David Golemon - Legacy

“Mr. Compton, I give you the Ares I. The new platform is an in-line, two-stage rocket configuration. The vehicle’s primary mission is carrying crews of four to six astronauts into Earth’s orbit. However, Ares I may also use its twenty-five-ton payload capacity to deliver resources and supplies to the International Space Station or to park payloads in orbit for retrieval by other spacecraft bound for the Moon or other destinations. Normally this would have been in the cut portion of the president’s budget restraint, but with the retirement of the space shuttle program nearing, the president pointed out a small loophole in the budget, some sort of secret black project that kept the Ares program operational.”

“How many do we have?” Niles asked, looking at the giant booster and Ares’s different stages as they lay prone in the massive complex housing the project. The director of DARPA saw that Compton had expertly sidestepped the issue of the president secretly saving the Ares system even though his budget cut had called for it. On the monitor everything gleamed in pure whiteness and the sight was so impressive that Niles had a hard time not looking at its beauty.

“One platform is available now, complete with the Orion crew capsule and the Altair lunar lander. All are highly advanced systems designed for Moon debarkation and extended habitation. The other Ares can be put together in a matter of a week and transported to either one of two launch facilities, complete with a three-quarters-finished lunar landing and transport system.”

“We have two Ares and no other backup?” Niles turned and faced Appleby. “Those are all untried systems.” Niles held up a hand when Appleby looked to protest. “That’s not a rebuke, just an observation. What if the president gives a go to a Moon mission and the system fails?”

“That’s exactly why I brought you here, Mr. Compton. I need to show you the only reliable backup we have.”

Sarah stepped back from the large screen as Appleby punched some buttons on the computer keyboard. “My science offices axed this program many, many years ago, but NASA, in its nostalgia, hung on to it.”

As they watched, the scene went from Ares to a view that was live but had none of the activity that the Ares I mission warehouse had. The giant hangarlike structure was dark and all they could see was four men standing near a giant object.

“This is a warehouse on seldom used grounds at the Cape-hidden away, if you will.” Appleby looked at Sarah and Virginia. “That’s Cape Canaveral.”

As they tried to figure out what it was they were looking at, Appleby brought a phone to his ear.

“Okay, Dan, hit the lights and pull off the tarp. Let’s show our guests what it is they’re looking at.”

Niles, Virginia, and Sarah watched as the bright lighting of the warehouse came up. The four men reached for the bottom of a giant red plastic tarp. They started pulling. Soon they were joined by several security men in white shirts in an effort to get the tarpaulin off without the massive hundred-yard material killing someone. As it finally gave, Niles recognized it immediately and fell in love all over again. He recognized the most amazing sight he had ever seen as a boy, an object that dwarfed the men who were uncovering it.

“I give you the Atlas V rocket, designed by Wernher von Braun, at one time the most powerful launch system in the world.”

Niles examined the copper-colored features of the unpainted Atlas V. It was glorious in all its terrible beauty. The vehicle that had taken mankind to the Moon over four decades before was still a sight that sent chills down his spine.

“Are you telling me we have a complete system?”

Appleby smiled and stepped up to the screen. “We have this one and one other, but the second is hanging like an old out-of-date picture in the Smithsonian. NASA never had the willpower to dismantle this one. We have everything for the old girl. We have the Apollo capsule, which of course we couldn’t use today for safety purposes, and we also have the lunar lander, or LEM, complete with upgrades for her systems on the design boards. But I’m afraid that would take too long to rebuild. We would probably have to go with a third Altair lander, if we can match the designs together.”

“My God,” Sarah and Virginia said simultaneously.

“This would be our backup for Ares, Dr. Compton.” Appleby walked back to the control system and closed the image from Florida. “I guess you can tell the president that we weren’t caught totally flat-footed on this one. All we need is a launch time frame and we can meet any challenge. Of course, we’ll have to remove most if not all of the safety protocols.”

Niles grabbed his coat and his briefcase. He turned to Virginia and Sarah as he neared the door. “Once aboard the plane, I need a direct line to the president.” He held the door open for the two women and looked back at Appleby. “I hope you can meet any challenge, Mr. Appleby, because the Chinese have just informed the United Nations they plan to launch in three weeks. The ESA should follow shortly. But we will meet that challenge and beat them to the punch if at all humanly possible.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“Begin preparations to get the two Ares systems up and get the Atlas ready to go. We’ll need them in less than a month from today. That still puts us a week behind everyone else.”

“That’s crazy!”

“No, it’s necessary, Mr. Appleby. If we like our way of life, we’d better beat those other powers to the Moon and bring back whatever is up there. Much more than falling behind is at stake here.”

“Does the president know about this?” Appleby asked, as Niles turned and walked through the door.

“He soon will, Mr. Appleby. I suggest you get on the phone and start waking up about a million people, because we’re going back to the Moon.”

Appleby watched as the door closed. Then he turned and brought up the image of the warehouse at Cape Canaveral again. He watched as the men stood there, dwarfed by the powerful rocket, its five motors, and its engine bells. He shook his head.

“Impossible,” he said. His eyes continued to dwell on the image of the old spacecraft, and then a smile slowly crept across his lips. With fist clenched, he hit the desk lightly. He didn’t care if it was impossible. They were going back to the Moon and he would give it the best possibility of success. Finally he closed his eyes and shouted, “Yes!”

A front of rain clouds and wind had encircled the city of Houston. Niles, Sarah, and Virginia were forced to wait out the storm on the private tarmac at William P. Hobby Airport. As they waited they were informed by Pete Golding from the Event Group Complex in Nevada that Jack and his team were on their way home, and with that message the Department of State had received notification that an arrest warrant had been issued for Colonel Collins, Captain Everett, and Lieutenants Ryan and Mendenhall. The charge was two counts of murder and industrial espionage.

Niles sat in shock. Virginia and Sarah both exchanged incredulous looks, knowing that if Jack and the others had to kill, it was only as a last resort, and it would never be anyone who didn’t intend them harm first.

“Who the hell did they supposedly kill?” Niles asked Pete. They were speaking over a secure video link between the private Learjet owned by the Event Group and Niles’s office beneath the desert sands at Nellis AFB. Pete slowly removed his glasses and looked into the camera.

“Two Ecuadorian tourists, supposedly during a carjacking,” Pete said, with a tinge of disgust at the accusation.

“But they are safely out of the country and in the air?” Niles asked.