Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Quiet, Tom,” Rock said, giving him a stern look and returning his gaze to the president. “Why do we have an operational Saturn?”

“For national security,” Director Rose answered for the president.

Powers ignored the man, “We’ve had one equipped with a nuclear warhead that was capable of reaching lunar orbit. It was, shall we say… a deterrent for any potential weaponization of space by another sovereign nation.”

“Bloody hell,” Tom said.

“How many do we have?” Rock asked.

“Two,” the general spoke up. “One operational and the prototype.”

“I’ll authorize both rockets to be moved from military command and transferred to NASA,” Powers said, authority in her voice and the general and Rose did not look pleased.

“Maybe we should strap a few rockets together instead,” Tom said sarcastically.

“That would be unwise and I don’t think anyone would do something like that,” Rock said, missing Tom’s sarcasm.

“You’d be wrong then,” Director Rose said, looking directly at Rock.

“Wrong?” Rock asked.

“Yes, because that is exactly what the Chinese are attempting to do this week,” Director Rose finished.

People’s Republic Space Command

Outside of Beijing, China

In the near future, Day 13

Hun Lee watched the countdown timer on the wall as it methodically moved toward that point of no return—zero. Colonel Wu, the commander of the Chinese Ballistic Missile Defense Forces, was placed in charge of launching a robotic probe into lunar orbit to dock with the now defunct orbiter there and assess the damage. Hun had vigorously protested the use of multiple ICBM rockets being welded together around their base lunar launch rocket. The Long Reach rocket had its two smaller assist rockets removed, and four larger ICBM military Dong Feng-45s were attached and their nuclear payloads removed.

Hun didn’t know the exact number of ICBMs his country possessed, but reports were around one hundred of the medium-sized DF-31s and a score or more of the much larger DF-45s that were designed to reach anywhere in the world. Their thrust ratios were several times higher than most of the normal ICBMs, and the military engineers calculated that they would be sufficient to reach ILO or intra-lunar orbit.

“You think this will work, sir?” Chon Chu, his engineer, asked from their seats in the observatory. The mere fact that they were spectators was shame enough, but after the sacking that took place the week before, Hun was just thankful he and his team were still employed.

“I hope so, Chon,” Hun said, a sigh escaping from his lips.

“Will he be able to control those robotic arms accurately enough?” Lin Fu, his mission technician, asked, motioning to the Japanese man in a white laboratory coat seated near a window in the observation room. The man had been brought in by Colonel Wu to use the robot that would be sent to rendezvous with the orbiter. Hun and his team would handle the docking and lunar trajectories once low earth orbit was achieved and before the final burn for lunar transit. Once docked, the robot would enter the orbiter’s small command module, taking pictures and using two small arms to test equipment and see if the orbiter could be powered up again.

“I hope so, Lin,” Hun repeated, his tone monotonous.

The clocks in the control room as well as the launch platform and any other related facilities were all set one hour in advance. Hun sighed again, realizing that if this launch succeeded, it would be played an hour later as if in real time to his fellow citizens. The state left nothing to chance when it came to propaganda and damage control.

Too much was riding on this. It had only been thirteen days since the incident, and even Hun was surprised at how quickly the four ICBMs were configured with the regular lunar rocket, Long Reach, to attempt another lunar launch. Hun watched and realized it was done too quickly.

“We have ignition, all engines, and… lift off,” the calm voice of the military controller said, everyone watching the bright light of five powerful rocket engines igniting and powering the robot probe into the air. Smoke billowed out from under the engines, and the pride of the Chinese military soared into the sky, at least for a few seconds. The individual ICBM rockets were configured with the same propellant loads, but any NASA scientist could say that actual burn and specified burn were two different things.

The makeshift master gyroscope on top of the main Long Reach rocket noticed the different burn rates, especially from the DF-45 rocket designated as rocket one. The other three Dong Feng rockets were commanded via the control processor to maintain their burn rates while the computer spat out a command for rocket one to restrict the propellant flow and allow the Long Reach to continue its trajectory. Unfortunately the wiring of the gyroscope on rocket one failed and the command came back in a programming loop that was waiting for confirmation from the first rocket that the flow valve would restrict and reduce the amount of propellant being sent to its rear for conversion to thrust.

The command never registered, and the loop continued for what humans would consider an eternity if the computer lived in a world measured in seconds and not nanoseconds or milliseconds. Without valve restriction, the rocket burned its fuel load quicker than normal, becoming lighter than its fellow rockets, and started to achieve greater thrust. This tilted the entire Long Reach along its x-axis, and the main gyroscope and command computer attempted to compensate by sending out signals to the individual rockets, two through four.

The signals were received in less than three milliseconds, but the control valves were mechanical and, while they opened to maximum to compensate, the time necessary to accomplish the task took too long. In a spectacular fashion, the Long Reach tilted on its side and then cartwheeled wildly, spinning on its axis well over three hundred and sixty degrees. It stabilized at four hundred and fifty degrees with the cone of the rocket facing the ground. Within four seconds, the Long Reach hit the ground and the remaining fuel tanks first fractured and then exploded as over two thousand tons of kerosene and liquid oxygen ignited.

The control room was silent for a moment until the Japanese man in the corner spoke. “I take it you’ll no longer be needing my services?”

Hun lowered his head in his hands and sighed.

General Wang watched the disaster on his large screen against the back wall and then picked up the red phone from where he sat in his command chair. The answer on the other end was immediate.

“Jaiying, initiate command Hard Steel,” Wang said.

“Yes, sir,” his major said from where she sat at her console in the People’s Republic Army Headquarters outside of Beijing. Jaiying only had to press a transmit button once she activated it and lifted its plastic cover. It would send a preprogrammed signal for whatever she had queued in the priority message center. Operation Hard Steel was the default setting just in case something went wrong, and she wondered if their self-confidence was really that low. It didn’t matter. The signal went out and the rest would be automated.

The space satellite had the red flag of the Chinese Republic painted on the side corner, the yellow stars hardly visible except the largest one in the far left upper corner. The satellite had been in geosynchronous orbit over the Chinese mainland and just a day before had used a burn of nearly all of its fuel to lower its orbit over the mainland. The fake, curved communications dish split open and jettisoned into two while side covers swung from their secure positions to open, much like the doors of the now defunct DeLorean cars would.