David Golemon - Legacy

“Wait a minute, John is starving for power. We need a recharge and if we’re not careful we could lose him. If he doesn’t receive his order in the right amount of time, he could go right over the edge.”

The president of the United States fixed Nathan with a calm look, and everyone could see that he was struggling to keep his cool.

“Mr. Nathan, that is an acceptable risk. Now please bring John to the rim of the crater,” the director of JPL ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Nathan answered, not understanding the willingness to risk the only Beatle left on the surface of the Moon. “REMCOM, shut down until we can get as precise a measurement as possible to the crater’s rim.”

Before the telemetry relay station could answer, the president stood and looked over the room below him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you have done great work to this point. What I have to say is that I may know a few things you don’t. I’m sorry for the risk, but for the moment use your best guess. We just don’t have the time for any lengthy calculations. Get me a view of the inside of that crater-now.”

All eyes turned from the president to Nathan, who nodded his head. Not that he understood, but he had to follow the orders of the highest-ranking man in the space program.

“Julie, John ’s your baby. Give it your best guess as to the distance from John ’s current position to the edge of the crater. Utilize the boom as much as possible and when you’ve achieved a good view of the interior, shut down the tracks.”

The young technician quickly studied the camera view from John. She closed her eyes briefly. A minute later, the view changed as John panned its lens around. She made a few keyboard punches and then shook her head.

“Estimate is that John can only travel thirteen feet, eight inches, before he goes over the side. I recommend… er, uh, my best guess would be thirteen feet and then we’ll use the boom to get a look inside Shackleton.”

Nathan looked over at the president, who had replaced his headphones and was speaking once more to the mysterious person on the other end. Nathan suspected that person was giving the president very bad advice.

“I sure hope you’re right, baldy. If looks could kill, some other lucky jerk would be finishing out my term.” The president looked around as he waited for Niles to say something.

“We need to know what kind of devastation we have inside that crater. We have to have some idea of the destructive force of that mineral. I wouldn’t ask if we didn’t have to have every bit of information we can possibly get. It’s either that or you’re forced to make a judgment call that will send many men and women on a trip they may not come back from.”

The president couldn’t argue with the call Niles was making him commit to.

“Okay, once more you’ve got me over a barrel.”

All eyes watched as the command finally reached John and the rover started rolling. At first it was a herky-jerky movement that caused a lot of concern. They hoped that John hadn’t blown one or more of the rubber treads off its long arms and wheels. Finally the ride became smooth and, except for the swaying picture from John, the rover started following its dangerous orders to advance to the rim of the crater.

Every muscle inside the control room tensed. The president sat as calmly as he could as the Beatle approached the end of forever. He did not feel as calm as he looked. They were risking the only eyes they had on scene, and that risk was asking a lot.

The camera angled up to the star-filled sky as the rover’s ascent of the slope commenced. Every person in the room wanted to send a command for John to stop right there, but still the Beatle kept climbing the ridge leading to the edge. Finally an audible sigh of relief coursed through the room as John came to a stop.

“Yeah!” Nathan called out. Then he looked around and cleared his throat as he tried to regain some of the professional bearing he always displayed. “Uh-apologies everyone. Julie, great job. Now, REMCOM, let’s get the president the view he wants.”

“Sending the command,” a female voice called out.

The president sat and watched. After the minute of communication delay, the camera started to angle down into the crater. The boom had been extended to its full height of ten feet from the body of the Beatle. As the focus of the lens auto-adjusted to take in the view, another gasp arose from the men and women watching. The president stood, momentarily stunned by what he was seeing.

“Damn, Niles, are you seeing this?” the president asked. This time he didn’t care if anyone overheard him.

At first there was silence from the Nevada end of the linkup.

“I think it’s fair to say our priorities have just been upgraded.”

“What do you mean?” the president asked, his eyes glued to the large screen in front of him.

“No matter what, we are a go for the Moon, with as many people and as much equipment as we can get up there. This cannot fall into the hands of any one nation. If at all possible we have to destroy this should a cooperative agreement on the current emergency not be achieved, shattering the Case Blue accords and ending a possible allied deal. We need what’s up there desperately, but not until we can get an agreement as to what that technology is to be used against. If it can’t be used in conjunction with Case Blue, then the miracle find needs to be destroyed.”

The president refused to comment further as Niles said something he wasn’t supposed to mention over the airwaves. The secretive aspect of what only one hundred people in the entire world knew about was what was driving everyone to extremes. He wasn’t ready to explain what was really happening yet to the American people, much less the world.

On the large screen below was a sight that froze the hearts of everyone.

Sitting in the deepest part of the Shackleton Crater, buried for what could have been a billion years and uncovered by the explosion of the mineral sample, was what looked like an entire base. Some of the upper reaches of the buildings had been destroyed by the blast, but for the most part it had survived the devastation intact. The billion years of lunar soil had been lifted, burned away, or melted, exposing a sight that rivaled any artist’s conception of ancient ruins.

The president counted over seventy-five buildings made from a material he couldn’t begin to guess at. There was piping running in and out of glass enclosures, buildings with giant doors and loading platforms. The sight was like looking at a future age Moon base, familiar perhaps to some of the most ardent science fiction fans, but terrifying to others with more earthbound imaginations.

“I would say there may be items in that base that many nations would be willing to risk a war over,” Niles said. “Or possibly something we may be able to use against a more worthy and deserving foe. Are we agreed on that?”

“Niles, that’s enough. Your point is made. I’ll speak with the Chinese again, but not another word about our true intentions over the air.” The president lowered his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, then relaxed and looked at the view from Shackleton one more time. “Okay, Mr. Director. You are now a go for Operation Dark Star. Confirm?”

“We’re way ahead of you,” Niles answered. And then the line was disconnected.

The president pulled off his headphones and lay them on the desk, and then he stood and buttoned his jacket. As he did so, the doors to the control room opened and fifteen blue-clad Air Police from the United States Air Force entered the room. As they spread out toward each telemetry station, they started collecting discs and paperwork describing the day’s activities from the Moon.