Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Speaking of which, have we any news from the spat between the two?”

“It appears the Americans have countered, but the actual details weren’t even cleared at my level. It seems our security forces feel we have an intelligence leak somewhere, and they are compartmentalizing all sensitive data for now. What little I heard came from Oleg at Strategic Air Command. Bah! It is too late now for delicacies. Time to hit with the hammer before we become irrelevant.”

“Speak for yourself, old timer. I plan on seeing the next century if our medical advances keep pace. Now what is with the leak? I thought we had our plans air tight,” Vlad asked.

“We picked up some chatter from a top level state diplomat in France who seemed privy to our plans before we executed them.”

“What plans?”

“The removal of the Americans from the Gordust,” Dmitry said, reaching for a mint in his inner coat pocket and offering one to Vlad, who accepted.

“ Nyet , you can’t be serious.”

“I’m afraid I am. So here we are, none the wiser, and that is also part of the reason why we delayed the launch. We wanted to know who could pass this information along. We are being monitored.”

“Of course we are,” Vlad said, motioning for Irina to bring the tablets to his table. “We are always being monitored. What else is new?”

“Ah, Irina, is it?” Dmitry asked, noticing the shorter than normal skirt and the long, slender legs that she displayed.

“Yes, Secretary Osnokov,” Irina said, placing the portable tablets in front of each man and dropping off a set of folders with a red security band around them. “Will there be anything else, Vladimir?” she asked, twirling a small strand of hair with her index finger and tucking it behind her ear, the motion bordering on flirtation.

Vlad noticed the slight raise of Dmitry’s right brow, not visible to Irina as he gave Vlad a rather interesting look. “No, we’ll monitor the launch from here. We have the radios and phones, so if we need anything, we’ll ring you.”

“Very well,” she said, nodding to Vlad and smiling at Dmitry before departing.

“I see…” Dmitry said.

“Don’t start, please. I’ve suffered enough. What can I say? I am a weak man.”

“We all are, Vlad. We all are.”

The men watched as the powerful rocket was fueled, and within an hour, the large digital countdown timer, over five meters tall near the launch pad, reached triple zeros, and the dark Siberian forest was illuminated with the bright glow of the rocket’s exhaust. Data from the command center was wired directly to the men’s tablets, showing thrust force, time after liftoff, flight trajectory, and relative speed.

Within a few minutes, the entire base was returned to its normal illumination of the large pale electrical lamps as the Energia X swung across the horizon and out of sight. The Russians were going to the moon.

NASA Space Center

Houston, Texas

In the near future, Day 24

The news had been less than ideal. Rock sat at the conference table in the room next to their working lab, looking at the daily report Mr. Smith had given him that morning. The engineers in Pasadena and his own mission team were told to speed up the process for the first manned lunar mission in over half a century.

The Russians had launched what appeared to be a lunar reconnaissance satellite to the moon. It was even now supposed to be entering lunar orbit after the three day journey. This was a major setback for the Americans in the race to reach the alien object. For two days, they figuratively held their collective breaths, wondering if the HUMINT reports were wrong and that this mission actually had cosmonauts on board. The daily report indicated they did not—it was only a robotic probe designed to gather data on the device and its signals, including photographic details. That would be interesting.

“Well, at least they haven’t reached it first,” Jack said from across the table, drinking on his morning coffee.

“Damn Ruskies,” Tom said. A frown appearing on his face as it usually did when referring to their adversary. “They are the only ones with astronauts in space. It won’t take them long to get there. They’ve already done half the work and are way ahead of us on this.”

“I’m not one to always agree with Tom,” Marge said, and at this, Tom smiled, “but he’s right. That’s why we have to leap frog and go straight there with Craig and Julie. What do you think is holding the Russians back?”

Most of his team looked at him, though Rock noticed Lisa was intent on reviewing something in her report. “I’m not so sure I’d trust this data. What if this lunar recon bird that they sent up is actually a supply module? It could contain extra oxygen, fuel, even food supplies for their space station. You guys were on it last. How long can it sustain six cosmonauts?”

Julie and Craig had joined them this morning and were seated at the table along with Jeff Wheeler, their electrical engineer. Julie spoke first. “The station has four personnel pods, though they could support eight if they hot bunk it.” This referred to the practice of two crewmembers sharing one bed or sleeping device. On the space station, the beds were more like vertical hammocks that secured the cosmonaut against a padded bulkhead wall during sleep.

“Yeah, and the science labs could hold a lot of material or equipment if they jettisoned their current scientific experiments,” Craig added. Julie cringed at that, her displeasure more than visible.

“You had several going, didn’t you, Julie?” Marge asked.

“Yes. Two of them involved animal subjects, mice and ants.”

“You probably got plenty of them critters orbiting our planet by now, Jules,” Tom said.

“Jesus, Tom, show some compassion,” Marge said, giving Tom a glare, and she wasn’t the only one. Lisa looked up from her papers to give Tom a similar disapproving look.

“What? I’m just saying. I know them, and they were sure to jettison anything that hindered their mission, right, Rock?” Tom looked at Rock, almost pleading for some support.

“Don’t you take his side, Richard.” Lisa gave Rock a stern look.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side. Let’s move on. I want to know if that station could handle, what”—Rock looked down and thumbed through his notes—“six cosmonauts in the space allocated?”

“Mr. Crandon,” Craig began, “I think Julie will agree with me when I say that the Russian Gordust is like a huge recreation vehicle compared to anything we’ve had or even seen. The construction required over thirty launches of their medium and heavy lift rockets, and the payloads were intense when it came to weight and volume. They put a lot of effort into creating a top notch station. Now I’ve never been to the Euro, ah, international space station, but I can tell you that the Gordust is more than spacious, very strong structurally, and more than able to provide adequate life support for eight or more cosmonauts.”

Julie nodded. “The décor is practical, nothing luxurious, but its functionality is beyond question. They can, and will, pull this off.”

“So why haven’t they just done it already, then?” Jack asked.

There was silence for a moment while they all contemplated the question. If the station could be boosted to the moon, what were they waiting for?

“Navigation,” Lisa said. The looks around the table varied from confusion to understanding. “The RV has no steering wheel, get it?”

“Wait, that’s right. They have a solid platform but no way of guiding it yet,” Marge said.

Mrs. Brown starting writing furiously. “Do you have to do that?” Tom asked, annoyance in his voice.