Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“The Chin—” Tom was interrupted by Rock.

“What were you going to say?” Mr. Smith asked.

“Never mind, Tom was about to say something he would regret. So who and how? Any ideas?” Rock asked.

Smith looked at Tom, who smiled and raised his brows, before addressing Rock. “Obviously the Chinese, though only the Russians could have that kind of capability. We still don’t know how yet either. Either a satellite or anti-bird missile from the ground.”

“That would be one hell of a hit from earth-side,” Rock commented.

“You know you’re inferring they had weapons in space, which violates the London Accord,” Tom said.

“I know, but what else could it be?” Rock asked.

“So why you being so nice and sharing this with us, eh?” Tom asked Mr. Smith.

“Because if they are willing to risk an act of war on this space race, then they may very well aim for something more personal and relevant next time.”

“Jesus Christ Almighty! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Tom asked, genuinely shocked for a change.

Rock looked at Smith, who stared back without saying a word, but his facial expression told Rock all he needed to know. “So there’s a chance that any launch we execute could be met with something similar? It doesn’t matter who is doing it; the fact that it was done means the risk and the stakes just got that much higher. Am I right?” Rock asked, continuing his stare down with Mr. Smith.

“You are correct, Crandon. This means you and your team may have to either alter the payload to accommodate anti-missiles or some other configuration to allow any launch a direct path to the moon in order to avoid a similar fate,” Smith said.

“You can’t just launch a rocket to the moon like in the Looney Tunes ,” Tom said, leaning back as a food service worker entered with a rolling cart and set down a tray of sandwiches with two bowls of soup along with a pitcher of coffee and a cup of tea.

“I didn’t know you’d be here, Mr. Smith. Shall I get you a cup of soup, too?” the woman with her identification badge clipped to her collar said. The name on the tag read Samantha Summers.

“No, Mrs. Summers, I’ll just eat one of these sandwiches and I’ll get a soda from one of the machines later,” Smith said.

“All right,” Samantha said in her southern drawl. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll be here till six. You can just ring us on the phone, extension eight one three.”

“Thanks,” Smith said, grabbing a sandwich and taking a big bite.

Rock grabbed a bowl of soup, tomato, and opened a packet of saltines, adding them and stirring a bit as it was piping hot. “You know, Smith, if there are missiles up there, I’m not so sure there is much we could do. I mean, the heat signature and radar profile of any rocket we send up would be impossible to miss. I don’t know what you expect of us.”

“Well, it’s early yet,” Smith answered. “Let me see what they have at Langley and Meade, and I’ll get back to you and your team, agreed?”

“Fine, let us know sooner rather than later, though. It’s a pain in the ass to re-compute fuel figures and change payloads if you’re going to move the goal posts on us midgame, know what I mean?”

Smith nodded and took his sandwich over to a desk on the far side of the room near the windows where he would make his phone calls privately.

“What are you looking at?” Rock asked Tom as he took his first sip of soup, grabbing a sandwich and napkin to boot.

“Bloody hell of a way to start a war,” Tom said.

Gordust Space Station

Low Earth Orbit

In the near future, Day 14

Yuri watched as all four of his fellow cosmonauts were on an EVA or extravehicular activity. The orbital booster burn went as planned and raised the orbit from three hundred kilometers to well over three thousand. There was no sensation other than watching the curvature of the earth become more pronounced with the altitude gain. The higher orbit meant the station circled slower, and due to the nature of the burn, the orbit was slightly eccentric, wobbling between 3,284 kilometers and 2,955 kilometers.

The current mission was to attach the four larger burn motors so that the station could escape earth’s gravity well. Each motor was large enough that it required four cosmonauts to attach each one to a corner of the space station structure. The first launch brought supplies for six personnel for over a month and returned the Americans to earth. The second brought a full load of both liquid hydrogen and oxygen which was transferred to the main propellant tanks. Yuri marveled at how the entire payload was nothing but fuel, and a burn of all of the fuel brought to the station only lifted it about three thousand clicks.

Geosynchronous orbit was about fifty thousand clicks, and the station would need several burns in order to obtain that orbit. Of course, they may not need to go that high if the final trans-lunar burn was used to bring them back to a few dozen miles of earth, using the craft’s increased speed at perigee as a slingshot and building delta v acceleration enough to transit to the moon. The entire exercise was a matter of mathematics, and math was absolute, not fuzzy. What was fuzzy was the exact start of the atmosphere of earth and how closely the engineers and mathematicians in Moscow decided they needed to get in order to obtain the critical delta v impulse that would allow for a successful mission. The station had no drag or friction in space, but that would change when the mission started.

Yuri knew that a miscalculation in either the burn or trajectory would result in the station auguring into the ground. Well, what remained after the atmospheric destruction, as temperatures soared past ten thousand degrees kelvin. The other option was that the station would “bounce” off the atmosphere, changing its trajectory to one of deep space. If the velocity was high enough to escape earth’s gravity well, then the station would leave earth orbit and become a part of the solar system, orbiting the sun and most likely never returning to earth again.

It was against this background that the man watched his fate being prepared for him by his comrades outside. He and Olga were volunteers, of course, but there was never really any choice. Once Ruscosmos explained the situation, the stakes, and what the Chinese were doing, well, there were no other options. Yuri was going to the moon.

Vostochny Cosmodrome

Siberia, Russia

In the near future, Day 14

Vlad watched as Dmitry stepped off of the Hind M24 heavy lift chopper, holding his hat on his head and walking to the door of the landing pad.

“Vladimir,” the old man said, entering the building, “good to see you again! Great job on those initial launches. Moscow is pleased.”

“You sound like you did when you were commanding in the old days.” Vlad shook the man’s hand and grabbed his briefcase from an aide who looked pale, not willing at first to give up the man’s personal folders but relenting once Dmitry nodded.

The men walked down the corridor, entering the main administrative building, stopping at the elevator. “Those were the good ole days, Vlad. Remember when we stacked the German front? I wonder what would have happened had the premier not backed down. That would have been a fight, no?” Dmitry said, a smile and a pat on Vlad’s shoulder as they entered the lift.

Vlad hit O , which stood for observatory, bypassing the other floors.

“We’re not going to your office?” Dmitry asked.

“I have something to show you,” Vlad said. “I’ve set up a small table on the observatory deck where we can have a small bite to eat.”