David Golemon - Legacy

“… two, we have booster start for Ariane 2,” the announcement said from Guiana. “The clock is running.”

Gardenaux moved his eyes over to another large monitor and saw the second mission to the Moon start gloriously from pad 3-b in Guiana. Another fantastic eruption of fuel and gases erupted from the tower structure as Ariane 2 started to rise into the sky as though it were chasing Ariane 1 to see which craft could achieve orbit first.

Gardenaux and every European citizen watching the launch clenched their fists and silently or vociferously cheered as the two giant rockets were fully free of the space port.

“Yes, go baby, go!” Gardenaux pushed the two missions into the black South American sky with just his willpower. Then, as suddenly as the euphoria began it came crashing down as the first missiles were seen rising into that same dark sky as they started their run for the two Ariane mission platforms.

“No, no, no, no!” Gardenaux said, as he stepped out from behind his telemetry station.

“We are a go for roll maneuver on Ariane 1,” came the announcement from Guiana.

“They don’t even realize what’s happening!” the French flight controller shouted.

The military aspect of the two Ariane missions reacted far faster than the scientific end. Four orbiting Mirage IIIs of the French air force streaked into the air a mile back from the first Ariane. The second four were trying desperately to chase Ariane 1 as it streaked to the ten-mile mark in altitude and was gaining fast. They saw the white fire of exhaust from the four SAM as they chased down the heavy beasts of the Ariane 7 like a lion against a wildebeest. The SAMs were locked on target and were relentless as they matched and then surpassed the speed of the French-made systems.

The first Mirage flared its wings as it passed between the first SAM and Ariane 2. The SAM tried to ignore the new radar flash in its seeker head but saw the French-built fighter as an obstacle and tried to swerve to the left as the Mirage placed itself between the climbing Ariane 7 and the SAM. It worked. The SAM clipped the wing of the Mirage and that was enough to send it tumbling thirty feet off course before its damaged brain told the missile to detonate. The Mirage and missile exploded at almost the same time as the second SAM targeted on the Ariane rushed through the falling debris.

The world watched as it merged with the twin set of six solid rocket boosters that encircled the base of the first stage. The SAM exploded only five feet from the outer casing of the solid fuel cells of the boosters, ripping into the thin aluminum and cardboard that lined the interior of the solid propellant boosters. The resulting explosions ripped into the first stage that carried the liquid fuel cells for the main engines of the Ariane 7, detonating the mix as it joined the combustion chambers for the engines. The resulting cataclysm sent the explosive shock wave up and into the second stage, where the fuel tanks were also ignited, and then that explosion in hit the third stage, the one carrying the lunar lander.

The Ariane 7 came apart in a gas cloud as bright as the sun. The power of the blast was felt as far away as San Francisco. Windows shook and pictures fell from walls. The detonation rocked the very sky as the crew capsule carrying the ten men and women evaporated. They never had a chance as the capsule separated from the third stage and was sent hurtling far out into the Pacific Ocean.

The third and fourth SAMs were having a far more difficult time catching their prey. Two Mirage fighters intercepted the third SAM with a heat-seeking missile, a snap shot that connected solidly with the Russian-made SAM, ripping it apart like a large piece of paper. That didn’t matter in the end as the fourth SAM found its mark. It wasn’t a hit at all, really. It was just a bee sting as the range of the SAM gave out. Sensing its low fuel state and the distance to the target, the SAM exploded fifty feet from the exhaust plume of Ariane 1. The outer casing and not the warhead is what struck all six of the solid rocket boosters, igniting fire plumes from the front, back, and sides of the large solid fuel cells.

Thinking quickly, and only because they were seconds away from an automated program sending out the impulse to separate the first and second stages, the pilot of Ariane 1 flipped the switch, bypassing the programmed separation. They saw the explosion of the rocket boosters. They saw the flash and gas release of the first stage from the second just as the debris from the solid boosters struck the fast-igniting second stage. The shrapnel tore into the lunar lander that was tucked away inside the third stage, but the Ariane continued to rise into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Trailing far more than just the exhaust plume of the second stage, the mission flew on. With holes punched in the all-important second and third stages, Ariane 1 fought for its life to get into its natural element-space.

As the world watched, a second mission to the Moon was now limping its way along a shallow orbit where it was losing a battle to stay aloft an hour after achieving orbit. The Chinese had repaired their systems, but the ESA mission was now in serious doubt. They had lost ten men and women on Ariane 2, and now if they didn’t do some fast patching they would lose everyone on Ariane 1.

The world was now wondering if God truly was angry.

Niles Compton watched as the doctors worked on Virginia Pollock. Her heart had stopped twice as they struggled to save her life. Three ribs had fractured and punctured both lungs. She was concussed and bleeding heavily inside her chest cavity. Normally she would have been transferred to the Nellis facilities or, if her condition warranted, to the far better facilities in Las Vegas. However, Virginia had run out of time and, luckily for the assistant director of the Event Group, two of the better surgeons in the Southwest had been recruited just after their retirement from Johns Hopkins and the UCLA Medical Center. They were on their first official visit to the complex for their initial orientation; thus Virginia had the best care possible and she hadn’t needed to be moved. Her surgery was being conducted in the medical clinic on Level 9.

Niles watched through the observation glass as the two men worked furiously to get the bleeding stopped.

“Sir?” Event Group Dr. Denise Gilliam said.

Niles cleared his throat and faced his staff doctor.

“Engineering said they have the mineral in total containment. They are now devising a way of getting it out of the complex by the heavy equipment elevator.”

Niles just nodded his head without speaking. Denise placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“She’s lucky. So many more weren’t. Here’s the list of who we lost.” She held out a piece of paper.

Niles looked at it and turned away. He watched the two surgeons working on his friend.

“I’ve made the biggest error in judgment of my career in planning the Moon missions for the president. I’m sending men and women to gather, or stop this material from being recovered, when I just should have recommended a nuclear strike on that crater, no matter what we face in the future.” He finally turned and faced Denise. “People are going to die and my arrogance designed it all.”

Before Denise could say anything, one of the surgeons opened the sealed door and stepped out while removing his face mask.

“She’ll make it. We managed to stop the bleeding, but we have to evacuate her to the surface as soon as we get her sewn up.”

Niles swallowed and nodded his head. He found he had lost his voice as he was informed he wouldn’t be losing one more person, at least for the rest of the day.