David Golemon - Legacy

It had been hit at an altitude of only eighty feet, but instead of auto-rotating when the loss of engine power dictated, Marine One came straight down and struck the street a quarter mile from the White House. Police helicopters were close by and their powerful spotlights illuminated the scene from almost two hundred feet away. The large Sikorsky struck the street and slid almost sixty feet into a median in the center of a wide thoroughfare. It hit the concrete rise and bounced, sending the green and white Marine One back into the air before it slammed down on its side sending the remaining rotors flying in all directions. Three cars were struck and the heavy aircraft spun them around into each other as the aluminum started to spark from the friction of the roadway.

The police helicopters never hesitated. They dove for the tragic scene below without regard to the power lines that crisscrossed the area. Motorists, seeing what had happened, snapped out of their paralysis faster than anyone could have believed as many rushed from cars and houses, office buildings and fast food restaurants. They all ran for the burning Marine One.

Most of the tragedy was caught live on CNN. All but the final result was broadcast live all around the world along with the frantic calls of the police helicopters.

“Marine One is down!”

The panicked rescuers were trying desperately to get inside as a U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter sat down hard on the street beside the burning wreckage.

One of the only people who had not witnessed the attempted assassination of the president of the United States was climbing into a cab she had finally managed to flag down six blocks from the launch point of the Stingers.

Laurel Rawlins had the shakes, but the smile was still etched across her face. She knew her father would be proud and he would look on her favorably as a worthy successor to his vast fortune. She would take up the mantle of God’s messenger, only her message would be quite different from her father’s. Hers would be one of hope, and reconciliation.

She knew that this could only come about if all traces of Operation Columbus were removed from the mines, something her grandfather should have done many years before, and her father when he learned of the excavation many years after.

Her next target would be in Ecuador, and she knew her father may not approve, but by that time his approval might not be as important as it once was. She had to get that technology from the buried second gallery where it was suspected the real wealth was buried. She knew from her father and grandfather that the Germans, for reasons unknown, had sealed that portion of the mine and never gone back in. Her father explained once that they had been spooked by something inside, and if the German army was afraid of its contents, Laurel Rawlins knew she had to have it.

The driver looked at the pretty face of the woman in his backseat and wondered why her smile actually broadened as the cab turned off to National Airport.

For a full hour, reports of the assassination attempt filled every television screen across the land. Americans didn’t know if the president was alive or dead. The presidential physician was on duty at Georgetown Medical Center and so the U.S. Army Black Hawk helicopter was diverted there instead of to Walter Reed. A thousand reporters waited outside for word on the president’s condition.

It was only four hours before Sarah, Will, and Jason were due to suit up. Their flight commander was an Air Force colonel by the name of Arthur Kendal, in command not only of the three Event Group personnel, but of the six other men who had been assigned to the backup crew of the Atlas platform, and he was anxious to see if his crew would become a viable part of America’s return to space.

The crew would be lifted into the sky and delivered to the International Space Station by the Space Shuttle Atlantis if their mission became necessary. While they waited at the dinner table where they had been served a steak, Sarah watched one of the three monitors inside the cafeteria. One was on CNN and the others were static views of the launch pads out west at Vandenberg and in Florida at the Cape, where the giant Atlas stood like an ancient monolith, waiting to see if it would be called upon to serve America one last time.

The two Ares systems were ready at Vandenberg in California. Their two crews of ten would be lifted into orbit and delivered to the space station by the shuttles Endeavour and Discovery. All eyes were watching CNN for news out of Washington. For Sarah, Mendenhall, and Ryan, the news had hit particularly hard because they knew the man who had just been shot from the sky and they also knew that the president’s best friend in the entire world was their very own boss, Niles Compton. As they watched, the coverage broke away from the hospital to the CNN news desk in Atlanta.

“This just in. The FBI has issued a statement detailing the arrest warrants for James McCabe, a former U.S. Army Lieutenant colonel, wanted in the questioning of not only the event tonight in Washington, but for the explosions in Berlin, Germany, that claimed 107 lives, and the attack in French Guiana that claimed another thirty. McCabe has been under investigation for several days now and is known to have ties to fundamentalist movements around the world. The FBI has refused to answer questions about how they came to their conclusions about McCabe, stating only that they have substantial evidence of his involvement.”

Sarah studied the picture of McCabe, an ordinary-looking man who appeared to be an accountant and not a former Special Operations officer in the same army in which she was serving. She looked over at Ryan and Mendenhall, who, like herself, had not eaten anything since they sat down.

“I wonder if Jack had something to do with the FBI getting this information.”

Ryan knew none of them had been informed as to what the colonel was up to. They hadn’t heard anything about him or Everett since their arrest in Berlin. He reached out and took Sarah’s hand.

“I wouldn’t be surprised a bit. But for right now, even though it’s a long shot, we better start getting our heads on straight. We’re looking at a shuttle launch in just four hours.”

“I hope those missions out west get a good start, I really don’t care for the idea of all those air miles.” Mendenhall was trying his best to shake out some of the tension in the room.

“ Dark Star 3, it’s time to report to briefing and dress out.”

The mission coordinator nodded his head as ten faces looked up at him standing in the doorway. Each man and woman was left for a moment with their private thoughts about what could possibly be facing them. The spell of silence was broken when mission commander Kendal rose from his chair and looked around the room at his nine people.

“I guess there’s no really good time for speeches. The crash course training we all went through has shown me your capabilities, either in the air or on the lunar surface. You may have noticed I used the terminology indicating we will be a go for launch. All of you from this moment forward should assume we are going. The systems used for all three launches are experimental, and as you know nothing in real life ever plays out like a Hollywood script-there will be failures. Therefore, we will be launching simultaneously with our platform, Dark Star 3. Now, let’s get our game faces on and move out to briefing. Regardless of the fate of our commander in chief, I am informed by Houston that we are a definite go for mission launch.”

Niles Compton was alone with his thoughts. The staff of the Event Group made sure the director was left that way for as long as he wanted. After Niles had issued his report to the FBI and the National Security Agency concerning what they had discovered about the dealings of James McCabe and Samuel Rawlins, Niles had retreated to his office and had not come out for three hours. For the time being he was looking through the very thin file compiled by Europa on the personages of Lieutenant Colonel James McCabe and the Reverend Samuel Rawlins. As much as Niles was worried about the fate of his best friend the president, his mind was still unable to wade through that worry. He was reading everything he could on the activities of the two men suspected of being behind the recent terrorist activity.