Salvador Mercer - Lunar Discovery

“Very well, Colonel. Success and honor,” Hun said.

“Success and honor,” Sing replied in kind.

Hun watched as the door to the module was shut and sealed as red lights on one of the system consoles changed to green. Hun knew the MiG-55 required a flight pressure suit as it could pull over nine G’s in supersonic flight, so the colonel would not be surprised at the thrust and inertia factors that were about to be thrown his way. At least in this regard, he felt the general had made a fine selection.

Hun took his headset off for a second as Lin sat next to him and leaned in to speak to him. “It would have been better if the colonel had the opportunity to spend some time in a simulator.”

Chon looked up from his console next to Hun’s and also pulled his headset off before speaking. “The lander and entire module are new. No time for programming a proper simulation of something this complex.”

Hun nodded. “Yes, even if we had the time to program something, the entire simulation would have needed a good testing and the military wasn’t going to allow a delay for that.”

“The colonel is a brave man,” Lin said, her voice conveying the sincerity of her statement.

“Yes, he is,” Hun said, placing his headphones back on his head. “A brave man, indeed. Now let’s get him there and back again safely.”

Lin and Chon nodded, placing their headphones back on as well and turning to their consoles to prepare for the launch. Today would be their day.

Bridge of the USS Berkshire

Fifteen miles off the coast of Wenchang, China

In the near future, Day 41

“That makes three close calls in only two days, Captain,” Lt Commander Jensen said to his superior as they stood outside the bridge facing north toward the Chinese island of Wenchang where the Chinese space base was located fifteen miles distant. The Berkshire , a navy destroyer, was shadowing the American navy trawler Orca , which was located just outside of Chinese territorial waters. Two Chinese frigates were in turn shadowing the Berkshire between it and the Orca .

Captain Hansen lowered his binoculars and looked at his second in command. “Did we get the data feed from the Orca ?”

“Yes, sir. All data has been encrypted and forwarded to Fort Meade per orders, sir. Now can we bug out before one of them actually fires on us?”

Hansen knew his second’s fear of hostilities between the two superpowers was more than just an idle fancy. Ever since the alien communication had been broadcasted, every government on the planet had seemed to go into defensive mode, and the superpowers were taking it two steps further by elevating the game dangerously close to something ugly.

The flybys of the Chinese MiGs were more than provocative as they probed the resolve of America’s naval forces. The Orca had been nearly rammed twice by aggressive Chinese frigates, and Hansen couldn’t blame them. If a Chinese carrier group set up shop off the coast of Canaveral in Florida, then he was sure the U.S. would be more than a little edgy. Add to this the U.S. spy trawler which was anything but inconspicuous floating dangerously close to the edge of Chinese territorial waters, and things were starting to get out of hand.

“That last one was not only closer but they ran four MiGs our way instead of the lone wolf,” Hansen said, looking northward at the sky.

“They did, but the Clinton kept them at bay.” Jensen nodded.

“Yeah, pretty amazing what a half dozen F41 Stealth Sprites will do to a wing of MiGs.”

“They did bug out pretty quickly when our flyboys arrived.”

“Yeah, but next time they’ll come in with an even dozen,” Hansen said, looking at Jensen for a reaction.

“Then we’ll have to send two,” Jensen said, a grin crossing his face.

“Do you have the latest positioning report?” Hansen asked his second.

Jensen handed the waterproof clipboard to his captain. “Updated as of ten minutes ago.”

“Jesus H. Christ!” Hansen said, looking at the chart. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

“Awfully close, isn’t he, sir?”

“This mark puts him less than two hundred meters from their waters,” Hansen said, shaking his head. “He’s going to start a war if he’s not careful.”

“Probably following orders,” Jensen said, waiting for the clipboard back which was not forthcoming.

Hansen looked to the horizon and then back to the board again. He could clearly see the trawler, a smaller black dot near the horizon followed by two larger black objects. It was bad enough that his destroyer was only three miles from the border between international waters and Chinese territorial waters, but the Orca was flirting with disaster. He was sure the U.S. carrier task force a couple hundred clicks farther south wasn’t going to calm the situation down any more than this.

“You’re probably right. The poor bastard is more than likely doing what he’s been told to do.”

“Just like us, eh, skipper?”

“Oh yeah, number two, just like us sorry bastards as well.” Hansen sighed, giving the clipboard back to Jensen and raising the binoculars to observe the Orca . If one of those frigates was going to do something, he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

NASA Space Command

Houston, Texas

In the near future, Day 43

“Are we still reading go?” Rock asked Marge from his command console in Houston. It felt good to have a full crew in the control center.

“All systems showing go, coms are five by five, and we’re awaiting the ball,” Marge said, referring to the hand off of mission control from Canaveral Launch Command to their Houston Space Command.

“Is she still there?” Rock asked, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah, Rock, she’s still there and giving you more than an eyeball.” Marge motioned with her eyes.

President Powers had flown in on Air Force One just two hours earlier and had taken up shop along with her staff and more Secret Service agents than Rock had seen in a long while, without saying a word to him or his staff.

The past two weeks had been busy as they readied the lunar lander and prepared the Saturn V for liftoff. Mr. Smith had gone to the observation room to discuss the mission with the executive branch, leaving Mrs. Brown on the floor of the control room near Rock’s console. At least the woman had the sense to give me my space , Rock thought to himself.

Craig and Julie had finished their training and were flown to Canaveral two days earlier after being given a full day to spend with their families. Rock had watched on the closed circuit video feed as they were strapped into their chairs, and gave the thumbs up sign before the tower technicians vacated the capsule.

Rock was still in awe as he looked at the widescreen field monitor and saw the huge Saturn V sitting gracefully on the launch pad, awaiting history. From the agitation Mr. Smith displayed, and the reports he had received from Mrs. Brown, it was obvious that the U.S. was a couple of days behind the Chinese and there was no news from the Russians other than the fact that they were still modifying their space station into something dramatically different.

What would the ramifications be from a Chinese landing first? Rock pondered the rhetorical question and then discarded it from his mind. He had to focus if they were to succeed.

“You doing okay, boss?” Jack asked through one of the private console-to-console channels.

Rock looked down a couple of rows and off to the side where Jack was overseeing four consoles on signals data and communication servers. “I’m doing just fine, thank you. How ’bout you and your folks?”