Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

Rock was relieved that the minor outburst by his team member was overlooked or ignored as the president spoke. “Mr. Crandon, you have full clearance, but we have certain protocols to follow when we distribute our information due to how it’s obtained. This involves our HUMINT section and the actual people involved when it comes to gathering our intel. I’m sure you can appreciate the risks taken to the personnel that are providing this important data to us.”

Rock understood why she was a successful politician. Her words seemed to hit home, and Rock was sure his team understood the sanctity of human life. Risking the lives of their astronauts was bad enough, but now he and his team had basically just been told that espionage was involved and someone else’s life was at stake. “Understood, Madam President.”

“Mr. Smith, give the information to Mr. Crandon and his team now. We’ll wait while they make an initial assessment,” the president said.

Mr. Smith nodded to Brown, and she transferred a file to his team’s inboxes. Rock walked over to where Marge had her laptop open perched on her legs, and sat down next to her. The entire auditorium was silent as the engineers from Jeff Wheeler’s team and the academia types fidgeted in their seats.

Marge opened the file and started to read the data to Jack, who was plugging it into his spreadsheet on his tablet. It took only minutes to update the concentric graphic showing various strength levels for the EMP. “Done,” Marge said, looking to Rock.

“Send it to her,” Rock said, referring to Mrs. Brown.

Marge attached the updated graphic and emailed it to Brown, who opened it and launched it on the side screen. The president and her staff looked to their sidebar to see it.

“Satisfied?” Rock asked.

“This looks pretty close to your estimates, is that correct?” the president asked.

“That is correct, Madam President, and the levels are, as we hypothesized previously, lethal,” Rock finished, returning to stand next to Smith, relieved that the data confirmed their suspicions as well as the fact that they most likely saved the lives of their own astronauts, despite making their current mission profile impossible.

“Solution?” she asked.

Rock felt good enough at what they had conveyed to the president and her staff, so he looked at Marge, who gave a slight nod. “I’ll have Doctor Jones explain.”

Marge stood while Rock took his seat. “I won’t ask where you obtained this data, but it verifies our concerns. This means that any landing directly near this lunar object will most likely fail without an inordinate amount of shielding to both the equipment and the crew.” At this, Marge looked at both Julie and Craig before continuing. “We propose the following two changes to the mission profile. First, we insert the lunar command module into a polar orbit instead of an equatorial one. As long as the orbit is within ninety miles of the surface, the moon itself will act as a shield from the electromagnetic pulses.”

Someone started talking off camera in the president’s Situation Room, and President Powers raised a hand to pause Marge’s report. After a few seconds, the president looked into the camera again. “My scientific advisor is asking how this… polar orbit, as you call it, will prevent the device from being in the”—another pause and more talking off screen—“line of sight of our spacecraft.”

Marge nodded. “Yes, well, I was getting to that part.” Rock knew she wasn’t going to mention it, but she seemed annoyed at the interruption and was venting a bit. Marge continued. “As long as the polar orbit is within ninety miles, as I was saying , the rotation of the moon is much slower than earth’s, taking the same amount of time to rotate as it does to orbit. This would give our command module approximately four to six days of safety, being out of the line of sight of this alien object, before the moon could rotate enough to bring our command module within range of the object’s EMP. Could you check your inbox, Mrs. Brown?” Marge asked the lady.

Mrs. Brown looked up and then back to her tablet. “I have three files here from you.”

“Load the first file and put it up for the president, if you don’t mind?” Marge asked.

Soon the sidebar showed an illustration of the moon with the line of sight angles from the object to the command module. The dashed lines indicated the cone where the EMP was present. “As you can see from this first illustration, the polar orbit will allow us to stay in lunar orbit and keep the command module functioning with minimal shielding. Now for the tricky part, and excuse the animation if it seems crude. We had to use an older program for it, and we had little time to polish it.”

Marge nodded at Mrs. Brown, who launched the second file. “Normally when a lander detaches from the orbiter, it would follow the same path as the orbiting module and land down range.” The animation showed a small object detaching from the orbiting command module and landing on the moon’s surface farther north from where the lander unhooked.

“Load the third file, please.” Marge indicated to Brown. “Now this third animation will show the lander slowing almost to a stop above the equatorial plane after detaching slightly above its south pole. Our calculations show the lander coming to a relative halt along the north-south y-axis at around forty to forty-two miles above the lunar surface. It would then execute a lateral burn, approaching the alien object from the retrograde side of the moon along the x-axis here.” The animation showed the small lander icon moving along the moon’s equator toward the large red X that indicated the location of the alien object.

“While approaching, the moon’s gravity will be pulling the lander to a contact point roughly about here.” She motioned to the side screen where a blue circle suddenly appeared and started to flash. “This location is about thirty miles from the target sight and is protected by a partial rim of an old meteor impact crater and this range of hills or mountains, thus protecting the lander from the pulse as well. From this blue circle landing site, our crew would approach the target in a shielded surface craft with protective suits enhanced to handle the increased radiation. Any questions?”

“Are they mad?” The words were clearly audible from the speakers broadcasting what was presumed to be the president’s scientific advisor who was still off camera.

The president raised her hand to quiet him. “What makes you think this plan will work?”

“We aren’t sure it will work. We’ve had less than a few hours to even design something this complex, but the nature of the mission, along with its urgency, mandates that something be done. This is our best attempt,” Marge said, her tone sharpening a bit.

This didn’t dissuade the scientific advisor as there was more of the commotion in the Situation Room. This time it was the president herself who covered her microphone, but the effort was half hardy and Rock heard the protests coming from her advisor.

“Are there any other plans being developed?” the president asked.

Rock stood and walked next to Marge, slightly touching her elbow so she knew he was there as he addressed the president. “There are no other plans being developed at NASA. If you or your advisor have a different idea, then by all means, inform us and we will consider them. If not, I suggest you allow my team and I to move forward on an official feasibility study after we’ve calculated fuel requirements and the necessary payloads this sort of mission would require.”

There was a moment of pause as the president consulted with others off screen. Finally she addressed Rock for the final time. “You have forty-eight hours, Mr. Crandon. Use them wisely.”