Yves Giraud - Kahnu

Back at the Kourou spaceport, the launch director was looking at several reports in his hands. “What’s the status on the crew?”

“Everyone is loaded in and secured, sir. And commander Bardino told me to let you know the sooner they leave, the sooner he will be able to send you a postcard from Mars.” replied a man.

The director cracked a smile. “Ok, thanks.”

“Alright, people, this is it. Let’s do a complete check of all stations, please.”

“Navigation?”

“We’re go.”

“LAS?”

“Go.”

“PRS?”

“PRS is a go.”

“CAPCOM?”

“We’re go,” replies Dr. Kovachev who had been brought in two days earlier to oversee the capsule’s progress on this historical flight.

The flight director went on.

“System Module?”

“Go!”

“ART?”

A few seconds passed.

“ART? Are you a go?”

A few more seconds…

“ART is a go.”

“Thank you, ART. Launch is a go, people.”

Dr. Kovachev, who was looking at the giant screen on the wall in front of him displaying the countdown in large numbers, turned around to face the engineers in the room and said, “OK, people. Let’s go to Mars!”

Back in the MF3 capsule, Jessie Bruun wondered if her defunct parents were watching from beyond, proud of her.

Less than a minute later…

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, engine ignition, separation, and lift off!” said a clear voice through the crackling speakers.

A few miles from the ship’s launching pad, the spectators suddenly saw the immense cloud of white smoke forming under the MF3 spaceship, followed seconds later by the tremendous roar of the engines. And as all watched in awe the vessel rise and quickly gain altitude and speed, the impressive white tail of smoke caused by the huge consumption of fuel engulfed most of the clear blue sky below. Like a bright shooting star reclaiming its place in the dark night above, the blinding brightness of the ship’s burning rockets, pushing through Earth’s atmosphere with incredible force, soon disappeared into the darkness of the upper stratosphere.

Back on the ground, “Tanks separation in three, two, one, tanks have detached.”

“MF3 engine burn in three, two, one, engine burn!”

“System check?” asked Dr. Ivaylo Kovachev.

“All systems green, sir,” replied a man in front of a screen.

“People, we’re on our way to Mars!” said the launch director loudly, a huge smile on his face. The entire room erupted in applauses and cheers.

MF3 was bound for the ISS, the International Space Station, the ship’s last stop before the long trip to Mars.

Rushing past the well landscaped lawn, the two black limousines came to a halt at the back of the white edifice. Three men in black suits came out of the first vehicle and hurried to take position on the steps of the wide staircase, scoping out the surroundings through their dark sunglasses. Four more men rushed out of the second one, two of them in military uniform. Swiftly moving up the stairs, the second vehicle’s occupants rushed up through the stairs to the security desk and kept walking at a quick pace along the wide hallway beyond. After climbing another staircase, the two men wearing black stopped when they reached a small corridor, and the two in military uniform kept on. Bursting into the presidential study, the younger of the two said, “Mr. President, I think you’re gonna want to see this!”

“Mike? John? What is it?” replied the man seated in the room, completely taken by surprise. Colonel Mike Spade rushed to the small TV set and turned it on.

“You still watch TV on this old thing?” the other asked.

“It still works. Why change it? It pre-dates President Obama. When I got into office, I promised myself I wouldn’t replace it until it stopped working. I’m not sure why; call it nostalgia,” replied President Jarvis.

The image of China’s president, Xi Jinping appeared, while Colonel Spade adjusted the volume. All three men were now silent, watching the small screen.

“…as I have many times before. It is time for America to recognize China’s power and remove its military presence in North Africa before the end of the month, or we will have no choice but to take military action against the west. It would be a mistake to underestimate China’s resolution on this issue. We are prepared to stand our ground and take the necessary actions. For too long has President David Jarvis tried to find what he falsely calls a peaceful resolution to the problems China faces with misleading talks and one-sided propositions. For too long has America been treating China like a child and not listened to its demands. It is time for America and President Jarvis to learn that they are no longer the main player on the world’s chessboard. The time has come for China to be recognized as the greatest economic and military power in the world. We will not accept any more interventions from the United States in China’s affairs. If America’s military troops have not left North Africa by the end of the month, we will take action, and the consequences will be on President Jarvis’ conscience.”

Xi Jinping’s words were translated in English by his own interpreter, standing a few steps to his left and back. Even if they did not understand Chinese, the tone of his voice left no doubt as to the gravity of his address. Mike Spade turned the screen off as the TV anchorman began his commentary on the Asian leader’s speech.

The President turned to General John Glenn.

“Not good… OK, John, what do you think?”

“David, this is serious. I think we have a real problem on our hands, here. My intel agrees. China is ready to strike, and they don’t think he’s bluffing. Some even suggest he’ll go forward with his threats, regardless of what we do.”

“I agree, Mr. President,” added colonel Spade. “He means business, and it looks like he is simply looking for any reason to start a war. We should get our men out now. It’s probably time to talk about our military defense position as well.”

“OK, I’ll arrange for a cabinet meeting ASAP,” replied the American President. “John, you need get our guys out. I’m not taking any chance with this lunatic any longer than necessary.” He then picked up the phone next to him and called for his senior staff.

As the two men were exiting the room, President Jarvis put his phone on his chest and called out, “How’s your wife, Mike?”

“She is well, Mr. President. Thank you.”

“When is the baby due?”

“Any day, now, Sir.”

“Send her my best, will you?”

“Thank you, Mr. President. I will.”

As the two men started back down the hall, John glanced at Mike, giving the young colonel an approving smile. It wasn’t that surprising that the president had asked him such a personal question at a time like this. David Jarvis had been elected at a time when the American people were in great need of a leader they could trust again; someone who truly cared for the well-being of the nation and its people. Too many times had the country witnessed the disappointing lack of change promised by those elected. Too often had the bashing between candidates become the focus of their electoral campaign, while the addressing of serious issues was pushed aside, unanswered, or altogether ignored. And, while vague, and even outlandish, claims were still made by some of the other Presidential candidates, the North Carolina politician had quickly become a favorite in the polls. A few weeks later, he had become the youngest American president at the age of forty-one, winning over his rival candidate with an overwhelming eighty-nine percent of the votes. Incidentally, he had also become the second president to ever win the elections running as a third-party candidate since George Washington, back in 1789.