerospace Command and Control Center.”
“Then do so, now!”
“I have Beijing Control now. What do you want me to say?”
“Ask them if they are tracking the Passaro II and if they have contact.”
Two minutes later: “Sir, Beijing Control says they are tracking but cannot make contact. They also say they have the same TCC telemetry data, which is not good.”
“What is the Passaro II’s altitude?”
“They have just entered atmosphere, and TCC readings show extreme heat over all surfaces. She may be tumbling. Wait! Sir, we have lost contact!” shouted the anxious controller.
“What do you mean, ‘lost contact’?”
“Just that, sir. There is no more telemetry or radio connection.”
“Ask Beijing Control what they know!” shouted José, extreme worry on his face. This was a disaster. A huge setback not just for himself but also for Brazil—to say nothing about the loss of Brazil’s two greatest astronaut heroes.
“Sir, Beijing Control has also lost contact, even on radar. They say reports are coming in from the Gobi that a large flash and debris have been seen in the sky.”
“Can the Chinese verify?”
“Sir, they say they have aircraft in the area, which have been asked to perform a search.”
“My God. This cannot be happening. Everything was perfect!” exclaimed José to nobody in particular.
Carlos and Jorge, in actuality pilots of the People’s Liberation Army (PLA), had trained in a Rendon-provided simulator similar to the one used by Felipe and Gustavo. Carlos was actually Bai Chau and Jorge was Huan Lo. They had no problems making their simple approach to the long and heavily reinforced concrete runway next to the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center (JSLC) in the Gobi Desert about a thousand miles from Beijing. Part of the Dongfeng Aerospace City, it was home to about twenty thousand Chinese staff, technicians, and workers. However, the growing city associated with the launch center was said to include nearly one hundred and eighty thousand more people. Two hundred thousand people total, perhaps more.
As planned, the Passaro II landing was done outside the visibility of overhead satellite coverage. The craft immediately rolled into a specially prepared hangar, and the doors closed.
Frederico Rendon was seated in a comfortable lounge chair overlooking the glass-smooth pool of Rancho Rendon’s patio area in the evening twilight. Music played softly in the background: another piano concerto by Beethoven that he could no longer play well. His fingers were becoming less and less responsive. Even so, there was a broad smile on his face as he sipped his wine and listened to Dieter.
“Success, Frederico! The training we gave to the PLA pilots has paid off. The Passaro II has landed in China, and Gen. Li Jing sends his compliments and has authorized the transfer of the second half of your payment to the account you specified.”
“Excellent, Dieter. But the one hundred million for the spacecraft and the design is nothing compared to the profit we will make on the fuel. Like printers and ink. And so it will be for the Russians as well. It should be interesting to see what they can do with the engine and that antique they intend to fly…. and of course with all the fuel we are selling them.”
“Yes indeed.”
The two clinked their wineglasses together in a toast of current and future success.
Internally, Meier was happy with the profits rolling in from the fuel sales. That was a major success. It would get even bigger if they could expand in someplace like the Philippines. Not bad for a boy from the backwoods of Germany, Peter told himself. But, lurking in the background, there was still the issue of the alien site that Childs had discovered. Where is it, and what other fantastic advances does it contain? he questioned. At some point, I need to have Dieter monitor Childs closely to see if we can locate the site. But right now, managing the Chinese and the Russians is taking the efforts of us both.
CHAPTER 11
In the lonely desert of Kazakhstan, about 124 miles east of the Aral Sea, lies the busiest Russian spaceport—the Baikonur Cosmodrome. It is on land belonging to the Kazakh government and leased to Russia until 2050 and is jointly managed by the Russian Federal Space Agency and the Russian Aerospace Defense Forces. Under the current Russian space program, Baikonur remains a busy spaceport, with numerous commercial, military, and scientific missions being launched each year. In addition, all manned Russian space flights are launched from Baikonur. It was not surprising, therefore, to find an off-limits hangar in a secure corner of the spaceport that contained Russia’s latest effort to gain the stars.
&
nbsp; Unlike the Chinese and even the Americans, Russia had been working secretly since 1993 to resurrect the old Buran space program. It was in this program that Russia launched the OK-1K1 Buran space shuttle in November of 1988 atop an Energia rocket. The Buran made a successful two-orbit flight, returned to Baikonur, and landed. The unique feature of this shuttle was that it was unmanned, and all operations were done robotically. However, for reasons not fully known, the government canceled the program and placed the Buran and its sister ship, the Pitchka, in separate storage at the spaceport. In 2002 a collapse of the hangar containing the Buran destroyed the automated space shuttle. The Pitchka survived.
Inside the secure hangar stood the Pitchka, but now different in many ways. This craft was not a robotic ship but carried a human crew and, like the American space shuttles, had a large cargo section with clamshell openings on top and even a side access port. Anybody looking at the spacecraft would immediately say it was an American space shuttle, for it did, indeed, look exactly the same with similar dimensions. The major internal difference was the engine. Thanks to a blond, German-accented security agent from Venezuela, they had not only obtained the fusion engine design but also purchased a large supply of fuel from EOS Chemicals.
Under the cover of darkness and between satellite coverage, the Pitchka had made several taxi runs and even a short flight over the desert, all successfully. Due to the substantial runway thickness and the remote location of the massive Baikonur runway, Russian technicians had deemed it safe to use only the fusion engines without the assist of turbines for rollout and initial flight.
Again, under the cover of darkness, the Pitchka rolled down the Baikonur runway and lifted off in a dazzling display of speed. In under a minute it was out of sight and under manned control, headed for orbit and beyond. With the TCC transponder now turned on, Russia had announced their official entry into the race for the stars.
Van was watching the evening news featuring Allison Cooper from his chair in the Site R Ops Center. Leaning forward, he stared at the screen intently. The news was all about the Russian launch of the Pitchka. “Jesus, Harry, how did the Russians do this so early?”
“By using an existing airframe, Commander. They were ahead of several who have also entered the race. I suspect that they clandestinely obtained the engine design, and we know they obtained fuel from EOS Chemicals just as the Brazilians did.”
“I still smell a rat someplace, Harry, but I still can’t pin the feeling down.”
“I assume, Commander, that you do not actually smell a dead rodent but that you suspect some clandestine and possibly dangerous activity that we have yet to detect.”
“Of course. This can’t all be by accident. Any news on Galactic Adventures?”
“EOS Chemicals delivered a supply of fuel to Spaceport America in New Mexico some weeks ago, Commander. Given that Galactic Adventures operates from there, I can ‘guess,’ as you call it, that Galactic Adventures will soon attempt a flight.”
“We keep saying that, Harry, but each time we’ve been wrong.”
The western American desert can be spectacular, especially at sunrise and sunset. In this case, the yellow-orange desert sun of Spaceport America was just coming over the eastern horizon. The air was still cool, with just a slight breeze carrying the scents of sagebrush and juniper.
On the runway stood an odd craft. Anyone following civilian spacecraft design would realize that radical designs, like those of Bert Rotan, for example, were common. This one was no exception. Designated Space Ship 4, it was slightly larger than the first Passaro and had a turbine engine on each outboard side of the single tail. As was the American trend, it was painted white with a black underside. With conventional-looking cockpit windows, it had a row of seven oval observation windows on each side aft of the cockpit. The latter were in keeping with the Galactic Adventures plan to offer space flight experiences to the public.
Space Ship 4 had already completed several taxi-and-control runs. Just as many major aircraft manufacturers had been doing to save money, Galactic Adventures had run intensive simulations on engine performance and characteristics in the design phase. Therefore, there would be no test flights around the spaceport. This would be Galactic’s first and best shot at entering the race.
Pilot Stan Walters and copilot Danny Ramos were at the controls.
“Spaceport, Space Ship 4 ready for takeoff,” announced Danny in his most professional radio voice.
“Roger, Space Ship 4, winds are from the west at four knots, temperature is a cool 79 degrees, and the barometer is 29.94. Cleared for takeoff. Good luck.”
“Roger, Spaceport, on the roll.”
“Here we go, Danny. Ready for this?” Stan asked as he pushed the turbine throttles forward.
“All my life, Stan. All my life,” Danny replied with a huge, white, toothy grin.
“Hey, Van, are you up on this channel?” called Dick on his implant communications from Virginia.
“Yes, Dick. Both Harry and I are listening. What’s on your mind?”
“I’m sure you’ve been following the recent space launch events. Brazil, then Russia, and now the US. Except for Russia, it looks like your plans are working. But I never thought it would happen so soon. I have to say, however, I have a feeling that something else is about to happen that will surprise us even more.”
“Funny you should say that. I’ve been telling Harry something similar. However, I can’t put my finger on it yet. It may have something to do with the Russian government coming into play so quickly. On the other hand, as you noted, we are excited that things are generally proceeding as fast and successfully as they are.”
Taking the lead, Van continued, “On another front, Al Craig and Stellar Projects have just introduced some new high-temperature materials to be used in temperature-critical areas of any spacecraft. In addition, they are also announcing a shielding system to protect against meteorites, space junk, and, along with the new high-temp materials, high-speed reentry heat.”
“All great news. But what will your next innovation be?” Dick asked, intrigued.
“We’re thinking that an introduction to antigravity systems should be next. Sustained flight in space without gravity becomes a human problem that we can avoid. In addition, it should be an easy step. Harry has reminded me that some of the Host technology has similar underpinnings to research here on Earth. In this case two Russians, Roschin and Godin, have been working on an energy system called a ‘magnetic energy converter,’ or MEC. As it happens, in addition to a small amount of energy creation, it has also demonstrated antigravity capability. Harry feels that a few suggestions will help yield a system capable of artificial internal gravity and eventually antigravity flight.”
“That’s amazing. Now that things are moving along the path you planned, what do you see as a role for the Carson Group…. if any?”
“I’m not quite sure yet, Dick, but I’m thinking it will be a big role. A lot depends on how smoothly all of this new technology is internalized. We probably need to have a planning session, but I need to talk with Harry to see if it’s time to expand the number of people who know what we are up to and how we are doing it.”
“At a minimum, I think that Barbara and Brice need to be read in, so to speak.”
There it was again. The need for Barbara to learn things about him that she had never known. Not just about the Host but also the fact that he was not entirely what Barbara thought he was. That streak of cowardice was resurfacing. The time never seemed to be right.
“I know, and I agree—about Brice. And before you say it, I agree that I’ll have to break the news to Barbara. As an intelligence officer, she’ll be upset—or maybe ‘pissed’ is the right word—that she hasn’t been privy to what we’ve been up to. And I’m afraid our relationship will likely take a big hit, given that I haven’t shared any of this personally. Just haven’t decided how to do that.”
“Excuse me for laughing,” Dick said with a chuckle, “but I
would pay good money to see and hear that exchange!”
“Sure you would, you sadist. I’ll come up with something.”
“OK, let me know what you plan. Until then, be safe,” Dick said as he broke the connection.
Van was reviewing reports on the Aurora in the Site R Ops Center when he heard Harry say something about the Chinese doing something.
“The Chinese have done what?” he exclaimed, spinning in his chair to face Harry.
“They have successfully launched a spacecraft from the JSLC in the Gobi Desert, Commander.”
How is that possible? “What do we know so far?” Van sat up straight in his chair and put down the reports. “You have my full attention.”
“Several things, Commander. First, the craft itself, called the Chang’e 5, is remarkably similar to the Passaro II in all details that have been demonstrated so far. Second, it is not on a path for orbit.”
“Then where is it going?”
“The Moon, Commander.”
Van was silent for a few seconds as he absorbed this news. The Moon?
“I would say what on Earth for, but that doesn’t seem to fit here. How about why?” Van said, squinting in puzzlement.
“The exact mission plan is unclear, Commander. However, the recent Chinese history of space exploration has been heavily focused on the Moon and a manned landing. Specifically, such a goal is the heart of the Chinese Lunar Exploration program, which is also known as the Chang’e program—Chang’e being the name for the Chinese Moon goddess. Chang’e 3 landed the Yutu rover on the Moon in 2013. Chang’e 5 was scheduled for an unmanned lunar landing in the near future, but it appears that this latest flight has assumed that name.”
Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga) Page 9