Rocket Dawn

by Richard Tongue

  “Fine, I’ll get a team on that right away,” Cooper said. “What’s the second approach?”

  “Who’s going to know more about a secret Russian space mission than the Russians?”

  “Most of the records were probably destroyed when the Marshal nuked Moscow,” Cooper said.

  “But a lot of them were in Siberia, at Vostechny. They’ve got archives out there, and if we had our paths smoothed a little, we could get immediate access.” Looking at Antonova, he added, “We’ve even got a guide.”

  Antonova’s face darkened, and she replied, “I’m not sure about this…”

  “It’s a lead,” Cooper interrupted. “That’s something, and right now, that’s probably the best we can do. I’ll arrange passage for the two of you for tomorrow morning. As soon as the technical team gets here, you can take my helicopter and head out to Anchorage. I’ll call ahead and make the arrangements from this end.” She paused, then said, “You realize that there’s every chance that the DGSE will have people out there already.”

  “Almost certainly,” Knox said. “That just means there’s a race on, ma’am. And it’s one that we’re going to have to win. Or Schneider and Malone died for nothing. We owe them that much.”

  Chapter 4

  “Wake up,” Knox said, jabbing Antonova in the shoulder. “We’re coming in for a landing.” He looked around the drab, dreary cabin, a dozen other passengers poking at tablets or reading newspapers, and added, “I’m almost surprised we made it in one piece.”

  “Good Russian engineering,” she replied with a smile. “We built our planes to last.”

  “Russian? This is borderline Soviet,” Knox quipped. He looked through the grease-smeared window at the desolate landscape beyond, and added, “Perfect place for a launch site. Flat and featureless.”

  “That’s not uncommon in Siberia,” Antonova replied. She shook her head, and added, “I promised myself I would never come back here again. Too many memories, too many ghosts.” Looking over Knox’s shoulder at the near-abandoned launch complex, she continued, “Too many dreams.”

  “Maybe one day it’ll rise again. Stranger things have happened.”

  Shaking her head, she said, “Anything worth saving was stripped clean after the War. Only the shell remains, a few aging engineers who occasionally manage to loft a beaten-up old satellite into orbit. We’d dreamed of so much. Of the Moon, of Mars, of Venus. We had plans for expeditions that would have pushed back the frontiers of the universe, opened up new worlds for mankind. All gone.” She glared at Knox, and said, “And meanwhile your NASA continues to squander its wealth. If we’d had half of your resources, we’d have a colony on Pluto by now!”

  “Attention,” a crackling Russian voice barked over the ceiling speakers. “We’re coming in for landing now, on final approach, and expect to touch down in a few moments. I would like to thank you for flying Siberian State Airlines, and hope that you will use us again.”

  “Not that we’ve got much choice,” Knox replied, tugging at his restraints. “Nobody else flies in here.”

  The airplane staggered to the ground, crosswinds catching it at the last moment, forcing the pilot to overcorrect in a bid to bring himself back to the center line, the wheels bouncing and whining as they made contact with the battered tarmac. Any major airline would have grounded a flight crew for a landing such as that, but out here, it was just another day at the airport. Knox looked at the green-and-white flags waving in the breeze, spotting a black limousine driving towards them along the runway. The aircraft skidded to a stop, and a pair of technicians raced forward with the boarding ramp, locking it into position over the exit.

  Knox rose to his feet, snatching his holdall from the overhead compartment, making his way along the aisle with Antonova following him, flashing a smile at the steward as he cracked open the door, sending a gust of freezing air into the cabin. He tugged his jacket closed and walked down the stairs, a grey-suited man waiting for him at the bottom, ID card in hand.

  “Colonel Knox?” the man asked. “I am Corporal Glazkov. I have instructions to escort you to the Grand Imperial Hotel, where a suite has been reserved for you and Major Antonova.”

  “So much for travelling incognito,” Knox replied.

  “On the contrary, sir, great effort has been expended to ensure that nobody knows of your presence. You will not be passing through customs, nor is your name on the official flight registry. That has all been taken care of.” He gestured for the holdall, and said, “Can I take your bag, sir?”

  “What time is it?” Knox asked, as Antonova looked on, confused.

  “I do not know, sir, for my watch has stopped.”

  “Probably the battery.”

  “More likely the cold.” Glazkov smiled, and asked, “Did I pass the test?”

  “With flying colors, Corporal,” Knox replied, passing the driver his bag. The three of them walked across the icy runway, careful not to fall on the slippery surface, and Glazkov carefully placed their baggage in the trunk before opening the passenger door to allow them to enter, finally climbing into the driver’s seat himself.

  A frown on her face, Antonova said, “Surely this will lead to unwanted attention, Corporal?”

  “Certainly not, Major. I am certain that the rest of the passengers believe that you are either here as corporate buyers, or engaged in some sort of criminal activity. My commanding officer has already begun to seed rumors to that effect.” He smiled, and added, “You’d be surprised how many strange people I have been called upon to pick up from that airport over the years.”

  “Just who do you work for?” Antonova asked. “The Siberian Army, or CosmoTech?”

  “I fear in these times that largely amounts to the same thing, certainly in Korolevgrad. Perhaps in the future it will be different, but sometimes one is forced to play with the cards one is dealt.” He noted her sour expression, and added, “I have an invalid wife and three children, Major. They are my primary concern, rather than some misguided sense of patriotism.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied.

  “Don’t be. I’m luckier than most. I at least have a job, a home, a life. Better than many of my peers.” He turned to Antonova, and said, “You are from here?”

  “I lived here for a while. My home was in Moscow, on the Nevsky Prospect. All gone now.”

  Nodding, he replied, “Then you understand, Major. You understand what happened here. The soul of this place is gone. Everyone who can leave already has, and the rest plot their escape. I am no different. For more than a year, I have been attempting to obtain a visa to move to Canada. My wife’s brother lives in Calgary. One day I hope to join him.” They pulled into the city, onto the grey, cold streets, and he said, “There is no joy here. Not anymore.”

  The car sped past half-empty shops, people trudging along the sidewalks, a few children running around, somehow escaping the gloom of their elders. Knox sighed as he looked at the streets, sparing a brief glance for Antonova. He’d been here before, back when Vostechny was a thriving spaceport, the bustling heart of the Russian space program. Now it was a collection of monuments to past glories, all but forgotten. The city had been built from scratch, bare decades ago, and he couldn’t help but think it would soon return to the tundra from whence it came.

  He glanced to the rear, spotting a beaten-up old Skoda behind them, a grey-haired old woman at the wheel. For a moment, he ignored it, but when they made a right turn towards the hotel, towards the district where the foreign residents now lived, the car turned to follow. Somehow, he didn’t quite imagine that the car and driver were the type to be visiting a top-class hotel.

  “Corporal,” he began.

  “I see her, Colonel,” the driver replied. “Do you wish me to attempt to lose her, or would you rather a more direct approach?”

  “Let her follow us,” Knox said. “Though it might not be a bad idea to have someone waiting at the other end to ensure she has the proper welcome. I assume the General has pri
vate security on hand?”

  “But of course, sir,” Glazkov replied.

  “Why not try and lose her?” Antonova asked. “There are parts of this city that are like a maze, and…”

  Shaking his head, Knox interrupted, “Most of them are run by the gangs, these days. I wouldn’t want to go in there without an army at my back. For all I know, that’s precisely what our babushka friend back there wants. More to the point, the damage is already done, assuming she knows who we are, and it’ll be more useful to know just who is holding the blade at this point.”

  Frowning, she replied, “Your NASA training must have been rather different from that we had in Roscosmos.”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve done this sort of work. Oddly enough, most of it never ended up on my resume.”

  The car continued through the streets, out into the old commercial district. Here some of the factories were still in production, those under foreign ownership easily discernable, guards standing in position outside the buildings to protect them from the criminal syndicates that had once ruled this city. They swept past another airport, this one smaller but obviously better cared-for, a new control tower rising from the dirt, a dozen private jets scattered around. From here any truly important visitor would be able to enter the city without even having to see the less pleasant areas, whisked directly to their hotel.

  “We’re not staying in one of the better places, I hope,” Knox said.

  “Your commanding officer stressed that it had to be livable and discreet. I think we’ve served both purposes.” Glazkov glanced at his watch, then said, “We’re running a little late, I’m afraid.”

  “We still have our shadow,” Antonova said, glancing behind them. “Just her in the car as far as I can tell.” She paused, then said, “A second car just joined her. Looks like an old Volvo.”

  “Ah, that will be our people moving into position,” Glazkov said with a smile. “I think the prey has become the predator. We are almost there, in any case.” The car turned left, moving into an old residential district, a collection of shabby prefabricated houses interspersed with a few older, more luxurious homes. “Relics of the days when the Tsar sent his exiles to these lands. I am told they are rather pleasant inside.”

  At the end of the street, a large building loomed, a model of faded glamor, right down to the aged guards standing outside the building, their weapons older than their wielders, yet still just as deadly as their modern counterparts. Glazkov pulled up outside, and a uniformed footman emerged to take their bags. Their pursuer attempted to turn, to retreat the way she had come, but with expert precision the Volvo slid in place to stop her, a pair of armed guards emerging from the vehicle, covering the Skoda with pistols at the ready.

  “She will be questioned,” Glazkov said. “If she knows anything of value, we shall know it soon.”

  “If she’s passed word of our arrival…,” Antonova began.

  With a shrug, Glazkov replied, “It is far from certain that she is working for your enemy. Whomever that might be. There are many groups attached to the spaceport that pay great interest to the comings and goings of strangers. She could easily be a spy for one of the local syndicates. Indeed, her lack of skill makes it almost certain.”

  “I agree,” Knox said, climbing out of the car. “She’s the decoy, though she probably didn’t know it. Our real pursuer is safely out of sight, maybe a few miles away. We’ve caught the distraction.” He shrugged, then said, “Not that we can afford not to play the game. If our hidden friends think they’ve fooled us, so much the better.”

  “And what will happen to her?” Antonova asked, as the old woman was pulled out of the car.

  “That depends on what…” Glazkov began.

  “Corporal!” one of the men yelled. “There’s something in the back!”

  “Take cover!” the driver cried, Knox and Antonova hurling themselves behind the limousine seconds before the battered Skoda exploded, a column of smoke and flame rising into the sky, shattered glass from a hundred broken windows raining down upon the hapless passers-by. Knox peered out into the raging devastation beyond, a quintet of burned bodies scattered on the road, the smell of roasting flesh in the air.

  “The firemen are on their way,” Glazkov said, tugging at Knox. “We’ve got to get inside, and quick. Most of the police are paid well enough, but something this big they’re not going to be able to ignore. Unless you want to spend the night in a Siberian cell, we’ve got to move!”

  With one last glance at the street, the three of them sprinted into the lobby through a pass of shocked patrons, black-suited security guards instantly ushering them into the elevator, the button already pressed to send them to the penthouse. The sound of sirens echoed from outside, the emergency services hastening to respond to the unforeseen disaster. Knox shook the dust from his jacket, looking across at Antonova.

  “Not hurt, I hope?”

  “I’m fine. Those others…”

  “The terrorist can burn in hell,” Glazkov said. “The rest died during their duty, and knowing that their families will be looked after. Whatever you think of CosmoTech, they pay their debts well.”

  With a grimace, Antonova replied, “If it hadn’t been for CosmoTech, they wouldn’t have died at all.”

  “One life, one death, Major,” the grim-faced driver replied. “Besides, if CosmoTech hadn’t moved in, the syndicates would still be running the streets, and as bad as you think things are now, they could be far, far worse. Take my word on that.” He looked at Knox, and said, “This is going to complicate matters, but the General will want to talk to you about that himself.”

  “Just who are we meeting, anyway?” Antonova asked. “The commander of the spaceport?”

  The doors slid open, and a tall, portly man wearing a smart business suit stood at the threshold, replying, “Only after a fashion, Major.” Turning to Knox, he said, “Hey, Tom, it’s been too long. I told you that you’d end up working for me in the end, one way or another.”

  Raising his hands, Knox replied, “This is just a purely temporary situation, I assure you. Major Antonova, may I introduce Curtis Baker, CEO of CosmoTech, and incidentally, a Lieutenant-General in the Army Reserve.”

  Antonova took a step back, and said, “I should have recognized you immediately.”

  “The Major has an objection to…,” Knox began.

  “I know, I know, I looked over your files,” Baker replied. “Major, perhaps you would have preferred the legacy of generations of genius to rust away in some forgotten desert, or be looted by a crazy warlord who would have squandered it for some petty provincial gain. CosmoTech hasn’t just made use of the work you and your country did, we’ve built on it, reached out to accomplish some of your goals, your dreams. That’s why I came out here in the first place.” He glanced at Knox, and said, “Does she have clearance?”

  “Top Secret and better, certainly on anything related to Daedalus.” Turning to Antonova, he said, “CosmoTech and the Space Force kinda go hand in hand. After the Two-Week War, we were the ones who leant on the President to guarantee the loans CosmoTech used to buy the bulk of the Russian space program. At the time, we just wanted to make sure that the technology and personnel would end up in friendly hands, though I have to admit that the General has gone rather above and beyond our original intentions.”

  “Rest assured that you are both in safe hands now, and that I intend to keep you that way. Everything I have is at your disposal to help you complete your mission.”

  “And that you are set to earn billions of dollars in profits from the exploitation of the asteroid my team and I discovered has nothing to do with that, of course,” Antonova retorted. “You are naturally solely motivated by patriotism, rather than these tawdry capitalist goals.”

  “Hell, I like making a buck as much as the next guy, but if all I cared about was the money, I wouldn’t have cashed in the family insurance business to get this started in the first place,” Baker replied, rub
bing his hands together. “Based on what I saw out of the window just now, you’ve got more than a few of the locals out wanting your blood. I don’t think it would be a good idea for either of you to go out onto the street tonight. I can guarantee your safety, but I can’t necessarily guarantee your security. That and there are a few overzealous cops on the local force who might want to have words with you, regardless of how much money changes hands. There’s an election coming up.” He grimaced, then added, “There always seems to be a damned election coming up.”

  “Terrible inconvenience, democracy,” Antonova retorted.

  “Christ, I like this one, Tom,” Baker said. “It’s about time you started hiring people with the guts to speak their mind. Too many soft bastards in government service these days, even in uniform.” He flashed a toothy smile, and said, “Tell you what. I’ll get room service to rustle up something for dinner, and we’ll see what we can do about getting you out to the Archives sometime tomorrow. Deal?”

  “Do we have a choice?” Antonova asked.

  “Hell, no. You’re on my turf, Major, and you’ll do things my way, or not at all.”

  “We’re all on the same side,” Knox said, stepping between Baker and Antonova. “It’s a good plan, Major. Besides, I’m starving.”

  “After what we just went through, you can’t think of anything other than food?”

  “If tomorrow’s as crazy as the last few days, Major, we’re going to need all the fuel we can get.”

  Chapter 5

  There was a loud knock on the door, and Knox looked up from his newspaper, tossing it aside as he rose to his feet, sliding a pistol into his concealed holster before walking over to peer through the peephole. Glazkov was outside, accompanied by an old, bald man he vaguely recognized as one of Siberia’s leading space historians, who stifled a yawn as he waited for the door to open.