Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga)

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Immortal Guardian: Hoast Saga Book 2 (Host Saga) Page 11

by Michael Farlow


  “Where did they go?” asked Chau.

  “I do not know. They were coming our way the last time I saw them. We need search radar on these ships, and cameras that do not just look down. Even proximity sensors,” responded Lo.

  “This ship was just a flight test vehicle when we got it, remember? Nobody had time to add them for this flight. Everything was a rush. Besides, who would have guessed this particular need? We will tell the technicians at Jiuquan what we need when we get back. But now we have to actually see them. I am coming right in our survey pattern, so watch for them,” ordered Chau.

  Unknown by the Chang’e 5 crew, the Pitchka had maneuvered less than fifty yards away and to the right.

  “Coming right,” announced Chau.

  “Stop! Come left, come left!” shouted Lo.

  “What?”

  “Come left now. The Russian are next to us on the right! I see them!”

  Despite the warning from Lo and the relatively quick response from Chau, it was not enough to keep the two spacecraft from making contact, albeit minor.

  “We hit them!” yelled Lo.

  “You are mistaken, they hit us. Remember that. We were just executing our standard survey pattern. It was the Russians who hit us. Damage report!” demanded Chau, who was already anticipating what the politicians would say—or want to hear.

  “All systems appear normal. No loss of pressure. I think we are OK,” Lo said with relief.

  “Time to go,” said Chau. “I cannot guess what the Russians might do next.”

  “Yes. I think this is a big enough distraction. Plotting a course for home,” said Lo with relief.

  “Mikhael!” shouted Anikin from his command chair as he watched his telemetry screen. “What just happened?”

  “According to our pilots, the Pitchka and the Chang’e 5 just collided, sir.”

  “I can see that from the data screen. How did it happen?”

  “The Pitchka crew says that they were surveying the same site as the Chinese and that the Chang’e 5 turned quickly and hit them after warning the Pitchka off. They think it was on purpose, sir.”

  “No, I do not think so. It was probably an accident, but my guess is that the Chinese will say it was our fault. Moscow will probably claim that the Chinese did this on purpose. There will be some nasty words and threats over this. Assuming she is able, tell the Pitchka to return home. Have the crew report to me immediately after they arrive, and to bring me their data logs.”

  “Yes, sir,” responded Vavilov with a worried look. Big trouble seemed to be heading their way.

  Once again, the news was all about the new adventures in space. This time it was about an apparent low-speed collision between Chinese and Russian spacecraft maneuvering on the Moon.

  Van was watching from his usual perch in the Site R Ops Center. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, tensing in his seat. “With the whole Moon to play with, how in the hell can they hit each other?”

  “Most likely inattention and a little bravado thrown in, Commander. I do not believe it was intentional, and there appeared to be no significant damage. Both craft are headed home.”

  “You might be right, Harry, but I guarantee you that both countries will claim it was done on purpose by the other guy. This is now a major international incident. I worry about how far something like this could go. Get Dick on the line.”

  “Mr. Carson is up now, Commander. He was already calling us.”

  “Dick, how serious is this in your view?”

  “If you are talking about the Chinese/Russian Moon incident, very serious. Both countries have gone to a higher level of alert with their strategic forces. If you use our DEFCON scale, DEFCON 5 is the least serious and DEFCON 1 is essentially going to war. Right now we can say that both Russia and the People’s Republic are at the equivalent of DEFCON 3 at the moment. We are at DEFCON 4, but that could change if things get more serious.”

  “Terrific. Just what we didn’t want,” Van said in disgust.

  “True, but it could be worse. Based on my experience, countries go to this level more for political reasons than anything else. I expect that the alert levels will drop soon. The problem will be that both countries see this as an on-the-record act of aggression, which they can use as supporting logic for higher levels of alert later if or when something like this happens again.”

  “In other words, reason for escalation,” said Van.

  “Correct,” said Dick.

  I didn’t want to see this happen. But here it is, so I have to deal with it. Then Van remembered something his father used to say.

  “You know the old saying ‘When given a lemon, make lemonade’?”

  “Ah, yes,” Dick replied, “but how does that apply?”

  “One of the things I’ve learned from you and others is that Earth is not united in much of anything. From the time I took on the responsibility of assisting the Host in their goals, I’ve been tormented by the question of how I could get the whole world pointed in the same direction,” mused Van.

  “That has to be the most critical and impossible question there is. Don’t tell me you have the answer?”

  “No, I can’t go that far. But I have an idea, the success of which will depend on how far the various countries are willing to go with this macho stuff. It will also require a good plan and people to make it work. More people than we have at present. That strategy session you mentioned, Dick, needs to happen sooner rather than later. Can’t do this with just Harry and me.”

  “Just name the time and place, Van. You know I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks. Let me work out some of the details and get back to you.”

  “Roger that.” And Dick disconnected.

  José Silva was tormented as he drove through São Paulo. His prize spacecraft, the Passaro II, was gone, and his two hero astronauts, Felipe and Gustavo, with it. More than that, José was convinced that Frederico had sold him out and caused the Passaro II to fall into the hands of the Chinese. There was no proof, of course, but the characteristics of the two craft were too similar to be just coincidence.

  In addition, Frederico had disappeared, along with his funding of Brazaero. Primeiro had to be closed and all the employees put on furlough until additional funding could be obtained. All that remained was the original Passaro and a skeleton staff at the São Paulo engineering facility. That was why José was now pulling into the guest parking in front of BrazilAir in São José dos Campos. BrazilAir was the third largest aircraft manufacturer in the world. There to meet him was the newly appointed executive vice president for aerospace operations, José’s old friend, Marco Acosta.

  “José, my friend, how good to see you again. It has been way too long,” said Marco with open arms.

  As the men embraced, José said, “Much too long, Marco. I wish it were better circumstances that bring me here to see you.”

  “Nonsense, my friend. Any circumstance is sufficient for old friends to greet each other after so long a period. What has it been, eight years?”

  “More like ten since we were both in the Brazilian Space Agency.”

  “Ah yes, the good old AEB. Interesting days. But not as interesting, I think, as now and what you have done. Please, come inside where we can talk in comfort.”

  Marco directed José through security and to his office on the top floor of the headquarters building.

  “This is my humble office, José. Not too big and not too small. Please have a seat on the couch. Before we start, would you like something cool to drink?”

  “Cold water would be very nice if you have some.”

  “I have it right here. A glass for you and a glass for me. How is your family?”

  “They are doing well. Only a little has changed in their lives. Maria has started teaching school again now that the girls are a little older. She likes the work, and it keeps her occupied during the day.”

  “Yes, I can imagine. How old are the girls now?”

  “Sofia is fifteen and Alvi
na is thirteen.”

  “Oh my, two teenage girls at the same time in the same house. How do you deal with it?” said Marco with a wide grin.

  “With great patience, my friend. I used to have friends who would ask me if I would like to rent one of their teenage daughters, and I could not understand what they meant until now. Want to rent one?” said José with a large grin that brought him out of his depressed mood.

  “No, no. I have already been through that stage and would not like to do it again,” said Marco, laughing. “But perhaps we can talk of less stressful matters if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.”

  “José, those of us here—and I think all over Brazil—have been thrilled and impressed with what you have done with Brazaero. I know the loss of the Passaro II might be viewed as a great setback, but here we see such events as something of a norm in the development of new systems. I do not know of any aerospace company that can say they have not had issues or lost an aircraft or two in the early stages. In fact, adventures into space are inherently riskier and more dangerous all through the life-span of a system. Consider the Challenger and the Columbia, for example. It is a difficult business.”

  “Thank you, Marco, for the kind words. But Brazaero is on its last legs. Funding is nearly gone, and most of our employees are on furlough or just laid off. My intent in coming here was to search for help.”

  “Amazing, my friend. My reason for meeting with you is to do just that,” said Marco with an even bigger smile than before.

  “What do you mean?” José sat a bit straighter in anticipation.

  “Just what it sounds like, José. The board met last week and has decided that space is the next frontier for companies like ours. However, with things moving as fast as they are around the globe, we cannot afford to build up slowly. Therefore, they have asked me to meet with you to negotiate the incorporation of Brazaero as a wholly owned subsidiary with you as the president. What do you think?”

  “I’m shocked! I came here looking for a little help but never expected this. What do I have to do?” It was hard for José to smile bigger.

  CHAPTER 14

  Chang’e 5 rolled down the huge Jiuquan runway and rotated its nose up to the night stars.

  “Jiuquan Control, Chang’e 5 passing through five thousand on planned course and track. All systems normal. Cargo secure, over,” called Lo.

  “Radar contact, Chang’e 5. No immediate traffic. Switch on TCC code three and proceed as planned.”

  “Chang’e 5 understands cleared as planned, clear of traffic, switching to TCC code three, out.”

  With Chang’e 5 en route to the Moon again, space center attention was refocused on the same hangar the Chang’e 5 had just departed. Inside was the nearly completed Chang’e 6, a near carbon copy of the Chang’e 5 with a few exceptions—the addition of radar and two missile launchers attached to the underside of each wing.

  General Anikin and his aide survived the incident on the Moon. In fact, Moscow was pleased that the general had taken the initiative to send the Pitchka to the Moon when he did. It was a great boost to the Russian state and its space program. With this success, the general was given broad authority to expand the budding space flight program as quickly as possible.

  “Well, Major Vavilov, how do you like the new rank?”

  “Just fine, sir. I only hope I live to keep it for a while.”

  “As the Americans say, you crack me up, Mikhael. Greatness is accompanied by great risk. Embrace it,” said Anikin with a smile.

  “Yes, sir, if you say so.”

  “I do say so. Now let us look at the way ahead. What do you think the Chinese will do next?”

  “I think they will continue their plans to occupy the Moon as soon as they can.”

  “Yes, that is true. But how will they be able to do that when many of the countries in this world are about to fly to the Moon and elsewhere?”

  “They will have to exert some type of control as early as possible.”

  “Yes again. How do you think they will do that?”

  “They must have some sort of weapons capability to enforce their will and claims. Perhaps arming their spaceships.”

  “Good boy, Mikhael! What will the rest of us do when that happens?”

  “To be successful, force will have to be met with force, sir.”

  “Of course. But we have only the one ship, and so, it appears, do they. What would be the next logical step for us?”

  “To arm the Pitchka?”

  “Exactly. It will probably be with rockets, but projectile weapons might work, assuming the recoil in space is acceptable. Get with our engineering staff to see what they can come up with in, say, a week. I know, I know. That is not much time, but see what can be done.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else, General?”

  “Yes there is. I want to meet with our design staff as well as the senior intelligence people. We cannot build another Pitchka anytime soon, but we may be able to build or acquire something smaller. If the Brazilian and American private sector can do it, we should be able to as well. I believe we will need such vehicles soon.”

  “I will get all of this started immediately, sir.”

  “Very good, Mikhael. Very good,” said Anikin as he slipped into thought.

  Before the Pitchka could launch for its next flight, the Chang’e 5 had already made several passes around sites on the Moon. Most of these were for show to cover their second descent into Vallis Alpes. The southern section of the valley was surrounded by steep yet straight sides on the southwest and southeast. Hard for telescopes to see into, and remote enough to be relatively free of observation by unmanned spacecraft.

  The advantages of this location to the Chinese were its fortlike walls and its flat, smooth floor. Smooth enough for a landing by the Chang’e 5.

  “I have initiated the M1 beacon, and it is dead ahead,” said Lo to his pilot. “Speed is slowing as planned.”

  “I have the beacon signal. Gear down.”

  “Gear down and three green lights.”

  “Reverse thrusters,” commanded Chau.

  “Reverse thruster burn on now.”

  “Stop thruster burn.”

  “Thrusters off.”

  “Touchdown, applying brakes.”

  “We are at full stop,” remarked Lo.

  “Very well. Check your pressure suit before I depressurize the cabin.”

  “My suit is good, ready for depressurization.”

  “Depressurizing the cabin, cargo door opening,” said Chau.

  Lo and Chau then climbed out of their seats and began rolling cargo pallet M2 out of the door. With so little gravity, the pallet slowly fell to the valley floor not twenty feet from M1.

  “Drop complete. Let us close up and depart before anyone becomes suspicious,” said Chau as he and Lo made their way back to their seats.

  “How many more do we have to drop before they are used?” asked Lo.

  “At a minimum two more, but we may well go to four more if all goes well.”

  “The People will be proud of our achievements when these are complete,” boasted Lo.

  “Yes, this will be a great accomplishment for the People to be sure. Applying thrusters for departure.”

  A week later at the Spaceport America employee lounge, Stan and Danny shared a meal.

  “Stan, do you realize that the Chinese have made at least four trips to the Moon and the Russians one, and here we sit?” complained Danny.

  “I know. I’ve been sitting here on my butt right next to you the whole time.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Above my pay grade, Danny. Like you, I think we are good to go for at least two days around the Moon. I’ve been telling the suits that all week but keep getting no response except ‘We’re looking into it.’”

  “Maybe they ought to offer a few seats to the big-money people to pay for the flight. I’ll bet there’s no shortage of rich people who want to go to the
Moon, don’t you think?”

  “I think you’re right. I even suggested that to the suits, but they just gaffed me off.”

  “Heck of a way to run a tourist business if you ask me,” said Danny as he sulked.

  “How true, how true. Eat some more green Jell-O. They say it is the best in Spaceport America.”

  “If you like green Jell-O. Say, isn’t that Bill Cavanaugh of flight ops coming this way?”

  “It is. Maybe they’ve made up their minds.”

  The tall, gangly ops man approached the table, his face set in a look neither Space Ship 4 pilot could read. “Stan, Danny. Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure,” said Danny. “Want some green Jell-O?”

  “No thanks. It gives me the willies. Mother made me eat it as a kid.”

  “Know what you mean. What brings you here?” asked Stan.

  “You guys ready to fly?”

  “If you mean to the Moon, we’ve been ready for a week,” said Stan.

  “The Moon it is. The decision was made just an hour ago. We go in twenty-four hours.”

  “Any rich passengers?” asked Danny.

  “No, but not because there’s no demand. We have to fight people off with a stick. But legal says not until the system has been tested to the Moon and back.”

  “Shoot,” said Danny, “I was hoping for a really big tip. What’s ten percent of about twenty million?”

  “More than even you could spend in a year,” said Bill.

  “Don’t be too sure,” said Stan with a chuckle. “You haven’t seen Danny on the loose among the women.”

  Meanwhile, Chang’e 6 rolled down the Jiuquan runway headed for the Moon.

  “Mikhael, is Pitchka ready for flight?” shouted Anikin from his seat in the control center.

  “Yes, General. All systems report ready.”

  “Remind me what your team has done with arming the ship.”

 

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