David Golemon - Legacy

“Zero fuel!” the copilot said.

“Brace for impact!” the major called out. He adjusted his feet on the Velcro pads just as he lost sight of the horizon. He hit a small red button on the control under his right hand, sending a signal up to the orbiting command module. “ Bonaparte, Bonaparte, Astral is going down. I repeat, we are going down!”

“Ten feet, five feet-”

Astral hit hard, sending her pad-less landing strut deep into the lunar surface. As she sank to the starboard side, the number four strut struck a large rock, shearing off at the engine housing. Then number two collapsed from the sheer weight of the impact. The lander hit as her main engine bell plunged deep into the lunar dust. Astral bounced and then came down again.

Marceau felt something in his back give way and as he reacted to the sudden awareness that he felt no more pain, the main bulkhead gave way and one man was thrown free of the compartment as it opened to the Moon’s environment. Astral rolled once, twice, and then came to a stop as the second deck partially separated from the first.

As Astral stopped its crazily spinning momentum, loose papers and debris were swept out of the compartment. The electrical system was failing, as sparks and smoke started flowing from the environmental control system. To Major Marceau all seemed to be happening in slow motion.

“All crewmen out now. The environmental controls are completely off-line. We have no air. She’s bleeding to death and we’re on fire,” a voice shouted from a strange and cockeyed angle far to their left.

The men started reacting after the shock of the crash. Safety harnesses were released and hands grabbed those too injured to assist in their own egress. Marceau felt hands on him and thought he was finally going to feel the pain of his broken back, but nothing happened as he was finally pulled from his upright seat. He knew then that he was paralyzed from at least the chest down. He turned his head and was relieved he could do even that.

“Survival packs-get the survival packs,” he managed to say as he was pulled toward a large breach in Astral ’s hull.

“We have them, Major, extra oxygen also,” one of the French commandos said. He looked shaken but he was in control as he pulled Marceau along by the arm. “The pilot is dead and the copilot has two broken legs.”

Marceau felt himself pulled free of the wreckage and he immediately saw the star-filled sky overhead as he was laid next to one of the broken landing struts of Astral. As he listened to the rescue of his crew, he knew the ESA mission to the Moon was now officially dead. He only hoped they would be alive long enough to tell someone.

As the surviving men of Astral scrambled free and took cover behind the small rim of a crater, they felt as well as saw the bright flash of her tanks as the electrical short ignited the fumes inside. At the same moment, sparks struck the damaged oxygen cylinders bundled underneath the main engine housing. In complete and utter silence, the men of ESA Moon Mission 01 watched Astral rise into the airless sky and come apart, peppering the area with debris. It was as though a bomb had exploded. All of their supplies and weapons were gone in a flash of brilliant brightness.

The men of the Astral sat for what seemed like an hour, coming to terms with the possibly gruesome fate that awaited them.

“Once everyone is assembled, we start for Shackleton Crater, and hope the Americans have better luck than us,” Marceau said, as he felt the coolness of his oxygen flow for the first time. That was when he realized it was the air hitting blood flowing freely from a head wound.

With the survival packs and extra oxygen, they had a total of fifteen hours of life remaining to them.

The president of the United States slowly placed the phone in its cradle.

The French president had just reported loss of contact with their Astral lander. Catastrophic failure was assumed. With the Russians so far behind, that meant possible hostile fire from the Chinese without backup.

His back was still bruised from the attempt on his own life just four days before. He thought about reaching for the intercom once more but pulled his hand back. His eagerness to know what was happening in the People’s Republic was gnawing at him but he knew it would be a mistake to push the chairman further.

The intercom gave out a soft tone.

“Yes,” he said softly, hoping it wasn’t one of the Joint Chiefs calling to tell him what he already knew about the disaster to the ESA mission.

“Mr. President, Wang Zhaoguo, vice chairman of National People’s Congress, is on the line from Beijing.”

The president sat up, but hesitated before reaching for the phone. He knew this was it, either they had an ally in the overall cause facing the planet or the Chinese mission to the Moon would continue as a hostile force. It all depended on the men Wang represented in the Politburo of the People’s Republic.

“Thank you. Please put the vice chairman through.” He sighed.

“Mr. Vice Chairman, how are you this evening?” he said when prompted.

“Mr. President, it is indeed good to hear your voice after such a dastardly plot against you,” the vice chairman said in very good English.

“Thank you, Mr. Vice Chairman.”

“You will excuse me if I make this call as brief as possible.”

“I understand,” the president said.

“As of this moment, the Politburo is split as to the question of the monumental action of the matter before us. Our generals are also split. As to our action, I am afraid the chairman has become overly suspicious of his closest advisors.”

The president knew without asking that the vice chairman was the youngest and most trusted of these advisors to the eighty-one-year-old chairman. If they didn’t act, the vice chairman would be caught and executed for treasonous acts against the People’s Republic. That would also include every one of the Chinese politicos and military men that had anything to do with going against the authority of the ruling body politic of that country.

“I sincerely hope-”

“Excuse me, Mr. President-as I said, I do not have much time. Our military leaders, while sympathetic to the decision of our best scientists, are still on the fence as far as action against the government is concerned. We will have to take a wait-and-see attitude for the next ten to twelve hours while they decide whether to assist us. Until that time, I am afraid the momentous choice of action or inaction is one that lay with our generals.”

“Are you all right, Mr. Vice Chairman?” the president asked.

“No, Mr. President, I am not. I will be arrested in a matter of moments. Thus at this time I wish us all luck. Please pass on to the French president our sincere condolences in regards to their spacecraft. It is always such a hard thing when men of bravery and honor die in the name of our future, is it not?”

“Indeed, sir, it is.”

“Mr. President, I hear my escort at this very moment coming to make sure I face my very backward superiors in the next hour. Good luck to us all.”

“Mr. Vice Chairman, I wish you-”

“The call is terminated, Mr. President,” said a voice over the line.

The president held the phone away from his ear for the longest time. Then he took a deep breath and placed the phone back to his ear.

“Get me an analysis of that conversation as soon as you can. I want background noises and levels of voice stress, ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” came the same flat voice.

The president hung and stood to take a look out of the window. As he pulled the drapes back, he saw that the protesters on Pennsylvania Avenue had dwindled to only the most ardent religious fanatics. He shook his head as he watched a few men and women with their signs decrying the race to the Moon. Rain was falling in Washington and that fit his mood to a T as his eyes focused on the damp street outside beyond the steel gate. The mission to the Moon was still a priority and he could not change the parameters of that mission. He could not request that Altair change landing areas to assist the ESA crewmen if they were still alive and he was bothered by it. He only hoped any survivors could somehow make their way to the landing zone. For the French president to not even ask about rescue was to his credit. He understood the priorities as they were made clear by the Case Blue scenario.