She paused, then said, “I want your word that you will make no further attempt to stop me.”
“Sure, but I’ve got a condition.”
“What is it?”
“I’m going first.” Cutting off her protest before she could start, he added, “This is personal for you. For me it’s the solution to a mystery, one that might answer a hell of a lot of questions, but I’m not willing to throw away my life for it. A calculated risk is one thing, but I’m not going to die to uncover this secret, and to be blunt, after what you did with the communicator, I don’t trust your judgment. Can you really blame me, under the circumstances?”
“What about the communicator?” she asked.
“It’s out. Some sort of malware.” He paused, then asked, “It wasn’t you?”
She turned to look at him, and replied, “I’m willing to risk my life, Colonel, but I’m not reckless enough to risk the lives of my crew. Could it have been an accident?”
“No, more than likely our saboteur again, probably the same hack that knocked out the microsat.” He looked down the crevasse, then looked at the cable. Antonova had already firmly planted it into the ground, but he gave it the strongest tug he could to check its strength before lowering himself over the side. It was an eighty-foot drop, but that wasn’t the problem. The fall wasn’t going to hurt him, but the sides of the crevasse just might. He felt something tugging on his arm, and shook himself to clear it, grimacing at the near miss.
Beneath him, the old module lay, face up, with marks on the surrounding rocks where it had rolled at some point in the past. That in itself was strange. The odds against the module simply ending up here by accident were remote. One more reinforcement of Antonova’s theory. Someone could easily have pushed it down the pit, perhaps to ensure that it would remain safe, hidden away until the next visitor, many years later.
Until he arrived.
He felt a shivering feeling across his soul, as though someone was walking over his grave. As though this was somehow sacred, hallow ground, and that he was interfering with something, or someone, that might have been better left buried, even for the rest of time. Up ahead, he saw a protruding spar of rock, and pushed back with seconds to spare, the dull stone brushing against his helmet. He felt something pressing into his leg, and twisted around to free himself, letting himself fall. Finally, the crevasse opened up again, a small cavern below opened up at some point in the distant past, now with the remains of the spaceship from Earth resting at the bottom.
“I’m down. You can come on, but watch yourself.”
“On my way,” Antonova replied.
He looked around the cave first, sweeping the area with his helmet lights. If nothing else, this would be a fantastic place to gather geologic samples, deep within the heart of the asteroid. That alone might justify this visit, though he had a feeling that Mission Control was unlikely to agree. Then he turned to the capsule, just as he had expected. The Zond had originally been in two parts, an upper capsule designed to return to Earth, and a lower section that had presumably been discarded, was perhaps on a different orbit to the asteroid now.
“My God,” he said, looking closely at the capsule. “Christ, you were right.”
“What have you seen?” she asked, anxiously descending.
“There’s a hatch. Open just a crack, just enough to break the seal. Someone was here. Is here, I guess.” He paused, looked around, and said, “There’s something else on the ground. I’m going to take a look.” He cautiously crept around the perimeter of the capsule, spotting the object that had caught his eye, a flash of color in the gloomy world. A crimson flag, with a hammer and sickle emblazoned upon it.
Antonova dropped down next to him, and said, “They made it, after all. They planted their flag.”
“We’ll put it next to ours, on the surface, when we leave,” he replied. “It deserves to be seen.” Glancing at her, he said, “Now you get to see whether your theory is correct.”
“But…”
“Your grandfather. You think he’s inside that capsule, don’t you? And you’ve thought that since long before takeoff. Maybe since Siberia, even, when you worked out just what mission we were talking about.”
“The dates add up. There were so many secrets, back in those days, so much buried in the darkness.” She looked at the capsule, reaching out with a trembling hand, and added, “I don’t know if I dare.”
“You’ve already risked one hell of a lot to get this far. I think you can take the last step. I’ll do it if you want, but it should be you. It needs to be you.”
She nodded, and with a quick jerk, pulled back the hatch, revealing a spacesuit-clad figure inside, lying sprawled on a couch, his faceplate open, his face dried, desiccated, almost mummified. He’d chosen a fast way to die, rather than a slow, lingering anoxic death.
“Is it him?” Knox asked.
“It’s him,” Antonova replied. “My God, it is him.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Colonel Knox, may I introduce you to Gregori Nelyubov. One of the backups for Yuri Gagarin on his first flight into space, and my grandfather. The first man to walk on another world. He just never made it back.”
Knox smiled, and said, “There I was thinking that I wasn’t the first man to reach this asteroid. Your grandfather beat Neil Armstrong by at least eighteen months.” Turning to her, he said, “I thought we’d make history when we reached this rock. I didn’t imagine that we’d rewrite it as well. This changes everything.” He looked down at the corpse, the dead pioneer who had lived in this cavern for decades, and added, “He got to do it. He got to walk on another world, and he died knowing that he was the first, even if it would take so many years for anyone else to know.” He shook his head, and said, “Come on. Let’s see if he left any records, then go back and tell the world. Sixty-odd years late, but at least we can tell his story now.”
“Assuming our friend the saboteur gives us a chance,” she replied.
Chapter 21
Antonova had been quiet on their return to the capsule, waiting on the far side of the crater. Given their recent discovery, that was not especially surprising, but the absence of any contact with either Mission Control or the other two members of their crew was worrying. They’d had more than enough time to make any necessary repairs to the communications system, which suggested that the problem was more serious than he had feared.
Contingencies ran through his mind. Theoretically, there was no reason why they couldn’t complete the mission and return to Earth on their own, or at least to Earth orbit. He wouldn’t want to risk re-entry without contact from home, but they could at least get close enough for somebody to come up and get them. There were manned launches at least twice a month anyway, resupply and crew transfer flights to one of the space stations, and lacking any contact with a returning spacecraft, General Cooper would do everything possible to make sure one of those ships was ready to come and retrieve them.
At least, that was the theory. They’d tried it during the training for his lunar landing mission, a return to Earth with no assistance from Mission Control, and they’d never managed better than a fifty-fifty shot of a successful orbital injection. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many problems that they simply were not equipped to handle, didn’t have the capacity or the equipment to control. If everything went perfectly, they’d make it home. Lacking that, they’d just end up floating endlessly through space forever.
If it came to that, he’d rather stay here.
Then he paused, and smiled. He’d forgotten Hyperion. LeGrand and his crew would be here in less than a day, were already matching speed somewhere in the distance. It wouldn’t be long before they could contact them directly. Once they were on the ground, they could even use the suit systems, perhaps rig up a repeater to the capsule. They’d work out something, even if they had to travel back to Earth in some sort of close convoy. Another first for manned space travel, formation interplanetary flight.
He looked
at the capsule ahead, still sitting in the crater, secured by its stays, and glided towards his airlock hatch, moving in a series of long, loping bounds, the silent Antonova alongside. He climbed up into the cradle, slamming his back into the lock with a loud click to secure it, and waited for the hatch to be opened, for him to be released from his suit. It was a long time coming, longer than he had thought, but finally, it slid free, and he climbed back into the cabin, wiping the sweat from his brow, belatedly scratching his nose.
Inside, he saw Murphy working at the communications system, Maxwell over by the monitor screens, shaking his head as he glided towards the solemn Antonova, slowly drifting into the room to rest by her sleep pod.
“Kat, I’m so damned sorry,” Maxwell said.
“Don’t be,” she replied. “I grew up thinking that my grandfather was a drunkard, who tossed away the greatest thing that ever happened to him through arrogance and betrayal, finally hurling himself onto some frozen train tracks to die, lost and forgotten. Instead he was the greatest hero that humanity ever had. He beat them all.” Turning to Knox, she added, “First satellite to orbit, first to the Moon, to Venus. First man in space. First spacewalk. And now the first man to set foot on an extraterrestrial body.”
Nodding, Knox replied, “It’s an amazing achievement. They’re going to be all over this when we get home.”
“Assuming we tell anyone what we found.” Murphy said.
Raising an eyebrow, Knox asked, “Just what are you suggesting, Murph?”
“Come on,” Maxwell added. “We can’t keep this a secret. It’s too damned important.”
“And it robs our country of one of its greatest achievements.”
Shaking his head, Knox replied, “I can’t agree with you. We were the first to the moon. That’s a big deal. That’s big enough. We can retain our pride in Project Apollo without robbing a dead man of the glory he should have received decades ago.” Turning to Antonova, he added, “You knew more, before we got here.”
“There were some reports. Nothing confirmed, no actual mission plans, nothing on paper. I presume all of that was destroyed when the mission failed, when my grandfather died. By 1968 it was obvious that the Soviet Union was going to lose the race to the moon. We were too far behind, your country had too many resources at its disposal, and our greatest scientist, the heart and soul of our space program, was dead.”
Nodding, Knox replied, “I think I can piece together the rest. One of your space telescopes detected Daedalus, early enough that you could make use of the information. You kept the discovery a secret, and modified an untested spacecraft intended for a circumlunar mission for a landing here. One spacewalk, a flag planted on the surface, a few pounds of rock, and the Soviet Union can claim victory in the race. It would have changed history.”
“Maybe for the better,” Maxwell mused. “If we’d been beaten like this, we’d have carried on running. Maybe all the way to Mars.” He paused, turned to Antonova, and said, “Do we know what happened?”
“Not yet,” she replied, holding up a pouch, “but we soon will. He left records. I put them in his survival pack. They’re brittle from the vacuum, but still quite readable. Once we contact Mission Control, I’ll send a copy down.”
“A dying testament,” Knox said.
“He lived for days,” Antonova replied. “Long enough to record exactly what happened to him.”
Murphy frowned, and said, “I still think we need to keep this quiet, at least until we get home. Then perhaps the information can be released more carefully, proper research undertaken. It’s going to be a hell of a shock.”
“How are the repairs coming?” Knox asked, as Murphy drifted back to the communications station. “Unless we can send a signal back to Earth, all of this is moot anyway. Though we can always send word back through Hyperion, when they arrive tomorrow.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the communicators,” Murphy said, reaching into a pocket. Knox pushed forward, but before he could reach her, she pulled out a small, stubby pistol, pointing it squarely at Knox’s chest, and added, “Back against the wall. All of you.”
“You’re the saboteur,” Maxwell replied. “Christ, what do you think you are doing? If you fire that thing off in here, you’ll breach the hull, and die right along with the rest of us!”
“I have but one life to give for my country, but I’m hoping we can all be a little more reasonable than that.” She looked up at the countdown clock, and said, “In nine hours, we’ve got a launch window to take us back to Gateway Station. There’s little chance of Hyperion finding the capsule, and even if they did, you’ve kindly brought the key evidence back with you.”
“All of this is a cover-up?” Maxwell asked. “You can’t hold us forever, and…”
“They probably can,” Knox replied. “Assuming she doesn’t simply leave us here, but that would lead to a lot of very difficult questions to answer, right, Commander? Questions that your superiors probably don’t want to come to light.” He grimaced, shook his head, and said, “Tell us the rest of it. Because you haven’t gone to all of this trouble to stop us solving a footnote in space history. It was your people who sabotaged our preparations, tried to kill us in Alaska, Siberia, right? And tried to stop the EuroFed mission, blaming them for everything.”
“This is a matter of national security, Colonel, and you are a serving officer in the Space Force.”
“I don’t take orders from you, and the CIA is out of my chain of authority. Assuming this is the CIA.”
“They were involved. As well as the Air Force and the NRO.”
“That journal Major Antonova is holding,” Knox said. “Just what is it going to tell us?”
Murphy shook her head, and said, “That’s need to know. You don’t.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
“Up against the wall, Colonel. We’ll be departing for Gateway Station shortly. As soon as we’re in flight, all three of you will be riding in your spacesuits, locked and sealed. It won’t be comfortable, but you’ll get there in one piece, and the retrieval mission will bring us all home to a heroes’ welcome. It’ll work out fine.”
“I will never co-operate,” Antonova said, coldly. “You will have to kill me.”
“If I must, I must. Accidents happen, and space is an extremely dangerous place. Though there is no need for you to follow in the footsteps of your grandfather. Tell me, is it really worth it? Now get back against the wall, all of you. I won’t ask again.”
Knox nodded, pushing over to the airlock hatches, close to the survival kit from Nelyubov’s capsule, swinging back and forth against the wall. There was something he remembered from his training in Russia, back when it looked as though he might be riding a Soyuz. A piece of equipment that was always carried on every Russian mission, going right back to the early days. He brushed carefully against the kit, and found what he was looking for, snatching it from its compartment in a quick movement and turning back to face Murphy, now with a pistol of his own in his hand.
“Don’t move, Commander,” he said. Glancing at a shocked Maxwell, he added, “Russian capsules came down on land, not at sea, and there were a couple of cases where wild animals threatened the cosmonauts when they made it back to Earth. After his spacewalk, Alexei Leonov almost got eaten by wolves when his capsule came down off course. That’s why they always included a pistol in their survival kit.”
Murphy chuckled, and said, “You don’t really think that thing will fire, after all of these years in vacuum.”
“They built their hardware tough in those days, and it was always rumored that they’d designed it for just such a contingency. The real question is whether or not you want to bet your life on it. Even a misfire would be enough to rupture the hull and bring this party to an end, and Hyperion can pick over the pieces when we get home. So talk, Commander. You get one chance to convince us to go along with your plan, and I’d make it pretty damned good.”
“You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t fire.
”
“I believed that you would. You’d better get around to believing that I’m as ready to die as you are.”
She shook her head, and said, “My orders come from the top, from…”
“Not the President. This mission was a tough sell to him. He could have killed this right at the start.”
“From the Secretary of State, and we both know that after the next election, he’s getting the top job. And the Deputy Director of the CIA, Administrator Bishop…”
“A former Undersecretary of the Air Force,” Maxwell said. “Hence once the Director of the NRO. Christ, how deep does this rabbit hole go?”
“All the way to Lyndon Johnson,” she said. “You think the CIA didn’t find out what was going on in Russia? About Daedalus, about the mission to the asteroid? NASA had hoped to do something, but the Saturn V rocket wasn’t going to be ready in time, and there was no way of improvising any sort of a mission. The fate of the free world was at stake. They couldn’t permit the Russians to win.”
Horror on his face, Knox looked at Murphy, and said, “They sabotaged the Blok-D booster.”
“Your grandfather was never going to make it home,” Murphy replied.
Antonova moved forward, and said, “You murdered him…”
“My mother wasn’t even born when this happened,” she said. “I had no personal involvement in this. The Soviets covered up the failure as we knew they would, and NASA made sure that no tracking stations ever recorded the arrival of the asteroid or the departure of the Zond. A conspiracy that included both sides of the Cold War. We always suspected the French knew about it, and that was pretty much confirmed. They had an agent in the observatory, Gibson, but we were able to suborn him.”
“Your people were willing to commit mass murder…”
“If you hadn’t arrived, nobody would have been hurt. They would have been taken captive, held for a ransom, and later released, whether or not it was paid. The observatory would have been destroyed along with the records, and the University of Alaska reimbursed. If you hadn’t turned John Rambo, none of this would have happened, and we wouldn’t even be here.”
Rocket Dawn Page 18