David Golemon - Legacy

Throughout the ship, there wasn’t a sound other than the ticking of the cooling engine bell far below the main crew cabin.

Ryan looked over at Will, who was staring out of the large triangular windows at the crater two miles away. His eyelids didn’t blink and his hand was turning white from his powerful grip on the handle above his head.

“That was different,” Ryan said, and started breathing again.

Mendenhall finally blinked his eyes and slowly looked at Jason.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

The small Navy pilot smiled and patted Will on the back.

“Your visor’s a little fogged up.”

“I don’t know how that can be. You have to breathe for it to do that.”

Ryan hit his VOX and waited until he was sure of his voice.

“Welcome to the Moon,” he said.

The president sat in the White House Situation Room sixty feet below the ground floor of the mansion. He sat quietly and listened to the conference call from the Cape and Houston. Hugh Evans was speaking at the moment, and the president realized for the first time that he was drifting even as Evans was doling out the first good news in days, outside of the fact that Jack Collins and his minimal ground forces had achieved success in Ecuador.

“In essence, even though telemetry and communications with Altair and Falcon 1 are down, we have established that Altair is safely on the lunar surface. Unfortunately, we have also confirmed through satellite imagery that the catastrophic debris strike on Falcon did in fact take the lives of the mission commander and the Altair pilot. The loss of Colonel Kendal and pilot Dugan is a very severe setback to the potential success of the mission.”

The president sat up and leaned toward the table, his eyes roaming over his national security staff, who were being kept in the dark on the most important matters of this and all the missions to the Moon. The people with knowledge of the president’s actions could be counted on one hand.

“Flight Director Evans,” the president started slowly. “We can assume that someone has taken control of the mission. Do you have protocol that dictates who that someone is?”

“We have only one conclusion at this time. We believe Lieutenant Sarah McIntire, U.S. Army, is in command, since she is the senior officer onboard Altair.”

“And it’s my understanding the landing had to have been achieved by Navy Lieutenant Ryan, backup pilot for Altair?”

“Correct, sir. We have verified the safe landing since the retasking of the Hubble Space Telescope four hours ago.”

“Mr. Evans, thank you for your time. Before you go, do you have any contingencies for reestablishing contact with the lunar team or Falcon 1?”

“We are trying to bounce signals off various satellites, but there has been no luck thus far. We do have several other plans, but they require the lunar excursion team to use their own initiative as far as acting on them goes. They could reestablish communications through several sources on the lunar surface. As of right now, we are planning for Dark Star 3 to continue on mission until its conclusion.”

“Thank you, Mr. Evans. Please stay near the phone.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

The president leaned back in his chair and looked from face to face. The Situation Room was crowded with stars and men in rolled up shirtsleeves. Not one of them save for the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Maxwell Caulfield, and the president knew the real truth of what was happening. The vice president was officially under FBI investigation for incriminating cell phone calls to the now disgraced and on the run Samuel Rawlins, so the president had officially handed over all NASA and Space Command duties to Caulfield for the duration of the lunar emergency.

“Gentlemen, that will be all for now. General Caulfield, will you stay behind please?”

As the council shuffled out of the late night meeting, General Caulfield moved from his seat at the far end of the large table to a seat closer to the president. He saw the commander in chief reach down and place a small laptop on the table. Caulfield immediately suspected that the little bald man with the tired look and thick glasses was on the other end of the monitor.

“General, we’re being joined by my old friend and advisor Niles Compton from Ecuador. You two have met on several occasions, I believe. Niles, I’m taking you off this damn laptop and am going to place you on our main monitor. General, dim the windows, please.”

Caulfield hit a button on the console to his front and the windows surrounding the situation room went completely opaque.

Soon the visage of Niles was on the main monitor and he saw the tired and drawn face of the president.

“You look like hell,” Niles said from deep inside the Andes.

“Thank you, baldy. Never let an opportunity slide by to make me feel worse than I already do. I may say the same for you, buddy. It doesn’t look like mining agrees with you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, and no, I hate field work.”

“Niles, your three lieutenants have done one hell of a job stepping up like they did. You heard Flight Director Evans on their status.”

“I did, but they’re one hell of a long way from the finish line. As far as we know they may have people with guns waiting for them before they reach that line.”

“I know, I know. There’s still no word from the Chinese on their attempt to change the chairman’s mind about cooperation.”

“I never thought I would see the day when we could convince the Chinese military to cooperate and have to finagle and make deals with the devil to get the civilian government to deal with us. It’s nuts,” General Caulfield said as he slid the knot in his tie down and unbuttoned the top button of his blue shirt.

“So, there’s still nothing from Beijing?” Niles asked, the worry on his face evident.

“Not a damn thing. Their people could be waiting for ours to step foot on the lunar surface and then massacre them. We just don’t know.”

“Well, we are now in direct contact with our complex, and Colonel Collins is trying to get into the second mine gallery as we speak. Thus far we haven’t turned up any useful information outside of a large grouping of graves onsite, as I have explained to you already.”

“I do have this from the FBI field team in Ecuador.” The president held up a flimsy. The good Reverend Samuel Rawlins and former Army officer James McCabe were found murdered in a Quito hotel room this morning.”

“That means whoever led the strike team against Jack and his men has gone rogue from his employer,” Niles said and shook his head.

“That’s my thinking. Thus far our forces in country haven’t turned up any leadership for the assault force. The FBI believes they may have made their way out of Ecuador. Niles, had the colonel considered the need to bring more men inside the mine? Your telling me of those German graves was a little unsettling. If it’s security he’s worried about, explain that I am giving permission to bring the rest of the SEALs and the British contingent inside. We can control the British through the prime minister.”

Niles lowered his head in thought. Then he looked into the camera.

“I have already given Jack that order. We now have forty personnel in the mine. It’s not only the mass graves we found-I have a feeling that as aggressive as these maniacs have been, they won’t stop at getting back that mine, or at least its contents. And until we know the Chinese intention on the Moon, Operation Columbus is that much more important.”

“Agreed,” said the president.

“I have one bit of information you may want to have that I’ve been reluctant to tell you with all these other concerns.”