Chapter 1
"For your eyes only"
The Gulfstream lowered its undercarriage for landing into Plesetsk Cosmodrome, a long, military-grade airfield 500 miles north of Moscow.
Even though it was well into spring, the outside temperature at 5:00 a.m. was still only a degree above freezing. The date was April 15th, nearly a month after Ryan had been unceremoniously relieved of his airfield by the U.S. Government in Nevada.
He was looking forward to landing, as it would be the first time he could get close to equipment that was sophisticated enough to enable him to speak to his crew aboard America One, his new spaceship 350 miles above him.
Ryan was alone in the Gulfstream. His savior, Martin Brusk, had left him during a stopover in London. An important meeting with the European Space Authority had forced them to head in different directions.
The owner—or ex-owner of Astermine Inc., a space company—was thin and his ribs still hurt. Even though he had the military doctor at Guantanamo to look after him during his three-week stay in Cuba, his ribs still needed a few more weeks to mend.
Once he and Martin had taken off from U.S.-owned soil in Cuba, Martin told him of their flight plans. Martin Brusk had also owned a space company until very recently, when the U.S. government condemned him as an enemy of the state after learning he worked with the country’s former president. Martin’s assets, even the deposit the U.S. government had paid him for his company several days earlier, were frozen and within seconds came under government ownership. All of his U.S. property had been confiscated and a bounty was put on his head by the CIA.
After the former U.S. President suggested he leave the country, Martin managed to escape the clutches of U.S. agents who were looking for him only hours before the emergency orders were passed by the government. Even the former president of the United States of America was now under house arrest; this sudden and shocking news was released by news teams on the White House beat less than 24 hours after Ryan landed in Cuba three weeks earlier.
That morning the news shocked every American. Even with a ravaged network of operational news channels (due to the continuous destruction of the world’s satellites) nonstop coverage about the former president’s house arrest began before dawn.
“Treason!” “Acts against the country!” “Harboring terrorists!” “Secret talks with China!” were the news headlines in the morning papers.
“The ex-president is under house arrest as of midnight last night,” stated a news reporter in Chicago. “Shocking allegations from the Oval Office itself abound about the former president secretly communicating with the Chinese government over future space development. The White House Press Room is full, every seat taken, and we are expecting the Press Secretary to give us more information within the hour…Weather in Chicago today is…”
Martin Brusk was watching the news from the Savoy in central London, a hotel in which he held a major ownership share. Only hours after he knew that the airfield in Nevada had been attacked, whispers of problems led him to check his Swiss bank account, get the Gulfstream topped off and take off from his home on his space base—or ex-space base—in New Mexico. His base, now owned by NASA, was guarded by U.S. troops. Martin was still free to go where he wanted, but he realized that his friend Ryan wouldn’t be taken without a fight; hours after Ryan was forced from his airfield, Martin’s airplane was also taking off, bound for Zurich, Switzerland.
It hadn’t taken the government long to enact an order to hold Martin. He was only an hour out of U.S. airspace when the orders came through from the NSA to confine him; an hour later everything he owned in the USA was wiped clean, as if he never owned it.
Many government employees, unimportant and in lower positions, didn’t understand how the rich worked and certainly were unaware of how fast the elite thought. On the other hand, NSA Director Joe Bishop, NASA Administrator Hal McNealy, Tom Ward, the new Director of the CIA, and General Mortimer, now Chief of Staff, did not understand that Americans were not as stupid as they thought. Human sixth sense still worked in many U.S. citizens; it was what kept them alive and made some of them rich, and it had worked well for Martin.
Yes, Martin Brusk lost 90 percent of his worth to the government, but he still had over $100 million in foreign assets; enough to live on for the rest of his life.
The ex-president also had his sixth sense working. He had planned for an attempt on his freedom for over a year, ever since he began to understand that the new government was imposing a pernicious form of terrorism on U.S. businesses and citizens. He wasn’t going anywhere; he knew that he had to stand and fight, just as Ryan had done, to show this new president that it was impossible to be a despot on U.S. soil. The new president still would be affected by Constitutional checks and balances and ultimately answer to the citizens of the country.
He had planned well, and when the soldiers closed down the front and back gates of his house to anybody leaving or entering, he had television cameras recording everything they did.
It didn’t take long for opposition members of Congress and the Senate to begin to cause havoc to the new president’s plans, and he was reminded that Americans, under the rule of law, are innocent until proven guilty.
Three days later the Supreme Court allowed the former president to be allowed to go free until and unless due process proved any guilt.
Once he was free, black SUVs tailed the ex-president’s every move, until he caught a plane at O’Hare and headed north into Canada. The Canadian Prime Minister, a good friend of his, ignored the orders from Washington to extradite the man; instead he gave him an open invitation to stay as long as he wanted. Canada had already suspended all dealings with their neighbor to their south.
From Canada, the ex-president was free to travel, and he did so; to the UK, France, Germany and then Moscow and Beijing. During his term in office, he had established friendships with the leaders of many countries, and they were still prepared to listen to him. He held talks with the countries’ leaders, explaining what was going on in the United States and Washington.
Meanwhile back in Washington, the mounting problems facing the new president were growing. Members of both houses were demanding that committees look into his actions and how he was running the country. This was not due to news about Ryan and Astermine as much as recent orders from the Oval Office denouncing big business and business leaders who, up to the last election, were prominent members of U.S. society.
Through his press secretary, the president denounced all allegations against him, and warned several members of both houses to prove their allegations before coming forward. One senator said that he had proof, and that he would present his proof the next day. Later that night, the senator was taken ill and by morning he was in a coma in the hospital. Tom Ward’s men had done their job well.
This provoked more outcries, and this time General Mortimer countered by dispersing the Army and National Guard throughout Washington. Immediately, riots began to fill the streets with citizens calling for the president’s impeachment. The army, for the first time since Vietnam, brutally attacked the rioters, with several deaths due to baton attacks. Not one bullet was fired.
Over the next week, the rioters decided that it was too dangerous to display their grievances. The president returned to the air waves to thank his military personnel and to tell viewers that there were certain factions in the country trying to denounce his authority; they all could be traced to the ex-president, who had run like a dog out of the country to escape trial for what the president stated were acts of treason. He warned Americans that if anybody got out of line or broke any law, the powers of the federal government would come down heavily on them. He had enacted new powers, allowing the NSA to set up curfews in areas wherever trouble brewed.
NSA Director Joe Bishop took this as a privilege to bully anybody he wanted, and police and NSA agents also took their new liberties seriously.
Within days of the new orders, several retired and elderly USAF officers suddenly went missing all over the country. Bob Mathews, aboard his ten-day old new boat, escaped whatever was going on. He was off one of the islands in the Caribbean fishing when news trickled through by radio communications from friends that air force colleagues he knew had begun to disappear. He decided to stay where he was.
What benefited the president was that the news channels were few, and it was becoming more difficult for citizens to see or hear the current daily news.
With so much junk in space—a result of General Mortimer’s late release of the third set of nukes—one by one satellites were either destroyed, or were bounced off their geo-stationary positions. It would take weeks to get them realigned.
U.S. television stations were down to nine, from nearly 1,000 a few weeks earlier, and much of the news had to be delivered by mail in DVD form to local stations for airing. Stations like CBS had their programing reduced to two to three hours per day in the hours they could cover their programs nationwide. CNN, out of Atlanta, finally gave up and closed their doors. So did 90 percent of the other news channels.
The paucity of news coverage gave the president’s men time to act without being noticed. Only the FBI watched what was happening and kept files on seventeen of the president’s most active men.
Joe Everson was the man in charge of collecting information. His team of 300 agents went to ground as soon as one of their own met a violent death in Los Angeles. There wasn’t much footage surrounding the killing, except that one older street camera recorded a dark SUV leaving the crime scene seconds after the shooting. The decipherers studying the footage could see four men in the SUV and, one of their faces, although extremely blurry, looked American; an NSA operative to be exact.
Joe Everson was asked to fly to Canada where he met with his old friend, and a plan was formed to get Ryan Richmond out of Cuba. Joe also viewed the first draft of the “60 Minutes” presentation due to be aired on CBS in two weeks; Joe Downs had worked on it for ten days straight in Las Vegas. For some reason, Joe Downs, who had worked for NBS was now with CBS, which was the better station for airing the documentary.
The FBI agent was shocked at what had been collected by Ryan and Astermine over the last couple of years. Consumed with rage, his complexion turned noticeably darker, and he nearly broke the arm of the chair he was sitting in while viewing what the president’s men had been up to since the elections.
Joe Downs had carefully pieced together everything Ryan and the ex-president had given him, while working for the two different media stations, to show a timeline of the actions the president was taking against American citizens. The program started days before the new leader was sworn in, and then moved to a couple of days after being sworn in and taking the oath of office. The new president was seen attending frequent dinner parties with certain members of specific government agencies, as well as with certain members of Congress. The footage documented abhorrent behavior that would anger every viewer watching it. Richard Nixon had nothing on this guy.
All the president’s men could be seen illegally enacting orders given from the man himself, although nobody was actually harmed during the time. The president relied on the term “for the benefit of the country and its people” about as often as he said it was important for his own “popularity, and bank account.”
The 30-minute exposé was ready for the media to air it. Because the satellites were not in a position to relay “60 Minutes” nationwide in its normal Sunday evening time slot, backup plans were devised to make sure the show would be seen by the people all over the country. The ex-president worked hard to make sure that the truth came out. He had his own name to clear.
On his travels, and before he headed to Cuba, he found that much of the world was in disarray. Without modern surveillance systems, most countries couldn’t control rising crime.
Russia and Moscow were the worst, where underground anti-government factions took advantage of the blinded “eyes” from above! The military in many first-world countries had been rapidly deployed and tried to keep the peace, often to no avail.
London was ablaze in many areas, as looters and small-time criminals tried to increase their territory and wealth. Nightly curfews became the norm all over Europe.
China, with its authoritative control over the masses, fared the best. Within ten days of losing their new space station the fourth, fifth, and sixth units of the project were launched into space. Each part had been designed to “stand alone” in space, and the parts they had lost were already being replaced. They would require only a year or so to get operative.
The Chinese government had continually warned the U.S. that there would be retributions for the loss of their spacecraft and dozens of satellites, however, the new Washington just told them to shut up and deal with it. The U.S. was on a state of high alert due to the not-so-veiled threats issued by the second most powerful country in the world, but the new Washington thought themselves invincible…nothing could touch them!
After each launch Washington sent letters of disapproval to Beijing. In response, Beijing increased its threatening tone. Tom Ward and the CIA were made point agency to set up a scenario of possible retributions towards China. Tom Ward was not quite the right man for the job as he began to send them blunt warnings from Langley.
All this was happening while Ryan was in Cuba. His crew aboard America One looked down on earth with trepidation, watching and listening to everything going on. The new Chinese launches worried them the most. They only received one message from their friends still on earth.
Three weeks after the last shuttle arrived, a single sentence was transmitted on Ryan’s old rarely used radio channel, from a launch site in Russia: “There is a plan in the works to get your boss to safety.”
Nobody in the U.S. government mentioned Astermine while Ryan was in Cuba. It was as if he had never existed. Two weeks after the last launch, Joe Downs sent a cameraman to Ryan’s airfield to take some new footage for the documentary. The man returned in the helicopter stating that only the runway and white apron remained.
Every building had been dismantled and carted away. Apart from the cement apron, runway, and the odd mound of dirt, where it looked like searches were made, everything was gone. It looked as if Astermine had never existed. Gone were the miles of fencing, the above ground fuel tanks, and even the gates. The desert looked like nothing had ever been built there. Joe Downs stated that the only reason anybody could guess that something new had been there, was the bright white aircraft apron, and the 10,000-foot runway, still in perfect condition.
Joe knew that this documentary, being made for the ex-president, could make him famous. Also, his life and the life of everyone working on the project would be in danger if word leaked out. He had explained to his crew of five that certain death would occur if one word was mentioned; absolute secrecy was the only thing that would keep them safe. Only eight people, nine when Ryan watched it on his flight to London, knew about it until CBS stupidly advertised the special documentary twenty-four hours before it was to air.
Washington got wind of it and the New York offices of CBS were searched and trashed by the NSA. Several prominent CBS journalists were jailed to force them to surrender any information they had about the transmission location of the documentary. Since none of them actually had any knowledge about the show, they were able to convince the brutish G-men they were not privy to any information.
Then, the NSA went after the local CBS station in Las Vegas. They arrived in a force of hundreds only to find a neat and tidy, but empty news building. There was nobody around, and an APB went out nationwide searching for the Las Vegas crew, who were already in Canada. The news crew were sending out over 400 DVD copies, each with a backup of the documentary, to every one of the 200 plus CBS affiliates around the world. Joe Everson was in charge of getting his agents to personally deliver two copies to each station for the Sunday night viewing. Then, he got on the plane bound for Cuba with his last copy.
Hours before the documentary was to be aired, the Oval Office tried to close down CBS. The president went on air to warn viewers that CBS was now a banned organization, and that the CIA and NSA would be closing down every station. Court injunctions citing First Amendment rights to freedom of the press immediately stopped the action. In several parts of the country the local police surrounded the news stations to prevent their being entered by other government agencies.
The writing was already on the wall as to what the president was up to. The people weren’t stupid, and slowly the net closed in.
At 8:00 p.m. Eastern Time, the documentary began airing. With all the hype and orders out of Washington surrounding the 30-minute segment, CBS had its highest viewing numbers ever; over 95 percent of the country watched the hideous acts of the president and his men. Even the president himself was glued to a set in the Oval Office, shocked by how much Ryan and Astermine had caught, filmed, and recorded of his dealings over the previous year.
He ordered Air Force One to be made ready. He wanted to fly to safety, but he didn’t make it; Marine One never appeared to pick him up. He was left to stew in the Oval Office.
Chapter 2
Space is beautiful this time of year
“Ryan to America One, Ryan to America One, do you copy? Over,” asked the boss of Astermine in the Russian station’s space command center. He had given his radio frequency to the radio operator; only Ryan and his main crew knew the code. The equipment, the room, and the surroundings around him were grey, cold and uninviting.
“America One to Ryan, VIN here, glad to hear your voice boss. Everything on schedule up here. When are you coming to join us? Over.”
“Earth-Exit has their last liftoff from Russian soil tomorrow, exactly twenty hours from now. I suggest you monitor it and send SB-III and her crew to pick me up. The whole package is ours. Tell Suzi that she will have to deal with Russian chocolate and powered milk, and I will have 500 pounds of other luxuries with me. I don’t yet know if Martin is joining me, but I doubt it. There is too much going on down here on Earth.”
“Roger that,” replied VIN. “We are still monitoring everything going on down there. The documentary aired a short time ago. We managed to patch into a live feed from Miami over to Europe on the only European satellite they have left, and there are already fireworks, big time, going on in Washington.”
“I was given a copy of the documentary. Our friend Joe Downs did a fantastic job. I have a few cracked ribs, but the doctor says that I’m fit enough to make the launch. I will need help as I will be fully suited up with zero communications aboard their freighter. You guys have twenty-four hours from the time of the launch to get me to the ship; you are expected to liaise with me at an orbital altitude of 300,000 feet. Mr. Noble, get Mr. Jones moving, he will need time to fuel up and prepare to reach the lower orbit. The orbit will be exactly the same around Earth as all the other Earth-Exit launches from Plesetsk Cosmodrome, so input data from the last launches into the SB-III computers. Igor and Boris will know what to do. SB-III will have to leave within a couple of hours to reach me in time.”
“Roger that,” replied VIN. “We are already doing what is necessary and will have your ride ready. Oh! One thing Jonesy told me to ask you: If that passenger isn’t on board, could you fill his weight with some of that good vodka the Russians make?”
Ryan smiled. He already had a case of French champagne from London, a case of the best Scottish Single Malt, and he was sure that the Russians at Plesetsk Cosmodrome could come up with a case or two of Mr. Jones’ passion. For the half billion dollars he had paid Earth-Exit for the four Russian launches into space, including this last one, a few extras were easy pickings.
An hour later Martin called Plesetsk to say that he wasn’t coming, something about the ex-president needing him, and Ryan got ready for his ride into space. Not having Martin along gave him more time and space in the small, cramped two-seat area on top of the tiny supply vessel. It was a little larger than the first American capsules into space.
With limited media coverage around the world, and especially in rural areas of Russia, Ryan did not know what was going on in the USA, nor did he really care. What he did know was what Martin told him in his short telephone conversation: the CIA had finally found his New York bank account.
Only twenty-four hours earlier, Ryan had told Martin about the account as they left Cuba. When they reached London, Martin was paid what was owed him and an added amount for his troubles. Martin arranged for the transfer of Ryan’s New York balance minus one dollar to Earth-Exit’s account in Zurich, and then into Ryan’s own Swiss bank account. Over two billion dollars was saved.
Martin was happy to keep 10 percent, and Tom Ward was unhappy to find that Ryan had left him only one American dollar to confiscate and deposit into U.S. coffers. Also, all the bonus checks were paid out long ago, and Ryan felt relieved that he didn’t owe anybody any promised funds.
Thanks to Ryan, Martin Brusk was once again on his way to acquiring as much wealth as he had before the government had stolen his money.
The Russian ride was certainly far simpler than Ryan’s last launch aboard one of his own shuttles. He didn’t know if it was just because he was so weak, or if the rockets were that much more powerful, but he actually passed out from the pain and pressure to his ribs during the first few moments of launch.
He came around as the craft left the atmosphere and began its first orbit. Not having radio communications aboard the ship, he was totally helpless waiting for a long beautiful silver shape to catch up to him and, like in a James Bond movie, deposit the whole freighter into its cargo hold.
These freighters had been designed as unmanned transports. Yes, Martin Brusk had won the space race with the same sort of freighter months earlier, but that one had been upgraded over months for the flight. The Russians were told of possible human freight only a month earlier and nothing could be done to give the last freighter of its type any human-quality upgrades.
Ryan had one small porthole to look through, only four inches across. The porthole didn’t allow Ryan to see much going on outside. Nobody could tell him that SB-III was already closing in, 2,000 miles behind him and 100 miles higher. Jonesy needed only six hours to catch up to the lonely cargo, and he knew what liquid treasures could be inside.
This launch was the only chance Ryan had to reach space. The Chinese certainly weren’t interested in helping him, since he had refused their invitations to work together. NASA couldn’t even resupply the ISS, and had given up trying to keep the astronauts aboard alive. Ignoring urgent requests from the International Space Station to resupply them, Hal McNealy had easily struck a pencil line through the ISS project, and literally cut off all communications with the ISS. It was only six people and NASA and the president had far more important issues to deal with.
Unbeknownst to NASA, America One had already transferred cargo to the six poor astronauts now on death row. Asterspace III, with VIN and Suzi piloting, did not enter the ISS, but transferred life-saving food and water through the docking port. The ISS commander had begged the team to take them along. Everybody up there knew that the fate of the men had been sealed by Hal McNealy, and there was no chance Europe or Russia could supply them again before the crew died. But only Ryan could make that decision, and VIN and Suzi left, telling the international crew that once Ryan achieved space he would give the orders.
***
Ryan, alone and with no communications aboard the freighter, was feeling much the same way as the ISS crew were feeling, and that helped him make a decision.
***
“Captain Pete, we have Ryan in sight, we are 40 minutes ahead of schedule.”
“Roger that, Jonesy,” the captain of America One responded.
“Getting into my suit now,” stated VIN over the intercom from the rear of the cockpit. Maggie, the shuttle’s co-pilot, had turned to help him on with his helmet.
The three astronauts were thin and fit. Life aboard the growing, and still half developed America One was healthy and active. They were pale due to a lack of sunshine, but Suzi was working on a plan to rectify that. She and her team were working on sunlamps that furnished the correct sun rays so the crew could spend an hour every so often sunbathing and lying next to the pool.
Yes. A pool had been made in the top middle area of the living accommodations, and 360 gallons of water was part of the cargo below Ryan’s seat. VIN had seen a piece of the Chinese spaceship (it had Chinese writing on the side) float slowly past, mixed with other odd pieces of junk still hanging around. Suzi suggested that the round piece of aluminum looked like a round sauna, or an above ground swimming pool; that had given VIN and Fritz the idea to space walk out and get it. It could only be filled up once the ship was rotating and there was sufficient gravity to hold the water inside the up-side-down pool. A steel cover had to be screwed onto the pool if the rotations had to be stopped. Like everything else on the upper layer, everything was upside-down compared to the Bridge and the middle area of the ship.
At five to six feet across and four feet high, it was fairly easy to capture the piece of aluminum and bring it to the still open part of the accommodations area that had been damaged by the meteors; the build crew fitted it inside an accommodations cylinder before new cylinders were attached. Michael Pitt, Fritz, and Vitaliy and his team, sealed the pool into the cylinder upside-down. The spiders welded it to the ceiling of the cylinder and, with a few alterations, had it sealed and ready for filling when rotations would begin sometime in the future.
The final freighter due up from Russia was half full of rich Russian top soil. Suzi determined that they now would have enough, and that water could be the second best cargo with the soil.
Operation “Swimming Pool” was put into action and the Russians were happy to load the distilled water instead of the soil. Since it was only half the load, it wasn’t a last minute problem.
A heater was added to the inside of the inside step of the pool, and the pool project turned into a sauna/pool project. Suzi mentioned that Vitamin D would be a needed addition to the crew’s well-being, and suggested that the scientists develop natural sunlight to go with the swimming, or lounging experience.
The pool operation was ready for the water delivery and rotation, and Jonesy, aboard SB-III, was ready for the vodka delivery; but Captain Pete had ordered a dry ship until he received orders from Ryan.
Ryan forgot about time. He was sitting in a tiny area. The seat next to him was stacked with four cases of alcohol, two five-foot tall coffee bushes, their roots showing through the plastic bag, and two slightly smaller three-year-old cocoa trees with a bag of what Ryan was told were a dozen Earth midges, vital to pollinate the cocoa trees. He smiled at the small things humans deemed so important.
Down on Earth, he was now an extremely rich man. Hours before launch he had received a report from Zurich that several billion dollars had been deposited in his Swiss bank account from Amsterdam and Antwerp. A day earlier another billion had been deposited from Tel Aviv, and now his Earth value, in cash, was a little over ten billion dollars.
Deposits and payments from the deliveries of diamonds were more than his whole America One project had cost. He also realized that the money was totally useless to him, now in orbit around the planet. It meant absolutely nothing to him, and he wondered how long it would be in his account, before it too disappeared.
Also, if he arrived back to a vibrant, busy Earth society in a few decades, could he purchase a coke, or a beer, or even hydrogen gas for his shuttle with the money? Inflation would certainly play its part over a period of possible decades.
His dreaming was interrupted by a shadow falling over his small porthole, and a helmeted face peering through at him. He couldn’t see who it was, but hoped that the astronaut was friendly, and ready to take him home.
VIN enjoyed his first spacewalk for quite a while. Space was really nice at this time of year. He saw the cramped Ryan in a full spacesuit staring back at him, got a thumbs up, and then floated back to set up the shuttle arm to lift the round freighter into SB-III’s hold. There was more room for Ryan in the shuttle’s cockpit, but Captain Pete suggested that the freighter be entombed in SB III’s cargo hold. It was a faster turnaround, and any air in the freighter’s compartment was valuable enough to be reused in America One’s cubes. Air was rare up there!
Any light around Ryan’s freighter disappeared as the cargo doors closed, and he was left with only one inside light. He checked his suit’s oxygen gauges, still on three quarters, and since he couldn’t take off his helmet by himself, knew that Jonesy would make haste to the mother ship.
Ten hours later, and after travelling as fast as the shuttle could between two points in space, Ryan could again see stars through the small porthole, and he felt movement as the arm lifted the whole freight capsule up out of the hold. It positioned him above a docking port and Ryan undid his seat belt for the first time in twenty hours. He hadn’t moved the entire flight. He had a slimy food pouch and one small liquid juice pack he could take sips from inside his Russian helmet; the old-fashioned spacesuit allowed him the most basic necessities. The trip had been extremely long and uneventful.
Now it was his turn to aid in the docking. He checked over the plastic covered control pages in English, connecting the Russian names under the simple docking system. VIN lowered him so that Ryan could latch onto and attach the outer hatch to the same outer hatch aboard one of the cubes of America One. The Russian Soyuz hatches always worked well. Ryan waited for several seconds as the lights turned to orange inside the mid part of the hatch and stayed on orange. He re-read his orders and realized that the time had come to mix the air in the docking port with the air in the capsule. He pressed a button, heard nothing, but after a few seconds saw the two lights flicker and then slowly turn to green. He picked up the aluminum hammer he was supplied and opened his inner hatch. The lights stayed green. Then he floated into the docking port towards the outer hatch and banged on the hatch three times, as he was supposed to, with the hammer.
The Russians had sent this information up to America One, and Fritz Warner was waiting for him inside the cube. VIN couldn’t see anything from outside, as the docking port walls weren’t transparent.
“I heard three bangs with the hammer, VIN,” stated Fritz over the intercom. “Can you see, or verify anything?”
“Negative, except that the port is connected and stable. There are no lights out here, and I can’t see anything, other than that Ryan is in the port, and not in the capsule.”
“OK, we have the cube sealed off. It seems that these cheaper docking ports are all the same, and we have taken all needed precautions. The cube is empty of people except for me, and I am fully suited up. The gravity is off and I hope we don’t space blast all the plant life in here.”
“You should be able to tell if there is a malfunction with your internal docking port lights pretty quickly,” suggested VIN. “If they flicker and stay green, that’s OK.”
Fritz slowly unwound the opening device and opened the outer hatch an inch. The lights flickered, turned orange for a second, and he halted the opening. A second later they turned green, he opened the hatch and Ryan literally popped out of the tube and into his arms.
“I’ve got him, he’s alive and giving me the thumbs up. VIN I’m closing the port, just in case. There was a really powerful rush of what I believe was hot air when I opened it. The pressure in there was far greater than in the cube, just like the Russians told us. Ryan gushed out like a waterfall. The Russians were right; we did get some valuable supplies of rich Russian air. I just hope nobody farted down there when they loaded the air into the tanks. I’m floating Ryan to the catwalk, turning on the gravity and will open the cube door to take him to the Bridge.”
A second team of three men who were not wearing spacesuits entered as Fritz left to unload the vital supplies: soil in canisters, 360 gallons of water in canisters, 300 pounds of Russian chocolate, 300 pounds of Russian powdered milk, 200 pounds of the best Russian beef, 200 pounds of butter, 100 pounds of fresh Russian vegetables, the same of fresh fruit, again all in canisters. Also unloaded were canisters full of hundreds of plastic bags of seeds, frozen chicken, pig, beef and sheep sperm, several dozen Russian vegetable plants, and the five trees.
Then there was the carry-on luggage: a case of French champagne, single malt whiskey, two cases of vodka, and several small cases of caviar as a thank you gift. VIN and several others would enjoy the last item.
The last object was encased in a smallish 200-pound, two-inch thick lead case in a separate, external compartment for external delivery. Inside the case was five pounds of newly produced plutonium-238 for the reactor; this most expensive part of the supplies cost a cool 50 million dollars. Now the reactor would be twice as powerful, having ten pounds of plutonium fuel for all the needs America One would need for the next 87 years of travel.
Such were the final supplies the crew of America One might see for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 3
The Repercussions on Earth – Glad I’m not there!
The shock of the documentary lit up the remaining media sites worldwide. Coupled with the realization that life was not perfect for many in the good old USA, institutions and agencies prepared for attacks, invasions, or internal terrorism immediately reacted.
Within ten minutes of the start of the documentary, 500 FBI agents raided NSA headquarters in Fort Meade, Maryland. Since the agency depended primarily on electronic data sorting, it suffered more than any other government agency, bar the CIA, from the loss of sophisticated electronic satellite surveillance and information communications. Very few saw the expected interference to begin so quickly and they were not ready to repel intruders.
Less than a dozen people died at Fort Meade trying to halt the invasion on their sacred soil. In addition, the invaders received help from within. Only a few of the top staff at NSA were rotten apples, the rest were normal G-men doing their jobs. Several of the top positions were about to become available.
Joe Bishop still had a group of clever advisors to compensate for his inabilities. He learned of the Sunday night documentary a few days in advance of its airing and moved his center of operations to the new NSA research facility in Utah. There, 200 men from different agencies, including local USAF, marines and even several Seals, were flown in for the occasion to take over the much smaller, but heavily guarded facility.
FBI agents were as clever as those at NSA. Joe Everson and his large team planned for all possible movements in and out of the country. As the show was being aired, every one of the dozens of NSA sites nationwide was invaded at the same time by every FBI agent Joe could muster. Even so, he knew that the director of the NSA had escaped.
It was a bitter-sweet fight which lasted less than an hour. Because several of their most popular and most senior retirees had recently disappeared, the Air Force Special Operations team begged to be part of the operation. Several of their retired team mates were found alive in dirty cells several stories below ground. There were over 100 fatalities, mostly NSA agents.
CIA Director Tom Ward watched the documentary on the same Miami-London feed as the crew of America One. He was already in London, in the Savoy, smiling at the stupid commentary and thinking he and his loyal assistants were totally safe.
Tom Ward and the CIA did not know that Martin Brusk had stock in the very hotel he was hiding in. When Martin looked through the past days’ security footage to see if his and Ryan’s own arrivals had been compromised, he was shocked to see what looked like Tom Ward being escorted through a back entrance by a dozen heavily-armed G-men in long grey coats, and into several of their best rooms.
Martin was not pleased to see this guest at his hotel. He sent word, and ten hours later Joe Everson received a phone call from Canada. The FBI would be busy in the U.S., so Joe Everson called in favors with friends in several external agencies.
Nobody knows which “friends” were the first to get to the expensive suites after the documentary aired; it could have been teams from quite a few foreign agencies, or even countries. However, with the limited damage to the rooms themselves, Martin assumed that it was certainly a top team from a powerful country; one room had nearly an inch of blood swilling around. Thirteen men had been shot through the backs of their heads, or in the face. There was not one shot to lower parts of the bodies, which had Kevlar protection.
The Pentagon was harder to breach. General Mortimer had put it on full terrorist lockdown hours earlier. He warned the top staff of a possible terrorist plot to invade the building. Unfortunately, he could not prevent the documentary from being viewed in many offices, including the television he was watching in his suite of rooms. A thousand soldiers had been called in to defend this most important military building. However, word got out before the broadcast ended that something was amiss. When a convoy of a dozen military vehicles full of military police arrived an hour later, the defending troops allowed the military police to enter the building unhindered to arrest the Chief of Staff, who had already disappeared.
Members of Congress were easier to pick up. Police SWAT vehicles descended on seven large, expensive homes around Washington to apprehend members of government. One, Congressman Dickens, was found dead inside his Washington home, one gunshot to the head.
In the same way, five U.S. Senators were located and easily brought into police headquarters for questioning, most of them stating their diplomatic positions and claiming immunity.
The White House was left alone until the next morning. Several of the staffers had watched the program, and had mostly decided that the White House wasn’t the right place to be at this time in their lives; they disappeared through underground tunnels or back entrances to the security of their homes. Security personnel had been ordered to allow anybody to leave, except the president himself.
The president was angry. Where was Marine One? Why were there so few staff members to shout at? He could find only his Secret Service detail, his wife, and a couple of office staff. It was if the rats had deserted a sinking ship, and for the first time in his political career he felt that he wasn’t invincible.
“Find out why Marine One isn’t following orders!” he demanded of one of the Secret Service agents. When he tried to reach the security center the man was apprehended by several heavily armed military personnel dressed in combat gear, including dark camouflage cream.
One of the office staff was asked to follow another military officer dressed in full uniform, and she was led out of the building to a safe place.
By midnight, only five people remained in the White House, but over 500 armed military troops took position on the surrounding grounds. With nobody returning to answer his questions, the president gave orders for his three remaining armed Secret Service guards to shoot to kill anybody they saw in the hallways. He called his wife down from their private residence, and, just before midnight, turned on the large television, rising up from the floor in the Oval Office.
“…Breaking news from the Savoy in London…” stated an announcer the president had often seen in the Press Office. “…live reports from London say that a delegation of what the police believe are American businessmen were shot dead on one of the top floors of the Savoy Hotel. Police have confirmed that the dead bodies, all with no identification, were killed execution style. This is the worst mass murder London has seen in many years….”
The president watched with little interest until one of the bloody bodies being carried out of a room and into a busy police-filled corridor to be put into a body bag looked much like his new director of the CIA. He angrily picked up the phone and was told politely that no calls were being allowed out of the White House until further notice.
“Who the hell are you to disallow my phone calls?” the president shouted into the phone.
“Head of the White House grounds security attachment, Mr. President. I’m under orders not to allow any calls in or out of the White House until further notice.”
“Who is President of the United States of America? I am and I’m the one, the only one who gives orders around here. Now get General Mortimer at the Pentagon on the phone for me, or I will find you a quick retirement package!”
“Sorry, sir, orders from the vice president. He is now in command. The vice president instructed me to tell you if you called out, that you are now under house arrest, the same house arrest you ordered for the ex-president, and that you should be ashamed at what you hid from him. You will be getting your first visitors in the morning.”
The president threw down the phone and shouted at two of his Secret Service agents to go and find somebody to get Mortimer on the line. They never returned.
Then there were three. The last Secret Service agent’s communicator buzzed in his ear; it was military personnel outside telling him for the umpteenth time to get out of there. Unfortunately, he took his job, protecting the president, seriously, and decided to barricade the Oval Office and keep the first couple safe. It was the only thing he had been correctly taught to do, and it would cost him his life when the Oval Office was stormed.
Chapter 4
AMERICA ONE powers up
The 51 humans aboard America One high above didn’t know much about what was happening down on Earth, nor did they really want to know. The Bridge had the most sophisticated communications aboard, and at the ship’s altitude, they were in the best position to tune into radio chatter, and media communications. Unfortunately, nobody was really interested; their boss had joined them, and it was time to celebrate.
Fritz helped Ryan exit the cube through the sliding door to the elevator which would take them, still fully suited up, to the Bridge just above them. Waiting in the Bridge were Kathy, Suzi, Captain Pete, Allen, Igor and his first Russian friend, Boris. There was not enough room for the whole crew in the Bridge, and this first welcoming committee helped him out of his suit and then got him to the cafeteria on the upper level—the largest area aboard ship—where there was room for everyone to gather.
Kathy hugged him, which made him wince, and kissed him hard once his helmet was removed by Suzi. Suzi was next. Everybody was happy to see him, but realizing that he was injured, the others shook their boss’s hand.
“Captain Pete, everything OK?” Ryan asked, shaking his captain’s hand.
“Clean and shipshape,” was the reply.
“And in your department, Igor?” Ryan asked shaking the next man’s hand.
“Da, as you would like it, Ryan,” the Russian replied.
As he was helped out of his suit, the crew around him filled him in.
“All the cubes are on schedule with plant and animal life. The chickens and rabbits are showing a little fatigue without full gravity, but we should have the extra gravity with the ship’s rotation in a month or so,” Suzi told him.
“All ship communications are online. There seems to be political problems in America since last night. Do you want a report?” asked Boris.
“Negative. I’m sure that my glasses, the ones you designed for me several years ago, gave the ex-president’s men what was needed. I saw the footage on the flight over to London; it was clear, loud, and crisp. I didn’t know that the lenses were so good. I could never see the camera lenses on the frame.”
“Your glasses had cameras in those thick black-rimmed frames all the time?” asked Allen Saunders, it was his turn to shake Ryan’s hand.
“Yes, my backup pair. Let me sit down, get these boots off, get some metal shoes on, and I’ll tell everybody something only Igor, Boris and I know. You guys all know me by now; I’m still a bit of a systems nut.” Ryan sat in one of the captain’s chairs, resting while Boris and Igor helped him off with the rest of his suit. Like all astronauts, Ryan wore a tee-shirt, underpants, and a thin pair of cotton shorts under his suit.
“Years ago, my core team was playing around; they always joked about my thick-rimmed glasses while we were in California. I loved those rims; my mother actually got them for me while I was still a kid, a story I will tell you about one day. Anyway, these rims were new in those days, extra strong ones with metal reinforcement. She spent a fortune so that they would never be broken again while I was at school. Anyway to cut a long story short, Igor and Boris told me about modern Russian spyware in the 80s, when James Bond was so popular. They bet me that they could get an exact pair made for me that could hold a full microphone, a recording devise, and very small but powerful camera lenses that could record real video, very new in those days. Well, several months later I picked up my glasses one morning and unbeknownst to me, I walked around trying to figure out why these dumb Russians I had hired, my best friends, were acting like monkeys wherever I went.
“Only after a full day’s work, did they tell me that I wasn’t wearing the glasses I had worn for the last couple of decades. Remember, I was only in my late twenties when this prank happened. Anyway, they gave me back my real glasses and over drinks they showed me nine hours of recording; my whole day speeded up into thirty minutes! It was wonderful what these glasses could do. It was as if I had a high-quality video camera and went around that whole day recording my life. We all forgot about the glasses until the airfield opened, and I wanted to record certain meetings. I often used them as backups when my real glasses needed adjustment. Thanks to Boris and Igor, this old joke on me recorded everything I wanted to make public about Bishop, Ward, Mortimer, and the president.”
“I hope your dealings with me and my body are safe and not recorded,” said Kathy, smiling sweetly. Kathy had disappeared from the Bridge and just returned with a new pilot’s flight suit. The suit was navy blue and had the logo of “AMERICA ONE” in large letters on the right breast. “You had better not have any sexy videos of me! You might be really perverted, and want to show human mating rituals to foreign life forms out there on other planets.” The crew laughed. “Love, a gift from your Air Force girls,” she said to Ryan handing him the flight suit, and kissing him on the cheek, again to much laughter.
He blushed, stating that only shouting matches, not sexual acts had been recorded.
“We pooled some cash a few months ago before the Internet went down and ordered some of these from the navy store in Norfolk. We thought blue would work on the Bridge better than air force green, which of course we would have got for you if we were on a flight deck. You have half a dozen blue ones, we ex-air force crew members have our old green ones, VIN and Fritz have a couple of new camouflage flight suits, the build-team crews have brown, and the civilians and scientists are all in white flight suits, as we have always seen them. Captain Pete here, as you can see, has red for being captain of the ship, and we girls only wash clothes once a month.”
Ryan thanked everybody for the gifts. He hadn’t thought about what to wear once permanently aboard, and was thankful that this problem was already sorted out. Now dressed in his new suit, and wearing metal slip-ons over socks so that he could walk, he looked around the Bridge.
It looked complete, tidy and ready for action. Maggie, VIN, and Jonesy came in to greet them having doffed their suits. He winced again at Maggie’s hug and now everyone realized that he was still injured; he might need a visit to the medical cylinder which was ready for its first patient.
“You’re looking a little thin, Ryan. Didn’t they feed you down there on Earth?” asked Jonesy, being his usual direct self.
“The prisoners were not fed three meals a day, Mr. Jones. Thanks for asking. Some days not even one,” replied Ryan. When his crew heard that he had vacationed in Cuba, they were all shocked.
Since all the elevators to the mid and accommodation levels above them could hold only three people at a time, the crew members went up slowly while Ryan was given a tour of the Bridge by Captain Pete and VIN. VIN, Ryan noticed, looked pretty dapper in his camouflage flight suit, and he had even found lieutenant shoulder pips somewhere, proudly displaying his old marine rank; he even had the ribbons of his medals on his suit. Ryan suddenly realized that a lot had gone on behind the scenes at the airfield towards the end, and somehow personal items were shipped up without his knowledge.
“VIN, how did everybody get all these belongings in? These flight suits and your Force Recon medals weren’t with you when you arrived at the airfield.”
“Pretty easy,” smiled VIN, the cat now out of the bag. “Once you explained to us that we could all be coming back one day, we got together while you were so busy. We did a deal with Lieutenant Walls, then the air force guy, my Sergeant friend who helped us at Creech. We all got packages of personal things that we wanted to take delivered to the airfield during the last few weeks.”
“What did Walls have to do with it?” Ryan asked enjoying the view from space for the first time from his ship’s Bridge. Besides a bright Earth and the moon away to the right of the large window, there wasn’t much else to look at, except millions of bright stars in the Milky Way around them.
“Lieutenant Walls took his job seriously. He agreed that we could get a few personal parcels sent in, as long as he and the guards could go through them and check every item delivered by the USPS. He was quite shocked when he saw my uniform and ribbons. He didn’t know that I had two Stars and three Purple Hearts, and actually saluted me out of respect, even though we used to be the same rank.”
“Sounds secure to me. How did you get everything up here?”
“Over the last several launches,” continued VIN. “By the time the dozen of us had accumulated everything we wanted or had ordered the weight was a little over 300 pounds; so we divided it by ten flights and the shuttles didn’t notice the 30-odd pounds of extra weight here and there.”
Ryan looked at VIN smiling. “I’m lucky you guys thought out these things. I never had time. Why did your items weigh so much?”
“Jonesy’s two cases of vodka, and I slipped in a case of Jack; they alone were 30 pounds apiece,” VIN replied smiling.
‘I should have known,” replied the boss. Ryan was happy just to have the stress of the launches over, and VIN thought his boss seemed far more relaxed than he had seen him for a long time.
“Time to visit the rest of your crew, I will stay here while the captain shows you the weirdest journey of all, and takes you up,” VIN added. Captain Pete, leading the way off the Bridge, was smiling at what Ryan was about to master.
Captain Pete entered the elevator first, then a second crew member. Ryan was told to walk into the elevator. The elevator was completely square, an equal seven feet in all directions, with three thick magnetic strips going around the four walls. Captain Pete and the second man took hold of Ryan’s upper arms and continued walking. They each placed one foot onto the wall, showed Ryan how, and walked up the wall until they were literally standing upside down inside of the elevator on the ceiling. Then Captain Pete pushed the button for the upper level.
Going up to the upper level in the elevator was the weirdest sensation of all. The reason was that everybody in the mid and upper levels walked upside down on metal carpets on the ceiling of the cylinders. In the middle of the craft they walked the normal way, right side up on the floor. Magnetic shoes had to be worn or one would float around. There was still no gravity since the rotations hadn’t started.
“Oh my God!” stammered Ryan looking out of the elevator at others standing around outside—upside down like he was—and smiling, knowing full well what he was going through. They had all learned the routine.
Ryan looked around him. Once the doors shut out the people outside the elevator who were standing upside down at the bottom level, his brain began to feel better. He remembered the team that designed the elevators decided to install two panels of buttons: one set at the “bottom” right side up and the other at the “top” upside down.
His brain was still in turmoil as he was helped out of the elevator, and he mentally retraced his steps to get some form of clarity. He had actually “descended” to the upper level; his brain made him feel that he was actually standing upright and when the doors opened at that level, everybody was standing upside down like he was, and looked the right way up. He smiled; that was sure the most interesting ride in his life. It had been far easier floating around in the empty cubes before they had put down the metallic strips.
The rest of the crew had set up a welcoming party in the upside-down magnetic and gravity-filled cafeteria cylinder. They stood on the ceiling above the outer wall and applauded their boss as he was ushered in. The cylinder now resembled an old-fashioned small-town milkshake parlor with a bar and ten red topped bar stools along one side, and ten four-seat tables along the other. It accommodated 50 people and even had the same old-fashioned coke ads on the wall, taken from the restaurant on the airfield. Ryan was surprised to see several portholes along the sides of the cylinder walls, making the cafeteria look more like the inside of an old aircraft.
“I thought we designed this cylinder without windows. I remember all of you scientists said that it wouldn’t be fun to eat while watching oneself rotate?”
“Unfortunately,” replied Suzi, “the original cafeteria was struck by the third meteor hit; luckily this equipment hadn’t been installed yet. We have had to make do with another accommodation cylinder with windows, but some of the guys are designing window covers down in the machine room on the mid-level.”
Ryan noticed that there was even chocolate cake and coffee especially made for the occasion, and he thanked all his crew for his welcome. Over a large slice of the first space-made extremely light—it wanted to literally float off his plate—slice of chocolate cake, (which tasted as good as it did on Earth), he commended his crew on a job well done, and told them about his three-week stay in Cuba. Then he had to ask why Suzi and Mr. Rose had made him travel into space with midges.
“Well,” started Mr. Rose, “we decided that it wouldn’t be a big problem to add a few extra trees, and the midges are needed to pollinate these cocoa trees. It was a sort of last minute decision on my part,” he added playing with his glasses, something he always did when speaking. “I did an Internet search before it went down, and realized that all I needed was a section of mosquito netting in one small corner of our tropical cube to be able to add cocoa and coffee, and the midges, to our space menus.
“I found a company in Malawi, Africa that could supply the young coffee and cocoa plants, as well as the midges. It cost me to get the order airlifted from that area of Africa into London and then a special cargo company flew the order into Plesetsk. Igor found out that the Russians could increase the capsule’s inner cockpit temperature to topical temperatures for the time needed to get up here and, because you were wearing a full suit, you wouldn’t notice the 20 degree temperature rise.”
“It was a great idea. And don’t ask what it cost Mr. Rose to get the plants into Plesetsk,” added Suzi. “I can tell you that within a few weeks of our coffee and chocolate stocks being kaput, we will have our new supplies, and these plants can last 50 to 70 years before they die.”
The party continued. Suzi took VIN his slice of cake while Ryan found out that since Mr. Rose wasn’t expecting to return to Earth for quite a while, he was happy to invest much of his own savings into luxuries he especially enjoyed. Most agreed that fresh coffee and chocolate would become real luxuries sometime in the future.
Fritz added that he had found a design for an infra-red five-pound coffee roaster on the Internet, and was now using broken metals floating around in space to build a one-of-a-kind, infra-red space coffee roaster.
Ryan was shocked by how well his crew were already adapting to their future lives in space. Looking around at them, he noticed that some of the ladies were beginning to show baby bumps, and Doctor Rogers immediately said that he would bring the boss up to date on the health of the crew, right after he followed him to his place of business for a checkup, one level down. This time Ryan didn’t need to walk around the elevator.
The doctor thoroughly examined him. Feeling Ryan’s ribs, he told him that it would still take a couple of weeks for the pain to go away, and that exercise would be limited to walking on the treadmill in the exercise cylinder until the ribs had healed.
With an up-to-date report on his crew’s health, and a report on his own health, Ryan headed back to the Bridge alone, navigating the walls and ceiling, which, as the doors opened onto the lowest level, was the floor.
With his brain still getting used to this new phenomenon, he was at a loss at what to do next and needed to think. Ryan had spent so much time, energy, and thought on how to complete his project and outwit the government, that he had thought little about actually being in space. So he decided to have a meeting with all the department heads in the Bridge to figure out what life in space was all about. He gave Igor orders to collect Fritz, Captain Pete, Suzi, Boris, Martha Von Zimmer, Jonesy and VIN to meet him on the Bridge in half an hour.
Captain Pete and VIN were already there when the round door to the Bridge swished open. Much like Captain Kirk had done in the first season of Star Trek when Ryan was a kid; he walked onto his own Bridge and suddenly felt like he was in a television drama.
“Wow, that ‘swish’ brought back memories,” he stated as he stopped and looked around.
“Star Trek, 1970s, Kirk, Solo, and that guy with the pointy ears, Spock?” suggested Captain Pete. “I got the same feeling when I arrived up here. It took days for me to get used to the swish of the automatic door.”
“Exactly!” replied Ryan.
“I’m sure I’m too young for this reminiscing,” VIN interjected. Both men looked at the much younger man and smiled. He was, after all, just a kid!
“I’m at a total loss how to lead this next part of our lives,” Ryan began when everybody was on the Bridge. “I know that we have ideas and plans in place for our travels, but to be honest, I haven’t thought past this point for a couple of years now. Boris, Igor, bring me up to date on our next move.”
“Boris, Suzi and I have updated our programs throughout the time we have been up here,” Igor replied. “Remember our meetings years ago on which planets to visit?” Ryan nodded. “Well, since we have designed more modern hydrogen pulse engines, larger ion drives, and we have the extra five pounds of 238—which we didn’t know would actually arrive until it got here—we now have the entire Solar System at our disposal. Suzi and I have had three meetings with Martha, and we have selected several places we can travel to over the next couple of decades to search for a new home. Our first ideas, once we are ready to leave Earth’s orbit, is to try the closest planet, our own moon, and then set a course to Mars to check out the ice caps there, and see if we can find water.”
“My next suggestion, after Mars,” continued Martha Von Zimmer, “is to visit four of the moons around Jupiter: Io, Callisto, Europa and Ganymede. Finally, Titan and Enceladus, orbiting Saturn, could replenish our water stocks and be the furthest distance we need to travel on our twenty-year journey. Scientists on Earth already know that we will find all the gases we need to refuel our tanks, and there are other interesting places to visit around Saturn if we get bored.”
“Mars, Saturn, I really like those names,” said Suzi to nobody in particular.
“What about our ideas about trying to establish an underground livable cavern on Mars? It is, after all, our closest, and probably the most ideal planet to explore living possibilities,” continued Ryan looking at Suzi with a questioning look.
“We all agree on that,” said Boris. “Our latest meetings were about the possibility of a shorter journey than twenty or thirty years. It will take America One less than a week to ten days to reach the moon. My bet is that on the moon we find nothing other than diamonds all over the place. Let’s say we get there, find the rest of the diamonds from DX2014, collect them, search on the surface for any signs of under-surface gases, and come up empty handed. To change the subject slightly, and to bring you up-to-date on our laser digging machines for Mars, it seems that placing new lenses, cut and polished from the pure flawless space diamonds, into the barrel of the lasers, we can increase our range, accuracy and power of these mining units to dig deeper, faster, and with less reactor drainage than previously thought. We did not bring one of those diamonds with us, so that is a good reason to go and see if we can find any on the surface of the moon first.”
“How did you get to that reasoning?” Ryan asked.
“Do you remember Professor Ivan Brezhnev? You met him a decade or so ago when you and I attended a lecture of his at MIT. He gave a lecture on ‘Future Laser Accuracy and Development’.” Ryan nodded. “We used his ideas to partly design our own lasers.” Ryan nodded again. “Just before the Internet went down, he had released a paper on pure space diamonds and their potential. It seems that he managed to get his hands on one of our diamonds, from Europe, cut it into a couple of lenses, and performed some preliminary tests with it. The information was vague, but it suggested that the dozen laser lenses could be replaced by one perfectly cut three-inch diamond lens.”
“Those German Zeiss lenses were some of the most expensive parts of our lasers,” Ryan responded.
“Well, to anybody else, the diamonds are far more expensive than the lenses, but to us, they are free,” Boris suggested.
“I get where you are going, and also since the Internet is defunct, then Professor Brezhnev and we could be the only people privy to this new information for some time to come?” Boris nodded.
For the next several minutes, each planet or moon suggested by Martha was discussed.
“Our next problem is the ISS,” stated Captain Pete as fresh coffee was ordered. Ryan mulled over Mr. Rose’s investment of coffee trees, and mentally thanked him for the idea. “VIN and Suzi took them life-saving supplies two weeks ago. It seems that NASA will not be able to get supplies up to them.”
“Nor will the Russians, or the Europeans,” added Igor. “We have used up all their freight capsules, although I did hear that the Europeans might have one more eight-ton freighter, or freight capsule as they call it, the one they stopped manufacture on a year ago, but would continue if somebody paid them. Unfortunately the ISS crew would have been dead a month or two by the time they could launch it. They have a rocket ready, but the freighter will take two months to complete, plus the Europeans just lost their space navigation satellite and have only two communications satellites remaining.”
“So, if we don’t supply them, the astronauts aboard the ISS are as good as dead?” Ryan asked. “Have the Chinese launched any more of their space station?”
“Da, Ryan,” replied Igor. “Three launches took place from Base 10, the Jiuquan Launch Facility at Dongfeng Aerospace City while you were in prison. All of these latest space station launches have taken place at Jiuquan. I got word from a friend who helped develop parts for their new station; he was part of a team of mostly ex-Russian scientists at the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan. I didn’t tell my friend where I was, except to say that I was not working for NASA, or he wouldn’t have given me any gossip. I believe he thinks I’m still in Nevada, or maybe in Europe. But, it seems that these parts, their most important designs, were to do with laser development.”
“What sort of laser development? As modern as ours?” asked Ryan.
“No, I don’t believe that their mastery of lasers is anything like what Boris, Fritz and I worked on. Much of our development was interlinked with the latest German technology. They wouldn’t have had that added benefit, and why would the Chinese go for Russian assistance if they had better designs themselves? No, Baikonur’s latest laser designs, I believe were the ones copied from Boeing in Seattle, and maybe modified to be little more accurate and powerful. They wouldn’t have had the opportunities for plutonium-powered technology. I don’t believe there was enough Russian plutonium available at the time. You yourself had all the inside reaches in Russia as to what could be purchased.”
“At worst?” asked Ryan of Igor.
“At worst, I think they might have a pound, maybe more of Chinese plutonium. The Russians knew that they would get a better price from you. If they have two pounds of plutonium-238, they could increase their laser range to about 500 miles.”
“Couldn’t the Chinese have more plutonium?” Ryan asked.
“No, they were not known for plutonium production. Like you, they purchased everything they have from Moscow,” Igor replied.
“It is all to do with our top secret research and our focus over the last decade to finally get a laser that uses plutonium as fuel,” Boris added. “Sure, many other Russian and American scientists have tried to design plutonium-powered lasers, but only we finally mastered it, and only very recently; and, none of us have had any communications with others outside the airfield. So, if we had a traitor in our midst, which would be any of the dozen scientists who worked on the project, they have had only a month to send the information on. There was no way any of the laser team could have ever spoken to anybody from inside the sealed plastic design and manufacture area. Also, nobody in the team typically knew what anyone else was working on. Each was assigned his own little piece of the puzzle to work on. Only Igor and I were out of there, and we kept our ears open around the hangar. In addition, hours after the lasers were completely tested, they ended up here in space. Only Igor, Fritz and I know every single part of the complicated 20,000-page laser design; nobody else does.”
“At worst?” asked Ryan again.
“At worst, I believe that the Chinese space station currently orbiting Earth has the same laser system that is in the American C-130; twenty, maybe fifty miles with limited accuracy. They also don’t have our accurate aiming devices. I would bet that their devices are also American, or even Russian.”
“So we need to keep an eye out for the Chinese. They are pretty close, currently 150 miles below us and their current orbit doesn’t get within a 100 miles of us. However, I noticed something yesterday,” advised Captain Pete. “They are orbiting higher and higher very slowly. I got this very weird Spock-like feeling that the Klingons might attack the ISS. Their orbits are changing slightly every day. NASA certainly pissed them off enough to take revenge, and maybe enough to invade international ‘soil’ in space and take over the ISS as payment for what they lost.”
“Is the ISS of any value to us in any way?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, most certainly,” answered Martha. “Currently Petra Bloem, Professor Petra Bloem, is aboard. She is acknowledged as Germany’s top expert educated in astrophysics and astrobiology; better than anybody here. I know her well, so does Suzi, and I would love to work with her. Also she has spent over ten years studying future human habitation of Mars, Titan and Callisto, planets we might visit.”
“Also Doctor Nancy Martin, Director of Micro-neurosurgery at John Hopkins,” Suzi added. “She was launched up there a few months ago, and is conducting surgical experiments. I’m sure the medical unit would benefit from her knowledge.”
“Commander Jack Philips, one of only two males aboard, is one of the best space pilots in the world. He would sure be a loss to the world of space travel if he was just left there,” added Captain Pete. “I served with him at NASA years go. And Cosmonaut Popov, the other male astronaut is one of the best of theirs,” he continued, looking at Igor and Boris, who both nodded.
“Who are the other two newbies aboard?”
“Two Chinese female professors of biology,” continued Captain Pete.
As far as the ISS was concerned, Captain Pete was the most knowledgeable crewmember. He was one of the first to visit the ship years earlier while he was still employed by NASA.
“They are the first Chinese ever invited aboard. As you know, the Chinese showed interest in joining the ISS group of countries in 2010. In 2013 they were allowed to have their first two visitors, who arrived with Dr. Nancy Martin on the most recent crew-turnover launch out of Plesetsk. The offer of joining the ISS program was sent by NASA days before Bill Withers left. Hal McNealy stupidly rescinded the offer on his second day in office, a day after the two professors had left for space. Stupid move!”
“One of the two ladies is a world-renown expert in the field of space biology,” added Suzi. “I attended a couple of her lectures in Europe years ago and I know her well. The other, I never heard of before she left for space.”
“Maybe that’s why the Chinese space station will soon gain enough altitude to take over the ISS,” added Captain Pete. “I think that any craft in space, especially the ISS with all its modern research equipment, is worth salvaging; and since NASA is the major shareholder and has signed the ship’s, or at least the crew’s, death warrant, then the first one there, gets the right of salvage.” Everybody nodded.
“Maybe that’s why the Chinese are launching so fast?” added Jonesy. “Surely, they will think it retaliation for what they lost, and they won’t be happy with us if we get there first.”
“Remember, the Chinese astronauts are new to space,” added Captain Pete. “The ISS is currently at an altitude they haven’t trained for. When we supplied them, VIN was not allowed to enter, but gave the commander a message from me that they should climb to a 400-mile altitude, which has the least debris. When they did so, they inadvertently flew the station higher than the Chinese astronauts, were probably trained for, and that put them out of their safety zone trying to dock with it.
“Did you meet the crew, Mr. Noble?” Ryan asked.
“Negative, we were not allowed into the ISS. It was rather weird. When we got into radio range, both astronauts didn’t really want to talk to us, except to say thank you for the supplies.”
“We were not invited in. All we did was float the supplies through the docking port,” added Suzi. “We tried to chat while we were in range, they seemed friendly enough. I think something is going on in the ISS.”
“OK, let’s go and get them. We can always transfer the two Chinese ladies to their space station with one of our shuttles if the Chinese wish,” Ryan decided. “And we can dock the ISS to Ivan, or vice versa. America One is going to start looking really ugly with all these hangers on. Captain Pete, set course for the ISS. The Chinese space invaders are beginning to worry me. Do we have any actual weapons aboard to repel boarders? I never thought of needing any.”
Everybody looked around, waiting for someone else to go first. “Crew, we need to be truthful up here. My main reasoning for my dream was to get away from lies, greed, and shallow Earth thinking. Now you guys are bringing these diseases on board. Let’s make a deal right here and now: while in space it is pure teamwork, no lies, no hidden agendas, and no bullshit.”
Slowly everybody nodded and slowly the weapons tally was listed.
“I brought up my old Marine Glock. I know it was a stupid idea, as any bullet holes could be the end of us, but it was only a keepsake,” VIN volunteered.
“How many rounds?” asked Ryan.
“Twenty rounds; it was all I had at the time,” VIN responded.
“Pepper spray, no girl should be without it,” Maggie contributed.
“Me, too,” stated Suzi.
“Nothing,” said Jonesy. He did speak up for his friend who had headed off to the bathroom. “Although, Allen Saunders told me that he brought one pistol he dearly loved, an old revolver; a Magnum long barrel 44. He has six rounds in the chambers, no more.”
“Igor, Fritz and Boris all looked guilty, and once Captain Pete stated that he was clean, as were Martha and the rest, it was their turn. Everybody noticed their serious faces and all eyes turned to them, as the coffee arrived.
“Fritz and I, when we met a few years ago, found out that we both had the same interest in laser technology,” began Boris sheepishly. Fritz showed me my first Taser gun. He had purchased one of the latest models just before he arrived at the airfield. I had never seen one close up before. We took it apart and over months played with it. This was one of the models that didn’t shoot out a dart, but sent an electrical current into the body, shocking the muscles.”
“Don’t tell me, you guys have a Picatinny Arsenal Electrolaser from New Jersey?” Ryan asked.
“What the hell is an Electrolaser?” both VIN and Jonesy asked.
“No,” replied Boris shocked at what Ryan actually knew.
“Unfortunately we have something better, far better than theirs, but our ideas came from Russian friends sneaking peeks at what Picatinney were developing for the military,” added Igor. “I got involved once Boris and Fritz told me about their new hobby. The Taser system fascinated me, and since I was working on our laser project at the time, it gave me ideas. It was just a fun extra project and we only really got this new weapon of ours to work a few weeks before the second laser was launched.”
Warily and with everyone else looking on in wonderment, Igor continued. “Our design works the same as the latest Picatinny designs, except our laser beam spreads 360 degrees around the weapon and will shock everybody in an enclosed room within about 30 feet of the weapon going off, like a mini-neutron blast.”
“Including the weapon holder?” asked VIN, shocked.
“No, he is grounded to the actual weapon like a grounding wire, in a way that he and the weapon are one, and the weapon doesn’t affect the holder, just any other wet dense animal matter around it.”
So it is an EMP device?” asked Ryan.
“Sort of more mini-neutron device, it doesn’t affect metal, or any electrical objects, only soft wet body matter,” added Boris getting excited. “It is quite amazing; it doesn’t kill, not even at full power. It just paralyzes muscles like a Taser, and forces every creature, including birds—and funny enough, flies—to fall to the ground.”
“How long does the shock last?” asked Ryan unprepared to learn what his team had achieved behind his back.
“On half power, 10 seconds, on full power about 20 seconds before the victim can begin to move and, my own ‘Plasma Gun’ I call it, is the same as Igor’s and Fritz’s.”
“So you have three of these so-called Plasma Guns, Igor?” VIN interrupted.
“Yes, we tested them just before we left. We tested them again on each other in one of the empty accommodation cylinders once we all got up here. They hurt like hell and your muscles just go limp. You can’t talk, breathe, open your mouth, even stand. Your whole body just drops as if you’ve been shot by a normal Taser, except that everybody in the room drops, even any people standing behind, below or even above you. The Plasma Guns do not work in space. Fritz suited up and tried it out there on half power, and he went totally limp in his space suit, a sort of reverse shock. He was aiming it at Boris, who was ten feet away, but the target didn’t react, and Fritz didn’t want to try it again.”
Everyone was silent. Ryan didn’t know what to say, but how could he ever stop his scientists from inventing new things or modifying old ones? It was in their blood. Now Ryan’s team consisted of not only the best and most talented, but also the most dangerous group of people in the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” was the only question Ryan could summon.
“You were in a foul mood towards the end, and we didn’t want you to get even angrier. You might have tried it out on Bishop or Mortimer, or even the president. We knew that the time would come to tell you, and that time is now.”
“Since I’m head of security up here, I’m more interested in the weapon itself,” interjected VIN. “How long does it remain powered up? Does it need to be charged?”
“Yes,” replied Boris, glad to have the story finally out. “It can be fired once only on one of the two power settings. It is a thirsty weapon, and needs eight hours to recharge after that. Think of it as an electric car’s lithium batteries being used up in a millisecond all at once. Our total Plasma Gun arsenal of three weapons can each fire once every eight hours. Not a very good defense model.”
“But excellent as an attack weapon,” suggested VIN. “Enter a room and everybody drops, helpless. The Seals would have fallen in love with it immediately. I could have saved lives back in Iraq with it. Can all weapons be fired together? What would happen if there are three guys holding three weapons in a warehouse, and they all fire at the same time?”
“We don’t know, but since each of the men is sort of grounded to a weapon, I believe that they might feel the pulse from another weapon, but it won’t send them to the ground. Maybe it will feel like a shock from an electric fence or something. We hadn’t got that far in testing yet.”
“Does the shock go through walls?” VIN asked.
“Sheet rock and wood, yes, but we did one test through a hangar wall, when we were testing the laser on the runway, and it seems that any sealed, metal enclosed room contains the shock; a metal table or a computer bank won’t. The pulse goes around any corners up to about 30 feet.”
“So if there is one door open in a metal room, like the round one coming into the Bridge, then people in range in the corridor will be affected?”
“Yes,” replied Boris. “Even if there is a small opening, the blast directs itself through it. The room must be totally secure to prevent the pulse from going further.”
“Well, we can now arm ourselves and defend against boarders,” Ryan commented. “I suppose it’s too late to do any more tests. Hell, guys, we are here, we have something to defend ourselves with and, I suppose, everything is fair in love and war. Maybe I was not thinking about defense once we got up here. Who, apart from extraterrestrials would be in a position to attack us a million miles from Earth?” Igor and Boris were relieved that their secret was now out.
“It could help us if there is a hostage situation aboard the ISS,” suggested Captain Pete, dialing in new directional changes on his computer console.
“I was just thinking of that. Any more surprises?” Ryan asked. There were none.
It was an interesting meeting. Jonesy, VIN and Boris were to prepare to fly over to the ISS in SB-III within twelve hours. All three would be armed with the new weapons.
He hadn’t yet set foot in the accommodations cylinder. Ryan was beginning to understand that in space, it didn’t matter in which direction they stood, it depended on where the magnets were, until the rotation began. This new way of life was mind blowing, just as it had been to each one of the crew trying to get used to this new life in space.
America One had been designed so that the Bridge cylinder was in front and bonded just in front of the upper roof corner of Cube One. When the space station rotated, the Bridge was separate and remained stationary. Opposite of a radar device turning above a ship, in this design the radar would be the part that was still, and the ship would turn around the radar. The door between the Bridge and the outer corridor could only open when they were exactly aligned, once every 30 seconds.
The round door swished open into a second long cylinder with a corridor heading towards the rear of the ship behind the tube elevator in the middle. There were three elevators exiting up the cylinders in three directions: the second set of three exited out of Cube Four and the third set out of Cube Seven. All the elevators began in the middle of the cubes they were built into.
It was a simple and easy design to get about the ship as more than one elevator could be used in any direction at the same time by just walking to the next set.
It was time for Ryan to see his and Kathy’s accommodations. He and Kathy laughed through the elevator trick on their way to the accommodations cylinder. Theirs was the first “door in the floor” out of the elevator. There was an aluminum railing next to the door to help the occupants step onto a spiral staircase when the door slid open. There were three railings leading to three apartments in this cylinder. The 40-foot cylinder corridor had a closed door at the other end. He was actually surprised to find his apartment so spacious.
“We have the Owner’s State Rooms, twice as spacious as the other family apartments,” Kathy explained. “I suppose you designed all this?” she asked, walking down the spiral staircase to the first apartment level.
“Actually,” replied Ryan, “I didn’t take any real interest in the final accommodation designs; I got too busy in company survival mode, and let Captain Pete, Vitaliy, Fritz Warner, Suzi, and their teams complete the corridor-level projects. This is all new to me, and exciting.”
“We each have a chip implanted in our right forefinger; the doc will insert yours tomorrow. Kathy placed her thumb over a small screen next to the staircase, which like any hotel room, turned green and the door slid shut. He had seen her do the same on the wall above the outer door.
Ryan followed her, and she verbally ordered the door to open and then told it to close from the first level below.
“As you know, this apartment has two levels,” continued Kathy. This upper level, like the inside of a large RV, is our day-to-day living area which includes your office, through that door.” She pointed toward the front of the ship. “Office door, open,” she ordered, and the internal door slid open on her command.
Inside Ryan could see that it was much like his larger office in Hangar One, and all his knick-knacks from that office had been moved into it. Even the picture of his beloved Audi, was on the wall behind the chair.
“Gravity is 35 percent of Earth’s in our apartment only, thanks to some magnetic batteries they placed under the floor,” Kathy informed him. “It sort of holds everything in place, and there are absolutely no vibrations up here, but things do move around and float slightly, so don’t think that somebody has gone through your stuff. Captain Pete said that once we begin to rotate, the gravity up here will be much like Earth. Until then we need the magnetic shoes.”
His office was perfect and he wondered if he would actually spend any time in it.
Across the hallway there was an open-plan mini-kitchen, an eating area, a separate seating area, a separate pressurized toilet, and a full bathroom. A large flat screen television was on one wall, and Kathy ordered it to turn on. Within seconds, a television personality in Los Angeles was predicting the day’s weather.
“As we pass over Earth, we pick up other stations. Sometimes it has German, sometimes British, and I’ve seen the weather in several other languages,” Kathy told him. “I even watched a French movie the other night.”
The room wasn’t large, but the design optimized every inch of space. Kathy held his hand down the continuing spiral staircase to the lower level and there, below the living area, were two bedrooms. The ceiling of this level was low, only five feet high, an area to sleep only. The master bedroom took up most of the room. It had a standard height queen-sized bed, side tables, lamps and even a small low cosmetic table for Kathy.
“Its basic, but I’ve lived in here, sleeping upside-down for a whole month now. It is no larger than what we could expect in the air force, but there is so much else to do on board ship. This whole ship reminds me of a cruise ship, and you want to spend about the same limited amount of time you would in your cruise ship’s cabin.”
“What is below, or above the office?” asked Ryan forgetting what he had planned so many months earlier.
“One of the six escape supply pods,” Kathy reminded him.
“Oh! That’s right,” replied Ryan. “Stores bolted to the other side of this outer wall, to be picked up by the shuttles if ever we are marooned and need long term supplies.”
“Are they already full of supplies?” Kathy asked.
“Long term supplies yes, but fresh supplies will be transferred from the cubes once every few months and put into freezer storage. Each of the supply pods has a docking port which can only be entered from one of the craft outside. I wouldn’t have bothered designing them if I had known then that we would have all these European and Russian pods attached to us.”
“How many supplies do they hold?” Kathy asked.
“We decided to stock them with enough supplies to last for a journey from Saturn, our furthest destination, to home, which would take two years using our three shuttles and three Astermine craft.
“We will be able to fit around twenty-two people in each of the rear bays of the shuttles, and eight or nine in the smaller craft. The build crew will produce the living quarters for the craft’s internal cargo bays out of extra corridors during the next year or two. The pods will be attached to the six crafts’ docking ports. The craft and the supply pods will have enough hydrogen fuel, oxygen, food, and water supplies for 30 months. The pods have all the needed machinery to clean and recycle the 100 gallons of water aboard each supply pod. The food is basic and mostly dry. It took a few years of planning to design these supply pods for long-term survival. It will not be fun; there will be a lot of people in a small space for a long period of time. I hope we never have to use them.”
“Is there anything you and the team haven’t thought of?” Kathy asked, hugging her man.
“Yes, and I’m sure about a thousand and one things will crop up,” replied Ryan.
Chapter 5
The Chinese visit
Ryan was surprised how quiet it was aboard America One. Living in space certainly took a lot of getting used to. His first night aboard felt as if he were locked in a silent room, with absolutely no noise. In space, there were no outside noises, and the door to their apartment did not allow any noise from the corridor.
Apart from Kathy’s quiet breathing it was so quiet that Ryan got up and mounted the spiral staircase to turn on the television.
The whole ship was on Pacific Coast Time. Nobody had really questioned the time zone, except for Captain Pete, who suggested that Greenwich Mean Time was the proper time and asked if the ship should stay in that time zone. The crew countered that since many of them had been on Nevada time for so long, why not stick to that time, and everybody agreed. Ryan noticed that the LED clocks in the kitchen showed midnight Nevada time when he switched on the television. The ship was over Europe and the BBC gave him the morning news.
“Political terror reigns in Washington for a second straight day as police search for members of the House of Representatives. Congressman Paul Timothy was found dead in his Washington apartment today. The police found him hanging from a rafter and a suicide note was found at the scene. This brings us to three members of the House of Representatives found dead in the U.S. Capital in the last twenty-four hours, and sixteen deaths since the CBS ‘60 Minutes’ program aired. Of the sixteen deaths, thirteen were here in London. The chief of the CIA, Thomas Ward, and a group of his aides were targeted by what Scotland Yard and Interpol have called a professional assassination team, now believed to be of Chinese origin. The U.S. President is still secluded in in the White House, surrounded by Secret Service agents. A task force led by the vice president is being formed to overrule the Secret Service and allow officials in to consult with the president. The cause of this dangerous international turmoil, sure to change politics worldwide, began with the attack on Ryan Richmond’s Astermine Incorporated airfield in Nevada by sinister members of the U.S. government and certain of its agencies.
“As shown on ‘60 Minutes’ Ryan Richmond hasn’t been heard of since a security camera caught him being brutally beaten by several U.S. government officials on his private airfield’s tarmac four weeks ago; his unconscious body was manhandled into an aircraft, and taken to an unknown location.
“Information recently leaked from Washington insiders state that the current administration had ordered Richmond to be flown straight to Guantanamo in Cuba, the U.S. prison for terrorist detainees.
“Ryan Richmond was also believed to have been seen in London last week outside the Savoy, only hours before the thirteen men were executed in the same hotel.
“Fellow space exploration magnate Martin Brusk, who is part owner of the Savoy, told viewers yesterday that it was impossible for anybody to have seen Richmond in London if he was in jail in Cuba. Upon being asked why an American would be sent to prison in such an unlikely place, Brusk suggested that the reporters ask the U.S. president, the director of the NSA, or McNealy at NASA. He also stated that Richmond had joined a growing group of American businessmen being held in Cuba without trial by the U.S. government…. Gold rose today due to another fall in platinum metal prices…”
Ryan mulled over the news report. He was sure the president would be brought out of hiding pretty soon, and he was quite impressed by Martin’s venomous attitude towards the group that had bought him out and then stolen the same money they paid him. He was about to turn it off when a “Breaking News” banner began flashing below the presenter.
“…we have breaking news out of space. The Chinese government has pointed their newly launched space station towards the International Space Station in defiance of warnings by NASA. This seems to be in retaliation for the comments made by the NASA Administrator Hal McNealy yesterday in a press conference from the U.S. West Coast, in which he warned the Chinese Government to stay away from the International Space Station. During the interview McNealy stated for the second time that it was not possible for any of the nations who own the ISS to resupply the crew up there. Two of the crew members are Chinese. The UK Parliament stated only an hour ago that they didn’t understand the U.S. threat directly against the Chinese government and its space authority. A statement released by Parliament confirmed that the British government’s reaction to this warning is that the Chinese Space Authority has the right to save its astronauts and the other four astronauts aboard the International Space station if they can. Since the United States and NASA have stated twice that they are incapable of saving the crew then the right should be given to any other country that can do so. For NASA to actually say; ‘leave the crew up there’ is irresponsible, stated the European Space Authority only minutes ago. This policy decision clearly raises serious doubts about the competency of NASA’s leadership.”
Ryan went back down the staircase to the bedroom, dressed in his new, blue flight suit, walked to the exit, and ordered the apartment door to open. He quietly entered the elevator where it took him a few seconds to remember to walk around the elevator walls. He was sure that Kathy had been awake since he had got out of bed.
When he entered the Bridge, he found Captain Pete watching the continuation of the same news he had just viewed.
“That Hal McNealy is really a stupid human being,” he said to Ryan.
“You are right there, Pete. I hope the ex-president, or the vice president does something soon, or the U.S. will have a big war on its hands. I know that the ex-president has worked nonstop to appease the Chinese. Who knows what they may have at the ready, aimed at the citizens of the entire country right now? I’m so sick of this ‘we are the only powerful nation in the world’ attitude. With the current clowns running the country, North Korea could attack us… and win! Do you know what the Chinese can fire at the U.S.?”
“Yes, I checked through the info on Wikipedia several months ago, out of pure curiosity. Civilian sources state they have about 500 nuclear weapons able to reach the United States; U.S. military sources think there are three times that amount. I wish McNealy realized this; he certainly doesn’t, by the way he is acting.”
“Sounds like more than enough to get through the U.S. defenses,” Ryan answered.
“I don’t know,” replied Pete. “From what I’ve read and heard, the U.S. Defense System could still defend the country pretty well.”
“Up to the time Mortimer unleashed the meteors,” replied Ryan, helping himself to a very old-looking but still warm cup of coffee from the machine on the Bridge. “At the present time, I believe the United States is totally incapable of defending itself. I don’t think any other country has self-defense capabilities either, and I believe that is the new nuclear deterrent. The first guy who launches ends the world.”
“I never thought of it that way,” declared Pete. “I bet that you are right, and the quicker the U.S. rids themselves of these stupid people who can press those buttons, the better.”
“Have you seen any change in the Chinese space station in the last few hours?” Ryan asked. Captain Pete was on the 12-3 watch. He had taken over from Allen Saunders, and Michael Pitt was to take over from him. VIN, who would have been on watch, was resting for his mission to the ISS in six hours.
“It’s increasing altitude and slight orbital direction to align itself with the ISS. The Chinese set up their current orbit a few hours after the third part attached itself to the other two several days ago. The third launch capsule is big, about the same size as Ivan. The main difference to the ISS, is that the Chinese craft must have rear thrusters, as their forward speed has increased to 16,000 miles an hour from 15,000 miles an hour 48 hours ago; their orbit has changed nearly a degree and their altitude is now 280 miles above Earth, an increase of 30 miles in the last six hours. Computers estimates are that it will reach the orbit and altitude of the ISS within 36 hours.”
“What is the ISS doing?” asked Ryan.
“That’s the weird part,” replied Pete. “I decided to get a computers check of the orbit, speed and altitude of the ISS every hour, twelve hours ago. Nothing showed during the first ten hours, but in the last two hours, the ISS has begun to decrease its altitude. In two hours the ISS has dropped from 400 miles to 388 miles above Earth in two orbits. Her forward speed has increased by nearly 2 percent, which shows that her side thrusters were ignited recently.”
“That means that SB-III must reach the ISS faster than we thought. I wonder what made them change altitude.”
“I would bet that information the BBC received has something to do with it,” Pete replied.
“But why is the ISS changing altitude?” Ryan responded.
“Gut feel?” Pete asked his boss.
“Yes, give me your gut feel,” Ryan replied.
“OK, what we discussed earlier, about who is aboard the ISS.” Ryan waited. “Suzi knows one of the Chinese ladies; the other, no one in our crew has ever heard of.”
“Maybe she is not a scientist?” Ryan responded.
“That’s my gut feel. She is there to protect the scientist, or she might be an astronaut/spy secretly checking out the ISS. That’s my feeling.”
“I think I would side with you on your gut feel, Pete,” commented Ryan. “You know the hours of checks and programs to go through to change the space station’s orbit. They are already low on fuel, food, and water. Why would they waste precious fuel, when they have just used up most of what they have to get up to a 400-mile altitude? Get the computers to analyze the best time for SB-III to depart America One.”
Pete spent ten minutes on his terminal checking and re-checking information while Ryan, sitting in his command chair, one of the three in the Bridge, tried to enjoy the old cup of coffee. He had the chair in the middle, Pete was to his left, and the Laser Control Center was to his right, as he sat facing out at the stars in front of the ship. Ryan could actually see the numbers coming up on Pete’s screen and patched in his own computer to view the numbers.
The computers tracked everything in space within several thousand miles. Several times a second the positions of the ISS and the Chinese space station showed up. Instead of the massive screen Ryan used at the airfield, all the data showed up on the large computer monitors at each of the three stations.
Six hours earlier Pete had programmed the computers to accurately track any changes in the ISS’s orbit around Earth. An alarm sounded when the computer recorded any changes.
“It looks like the SB-III crew can sleep in another couple of hours,” said Pete.
“Or reach the ISS earlier than planned. There would be no extra hydrogen usage, and I would like them to get to the ISS, ASAP,” Ryan stated.
“Two orbits and four hours from the current launch time will get SB-III to within 100 miles of the ISS, which will then be at the same altitude orbit as we are. It gives VIN eight hours before the Chinese get to the computerized orbit shown at 324 miles, 26 miles below ours,” added Pete.
“I think, once this rescue mission is over, we should climb higher to exceed any possible orbits the Chinese are capable of. Then, we should get back into a geostationary orbit until our ship is ready for our odyssey into the solar system.”
“What about the possibility of getting the ISS astronauts back to Earth, or helping out the U.S., if we are needed?” Pete asked his boss.
“I don’t know, but I think we can put the idea to the ISS astronauts to either stay with us, or take the risk of going with the Chinese craft. We can’t risk sending a craft down, and if we do get involved down there, we might make problems worse, especially if we are ordered to shoot up enemy tanks and maybe even aircraft. I don’t think it is our war anymore; we have made the move up here into space. Furthermore, what happens if it takes a year or two for them to start a war? Must we stick around just in case? I believe that once the criminals are out of Washington, the world will calm down and peace will be restored. They all know they can’t afford a war. Nobody would survive it.”
Five hours later SB-III slowly nosed away from her docking port. Jonesy was in command, with Maggie, his trusty co-pilot, and VIN and Fritz in the jump seats. SB-III still had the crew transporter in the cargo hold. It had basic supplies: dry food for two months, twenty gallons of water, and three hydrogen liquid fuel cylinders in case the ISS was not to be brought back. It was also the last supplies Captain Pete and Ryan wanted to part with.
Jonesy slid away from the large spaceship. He had undocked from the forward right-hand side docking port, underneath two levels of corridors above him, and inverted he carefully maneuvered the shuttle out between the corridors on either side.
“Turn right side up, we are away and heading out, Pete.” The captain, Igor, Ryan, Kathy and a very pregnant Suzi were listening over the Bridge’s intercom.
“Roger that,” replied the captain. “The Bridge has you visual.”
Ryan watched as SB-III, still very beautiful out there in space, floated slowly out of the lines of corridors, now all complete.
“America One is looking whole for the first time I’ve ever seen her,” commented Maggie.
“Yes, the spacewalk crew has completed the corridor welding, although most of them are still empty, but the empty corridors will be habitable in a couple of months,” replied Captain Pete. “While you are out there, tell me what the rear motors look like, Jonesy. They are installed but only two are operational. We are having a few problems with the upper engine.”
Several minutes later Jonesy replied.
“They look whole, nothing is amiss. They look big and powerful. Are these the new hydrogen pulse engines I’m looking at?”
“Roger,” replied Captain Pete. “Vitaliy, his team, and the engine crew of four have all three of the new pulse engines installed. They just can’t get the third one to ignite, it’s totally dead.”
“I will check it out when I get back,” Jonesy stated. “I don’t have to spacewalk to get inside the engine bay, right?”
“Correct, and I’m sure a new guy might find the problem the mechanics can’t.”
Ryan watched, just as he had done while spacewalking, as the shuttle slowly floated forward. Then, only 800 yards in front of where he was sitting, Jonesy ignited the rear hydrogen thrusters, and within a minute, the shuttle disappeared from sight.
It was easy to follow them on the computer screens and Ryan watched as the shuttle’s blue light continued to get further and further away.
***
“What do you think is happening inside the ISS?” Jonesy asked VIN, once he went through the computer readouts and relaxed. The flight crew, and VIN and Fritz had their helmets off. They didn’t need to put them on until they were close to the ISS, four hours away.
“I agree with Captain Pete, that the Chinese chick could be a spy or something, and is holding the others hostage until their ship gets there.”
“Jonesy, what happens if we are not allowed to enter?” Maggie asked.
“Easy, we just hook up to their docking port and bring the whole ship back to America One. The other two shuttles can come and help us if necessary. The ISS can’t be that much harder to drag around than Ivan was, and we moved Ivan with the smaller mining craft. There are quite a few ports on the ISS, but the two on each end are mainly used for docking. We are going to tie up to the one the NASA shuttles always connected to, and the second one on the opposite side is there for another shuttle to help us if needed. Our extra fuel tank is full, and we have enough fuel for 100 minutes at full burn; that should be far more than we need to get the ISS out of reach of the Chinese spacecraft. Pete thinks it won’t go higher than 400 to 500 miles maximum.”
“So, we just hook up, and we drag the billion dollar International Space Station, around space like we own it?” Maggie asked. “Seriously?”
“I suppose so,” replied Jonesy, smiling at the thought that it might be as much fun as the antics he got up to as a kid. “You should know I’m pretty good at doing pretty bad things. Ask my poor dad.”
“I’m sure we can ask the inhabitants for permission to drag them around the solar system. Gee, that old ship is as old as many of the houses down there in the States,” added VIN.
“Just a little more valuable, Mr. Noble,” proclaimed Maggie.
“Well, I will give you permission from the German government,” added Fritz. “Since I’m the only German representative in this area of space, I will assume that I have a say in the matter.” They all laughed at Fritz. He was pretty funny for a German, nearly as funny as Suzi.
Slowly the shuttle’s speed increased, the computers aligning them to an orbit parallel with the ISS. Even though the ISS’s altitude was changing, her orbit varied only a few degrees. The Chinese craft’s orbit and the ISS were now perfectly aligned, only altitude and being at opposite orbital positions around Earth kept them apart.
“America One to Jonesy, Chinese speed has increased to 22,000 miles an hour. Your time to the ISS is two hours, their time to the ISS is now five hours and decreasing rapidly. Over.”
“Roger that, Captain Pete,” replied Jonesy. “What do you want us to do? Over.”
“You will be within short-range intercom of the ISS shortly, try and communicate,” Jonesy heard the voice of his boss. “We have tried, but nobody responded. The Chinese know you are approaching; computer readouts they increase their speed shortly after you left. They are certainly monitoring your movements. If nobody wants to talk to you, just connect up and that alone should encourage them to communicate.”
Twenty minutes later SB-III began reverse thrusts to begin her breaking maneuvers to slow down to the ISS still 20 miles above them, and 6,000 miles in front.
Ten minutes later and 3,000 miles closer, Jonesy tried to communicate. There was no reaction from the ISS on all the three channels tried. However, on the third try, Houston responded asking why he was trying to communicate with the ISS.
“This is Sierra Bravo III from Ryan Richmond’s America One space ship. We are closing in with supplies for the ISS. Over,” replied Jonesy. “Requesting permission to talk to the crew aboard the ISS.”
“Do your best, buddy,” Houston replied. “We lost communications two days ago.”
“We know that there is enough food, water, and fuel aboard,” added Jonesy. “We resupplied them a few weeks ago.”
“Roger that,” replied Houston. “Please change to your old airfield’s frequency, the one you used to communicate during your launches. I have a problem here. Out.” Maggie complied, telling the Bridge of America One at the same time. This order to change radio frequencies told Jonesy that the frequency wasn’t friendly and anybody listening in wouldn’t know the airfield’s frequency.
“Sierra Bravo III to Houston, do you copy? Over,” Jonesy stated into his head piece.
“Reading you clear, Sierra Bravo III. Mike Johnson here, director of Houston. We have a problem. I believe that something or somebody has taken control of the ISS. They suddenly went off the air 48 hours ago and all signs down here show life and normal activities aboard. Also, we are not permitted to talk to you, orders from the boss. We have been told that talking to you will incur an immediate dismissal. Only I know of this channel, thanks to one of the guys who used to work with you at Nevada. I believe that we have two or three minutes before we are compromised. Over.”
“Roger that,” patched in Ryan through SB-III. “Ryan Richmond here. Mike, you and I met a few years back. Where was that?”
“MIT lecture on modern astrophysics theory by that female Russian professor.”
“Right, Mike. We believe that the Chinese are about to salvage the ISS, thanks to Mortimer knocking out their space station. We also believe that one of the two Chinese ladies aboard is not, I repeat, not, a biologist, and think she is an astronaut, and an agent of the Chinese government.”
“I was thinking about that as a possibility,” replied Mike.
“Also, this conversation is being taped up here and before anybody locates our frequency, it will be distributed if there are any threats by others. For your ears only.”
“Roger that, Ryan. I was hoping that you were still on your game. Enjoyed the ‘60 Minutes’ program the other night. Sorry to hear they hurt you. Its hell down here at NASA, but I think there is an end in sight. We never know where the administrator is, he is constantly on the go with that NSA Bishop guy, and I expect he will have found this channel in a few minutes. It is being sent out from their system here in Houston. Over.”
“Roger. We are going to salvage the ISS before the Chinese get there. We are armed and will go in today. Can we get access? Over.”
“From me, in command down here in Houston, sure you have my permission. It’s not locked. Your guys can enter at any time. There is no way the docking port can be locked down from inside. Hell, you have the same Soyuz docking ports. As far as being armed, I’m sure you guys, and any bad guys aboard the station, know what a bullet will do to the lives aboard…end them pretty quickly.”
“Who is communicating on this unjustified channel?” demanded a new very familiar voice.
“This must be my old friend and rib breaker, NASA Director Hal McNealy. I hear the FBI might be looking for you,” Ryan taunted. There was silence for several seconds. “Still too scared to speak to me, your old friend, Ryan Richmond?”
“Shut up, you poor excuse for an American,” McNealy finally responded, angrily.
“Takes one to know one,” laughed Ryan.
“Johnson you are terminated. Hand over control to your second-in-command and get out of Control. Your time with NASA is over.”
“Mike, you stay where you are. As soon as we are finished, I will send a copy of this conversation to Everson at the FBI. We should have a GPS location on McNealy and Bishop soon and I’m sure they won’t have time to terminate your job.”
“We should have terminated you at the airfield when we had the chance, Richmond,” added NSA Director Joe Bishop.
“Oh! Hi down there, shit-for-brains Joe Bishop,” interrupted Jonesy. He couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “I have my thumb on the laser gun, Ryan. Please give me permission to lock onto their GPS location and save the FBI some time.”
All anybody could hear was swearing from the two men and shouts telling their pilot to begin evasive tactics, they were about to be shot down, and the uninvited guests disappeared from the channel.
“Wow!” exclaimed Mike down in Houston.
“I’m sure you are also recording, Mike. Will you phone it through to Joe Everson? Here is his number,” and Ryan stated it clearly over the channel. “At least we know that these two idiots are airborne and he should start looking at the air force bases for a trail. They might also find Mortimer; I hear he is also in hiding.”
Suddenly a new voice came over the radio and shocked all.
“Chinese Space Authority to Sierra Bravo III, the American space ship, we want contact. Over,” stated somebody in thickly accented English.
“This is Ryan Richmond, owner of America One and Sierra Bravo III. What can I do for you?” Ryan responded. Everyone else on the frequency was listening in, even Mike down in Houston. Now he was really glad he was recording this transmission.
“This is General Yan Ming, Commander of the Chinese space program at Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center in Dongfeng Space City, China. I am under orders to tell you to stay away from the International Space Station, or we will have no choice but to attack you and your ships.”
“Orders from whom, General?” Ryan asked.
“From our Supreme Command in Beijing,” was the reply.
“I understand that you have your orders, General, but I don’t believe you have any authority to give me orders. Why should I listen?”
“Thirty minutes to ISS,” stated Maggie to the shuttle’s crew off the air.
“My orders are to tell you that, if you dock with the ISS, our new space station will have no choice but to attack you with powerful laser-guided weapons,” continued the Chinese general calmly.
“So, you are saying that we should not resupply the ISS, a space station that doesn’t belong to China, and if we do you will shoot at my ship and attempt to kill Americans, who actually are the major owners of the station. That, General, sounds a little like a threat. Are you threatening me?” asked Ryan, just as calm.
“Chinese space station about to come over Earth’s distant horizon at 47,000 miles distance,” reported Maggie for the men listening in.
“We, the Chinese people and government, are to take over control of the International Space Station as payment for the loss of the first two parts of our station. My superiors have instructed me to tell anybody who resists that the move you are about to instigate will be viewed as an act of war between China and your country.”
‘What about the astronauts inside?” was Ryan’s next question.
“The North American Space Agency has already declared them dead, why should we think any different?” the general responded.
“Since I can save their lives and you can’t stop me, I will save the lives of all astronauts aboard.” This statement from Ryan prompted the general to go off the air, as he didn’t reply.
“He doesn’t know how to answer that one,” offered Jonesy. “I bet he is getting new orders. Chinese space station will be in laser range in two hours,” continued Jonesy on a second channel.
“Roger that,” responded Ryan. “I agree with you, Mr. Jones. Mike in Houston, I will send you the complete recording in ten minutes. Get a copy to the ex-president, his direct number is……. Also get a copy to Joe Everson. Tell him from me that the FBI should begin checking small jet flights between internal U.S. Air Force bases. That should give them McNealy and Bishop once they go on the wanted list. Mr. Jones, keep this channel open so that I can transmit and in case our Chinese friend gets an answer. Mike, also tell Everson to search around Dover, Hill, or Nellis Air Force Bases, and especially Hill in Salt Lake City where Mortimer could be hiding. Check out all Gulfstream V flights. He rides in style.”
“Roger that, Ryan, thanks for saving my hide,” replied a relieved Mike Johnson “I’ll stay on here in Houston until further notice. We will also keep this frequency open. Out.”
The channel was quiet and the crew waited for the Chinese response.
“ISS, 1,000 miles in front of us, we are ten minutes out. Chinese space station 33,000 miles and two hours behind us,” reported Maggie over the same channel the Chinese had used.
“Roger that,” replied Ryan. “Stay with the program since nobody is speaking to us. I’ve asked our crew to power up the Russian capsule I arrived in and attach it to the Docking Port on SB-II. SB-II and SB-I will be leaving America One in five minutes.”
“Eight minutes, we will have the ISS in sight in four.”
“Just stay with the plans guys, I recommend Mr. Noble enter the ISS with a smile and without his suit, if you know what I mean,” Ryan added. VIN looked puzzled.
“So your Electrolaser will work and not electrocute your vitals,” laughed Fritz. VIN remembered the story about it shocking the person inside the suit and began taking off his space suit, his metal legs could really cause him a painful electrocution if Fritz was right.
The ISS appeared quiet and serene floating out there in space. Jonesy maneuvered SB-III to the side of the station where the NASA space shuttles used to dock. SB-III, being much thinner, would not be as prominent as the larger NASA shuttles had looked in the pictures he vividly remembered. Jonesy had secretly wanted this moment for many years, but always thought the idea of his going into space as pretty stupid.
Slowly he inverted the shuttle as Maggie readied the docking port, while Fritz readied VIN for entry. The Electrolaser was a small weapon, no bigger than a normal Taser gun. There was one copper line that ran from his right hand, which held the pistol, underneath his clothing to his chest where he wore a vest, much like a Kevlar vest. The vest was actually made out of copper and Kevlar, and had been beefed up on the airfield for duel purposes.
Even though they had a good view of the station through the cockpit windows, there was no movement. Nobody had left the lights on for them. The station’s few windows looked dark and lifeless.
Jonesy tried as hard as he could to connect the docking ports silently, but there was still a clunk and a slight vibration through the cockpit as the two craft bonded. Seconds later the radio woke up.
“To unknown craft docking at the International Space Station, this is General Yan Ming, Commander of the Chinese space program at Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center in Dongfeng Space City, China. I am under orders to tell you to stay away from the International Space Station. You do not have authority to dock with the station. Please release your docking port immediately.”
“Negative,” replied Ryan over the frequency. “I don’t see that you or the Chinese government have any jurisdiction over this station, and we will do as we please. I would like to add that the craft docking at the ISS is not an American space vehicle, nor does it belong to any country on Earth. We will be entering the International Space Station to see if the crew is alive and ascertain their condition. We are happy to give them the supplies we sent with the shuttle. Over.”
“If you enter the shuttle we will shoot and destroy your space craft as soon as our own space station is in range, in one hour. I suggest you do not enter, but pass through the supplies as you did last time, if you so wish, and then depart the station. As far as China is concerned, you will be illegally trespassing on our territory if you enter the space station. This is your last warning.”
“Since you are now threatening me, General Ming, I have the right to defend myself. My weapons could have blown your new project out of the sky a couple of hours ago. Commander Jones, activate our laser and lock onto the approaching Chinese space station. Only fire when I give the command.
“Roger that,” replied Jonesy. “Locking weapons on now,” he lied as they were not facing the station still 15,000 miles away. We have weapon-lock ready to destroy the enemy space station, sir,” added Jonesy for realism as VIN opened the outer port to the ISS. Still there was no movement from inside. The lights went green, and he opened the inner port, but the wheel seemed difficult to turn.
“I think somebody is trying to stop me from turning the port door mechanism from inside the craft,” he stated.
“I’m sure you are stronger than a girl,” responded Maggie. “Get yourself tight against the walls of the docking tube and use your legs for leverage.” VIN did so and used the extra strength in his legs to continue turning the wheel. The radio stayed silent, everybody in the cockpit watching him from underneath. Suddenly the door opened and he ejected into the dark ISS at speed. Fritz, also armed with his laser immediately entered the tube and, as Maggie ordered, closed the inner metal hatch to the shuttle behind him. VIN was already unconscious when Fritz floated in and fired his laser. He had seen VIN get hit over the head and a shadow quickly disappeared into the interior darkness.
There was the usual faint glow around him as the electric burst dispersed. It was a silent burst with no noise and he watched as a dark shape floating directly towards him just kept coming. In his other hand he held a baton, and he hit the shape away as it floated towards him. The paralyzed face of a pretty Chinese girl dressed completely in black hit him in the chest. The force of his baton hitting her on the shoulder seemed to impel the girl back the way she had come. The force of his hit propelled him into the wall of the station and he hit his head hard. It was painful and he knew that the strike would draw blood but he didn’t have time to worry about that.
He rescued VIN’s inert body from hitting the ceiling of the station and suddenly heard the voice of the general, this time in Chinese.
“Ryan, Captain Pete, where are the lights in here?” he asked urgently over his intercom. He only had 20 seconds to find the enemy.
He was told where the command center was, and pushed himself into another compartment. Here, there were dials everywhere and Pete described the approximate vicinity where he would find controls to increase the lights. Only a few seconds after he brought up the internal lights the girl propelled herself into the room. Seeing him several feet in front of her she stopped herself from floating forward. Fritz had nothing to defend himself with except the laser which would not fire again, but he hoped she didn’t know that. He aimed it at her.
“I don’t know if you speak English, but the next shot will kill you.”
“I’m dead anyway if I fail,” she replied curtly in perfect English and brought her legs up to the wall behind her and like a swimmer propelled her strong body horizontally towards Fritz. He fired and suddenly he felt a sharp electric shock and his body became useless. The girl rapidly floated towards him, he saw her eyes glaze over and her face hit him hard directly in the face. For the second time he felt his head hit something hard and he blacked out.
He came to hearing the Chinese general still giving orders in rapid Chinese, and suddenly the noise stopped as somebody turned off the radio. He moaned, and managed to open his eyes.
“I never took Chinese in school,” said VIN, holding the still unconscious girl’s arms tightly with one strong arm around her chest while he pulled what looked like a short rope from the belt of his flight suit.
“Me either,” replied Fritz, his head hurting like hell. “You have blood dripping, or shall I say, floating off your face.”
“You too, amigo,” smiled VIN beginning to tie the girl up. She was still dead to the world. “Ryan, Jonesy, we have control of the station, I think,” he added into his intercom. “We have one Chinese chick bound and unconscious. I will check out the other crew now. Fritz is injured. Maggie, bring in the first-aid box, there isn’t one here I can see. Float in; he is in the compartment to the left of the first chamber. Don’t shoot me; remember I have my camouflage flight suit on.
Without further ado, VIN floated out of the module. Maggie would take at least three minutes to enter the ISS.
***
“I don’t care what your orders are, General, you do not own the ISS. We have entered the station and have destroyed your presence aboard,” stated Ryan as the general began speaking in English again after shouting in his own language for several minutes. “We do not appreciate being attacked by Chinese spies in the International Space Station and will put in a full report to NASA and the sixteen other countries who own it. Second, if you come within 1,000 miles of any of my spacecraft the Chinese Government will not have an operational space station anymore. We will destroy it and you will be out of a job. Take this warning seriously. You are now 10,000 miles away from losing your station.”
“I’m seeing some sort of bright blue light emitting from the Chinese station every minute or so. I do believe that they are shooting at us,” Jonesy reported a minute later. “The infrared and heat sensors aboard are picking up some sort of electrical emission coming out of the station. It is currently 9,000 miles away and still heading towards us. Maggie is in the ISS.”
“Maggie, get back in the shuttle, I need Jonesy to detach from the ISS immediately.”
“Roger, injuries are not severe; I’ve stemmed Fritz’s bleeding. I haven’t heard from VIN yet; he is somewhere in the station. I will be inside the shuttle in two minutes. Out.”
“General Ming, my astronauts believe you are firing at my ship, or the ISS. I am now going to destroy your ship. You have two minutes to change course, or I have no choice but to fire back. We have two lasers locked onto your space station. I have one up here and one laser blast will destroy your country’s space efforts.”
“I do not believe you. Your laser weapons cannot be so powerful. I don’t believe the words of an American capitalist.”
“Do you remember those tanks that were destroyed north of Israel? Do you remember the North Korean tanks and troops destroyed attacking South Korea? I’m sure your government allowed you to know about those attacks.”
“I heard about them. Some sort of weapon your American government had given the Israelis and Koreans I was told,” the general replied.
“Well, you were told wrong. That was my laser gun, the same one now aimed at your space station and the controller is sitting three feet away from me here on my Bridge. And just for your information, General, we are reasonably accurate at 2,000 miles and deadly accurate at 1,000 miles. Our range with limited accuracy is 20,000 miles and you are well within that range. You have one minute to change course, or I will commence firing.”
***
VIN had never seen the inside design of the ISS before. It was certainly full of equipment as he floated down the main, now lighted, corridor. It was totally silent; the noise of the general had stopped. He stopped every few yards and listened. He had a baton in his right hand, the useless laser gun aimlessly floating around his wrist.
He opened the first hatch and found an empty room. The second was the same. It was a storeroom of some sort with cameras, lenses, and other equipment. In the third hatch he found what he was looking for. This compartment had an exercise bike and desks. It looked like the same communal room aboard Ivan, but smaller with all the equipment around the walls.
On one side were five gagged people, alive and all staring at him with wide eyes. He suddenly saw a drop of blood float in front of his eyes and realized that he must look a mess.
“Which one of you is the commander?” he asked, and all eyes turned to one man sitting at the end of the row. VIN untied the man’s gag and looked for a knife to cut the cords.
“Up there on the wall. It is good enough to get through these cords,” Commander Jack Philips offered, understanding what VIN was looking for. VIN cut the cord around the man’s hands which was also connected to his feet.
“That Chinese chick sure knows how to tie people up,” stated VIN.
“Who are you?” the commander basked.
“Lieutenant VIN Noble, United States Marines, ex Force Recon unit, sir,” stated VIN beginning to ungag the others.
“Water, I need water,” stammered the first woman he ungagged. She was extremely pretty. Commander Philips tried to straighten up, but he was too stiff to move his body. He just began floating off the floor on which they had been laid flat.
“You’ve been tied up like this for forty-eight hours?” VIN asked finding a water tube in the compartment the pretty lady was trying to stiffly point at.
“Yep! It feels like weeks. She let one of us go to the bathroom every few hours and gave us a pouch of water and food once a day. She only allowed one person to eat and drink at a time. She was waiting for the Chinese space station to come and pick us up.”
Slowly, as VIN untied each one, they began to move their bodies and look at him. One of the tied up girls was also Chinese. He decided not to untie her.
“Commander, please hand me the first aid box, this guy is bleeding everywhere,” stated the pretty girl slowly floating towards VIN. As he untied all but the last person, a Russian by his flight suit, he felt her hand touch the top of his head and winced as something sharp made him jerk. “Only a bit of alcohol, it will sterilize the wound. I know you have business, and our lives to save, so let me put on a quick dressing and bandage your head and you can go and sort out the rest of the ship. I see you found the bad side of that Chinese woman. She’s pretty mean.”
Within a minute she was done. VIN thanked her, realized that the crew could take care of themselves and returned to where he and Fritz had entered. Maggie was gone, but he found Fritz with his baton over the head of the awake Chinese girl who was looking at him menacingly. VIN also noticed that Fritz’s head also had been bandaged making them look like twin sheiks.
“Not a good way to start a relationship,” suggested VIN going back to turn on the radio so that they could listen to the battle outside.
“Twenty seconds, general. We see blue emissions coming from the roof of your station. That will be our target in eighteen seconds. This is your last warning,” VIN heard Ryan state. Ryan left the channel open and he heard his boss giving orders to the person he thought would be Michael Pitt manning the laser. It wasn’t Michael, he was with Penny in SB-I. He heard Captain Pete himself state that he was locked onto the target. He, Michael Pitt and Captain Pete had spent hours going through the laser system, often aiming and locking onto pieces of space junk coming close. Captain Pete had been the most accurate, hitting a piece twelve inches across at 1,900 miles. He knew that the Chinese now had a real problem.
***
Ryan had given the Chinese far more time than he had promised them. Ten minutes had passed since his first warning. Their ship hadn’t changed course and it looked like its laser was firing every 170 seconds, just under once every three minutes. So far and still at 3,000 miles, the Chinese laser had inflicted no damage to the ISS and his shuttles. America One was now closer to the enemy at 3,000 miles. In different orbits, the ISS was still 5,000 miles away from the firing ship, but America One’s range would start increasing again in two minutes when the two craft would have reached their nearest orbital pass, both at the same altitude and just under 2,000 miles apart.
The Chinese ship could now see the much larger mother ship of the enemy; she was the closer target. They weren’t doing much to the ISS at such a distance and began to turn towards America One. Ryan noticed this immediately and got back on the radio.
“To all listening in to this radio frequency please confirm that you can hear me.”
“Houston reporting, we are hear you.”
“Plesetsk Command Authority in Russia, we are listening, so are all our other launch sites, and Moscow, I believe.”
“Hans Burger here at the European Space Command for Germany. We got your frequency from Houston.
“Captain John Modes, United flight 407 out of Dallas.”
“James Peterson, MI6, London.”
“A representative from the German government, I will not state who I am.”
“Victor Neuchev,” head of the Russian Space Authority.”
Ryan was surprised how word got around the world so quickly. In 90 seconds he received 37 responses. They came from as far as the Australian Air Force, in Perth, a South African Airways flight over the Sahara, three ham radio operators from New Zealand, London and some little town in Arkansas, and a radio station in Hawaii. The vice president of the United States, now in charge of the country, was the second to last person to check in, and finally Martin Brusk, stating that he was with the ex-president in Canada.
“Well, it has taken longer than I realized it would. We have witnessed the first firing of the Chinese laser weapon towards my ship, America One,” he informed everybody listening in. “I know that this Chinese general, Ming, and his superiors are certainly listening in. To bring the world up to date: one of the Chinese crew members aboard the International Space Station took the rest of the crew captive forty-eight hours ago. We were told by a General Yan Ming that it was a takeover bid by the Chinese government to commandeer the station. That operative has been contained, and the other five members of the crew are alive and safe. I now have the Chinese space station firing on my ship. I have explained the power of our laser weapons, and explained to the general what my lasers accomplished in the Middle East and South Korea. His ship is now within a 2,000-mile range. I have a choice: I can defend myself, or allow him to destroy me, my crew and my ship. May I have your opinions please, and remember the Chinese government and General Ming are listening.
Most of the listeners responded to the discussion as Ryan’s computers noticed another firing on his ship. Most told him to take out the Chinese space station. Only the politicians stayed silent.
“OK, General Ming, you have heard this discussion on whether your expensive spaceship is to be destroyed or not; then the U.S. ex-president intervened, as he always did.
“Ryan, that laser aboard the Chinese ship is a danger to peace down here on Earth if you ever leave orbit, and we lose your dominance in space. You have given the Chinese fair warning. As far as I, and the vice president are concerned, if they fire on you again, you have the permission of the United States government to fire back at the Chinese Space Station immediately.”
Everybody listening heard the statement and the radio went silent.
“General Yan Ming in China, I have the world’s permission to shoot your space ship down. Fire again and I will do so.
Somewhere in China the general’s phone rang. Somebody important told him that the American was bluffing—they always did—and to destroy every spaceship, including the ISS.
The computers recorded the Chinese laser gun firing from 1,900 miles away; Ryan calmly told Captain Pete to destroy the attacker.
On his seventh shot three minutes later, the Chinese space ship exploded into a bright ball of flame that could be seen by millions down on earth. Very few knew what was going on above them; even with so many lights up in the sky over the last weeks, this one was certainly something to look at.
America One was directly over the United States, and it was night there. Not another word was heard over the radio frequency, and Ryan knew that every country down on earth was going on their highest alerts possible.
Chapter 6
Fallout and pleading from Earth
For twenty minutes the radio frequency stayed silent. Ryan sat in his Command Chair totally depressed. He was sure that good men and women aboard the Chinese craft had died for absolutely no reason; they died from his lasers, lasers created to open caverns on distant planets, so that one day they could find a new home. Now—like in the Middle East and Korea—he had more blood on his hands.
He was relieved that the deaths were on his own hands, and not the hands of his crew. He had given the orders, and he was sure that half a dozen or more innocent astronauts had died.
***
VIN had a lousy headache thanks to the Chinese girl who, although she was extremely pretty, appeared as dangerous as a viper about to attack.
Everyone in the ISS had gathered in the module where the girl was tied down in a chair to prevent her floating around. One by one, they had stiffly floated in once they had relieved themselves. They were listening to the discussion going on over the radio and even the Chinese spy, and Jonesy and Maggie, floating a mile off and facing the incoming Chinese space station, listened to every word.
The Chinese spy smiled at VIN. “God! She is good-looking,” he thought to himself. “If I were a single man!”
“Our lasers are very accurate and powerful,” she told him with a confident tone, still smiling. “They will blast all your space craft into small pieces.”
“I don’t think so,” replied VIN.
“What real range do your Astermine lasers have, Lieutenant Noble?” the commander asked.
“Top secret, but far more than what the Chinese have,” VIN replied.
“Impossible,” laughed the sexy agent. “Our scientists have worked on the designs we got from the Russians, who by the way got them from your own air force a couple of years ago, Lieutenant. I heard that recent tests with our most powerful laser, the one aboard the fifth launch vehicle, verify it is accurate up to 500 miles, 480 miles further than the American one in Washington State, and 400 miles further than the most modified Russian laser.” VIN smiled at the offered information. He didn’t even need to warn Ryan, the Chinese craft would never get to within 1,000 miles of any of the other craft up here.
“And that is the only laser you have?” he asked. “Stop telling me about toy guns. Is that all you Chinese have?” For a second the pretty girl’s smile wavered, but she still smiled confidently.
“Each one of the sections of our ship is armed, and once all three lasers are in range, the other two have a 200 mile range; then all your spaceships will go, as you Americans say, kaboom! Beat that!”
VIN smiled and Commander Philips looked at him questioningly. “What is your boss going to do about their range? We only have minutes left at 500 miles.” he asked. “What is the range of your weapons?”
“I assume that your lasers use gas fuels for range?” VIN asked the agent.
“Of course, what other fuels are there for a laser?” she asked her face questioning, and VIN now had all the information he needed.
“Plutonium. Plutonium-238. Per pound it is four times more powerful than any strength and range the gas powered lasers can produce,” he smiled sweetly at the agent.
Commander Philips then smiled. “I heard that your boss got a pound of plutonium-238 from NASA a couple of years ago. Is that what’s powering up your laser?” he asked.
“Yes, and also the one out there on our shuttle floating a mile off from us.”
“So, that gives your laser about a 2,000 mile range?” gulped the Chinese girl, now looking a little paler.
“About right,” VIN smiled. “That’s our smallest one, and we have several pointed at your space ship right now from our mother ship.”
“And your most powerful one?” she asked now gathering information just as VIN had done.
Well, the next one up has ten pounds of brand new plutonium-238, a 20,000 mile range, and the rest is top secret.” He smiled at his audience.
“That far! Surely it’s not accurate at that distance?” the ISS commander asked. Even he was totally shocked. The Chinese girl was speechless. It was time for her to change sides.
“Semi-accurate up to 2,000 miles, accurate to within twelve inches at 1,000 miles.” VIN smiled at her. “Your space station was already toast several minutes ago. Everybody went silent listening to the ever-growing number of international participants on the radio frequency telling Ryan what they thought he should do.”
A few minutes later the bright light of an explosion lit up a couple of the crew’s faces as they peered out of the windows in the direction of the Chinese space station they couldn’t see yet. VIN just stared at the Chinese girl; her face was now white and full of worry. “Sorry, Lieutenant, I was dead anyway. The plan was to destroy this ISS with all the crew inside including me. China wanted to show the Americans and Russians the strength of their new laser weapons, and that General Ming and the Chinese government were the new controllers of the area of space above all the world’s countries.” My government was very angry about that American Air Force general destroying all our satellites; so many decades of work.”
“So, Lu, why didn’t you kill us two days ago? You were already up here weeks before this problem was started. How did they know what was about to happen?” asked the ISS commander.
“My first objective was to learn what I could about this station, for future Chinese advancement in space. I have two degrees, one in aerospace, and one in astro-engineering. I was to be a spy aboard and return peacefully, as well as keep an eye out on that slut you are sleeping with,” she stated with distaste looking at her Chinese counterpart.
Commander Philips and the Chinese girl blushed at the same time, but said nothing.
VIN suddenly felt like he was watching a soap opera.
“Our government knew that you two were already sleeping together before she and I arrived up here, and my government was worried that you would make her defect to America,” continued the spy.
“How did they know?” Commander Philips asked shocked.
“A very important man in NASA leaked the information a few months ago. You had asked for her to join your team a year ago,” she replied.
“I sure know who that was,” injected VIN.
“My government wanted NASA to return her to Earth, but there were no manned supply ships available to take her down. My job was to terminate her if it looked like she would defect, if released from here. Then everything changed with the meteor shower and General Ming was ordered to destroy everything up here for revenge, and take over command of space. They did not know that Mr. Richmond was so advanced and powerful. We could not get any information out of his headquarters in Nevada. I heard from others that special agents were sent into America last year to get information out of the people who had worked for him, even terminating a few and their families, but we never got a thing.”
“Who was targeted?” VIN asked, now shocked.
“I don’t know of very many, I was sent up here, but I will trade you the names for my life.”
“That is not a decision for me to make,” VIN replied seriously.
Then one of the American scientists asked him a question that made him smile. It was the same lady who had bandaged his head and VIN, looking at her very attractive face, decided that she must be the doctor or surgeon they had talked about on the Bridge.
“Lieutenant Noble, your legs are extremely hard. Do you have metal legs?”
“Yes,” added the spy smiling her sweet smile at him. “I tried to kick him in the things you Americans call ‘nuts’ after I hit him over the head. Then, my whole body became paralyzed, but I felt my knee connect to something hard, like metal.”
“Both correct,” smiled VIN. “I’m a robot, one of Mr. Richmond’s new inventions. Want to see?” The whole crew nodded yes and Fritz smiled at the antics VIN was getting up to. He raised one of his flight suit trouser legs to show his sexy lower right metal leg. “Are you getting excited yet, Ms. Chinese spy? You should see the size of my robotic nuts, big metal nuts!”
“Oh, bullshit!” the surgeon shot back. But VIN could see that even she wanted to touch and inspect the merchandise. What surgeon wouldn’t? VIN lowered the one trouser leg and pulled the other one even higher, as far as it would go, about halfway up his upper leg. He was enjoying his five minutes of fame before he would tell them the truth.
Even Fritz was impressed with how well formed and complete his legs were. They even had a form of skin-covering, the metal parts seeable through the “skin”. The scientists had certainly done a good job.
“Do you really have ‘metal nuts’ under there?” the spy asked, her faced shocked at what she had just witnessed.
“Yep!” replied VIN, “semi-accurate up to 2,000 miles, and totally accurate under 1,000 miles.”
“Oh bull crap!” smiled the surgeon again enjoying his sense of humor. “Your prosthetics are certainly modern; I would like to see them sometime.”
“And watch the nuts, doc. They are still real, as is the rest of his upper, still bleeding body; and his human parts are all accounted for by another deadly robotic person,” smiled Fritz adding in his two cents worth. The intercom headsets on both their heads squawked with Maggie’s voice.
“VIN, sitrep (situation report) please, we are attaching back onto the ISS port.
***
At the same time Ryan, on a different frequency, was talking to his friend, the ex-president.
“So what do we do now?” Ryan asked.
“I would assume that you have legally salvaged the ISS, Ryan, and you have jurisdiction over it since McNealy ordered NASA to let the crew die. I will talk to my Russian friends later this morning, and then to the Europeans. Only the Japanese have any other say, and I spoke to them last week. They showed little interest in the ISS. They have far bigger problems back home, plus none of the crew is theirs. Ryan, I need to ask you a question. How long are you going to be in orbit around Earth before we lose your laser protection?”
“I would say eight to twelve months before the ship is ready to sail; and tell the Europeans that my protection will come at a cost.”
“I’m listening.”
“There is due to be one more launch to resupply the ISS in two months. If we hadn’t supplied the ISS the crew would be dead, so the resupply is not necessary.”
“So you want to use the launch for your own supplies?” the ex-president asked.
“Let me ask you one question, sir. Who is now going to be in the White House? Who will be the country’s next leader?”
“Why?” the ex-president asked. “You don’t live here anymore.”
“It depends on what I ask to be included in the one and only resupply flight remaining. Also, I’m getting some new ideas on how to leave Earth’s orbit and protect my fellow Americans at the same time. I need to know who I can depend on to not start World War III. I want to come back to something in the future.”
“Do you trust me, Ryan?” the ex-president asked straight out.
‘I’m not sure I trust any politicians, members of the government, or even the military any more. I do not trust Bill Withers as a friend any more, but he is the best person to head NASA. I don’t trust Joe Everson or the FBI, CIA and NSA. They were all under your orders to spy on me. I do not know who to trust, and one of my crew just called me from the ISS on our private intercom saying that the Chinese spy is spilling the beans, and there is much I should hear. Have you connected with the Chinese?” Ryan asked.
“Only to defer war or retaliation against the U.S. for what we did. Other than that, Ryan, I have never had any secret or private dealings with anybody in China. I give you my word as a longtime friend. And to answer your earlier question, the vice president is shocked at what has happened. They are going in tonight to clear the Oval Office. The vice president is young, only in his early 40s, and has asked me to take over leadership of the country; he will continue to serve under me as interim vice president until we can schedule another round of elections, in about a year’s time. Ryan, the world is in trouble. If we haven’t blown everybody else off the planet in the next six to twelve months, I believe that we and all the other countries can begin to rebuild. As you know it’s going to take five years to a decade before we have new GPS, military, and communication satellites filling the voids of space. If you come back in a couple of years, you won’t see much improvement down here on Earth. That stupid Mortimer has killed off any world progress for a long time to come. Also, given the 50/50 probability right now of a nuclear war, Earth could be totally barren when you return. Your protection could decrease that, but we need worldwide collective thinking to put all of us back on track. You don’t trust anybody down here; do you think the world’s countries can trust each other right now? Ryan, there are thousands of insecure people but powerful people who can make or break our world, and that is going to continue unless we can put things into perspective, and the United States can demonstrate that we are still the most powerful nation on Earth. If I lead this country again, Ryan, it will be as it was the last time I was in power; I will be fair to everyone and give every country a chance to work with us to make this planet stable and productive again. I hope that gives you food for thought. Now, I know that your brain has been at warp speed while I was talking. What can I do for you if I take over the reins in a few weeks?”
“I want my airfield back. I want Bob Mathews and his two co-pilots and the Dead Chicken on the apron. I need at least two or three of my old hangars resurrected, plus three aircraft hangars for my shuttles. I want enough solid rocket fuel for several more launches into space. I can give you a list of people down there I will need to continue work on two projects for six to nine months. Joe Downs communicated with me yesterday telling me that my airfield is barren, everything has been dismantled, by the NSA I assume. I will need you to accommodate my scientists and others at the airfield beginning with my security guards, all thirty of them. Only then can I do what you want me to do and construct a defense weapon for the United States.”
“You are welcome down here again. I will contact the Chinese to warn them that you are still an American, and that you will be ready to shoot down any missiles they fire, 24/7. I think they will now listen to what I say, and you might have to back up my words and show your power from space to prove that I’m telling the truth. That should avert a world war. China is the one country most likely to start a war. I’m not, and I know the Russians are not. Your lasers up there have everybody paying deference to you—until you decide to leave. That is all I ask. Send me the list of names; I will get the vice president to issue orders to NASA, the Russians, the Europeans, and our own air force and navy to fly the guys you want into Nevada. I will start right now setting up your airfield, with accommodations, new fencing and security gates. Give me time, it should be ready in about a month.”
“Good, I want Bill Withers to head up NASA, and to release the guys I need,” added Ryan, still thinking. “When will all the president’s men be accounted for?”
“The vice president has the FBI and other agencies hot on the trail of McNealy and Bishop; along with Mortimer, as of today, they are on the government’s Most Wanted list. Thanks to your advice earlier we are checking air force bases. Mortimer has his long-range Gulfstream and can go anywhere. We might need your help tracking him if we locate him flying outside the U.S. The Russians and Europeans know he is to blame for their problems, and are as keen to capture him as we are. The president will be dealt with tonight; he will stand trial for crimes against the U.S. and he and his men are soon to be history. Power has already been transferred to the vice president by Congress. This is the first time in years they have acted so quickly. Duties imposed by the ‘Importation of Space Goods’ law has been decreased from 65 percent to 33 percent. All four agencies, the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, and NASA are being scrutinized by Joe Everson. The House and the Senate are examining each other’s past history, including each person in the House of Representatives. Within a year or so, we should have a clean, working legislative branch of government. No more can be done now, except to get Bill Withers back to work on a new array of satellites.”
The radio communication ended, in case too many others found the frequency. Ryan would need his ex-pilots to work out a system of safe frequencies and times of use for future private communications. Cell phones were useless in space.
Suzi handed Ryan a salad. He noticed that it wouldn’t be long before they had little toddlers running around the corridors, and he was rather looking forward to that. There were already several children on board, but as yet, apart from at his welcoming party, he hadn’t seen any. He needed to learn what everybody was doing aboard ship, but first he had to figure out what to do with the ISS and its crew.
Chapter 7
America One has visitors
Ryan had much thinking to do, but first he had to get his crew home and sort out the ISS. He did have legal salvage rights, but he didn’t want to take the space station with him around the solar system, it wasn’t designed for such a journey; nor was Ivan or the growing number of supply freighters around the ship. He decided that Bill Withers and NASA could use all the equipment he didn’t want, and he needed to plan a new strategy.
First he had figure out where to park the ISS. America One and everything else would be safer at a higher altitude so he instructed Captain Pete to slowly increase their altitude to 1,000 miles once all the shuttles returned. He would have preferred to go back to a higher 22,000 mile geostationary orbit above Nevada, but both lasers would be too high to accurately protect the U.S. It didn’t really matter at what altitude the supply freighters or the ISS orbited as there were no pressure changes like in marine or atmospheric conditions. However, the higher up they went, the more cosmic radiation would enter the craft.
At 22,500 miles the radiation levels aboard Ivan had doubled the last time, although it was still within safe limits for humans; but only America One and all his other craft were totally protected and able to go higher. If he armed both an unmanned ISS and Ivan with automated lasers controlled from Earth, he could leave them behind.
“I have Mr. Jones on our backup frequency. He wants orders, as do Mr. Noble and Mr. Warner who are still aboard the ISS.”
“Thanks, Pete,” replied Ryan getting back to the present. “How long before SB-I and SB-II reach the ISS? Tell them to go to the backup frequency. We are going to have to do what the military does and scramble communications for future frequency changes. I’m sure we have half the world, and China, listening in to us already.”
“The two shuttles need an hour,” Pete replied.
“SB-I, SB-II, you are to continue to the ISS. Did you copy that?” asked Ryan. Pete gave him the OK that he had coded a sentence only crew who had been aboard would be able to decrypt, and both he and the crew had changed channels.
“SB-I, copied that,” replied Michael Pitt.
“SB-II, also copied that,” added Allen Saunders.
“Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble, are you listening?” Both replied that they were.
“We will talk on this channel for a maximum of two minutes. Our next communication will be in sixty-two minutes on 125.5 and then on 147.0 in one hundred twenty-four minutes. Copy that?” They all did. “When you return, I want you former air force personnel to develop a better system to scramble radio frequencies before any more flights. Mr. Pitt, Mr. Saunders, connect your shuttles to the ISS on opposite ends. Mr. Jones, you are riding shotgun as protection. SB-I and II, ignite rear thrusters and bring the ISS back to us. America One will commence an altitude change in six hours. By that time you need to have your cargo docked to the mother ship. Mr. Noble, Mr. Warner, maintain peace in the ISS; have a party or something. I’m sure you have enough doctors and first aid kits aboard to keep your wounds bandaged for your short journey. Out.”
For most of the flight, moving under full thrust from the two powerful shuttles, the ISS crew questioned VIN and Fritz; the two mostly refused to answer anything.
Dr. Nancy Martin was very interested in VIN’s legs and they went into another room where VIN permitted her to feel and prod his legs. He was rather embarrassed about this very pretty female doctor wanting to touch him. He was a marine after all, not a scientific experiment!
Fritz’s head hurt as much as VIN’s did. Now armed with VIN’s Glock, passed through by Maggie from SB-III, he guarded the rest of the crew. He didn’t trust any of them, and there wasn’t to be any party. They all tied themselves down around the chamber for the short journey to a ship far bigger than they had ever seen that even had a round, above-ground empty swimming pool/sauna and a sunbathing deck. The crew aboard the ISS was certainly going to get a shock; they had never seen space travel done first class!
After a twelve minute burn, the shuttles had changed orbital direction and were climbing to liaise with the mother ship only 50 miles higher than they were, and 12,000 miles away. It would take two orbits and over 100,000 miles of travel to meet up.
The doctor was seriously inspecting VIN’s legs. He was strapped to a flat table, to keep from floating off, and he felt very weird. She touched his flight suit legs here and there, as high as they went. Even though they were no higher than his upper legs he could not stop his body from shamelessly reacting to her touch. His brain could actually feel the stronger prods, and her fingers were going higher and higher.
“Can you feel hot and cold, wind, or weather, or pain through this membrane skin?” the doctor asked prodding him for the umpteenth time. She pinched him, and he actually winced.
“Not as much as my real body, about 60 percent as much,” VIN answered.
“Your leg mechanics, I assume, are stronger than your original legs were?” she asked trying in vain to move a leg.
“Yes, far stronger. Good for jumping around asteroids.”
“Jumping on asteroids, huh?” she replied thinking he was playing around.
“On Earth I can leap as high as thirty feet, if I concentrate. On the asteroid we visited, I cleared well over sixty feet. Now, I’m looking forward to at least an 800-foot jump on the moon.” That got her attention.
Meanwhile, Fritz was keeping an eye on the crew. The commander and the Chinese biologist were tied together holding hands. The older German scientist, Petra, chatted to him in German a bit, but they ran out of things to say. Every now and again the Russian cosmonaut asked how his old friends were doing, and if he was going to meet them. He seemed to know many of Ryan’s older buddies, Boris, Igor, and Vitaliy. The sexy Chinese spy was asleep. Since the crew was still being held in a semi-captive situation, they didn’t feel very talkative; nor did Fritz. His head hurt.
Six hours later, the ISS was finally docked to America One, with Ivan in-between. The shuttles had tried to bring her in close to Cube Seven, but her antennae were too large to be placed so close. So the only way was for Jonesy to dock the ISS to Ivan, which was docked underneath America One out of the way, and this gave them enough room for the antennae.
One by one, with VIN leading the now happy Dr. Nancy through Ivan, first, they floated into Cube Seven where they were greeted by Ryan, Suzi, the ship’s doctor, Doctor Rogers, his very pregnant wife Nurse Martha, and Mr. Rose. Magnetic shoes were handed to the doctor while VIN returned to get Petra.
Suzi and Martha Von Zimmer both hugged Petra, their floating friend, then gave her shoes to put on and told her to follow them.
Commander Popov was happy to see Boris and Igor waiting for him. Vitaliy floated out of the rear engine room a few seconds later with two of his team to greet their friend. Ryan was there and suggested that the Russian team head off to the cafeteria and celebrate with a shot of vodka. Popov’s eyes lit up at the suggestion.
It took fifteen minutes for each floating exit through Ivan, and nobody was in a real rush. Commander Philips would be next and Captain Pete was called down to meet his friend. The Commander of the ISS floated out with the Chinese biologist, and Captain Pete escorted them up to the cafeteria to join the Russians. Everybody involved was to meet there once the ISS was empty. VIN stayed behind to help Fritz with the person who had given them their headaches.
VIN thought it was quite easy to control a bound, floating human body.
“Want the same headache you gave us Ms. Chinese spy?” VIN joked.
“Not really, my head is full of brains, Lieutenant, and be careful where you put your hands. You too, Herr Fritz! Put them in the lady places, and I will have to kill both of you.” She stated, smiling sweetly. Both men were already hooked and VIN now knew why that James Bond dude never got married in the movies.
Her whole body was bound by a nylon cord making her look more like a rolled up carpet than a human. VIN had made sure that there was no way that she could get out of her predicament; he was a marine after all, reminding her that he wasn’t new to this either.
VIN also noticed that Fritz and the Chinese spy had begun to get along towards the end of the journey to America One. Both held advanced degrees in the same two subjects in science; and VIN also noticed that the single, good-looking, introverted German, and his headache seemed to have gotten better.
The gravity was off in Cube Seven to deter any funny business from the visitors. It was hard to get about and control your body when it just floated in midair. Everyone had convened in the cafeteria except Ryan. Wearing metal shoes, he remained in Cube Seven to see the final crewmember exit.
“Ryan Richmond, may I introduce to you two people; on the dark side is Chinese agent Lu Min Yoon,” Fritz said, holding onto the floating agent while slipping on the magnetic shoes Ryan had handed him. Then he turned her to face Ryan. “On her other, pretty side is Ms. Lu Min Yoon from Shanghai University; she has Master’s degrees in both aerospace engineering and astrophysics. I’m not sure about her dark agent side, but her academic side is very respectable and interesting.”
Ryan smiled, so did the agent. “Unfortunately Ms. Yoon, I don’t really know what to do with you. We don’t have a confinement center to hold you, and I just can’t leave you hanging, sorry, floating around. What am I to do with you? We don’t even have a pair of handcuffs aboard America One. It’s not that type of ship.”
“Ask the Lieutenant to look in my bag of belongings in the ISS station. He will find a pair of handcuffs. It will be better, and more lady-like to be chained to something, than to float around in space like discarded waste. If you please, metal legs?” she smiled at VIN now floating behind her. He returned ten minutes later. Both Fritz and VIN finished unwrapping her after they handcuffed her wrists behind her back. Ryan smiled as she continued to threaten the two men with death if they touched her in the wrong place.
Both men smiled, knowing that she wasn’t really dangerous, the handcuffs were of good quality, and she was at a disadvantage still floating around.
The four were the last to enter the cafeteria. The newbies had been shown the elevator ropes, and Ryan was commended by all the visitors on the size and quality of his ship. He bowed and thanked them. They were certainly a respectable group of knowledgeable people to receive accolades from.
He answered a few questions, and passed on several pertaining to the systems of his ship.
“I‘m sure to you I look like Captain Nemo in the movie, ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea’, and you may feel like his captives. Because of the recent change in leadership in the United States, I have decided that I will risk using one of my shuttles to return you to Earth in about a month’s time. While you are aboard America One each of you will be chaperoned 24/7 until you leave us. Doctor Rogers and Nurse Martha will look after Dr. Martin. Martha and Suzi, you have your orders. Igor, Boris, Commander Popov, the same for you. Commander Philips, I’m sure you will enjoy being with Captain Pete, Allen Saunders, or Michael Pitt when they are not on duty on the Bridge.” He introduced the men. “You are not allowed on the Bridge, and nobody apart from the crew is allowed through the round door. It will not open without proper thumb implants.
I need to ask all of you a question. Did the Chinese agent, Ms. Yoon, ever treat any of you badly before or after she held you hostage?”
“No, she was professional, and treated us reasonably well allowing us to eat, drink, and relieve ourselves for the two days we were held captive. That is my own opinion,” replied Commander Philips.
“Da, I agree,” stated Captain Popov.
“Ja, she was OK,” admitted the German scientist. “Just, she bound my hands a little tight.
“I’m sure she had orders to do what she did, and she did not harm us in any way,” added Nancy Martin.
The Chinese biologist said nothing; she just looked at Yoon with contempt. The agent was still bobbing on and off the floor like a half-dead balloon with the limited gravity, while the rest all had on metal shoes.
“Mr. Noble, Mr. Warner please give her some shoes and handcuff her to one of the chairs to free up one of her hands,” ordered Ryan. They did so as fresh coffee in sealed containers, and snacks were brought into the cafeteria.
“You made this all up here, Suzi?” the German biologist asked, her mouth already watering.
“Only the chocolate cake and the Danish, Petra. The coffee is still from earth, and so are the sandwiches. We still have tons of deep frozen supplies from Earth; enough for another year or two.”
The ISS crew marveled at the display placed in front of them.
“I am starting to believe that I am on the Nautilus, Mr. Richmond,” said Commander Philips smiling, and eating ravenously like the rest of the hungry ISS crew.
“Yes, but unfortunately up here in space all good things will come to an end,” replied Ryan. “Captain Nemo fished from the bottom of the sea. We don’t have that opportunity up here.”
For the next twenty minutes everybody got to know each other. Jonesy, Maggie, Penny, Kathy and Jamie entered after closing down the three shuttles.
“You certainly have the pick of the crop from the air force,” remarked Dr. Nancy Martin as the girls entered. “Maggie Sinclair, I heard you were dead! Now you walk in here, like you own the place.” For a second Maggie was stumped until Nancy reminded her that they had been in the same class in their first year at the Air Force Academy in Colorado.
“That’s right, the Nancy Martin. You wanted to be a pilot, your parents wanted you to study medicine, and they won. I remember now, we had those goodbye drinks on your last night and got rather ratted together. I’m glad to see you made it. Head of a fancy department at John Hopkins I hear.”
“Yes, I always had a good feel for surgery, a dead accurate hand, and thanks to my parents that was the direction I chose.”
“Married? Kids?” Maggie asked.
“Married once, no kids, married to my work. And you? You look like you might be.”
“Yes, to Mr. Jones here, ex-United States Air Force test pilot and soon to be a father. We are all pregnant up here. Even our friend Jamie found out two days ago that she’s pregnant.”
“No television, I assume?” smiled Commander Philips. Everybody laughed.
“Nein,” smiled Suzi feeling her large belly. “Earth-made but to be a space baby.”
“The doctor’s wife, Nurse Martha Rogers, our only nurse on board will be first to deliver in two weeks!” added Maggie.
“Looks like I have to deliver my own,” Doctor Rogers smiled at the surgeon. “Dr. Martin, would you like to assist? I would be honored.”
“Of course, Doctor, the honor is mine,” she smiled.
Ryan was happy to see the comradery. One of his main worries was that his crew would become unfriendly, unsociable “robots” on this long journey.
“Looks like you might need me to assist in a few more, with all these pregnant ladies, Doctor,” she added. “Hope you sent up a lot of diapers, Mr. Richmond. You are sure going to need them. Must be something in the water down there in Nevada,” she joked.
There was little accommodation completed on the ship. Half the crew still waited for their apartments to be finished. Ryan asked the doctor if the visitors could sleep in the empty hospital ward. There were six unused beds and the ISS crew was to be moved into the hospital. Except Agent Yoon. She was still the big problem, and after the last couple of years, it would take a lot to gain Ryan’s trust.
Fritz offered to chaperone her, and the hospital beds had far more metal to tie her to during sleep hours. The rest of the ISS crew suggested that they could keep an eye on her during sleep hours, and Fritz could during wake hours. Ryan finally agreed and that problem was solved.
Life on America One went back to normal when her new altitude was reached a couple of days later.
***
The U.S. president was evicted from the Oval Office; unfortunately, his Secret Service agent was killed in the attack. The storming of the Oval Office was kept quiet from the media, except to say that the president had relinquished the famous office, and was now under guard in a safe house in Washington.
Twenty-four hours later he and his wife were found dead inside the house. Both had committed suicide leaving a long note about being deserted by the American people, and how he, as president could have saved the country from itself.
Twelve hours later Congress passed an emergency law enabling the former president to be was sworn in as interim-president for a minimum term of one year, or until new elections were held. The vice president remained in office and life began to get back to normal in Washington.
The FBI was closing in on a small jet that seemed to always stay one step ahead of them. It carried Bishop and McNealy; Mortimer’s whereabouts were still unknown. The president and thirteen of his closest conspirators had been taken in or were already dead; there were three to go. The seventeen men who had tried to commandeer the country were now out of power and not a threat to anyone.
Nobody knew that there was an eighteenth, the alpha-wolf, who had helped get the president elected in the first place using unlimited amounts of money and contacts. It had cost him over $100 billion of his personal wealth to sway the elections to serve his purpose, and he wasn’t even an American!
Chapter 8
Mortimer, Bishop and McNealy
The sleep and wake cycles for everyone aboard America One were scheduled in eight and sixteen hour shifts. Few departments worked around the clock and there were insufficient personnel to staff three shifts a day. In biology, the seven cubes did their own thing. The plants didn’t need human help to grow, just computer assistance to turn lights on and off. Special changes to lighting in daytime and nighttime, heat checks, and everything else was done during wake hours; pollination by the bees or the midges occurred only in wake hours. At night two guards at a time guarded the cubes, and walked the corridors in three-hour shifts. The guard crew was comprised of the males from the air force, astronauts, VIN and Fritz, and Jamie, who was at the very beginning of her pregnancy.
The Bridge was continuously manned by an armed person-in-charge: Captain Pete, Ryan, Suzi, Maggie, Kathy, or Penny. Sometimes VIN sat with Suzi during her shift, and looked out at the solar system often using the powerful telescope to search out stars and constellations. The swishy door could be locked down from inside.
The walking exercise was necessary for the astronauts. Even though they worked out in the gym daily, the several miles of light gravity walking each night helped them stay as fit as was possible in space. It would be easier once the whole craft was rotating, giving them more gravity to challenge their thinning muscles.
The doctor warned Ryan that normal gravity conditions were becoming more and more necessary to help the crew maintain muscle mass. Several more adjustments to the engines, especially the one that wouldn’t ignite no matter what the mechanics tried, were needed before the craft could start rotating.
Ryan had just completed a meeting with his mechanics on when to start minimum revolutions when Captain Pete alerted him that he had a radio message from the new president. Over the last two weeks, the air force pilots aboard had worked out a radio scrambling system using 200 different frequencies in one-minute intervals to communicate in space. Each had a name and even the names revolved on different frequencies every week.
A second, totally different system was enacted for radio messages between Earth and space. Three more geostationary satellites had gone offline and the entire world was struggling to communicate and exchange information using systems available only in space.
Older ground-based systems and undersea lines of communication were at full usage, and were being taxed to the limit. Powerful radio communications directed into space were far easier, and this was the only way the president could speak to Ryan.
“Good morning, Ryan. Its 10:00 a.m. here in Washington.”
“Good morning to you, Mr. President, it’s the third hour of my wake time up here, and I believe around 4:00 p.m. in the Sahara which we are over right now. We have thirteen minutes before we go over the horizon.”
“I need your help. We are about four to six hours behind Bishop and McNealy in their jet. It’s not the same one they have always used. I believe it is the Gulfstream, Mortimer’s own jet. They seem to fly and land three times a day at certain pre-arranged airfields. Through this system of theirs, we have apprehended over 100 personnel, who have supplied them with fuel, food, and board. Their time is running out. It seems that their latest ride is a jet that can take them over the Atlantic. We think that they are heading eastwards to refuel somewhere in the middle of the country for a flight over to Europe. We also believe that they are going to join up with Mortimer, who we have been told is hiding somewhere in Greece, on one of the islands. I want you to get one of your laser shuttles ready, and set up surveillance over the East Coast. We can give you a list of all the civilian and military flights in and out of the country at all times. Your job will be to check out and follow flights that are not logged from any civilian or military airports, and ascertain that military flights are the type of aircraft the flight plans state. How close do your cameras need to be to visibly see an aircraft?”
“I would say at a low Earth orbit, about 200 miles,” replied Ryan.
“Can you use your main ship to keep up a visual on outgoing flights while your shuttle is out of range?” the president asked.
“It could, but at such a low altitude the mother ship could be target practice for Chinese missiles, and I will not put America One and its crew in danger. What I can do, if this surveillance is for a short duration, is compute any not-accounted for flights working all of my shuttle computers with just one camera. You only need verification of the correct aircraft through one visual, but my computers could put a lock on it and my other shuttles could follow the lock while the others are over the horizon.”
“So you could use your three shuttles as a sort of GPS tracking system?” the president asked.
“Correct, plus we could input all the information into our ship’s main computers and at least keep its flight direction accurate.”
“Could you have Mr. Jones aim his laser at the jet’s engines if he is in a position to halt their flight?”
“I’m sure he would enjoy that!” smiled Ryan.
Ryan activated the three shuttles to disengage from America One, and descend to the lower orbit to find the criminals that had broken up his airfield and cracked his ribs. Jonesy was ecstatic to have an opportunity to get even with Joe Bishop, the man who had prematurely terminated his air force career.
No one really cared about Hal McNealy, but the jet could provide Ryan the means to track down the last of the big fish, Mortimer, who was somewhere in the vast area of the eastern seaboard. The time had finally arrived for Ryan to even the playing field.
Three hours later, the plan of action would commence. Long lines of civilian aircraft would depart the USA in the same flight windows, usually ten to twenty miles apart, to fly to destinations 1,000 to 3,500 miles away. Computers on Ryan’s shuttles would be programmed to follow the busy evening commercial flight patterns coming in from over a hundred airfields on both sides of the Atlantic.
Each pilot, civilian or military, had been warned to watch for any unregistered aircraft that might appear on their radars in the “wait and see” phase of the plan. Meanwhile, Jonesy, already over China, was decreasing altitude as rapidly as possible in SB-III to get a shot at the man who had ended his career. It was now open hunting season. Allen Saunders, flying SB-II, was several thousand miles behind the more modern shuttle, and Michael Pitt, piloting SB-I, was slowly descending a couple of thousand miles behind Allen Saunders. The three shuttles were decreasing altitude rapidly, but had vastly different forward speeds. They needed to span out so that one of them was over the U.S. or northern Atlantic at all times and they needed six hours to stretch around the globe. SB-III, however, was the only one that was armed,
Michael Pitt was the first shuttle to receive a report of an unidentified aircraft, a small jet flying out of Texas towards the East Coast.
“Get her down, Maggie,” Jonesy said to his co-pilot.
“I’m descending at maximum velocity, we will be less than 200 miles above Texas when we get over the state in twenty minutes,” she answered.
Traveling at 31,000 miles an hour forward speed, Maggie had decreased their altitude from 1,000 miles to 300 miles in three hours. She had used up 20 minutes at full burn, pulled half of their hydrogen fuel out of the first tank, and still Earth only looked slightly larger than at 1,000 miles. With their high forward speed, their orbits were getting faster and faster, and she was about to decrease their speed with reverse side thrusters.
Jonesy was determined to blow the jet aircraft to bits, but he knew that Ryan wanted it followed until it reached its destination. He didn’t know what aircraft it was, but if he could get a visual on it, he could work out its range. It might have taken off from a small tarred airfield in Texas, or it could have flown across from the West Coast.
A second report of an unregistered flight was found out to be a small propeller aircraft at high altitude flying north over Florida; it did not have the range but was tracked, just in case.
Within the next ten minutes, two more flights were recorded by civilian aircraft flying across the U.S. One was flying in the opposite direction, the second one, a small jet, was heading north towards Canada. Three of the four aircraft were fast enough to be jets. It seemed that more civilian pilots weren’t filing flight plans since the satellite systems were down; officials would be meeting these aircraft wherever they landed. Aircraft without registered flight plans didn’t know that they were being watched once again from eyes in space.
At 197 miles above Earth, a slowing SB-III reached the west Texas border area. Relatively accurate geological co-ordinates were given by all the civilian aircraft picking up the four aircraft, and Jonesy maneuvered his shuttle to fly along the route given for the first jet. At such a rapid speed, he would only have a few minutes to try and get a fix on the jet. It was like finding a speck of dust, but at least he could input the last known co-ordinates into his computer and, with his laser aiming device, he could try and get a visual on the target.
Maggie carefully maneuvered the shuttle enabling Jonesy to aim his camera in the general area. Allen Saunders, 9,000 miles behind him, would be over the same area in about twenty minutes and could take over from Jonesy. Michael Pitt was positioning himself to do the same for Allen. Jonesy checked the last known coordinates received from an American Airlines pilot flying a 737 towards Miami. The unidentified aircraft was pretty low at about 12,000 feet, and heading in the same direction at about the same speed, (510 miles an hour) 100 miles ahead of the 737.
The calculations, including the last known position of the 737, air speed, altitude of 31,000 feet and direction were physically punched into the computers. Jonesy was surprised when the latest position of the American Airlines jet came up on the screen less than ten seconds later. The radar had a lock on it, and he dialed the camera in and within a minute had a blurred shape which resembled a silver aircraft. It was only 200 miles ahead of him, and he played with the infra-red, the heat, and the visual camera screens, finding that the heat emissions from the jet’s two engines were a little easier to see at this distance.
He panned the coordinates forward a hundred miles and saw heat emissions a few seconds before SB-III was to head over the horizon, now three thousand miles in front of the target. He sent them to Allen Saunders, who punched in the coordinates and since they could track the aircraft as well, the computers just followed a scenario course at the imputed speed. The same happened with Michael Pitt and, ninety minutes later Jonesy came back over the other horizon, 80 miles lower, and at a much slower forward speed.
By this time the America Airlines 737 was beginning its descent into Miami; the pilot crew had seen the unidentified shape on its radar all the way and this time more accurate coordinates where punched into Jonesy’s camera computers.
He found the same emissions he had seen on the first pass. Jonesy quickly switched over to visual sight and suddenly a Gulfstream V with its pretty, sharp outline could be seen. He got all the laser aiming computers and the shuttles radar system to lock onto the shape, the size of a pinhead. The visual was accurate enough for Jonesy to recognize the aircraft type, and he radioed Ryan on the private intercom telling him what he had found.
“Gulfstream IV or V?” Ryan asked Jonesy.
“Definitely a Gulfstream 500; its light blue in color. I would bet my retirement pay it’s a Gulfstream 500, or 550, and very new.”
“Mr. Jones, you don’t have any retirement pay, you are not retired, and the aircraft I was thrown into at the airfield had a light blue coloring on its roof,” Ryan replied.
“Sounds like General Mortimer sent his own jet to pick up his friends and get them out of the country. I’m sure he would do that only to use the extended range his aircraft would have. Can I shoot it down?”
“Negative, Mr. Jones, get your lock sent over to SB-II. It seems that the jet hasn’t changed speed, altitude, or course since the American Airlines jet picked it up. I will report to Washington. Make sure your computers can remember the heat emissions for your next pass. If it is going to Europe, this jet has a long way to go. Do you know its range, Mr. Jones? Mortimer did tell me that it had extended range capabilities.”
“I’m not positive, but the last time I read up on this aircraft type, the longest range one of these had flown was just over 7,000 miles. Let’s say that it took off from LAX in Los Angeles. The furthest range from there is Athens, Greece, or in that area. If it took off from Dallas, Texas, its range will be at least another 1,000 miles. Also, when it gets closer to the eastern Mediterranean, you can ask the Israelis to track it.”
Ryan spoke to the president, telling him that the jet was thirty minutes from leaving U.S. airspace, descending, and changing direction to pass a hundred miles north of Miami. It certainly looked like the pilot was trying to stay under the radar, and away from large airfields with powerful tracking capabilities.
For the next six hours, the three shuttles tracked the unfortunate pilot that could have his aircraft blown up around him at any time. It would be a pretty stiff sentence for not filing a flight plan. The astronauts, now used to long periods behind the wheel, relaxed, ate meals, drank water, and passed over the small jet 200 miles below them at regular intervals. They changed their orbit to not fly over China, but the orbit needed to be close to the border when Jonesy’s radio woke up with the familiar Chinese voice of General Ming.
“Unidentified spacecraft, this is General Ming, head of the Chinese Space Authority. You are flying over Chinese airspace. Please state your country of origin, and the reason you are flying in our private area before we fire on you.”
“General Ming, Colonel Jones flying one of our laser-defended shuttles from our mother ship in space. We belong to no Earth country. We are the only permanent operating space agency up here and consider 100 miles above your country to be outside your private air space. International law dictates a country’s airspace to end at the outer atmospheric level, which we believe to mean the Kàrmán Line, which is 60 miles, or 100 kilometers above Earth, not 100 miles. Outside Earth’s atmospheric conditions, space is international territory, and belongs to no person, group or nation. That is why we did not state that it was ‘an act of war’ when your space station first fired on us, and we had the right to defend ourselves. It is nobody’s space up here. If you fire on us, we have been ordered to terminate any missiles you send up once they leave your airspace, not before. And General, don’t waste your missiles, they cannot touch us,” stated Jonesy following Ryan’s instructions of what to say.
They did not hear from the Chinese again.
Slowly the Gulfstream headed towards Europe passing over the Straits of Gibraltar. Over the Atlantic, the long-range jet had risen to normal altitudes, 48,000 feet. At this altitude, the range would be far better than at 12,000 feet. Also the president told Ryan that Bishop’s old jet had been found abandoned at an airfield just outside Fort Worth, Texas.
Jonesy worked hard trying to figure out the Gulfstream’s reduced range at low altitudes; once it climbed up to long-range heights shortly after passing over the East Coast, he reckoned that with its shorter flight over the U.S., the aircraft could still reach western Europe and Greece.
Thirty minutes before it reached the outer areas of Europe, Allen Saunders recorded that the pilot descended to 5,000 feet to pass through the narrow sea corridor; once the waters of the Mediterranean opened up, it flew closer to the African shoreline, and climbed to 51,000 feet, its highest cruising altitude.
Jonesy was amused that this was the same altitude the Dead Chicken had released its dozens of loads, and very few aircraft in the world could cruise so high. He now knew that his description of the aircraft was right.
Michael Pitt was over the Mediterranean when the jet approached to within 200 miles of Greek territorial waters. He mentioned to Jonesy that the aircraft was a bit too far south to be heading into Athens, and that he thought it was maybe heading into the Middle East or one of the Greek islands.
Jonesy took over as the aircraft began losing altitude 50 miles south of Crete, turned slightly northwards, and pointed its nose for the Greek island of Rhodes. By this time Maggie had reduced the shuttle’s speed to its minimum to stay in such a low orbit. Jonesy studied the aircraft and could nearly see the numbers on its tail. As soon as it looked like they had the destination he informed Ryan, who informed the president. Jonesy thought that the aircraft was already running on fumes to get so far, and fifteen minutes later the aircraft landed on the island of Rhodes.
U.S. forces out of Italy were already getting airborne and asking Greece for permission to fly into the island. They could be there by the time the jet was being refueled. Jonesy suggested that he blow the tail off the aircraft.
Ryan said that he might be able to on the next fly over, as the aircraft would need to be refueled. The U.S. president asked his Greek counterpart if the single Greek Air Force Puma helicopter on the island could check out the Gulfstream as it did not file an official flight plan into Rhodes.
Continuing his conversation with Jonesy, Ryan said, “Based on the information you were giving us the president was on the phone to Greece several hours ago, as well as to several other countries. He already has permission for a C-17 out of the U.S. base in Italy to land on Rhodes on a friendly, fact-finding visit. It has taken off and should be there in two hours. It is dark there, as I’m sure you noticed, and a Puma helicopter from the island will make its presence known to the pilots, to ask why they flew in unannounced. They have an Air Force team of a dozen armed soldiers that are entering the airport from the air force base a few miles away, and will stop the aircraft from taking off. Also, a couple of Greek naval vessels will take up patrols around the island within a few hours. Hopefully our targets think that they got away and are safe from our attentions, and not in a hurry. The island police have been put on alert and are also looking for any suspicious vehicles. If Mortimer has a residence there, I’m sure he has a few exit strategies.”
“Well, I’m glad I’m not putting a hole in that Gulfstream,” Jonesy confessed to Maggie. “She’s just too pretty to destroy.”
“I agree, and it must still belong to the government. Those Vs are $50 million aircraft,” she replied. “I’m sure that our old friends, the U.S. Air Force, will go in, take the aircraft over and fly it straight back to the States. Jonesy, I’m feeling a little yucky. Can you take over? I need to lie down? This pregnancy is getting to me.”
“Yes, of course! I was thinking, you are due in a couple of months, so if we time it right the baby might be born on Earth; he or she would be an Earthling, and I could show our baby off to my parents.” Maggie smiled at the new dad-to-be. He was thinking straight for the first time since she had known him.
Six hours later, Jonesy was still at a 100-mile altitude when he received word that he might be needed after all. The other two shuttles were returning to the mother ship when the radio message came in from the president himself, patched through from America One. Maggie was out, asleep on her now flat co-pilot chair.
“Colonel Jones, the president here. I know we have never met. I have reinstated your discharge from the U.S. Air Force to be honorable, at the rank of Full Colonel, and with full retirement benefits, backdated to the time you were discharged. I did send your father in Colorado a letter a couple of days ago stating how you have done such a great job for your country, and I’m sure he will be happy to receive it.”
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Jonesy replied happily shaking Maggie awake.
“Congrats Full Colonel Jones, I heard every word. Just don’t ask me to salute you. You are still discharged my friend,” smiled a sleepy Maggie back at him.
“Mr. President, please could you send any monies owed to me to my parents. There’s not much use for it up here; there isn’t even a gas station up here to buy a coke.”
“Certainly, Colonel, I will get it done for you. It’s a pretty sizeable sum. On another note, I hear you would like a shot at the guy who gave you the dishonorable discharge, Joe Bishop?” Higher up, Ryan smiled, knowing what Jonesy would say.
“Yes sir, Mr. President! Just show me where I can point my weapon. She’s ready and loaded. We will be over the Med in twenty minutes.”
“Excellent. Here are the co-ordinates. They are accurate up to 15 minutes ago. The target is a luxury, fast speed boat heading at 40 knots towards Turkey. There is a Greek Frigate 25 miles behind her and out of range. For heaven’s sake, don’t hit the wrong ship. The weather between Rhodes and the Turkish coast is clear with good visibility; it will be dawn in 10 minutes. Your job, Mr. Jones, is to find this boat, get a daylight visual on it, and I will give you orders to halt its progress. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, we have enough time to get a visual. We have 40 minutes before we will disappear over the horizon!” replied Jonesy excitedly.
***
As dawn approached, the sleek $10 million dollar speed boat Mortimer had purchased less than a year ago in Italy with government funds, easily ploughed through the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The ex-general himself, dressed in civilian attire, was calm as the boat pitched them slightly over the swells at 40 knots. He looked out of the Bridge area at the brightening sea around them. Joe Bishop and Hal McNealy were with him watching as the waters around them slowly turned, gold, and then silver as the sun rose directly in front of them.
They were 40 miles east of Rhodes, and 25 miles ahead of the Greek Frigate they knew was following them.
Having misappropriated indescribable amounts of money, the price of escape was insignificant to Mortimer. He, the now dead Tom Ward, and Joe Bishop had spent government money on themselves for a decade. Nothing was out of their reach. Even their $250 million dollar private island southwest of the Turkish town of Kas had been paid for in cash, with American dollars. The money was part of the 2013 U.S. Defense Budget allocated to the Turkish government directly from U.S. funds.
Mortimer had a beautiful house, the Kastellorizo Hotel, and he had built a full runway on the former Turkish island, away from its small coastal town called Port Kastellorizo.
He had constructed a hangar for the Gulfstream, the aircraft’s new home. The Gulfstream even had Greek letters and numbers on its tail, depicting Greek ownership. Mortimer wanted the jet carrying Bishop and McNealy to land on Rhodes. His island didn’t have refueling capabilities yet, they were being built, and he needed full tanks in case he needed to escape once again, to his second secret home, somewhere in the Middle East.
The pilot was to get the jet refueled and then fly the short hop to his island. Only half-full tanks would be then needed to fly to Iran.
Unfortunately, an hour after Mortimer picked up his friends at the airport, his flight crew had been surprised by Greek soldiers and were held until the C-17 arrived two hours later.
It was a simple affair. Several miles away while the three criminals were enjoying a late dinner in a restaurant, an America pilot crew hopped into the refueled jet while the captured crew—pilot, co-pilot and the three very pretty young cabin attendants—were walked into the C-17 which took off for Italy.
The noise of the takeoffs could be heard by the three men laughing and having a jolly time, but the noise was from the airport, they were west of the airport and it sounded just like civilian aircraft taking off.
Three hours later, two hours before dawn, the three jolly men entered a small fishing village on the eastern side of the balmy, dry island and boarded a very pretty 75-foot Italian-made fast cruiser. Released from its moorings, it slowly moved out of the fishing harbor towards Turkey.
“See Joe, Hal, good planning, and unlimited funds make for easy escapes from the dead U.S. eyes everywhere. I’m glad I’m not in control of the States anymore. Our ex-boss did what he had to do, got rid of himself and there isn’t much left for that other old goat to take over!” He laughed as he brought the boat easily onto plane, but kept the speed low so as not to make too much noise.
“How much do we have in Switzerland?” Joe Bishop asked the ex-general.
“More than we could ever spend,” laughed Mortimer turning on the elaborate radar system.
“Hal, we stuck away a quarter of your whole NASA salary budget for 2013,” laughed Joe. McNealy looked shocked at the information; he had not been told.
“I had a budget of four billion dollars for wages, that’s why I couldn’t pay my staff in the last quarter of last year. Even I had no pay for three months.” Hal looked at the two smiling men. “That’s a billion bucks!” he looked at his friends with a shocked face.
“And that stupid idiot Richmond thought he was rich; he never even came close to us,” replied Mortimer seeing a blip on his radar screen for the first time.
“That’s just a small part of our last ten years of dealings, Hal. Now you can have Tom Ward’s part. He won’t need it,” added Joe Bishop sensing a sudden change in Mortimer’s nature.
“Crap!” shouted Mortimer his temper rising to the surface. “That looks like a Greek military vessel, pretty big, a frigate or minesweeper, 21 miles north of us. It is turning and heading on a tangent to us. Stupid Greeks, we can outrun anything they have. I’m not that stupid.”
“Could they be looking for us?” asked Hal, not used to this cloak and dagger stuff.
“How could they be, nobody could follow us. They lost you guys at Fort Worth. They never knew where or when I left the country. It’s a big world out here, and there are dozens of fast boats around the Greek islands.”
“Yeah! Let’s see what this baby can do,” laughed Joe Bishop as the sky around them began to lighten, and Mortimer floored the two powerful, modified jet engines below.
The boat shot away from Rhodes at 45 knots.
“Hey! What have you got under the hood?” Hal asked, holding on tight.
“Two beauties running on jet fuel. A simple bit of air force property since Hal and I have 1,000,000 gallons of jet fuel coming over to fill up our new jet fuel tanks on the island,” laughed Joe Bishop.
“Yeah, Hal, we even have our own U.S. navy supply ship, now in fake Ethiopian colors, and she will arrive in a few weeks. We are rich in jet fuel, thanks to the air force, so the Gulfstream and this boat run on the same thing. We have 2,000 gallons below blowing us through the water at 45 knots,” added Mortimer smiling.
“We also have enough weapons on board our supply ship to defend our island from both the Greek and Turkish military, if they don’t like us,” laughed Joe Bishop. “Even an extra one of those nukes we threw at those asteroids!” Hal looked at them, his face draining of color.
They sped westwards at 45 knots. The frigate behind them was at full speed, managing only 32 knots. The two men went to the rear of the boat to see if they could spot the Greek frigate.
They couldn’t see any other shipping, the speed boat was really moving fast, but a small glint of sunlight on something shiny did catch McNealy’s eye. It was far higher than where a boat would be, the glint was in the sky.
***
Jonesy got a visual of the boat he was tracking and whistled.
“That nice?” Maggie asked.
“Something I could retire with,” replied Jonesy. At 97 miles, he could see the hull of the boat churning through the grey water 600 miles ahead of his position. He pulled the view out from the boat with the camera and saw that the nearest land was about 10 miles away. He had about fifteen minutes.
“I have the craft visual. It looks sleek and fancy, and is 30 miles ahead of the Greek naval vessel, and ten miles from land. I have three minutes of perfect shooting, and then it goes downhill from there. We are 400 miles behind, 180 miles south and 97 miles above the boat,” said Jonesy over the recently changed radio frequency; he was reporting to Ryan, the president, and whoever else was listening. As he spoke over his headset, he zoomed the camera in as close as he could; the speeding boat was going in the same direction as he was, now filling half his lenses. “I have the boat locked on, and I am aiming for the rear engine compartment. Hold on! Someone….a man…a short fat man has just walked to the open rear area of the boat. Yes! Yes! It’s the fat slob Joe Bishop. I can recognize his short little fat body anywhere, woohoo!” whooped Jonesy as the shuttle quickly closed over the boat’s location. “He has been joined by a second man, McNealy. They are staring up in my direction. McNealy is pointing straight at me. Gee! I hope they can see us, Maggie. We must be a tiny shiny dot up here. The sun must be glinting off the shuttle. Mortimer must be driving the boat. Request permission to fire.”
“Colonel Jones, Code Fox One, I’m giving you Code Fox One. You have permission to fire at the rear of the boat, to disable the engines only,” stated the president of The United States.
“You have 20 seconds before we are overhead,” stated Maggie calmly, preparing to turn the craft so that Jonesy would have more time on target if he missed.
Jonesy checked the laser screen readouts for the last time, everything was ready. He had a three-second burst set up, and he clicked the autofocus button on the control panel to get the sharpest view of the boat. He could plainly see Bishop now pointing directly up in their direction, showing Hal McNealy who was still peering towards the shuttle, his face was white and very shocked. He pressed the fire button and suddenly the view disappeared into a bright white, then orange flame, the brightness hurt his eyes.
He immediately zoomed out and had to go out quite a ways before he could see the fireball that milliseconds earlier had been the ship.
“Jonesy, I could see that explosion through the front window,” said Maggie.
“Hell, those weren’t diesel engines, even regular gas doesn’t burn that hot. It looked like a jet fuel or JP-8 explosion to me. Code Fox One target is destroyed.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” stated the voice of the president. “By what you are describing, I’m sure the Greek frigate has enough visual to speed to the site. We have just interrogated the Gulfstream pilot. They were heading to an island off the Turkish coast now owned by Mortimer. We are dispatching a C-17 out of Italy to fly over to the island with paratroopers. The pilot also told us about a U.S. naval vessel dressed up in foreign insignia that is expected to dock at the island in a week. He believes that it might have a U.S. nuclear warhead aboard. We have alerted all U.S. and European vessels in the area. Thank you, Colonel Jones; you have completed your mission. All the ex-president’s men are now accounted for.”
Chapter 9
Airfield in Nevada – Start of Act II
Twelve hours later, a tired Jonesy and Maggie docked to America One. Even though he hadn’t slept much over the last thirty-six hours, he still wanted to party in the cafeteria; and Ryan thought it important enough to haul out a bottle or two of vodka for the astronauts, knowing that only the men would partake, the ladies all being pregnant. He invited his Russian crew, Commander Philips and Commander Popov, and three bottles didn’t last an hour.
“To Full Colonel John Jones, his trusty co-pilot, Lieutenant Colonel Maggie Sinclair, to great astronauts who rid the earth of more vermin today than the Pied Piper did centuries ago!” toasted a happy Ryan on his third shot.
Jonesy stood up, bowed and said that it was one of the most pleasurable moments of his life and vividly explained to the group, describing the last few minutes of his hated enemy Joe Bishop’s life.
The next day, there was a second celebration with coffee and chocolate cake. The third accommodation cylinder was now complete, and another four family apartments came online, which meant that eight members of the crew and six children had a new home. There were still six more cylinders to go to achieve 100 beds. Forty-eight of the beds wouldn’t be needed for a decade or two, or once the babies about to be born would need private accommodations.
Allen and Jamie, Jonesy and Maggie were housed in Ryan’s cylinder. Behind Ryan’s cylinder was a storage cylinder and then in the third cylinder, the apartments were occupied by the doctor and his wife, VIN and Suzi, one of Suzi’s team with her husband. There was a need to have a mix of people throughout the ship. With three occupants per elevator, the crew in each cylinder would want to use different elevators to reach the center of the ship in any emergency.
Between each accommodation cylinder, there was a work or storage/habitation cylinder, so each of the accommodation units was near an elevator. When completed, each of the three outer levels would have three accommodation cylinders and four work/habitation or storage cylinders, each designed specifically for its special task.
The midlevel was where most of the crew worked, or had a small office, or a center of operations. The medical cylinders, the planned chapel, animal breeding rooms, biological research units, chemistry and mechanical labs, and more storage were on this mid-level.
The next accommodation cylinder, designed to accommodate five single-person apartments, was the one the team would start work on the next day.
Just before the next briefing started the next morning, and with his head not exactly functioning normally due to the previous day’s party, Ryan sat with Suzi and Martha working out the crew’s accommodation needs still to be built.
Two by two the astronauts filed in. Each couple looked the same: tall, fit and one of the two pregnant. Then the main group of scientists came into the cafeteria three at a time. Meetings on the Bridge were restricted to eight people; larger groups met in the cafeteria after breakfast was cleared away.
Once the fifteen crew arrived in the cafeteria, fresh coffee was served and Ryan started the meeting.
“Good news, we will be able to fly all three shuttles back to our airfield in Nevada in a few weeks, which means that we can enjoy the stocks we have up here more frequently than previously programed. Also, we will be returning the crew of the ISS to Earth, unless any of them want to stay and be part of our team. So far, Dr. Nancy Martin has offered her expertise on the odyssey we are about to depart on, and strangely enough, it seems that our Chinese spy would also like to stay with us.” The crew looked at each other.
“Sounds dangerous,” suggested VIN.
“Not a good idea,” added Suzi.
“She wants to stay with me,” explained Fritz. “If she returns to China she will be terminated—I assume killed—and Agent Yoon has no family or any other country to return to. I will take full responsibility if she is allowed to stay.”
“We will discuss this problem over the next weeks” said Ryan. “Ms. Yoon has been moved to Mr. Warner’s apartment and is restricted to his apartment until further notice.
“I hope we don’t find you dead in there one day, Fritz,” commented Jonesy, getting an elbow in the ribs from Maggie.
“I happen to agree with you, Colonel Jones,” added Ryan. “Mr. Warner, I suggest you keep one of your Tasers handy, and make sure Agent Yoon can’t get her hands on it. I will check with the build crew and the team who built Mr. Noble’s legs, and see if we can give her an implant, so we can monitor her movements aboard ship.”
“Or like what my father has in Colorado,” added Jonesy. “An invisible electric fence for his dogs, so that they can’t get out.”
“My way of thinking exactly. Thank you, Colonel Jones! Now, we are heading back to Earth. I’ve been up here three weeks tomorrow, and it feels like three months. America One needs five to seven months before the ship is complete throughout its interior. As you all know, we had planned to wait up here until the three new rear engines were installed and functional. It didn’t really matter if we still built-out once the engines were powering us and, if you remember, we had all decided to play it by ear once we arrived up here. Now we are the only manned space station in orbit around Earth.
“One of our new engines has a major problem, which cannot be fixed up here. The mechanics have suggested that we return it to Earth and use the good parts to build a new one. With our old team of engine mechanics and manufacturers down at the airfield, the time to produce new hydrogen pulse engines would be three to four months. Also, one, two, or even three engines could be manufactured at the same time. I know we have two extra of the smaller hydrogen pulse engines as spares already up here, but starting today, they will be mounted onto SB-III, since the mechanics don’t need work on America One’s defunct engine any more. SB-III will return the engine to Earth with her new configuration which will take the team up here three weeks to exchange. As planned, they will take out the first-stage fuel tanks and the two rear first-stage rocket motors; they will add the two new hydrogen tanks and the two new hydrogen pulse engines to her for vertical takeoff, like the Astermine craft are configured. That will end her dependence on the Dead Chicken. SB-III will be powerful enough to take off from Earth by herself and carry a two-ton load into space using only hydrogen. Once in space, she will use her hydrogen pulsers together with her ion thrusters.
“We will have time to produce enough new pulse engines for all three of our shuttles, and we will be bringing up several new 3-D parts building machines, much like computer printers, to make all backup parts up here. We also have purchased a new system that produces hydrogen gas from green plants. Suzi will rearrange one half of a cube to produce hydrogen gas and then use our current system up here to transfer the gas into liquid form. Some of our vegetables might be missing from the dinner table, but Suzi assures me that the growth in the cubes can be re-concentrated enough to allow for this added production.”
“How much can these green plants produce?” Maggie asked Suzi.
“It seems that half a cube of growth could produce enough hydrogen for 500 hours of shuttle-engine burn per year, about 1,000 liquid gallons once it is transferred,” she replied. “Also we are doing tests on these new plants to see if they are also valuable for human consumption.”
“As you all know, we are again in favor with the powers in Washington,” Ryan continued. “They have offered us anything we want, to manufacture something for them to protect themselves when we leave orbit for outer space. I have taken the president up on his offer, and we are going to produce two lasers for Washington, as well as two more for ourselves. I want each one of our shuttles armed. I put in an order with NASA last week for eight pounds of plutonium-238, four for us and four for them. The USA has begun to manufacture the plutonium again, but will only have this limited amount available on such short notice. Even Russia does not have any stocks left. I had purchased everything they had. I believe the Chinese have 238, but they don’t know how to power a laser with it, and nobody on Earth will be told how to.
“I believe that my plan will keep antagonistic countries from destroying each other, plus when we return in a decade or two, we won’t be blasted out of the sky by some Chinese, American or Russian weapon more powerful than ours. We will continue to modernize our weapon technology while we are traveling, and one complete cargo load of 4.1 tons, in one of our older shuttle launches, will be pure nickel for our purchased tool and part makers with this new 3-D building technology. More nickel will be located in space for all tools and parts needed to be made out of the metal. Igor, Boris, I, and a few others were studying these new printers last year while we were on Earth, but it was too late to incorporate them into our production lines. Now we can speed things up with them.
“Back to the lasers. One pound of 238 means that each of these four weapons will be as powerful as the laser Colonel Jones has in SB-III. The U.S. needs two weapons; one will be placed aboard an unmanned ISS and one aboard an unmanned Ivan. We will leave both stations in an orbit high enough to last a decade before somebody needs to resupply them. They will be positioned in the same orbit on opposite sides of the planet, so that one unmanned craft and its laser is always within range of the United States. NASA will have ten years to resupply this new defense system before both space stations’ orbits decay, and they crash to earth.
“A team of hundreds are already working overtime at our old airfield to erect the hangars and accommodation we need. I have two of our old hangars being erected and four hangars for our shuttles, and the Dead Chicken, which will be there when we return with Mr. Mathews and crew. The president is searching three countries for my old team of engine builders and the laser teams, a hundred men and women you have all run with in the mornings. Also, a dozen of the original team from Hangar One will return to reconstruct SB-I and SB-II to carry the new laser guns. If we use a few new NASA employees, we could get more engines made for SB-I as well. If that is possible, and Bill Withers helps me in return for the engine technology we will give them, then we can return in four months with all three shuttles having new engines, as well as a new engine and a spare for America One.
“Great,” interrupted Jonesy. “Make sure the guys get the pool and pool filter working. Also, Maggie wants to have our baby on Earth and, are we just going to sit and sunbathe down there for three months? I would like to have some R&R and see my parents.”
“Yes, I have asked for decent accommodations for 100 people. They are building us a new hotel and motel, both with swimming pools. It seems that under the direction of the dearly beloved and recently departed Joe Bishop, NSA boys even leveled the sand searching for equipment around the airfield. No, Colonel Jones, we are not flying equipment into space on the same three-day schedule, since we won’t have all our shuttles operating. I lost ten to twelve flights due to the abbreviated schedule demanded by the now deceased ex-president. Many of the flights will carry supplies of hydrogen fuel, the 3-D machines, four tons of pure nickel, beef, pork, frozen milk, soda ash, and everything else I can get up. To completely fill this ship with stores, we need the full dozen, or even more flights. We still have three whole cylinders to fill with stores. Also, we have already used ten percent of our available hydrogen supplies running around Earth on missions directed from below, and that fuel was not allocated for those projects.
“Colonel Jones, you will have time off. All of you will be able to visit family or friends, except for our scientists working on the laser project. Anybody they wish to see will be flown in to visit.
“Just a quick note, Mr. Noble, your Audi is safe, but is primed now to run on pure alcohol, not something you can get on the average highway. So I took the liberty of investing a few dollars on two new electric 700-mile range Tesla vehicles for the two of us. I actually had put in the order several months ago and totally forgot about it. There are two arriving in a few weeks, but if anybody wants a new Audi R8, please let me know.”
Allen Saunders and Michael Pitt immediately put their hands up.
“Any Gulfstream 550s going for free?” chirped in Jonesy smiling.
“Actually, Colonel Jones, the president is giving us the use of Mortimer’s government-owned jet for our use while we are on Earth. It was always owned by the air force, but you may have the pleasure of flying it.” Jonesy’s smile broadened.
“So to get back to the meeting, a dozen of our mechanics and build crew up here will be passengers in SB-III’s first re-entry and the ISS crew in SB-III’s second re-entry. We will be on Earth for a minimum of three months, and maximum, the time it takes to fit in America One’s new engine up here. During that time we will manufacture four new lasers; two of them will be installed aboard the unmanned ISS and Ivan, with computers, cameras, and aiming and directional systems that can be controlled from Earth. The other two will be installed one at a time aboard SB-I and SB-II, so as to keep a decent launch schedule. Once everybody is trained down there, and we have all the cargo we can fly up here, we begin our odyssey. Is everybody in agreement with that?” They nodded.
“Two more items: In return for the use of the Dead Chicken, and some of the stolen JP-8 fuel believed to be aboard the navy ship heading towards Mortimer’s island, one of our launches will include three recently completed U.S. Air Force one-ton GPS satellites that were due to be launched later this year. This launch will enable the United States to have limited GPS security coverage again. NASA told me that they should have new rockets to launch within a couple of years and I believe every country is scrambling to build and equip new satellites. When we return, all three space altitudes probably will be clogged up with new machinery.
“Lastly, we have contracted to have the use of the last European Space Authority freighter, or freight capsule as some of you call them, which is due up in ten weeks. If I get enough personnel—they are sending me a dozen of their top specialists to work on parts—we could have another eight tons of luxuries. Of course the NASA and European personnel will only be working in areas where they cannot see the whole production picture. Meeting adjourned.”
For the next two weeks, everybody who had spacewalking experience and mechanical engineering skills helped get the defunct engine out of the rear of America One and worked on SB-III’s new modifications. The new controls and computer programming of the shuttle would require considerably more time, and these tasks would be completed ten times faster down at the airfield. Jonesy was to take the craft in without using the two new pulsers. The team of twelve mechanics was to fly with him in the cargo crew unit, and the defunct engine would be broken down to fit into the rear part of the hold.
***
The new president authorized dozens of flights around the world to pick up the long list of scientists and engineers Ryan had requested. For the first time NASA got an inkling of how sophisticated and elaborate Ryan’s planning was and how brilliant his team was. These masterminds were the best in the business, and all extremely well-off. Search crews visited luxury house after luxury house giving Ryan’s former team members the sealed letters Ryan had dictated.
The letters, printed in Washington, stated that a maximum four-month continuation of the project would be undertaken, and in payment, each recipient would receive the same bonus previously paid. The payments would come out of the monies owed to him by the Federal Reserve for metals previously delivered.
The search crews were very surprised at how happy and excited each letter recipient was after reading it. Most of them took only about ten minutes to pack and were ready to be escorted back to Nevada.
Upon receiving a visit from a U.S. nuclear submarine twenty miles off one of the Caribbean islands, even Bob Mathews and his two ex-co-pilots still aboard his boat with him told his shocked skipper to take her back to shore, freeze the day’s catch, and to remember to send their Air Force uniforms to the airfield’s address in Nevada.
The crew of the Dead Chicken was excited to be offered a free nuclear submarine ride back to the closest naval base. Bob’s skipper stood speechless as he watched the submarine disappear with his boss several yards off his starboard bow. Only thirty minutes earlier it had appeared on the sonar/fish-finder as the largest fish anybody had ever seen on one of these gadgets.
***
The airfield was a beehive of activity. A new fence already had been erected around the area when two jeeps and a leased bus arrived with Ryan’s old security guard. A new four-story, fifty-room hotel was being painted, the forty-room motel next door was complete, and the two swimming pools were being filled with water. Parked in front of both buildings were several large trucks filled with furniture from Nellis Air Force Base and a couple of Californian furniture warehouses.
A five-story air force control tower was being erected close to where Hangar Seven had been, and Ryan would be happy to see that it wasn’t erected on the one slab he would need.
Hangar One had returned, so had Hangars Two and Three. They had been found in a government auction yard in Las Vegas. Three smaller hangars, fighter aircraft hangars from Nellis, had been trucked in and were being erected. The engineer in charge didn’t know why there was such a rush, but the federal government had not worried about adding rush costs for the first time he could ever remember.
Within two weeks, the airfield looked livable again as the first of Ryan’s crew arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until several hours after the arrival of Lieutenant Walls and his thirty-member security team that the food trucks arrived. First they had to install equipment in the kitchen on the hotel’s ground floor. Once the fridges and freezers were up and running, they filled them with food for the security detail so they could cook their own meals.
Just as they finished their first meal of steak and beans, the newly erected radio and mass of outside antennas squawked out its first message.
“America One to Nevada Airfield. Lieutenant Peter Walls, do you copy? Over.”
‘Reading you loud and clear, boss,” the lieutenant responded. “We’ve just arrived and are ready.”
“Well done. I heard you had arrived and should be ready to secure my airfield. Over.”
“Roger. The eight-foot fence is up, and we did a 360 patrol around it earlier. The main gate will be up in a few hours, and our command post and accommodation area next to the main gate will be complete for us to move into tomorrow. We are roughing it in the foyer of your new hotel tonight. Over.”
“What are the standards like?” Ryan asked.
“Not the same as before, boss, but comfortable enough for the duration your team will be here. It is far better than what you gave the import/export guys last year. By the way a dozen trucks are already waiting at the front gate with machinery and parts.”
Ryan gave Walls his orders to allow the trucks in to unload; he also instructed Walls to help the old team of scientists get settled in the hotel and that they should be arriving in small groups in the next few days.
***
Aboard America One, the bellies of the female crew were noticeably growing, and a new problem arose. Most of the pregnant women were Ryan’s astronauts and co-pilots, and his flight schedule could be in jeopardy once the babies arrived. So, a baby-scheduling meeting, attended only by female astronauts/pilots, Ryan, and Doctor Rogers was held the day after Nurse Rogers gave birth to a bright, blue-eyed baby boy. Jacob was the first delivery for the on-board medical crew, and the first human baby ever to be born in space. The whole crew listened in over the intercom as Suzi described the activities in the operating theater and encouraged her friend.
This little miracle awakened Ryan to the fact that this was the first of many others to come, including Kathy giving birth to their own baby, due in six weeks.
“OK, girls, baby dates, please,” he asked his flight crew and three other scientists who were also pregnant. Doctor Rogers attended the meeting while Dr. Martin stayed with his wife. The ladies all looked at Dr. Rogers, who already knew all their information.
“OK, well, it looks like the cat has got their tongues, so it’s up to me,” the doctor said, looking at his files. “Young Suzi here is due in fourteen days?” Suzi nodded beaming.
“Ms. Maggie Sinclair, flight crew, in 22 days, Ms. Kathy Pringle, backup flight crew, a little further out, six weeks or so?” he asked. Kathy nodded. “Then we have Ms. Joan Blackmore in Suzi’s team, thirteen weeks, and Frau Anna Zücker in Martha Von Zimmer’s team is due a day after Ms. Blackmore.” Both ladies nodded. “Then we have Ms. Penny Sullivan, flight crew, at fifteen weeks, Julia Nevbachov, on Igor’s team, at sixteen weeks, and finally Ms. Jamie Watkins, flight crew, holding out for another seven months and one week?” He looked at all the ladies present and they smiled sweetly and acknowledged. “Is there anybody I have forgotten?” There was nobody else mentioned. “Oh! Ryan, this could be our first problem aboard: Joey and Mark Bright. Mark works on Vitaliy’s team of mechanics. Joey came to me last week complaining of flight sickness. She actually just became pregnant with her third child. The problem is that once the child grows out of the bedside crib, there are no apartments big enough for a family of five. I suggest that you think about future possibilities of a few larger than four families aboard.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I have been pondering that possibility, and I’m sure one of the last accommodation cylinders on line could have a few larger apartments constructed. At this time, Doctor Rogers and you ladies, please listen. The family plan aboard ship is a maximum of two children per couple. Once we reach 100 inhabitants aboard our vessel, absolute birth control will be enforced. We will develop a request list of families who want children and that list will be mutually agreed on. Whether because of a death or because a crew member decides to leave us, when the time arrives that we can accommodate another baby, Doctor Rogers, Nurse Martha, or Doctor Martin, if she joins us, will give the first family on the list permission to have a baby. We must always understand that someone could become pregnant by mistake, and then that person goes to the top of the family list, and the others have to wait.”
Everybody nodded. This problem had been discussed before.
“So, Suzi, and Ms. Sinclair, where would you like to have your babies?” Ryan asked.
“In space,” replied Suzi. Everybody knew that.
“On Earth,” added Maggie.
“Kathy, you are due in six weeks. Do we want to have our baby in space?” Kathy Pringle nodded.
“Ms. Sullivan, you are the last as far as our new Earth timetable is concerned. What about you and Mr. Pitt?”
“In space, here with Doctor Rogers,” smiled Penny.
“Suzi, you already have been relieved of any flying duties. Max Burgos, Peter Smith or Yuri Gellagov will take over any flying you are scheduled for. Ms. Sinclair, yours is the most important situation to solve. Colonel Jones is particular about whom he flies with. Who do you suggest should take your place as temporary co-pilot of SB-III?”
“Kathy is not available if she wants her baby up here, so if our Mr. Pitt doesn’t mind, I think my ex-co-pilot Penny Sullivan should be Jonesy’s temporary co-pilot if the need arises. He knows she is as good as anybody in this room. There is a six-week break between my due date and hers, and by that time I should be recovered enough to fly again. I should have had at least two to three weeks of morning runs around the runway by then. I’m sure you are going to make us all run once we are down there. Is breastfeeding while flying allowed in your air force?” All the girls giggled at that one, and Ryan was at a loss to respond. Smiling, he looked at Kathy for help.
“I think, ladies, that it shouldn’t be a problem except under dangerous flying conditions. Neither babies nor their mothers will be in the aircraft in those circumstances. SB-III will be checked out down on Earth, and any modifications completed on her while you are indisposed. The only reason SB-III would be launched early is if any threats are made. So it shouldn’t be a real problem and Colonel Jones does want to introduce you and the baby to his parents in Colorado. We will play SB-III by ear.”
“So, to control you female pilots, I hereby make my wife-to-be, Ms. Kathy Pringle, head of ‘Female Flight Rules and Regulations,’” smiled Ryan. “Also, I assume that we have to get married pretty quickly, if we want our children born in wedlock. Captain Pete, captain of this ship will be learning from Doctor Rogers how to conduct a marriage in our small one-cylinder chapel, about to be completed. I had better tell Vitaliy to hurry it up.” Again there was laughter.
“Ms. Sullivan, you stand in for SB-III when needed. Peter Smith, our first backup shuttle astronaut can join Mr. Pitt. Yuri Gellagov is also able to fill in, so I believe we have our ten-day launch schedule under control. Meeting adjourned. I had better go tell Vitaliy that we all want to be married and, Doc, get Captain Pete up to speed. The captain of the ship is the only person legally allowed to marry us.”
It had been a fun meeting for everyone.
Ryan took an elevator down to the mid-level, where the small oval-shaped chapel was. He exited the elevator and immediately began floating; there were no metal strips on the floor to attract his magnetic shoes. He grabbed hold of a rope stretched along the empty cylinder from one end to the other and pulled himself along the rope to the door to the next cylinder. He opened the door, entered the chapel and turned upside down. Magnetic batteries had been placed underneath the “floor” in the chapel so that the men could work, and his feet softly touched the ceiling.
He had purchased a few items that would be normally found in a chapel: a wooden cross, a few imitation stained glass windows, and a two-foot by three- foot altar. Twelve three-seat wooden pews were tied down in a pile ready to be bolted onto the newly laid floor.
There was just enough width, over fourteen feet, to have six pews each side and a three-foot wide aisle between them. Behind the last pew would be a small area where a dozen people could squeeze in and stand on each side. At forty feet long, fourteen feet wide and eight feet high, it was a very small chapel, certainly the smallest chapel in space.
“Has Vitaliy given you guys a schedule for this to be finished?” Ryan asked the men.
“Captain Pete and Vitaliy said an hour ago that we have twenty-four hours to finish in here,” one man replied.
“I think we will be done here before the captain has memorized the words to actually marry someone,” smiled the other. “The floor and gravity batteries are done, the six stained windows are pretty easy, the pews are just bolted onto the ceiling, and there are a couple of carpets to stick down. This altar is nearly ready. Once the furniture is in, we must bolt the cross onto the rear wall, hang the pictures, and it should be ready for the music. Once we are finished with the stuff I just mentioned, we need to fit in the recorder, amplifier and speakers for the music. That should not take more than six hours, so Mark and I should be done in about twelve hours.”
“What about temporary batteries in the empty cylinder we have to float through to get here?” Ryan asked.
“Sorry, boss, we are out of batteries. The ones we used here in the chapel are the last ones. If you want gravity in the cylinder, we will have to take batteries from the chickens or rabbits or the hospital ward. Since the engine is going to take months, why not get the darn thing out and begin the ship’s rotation early? It will be easier than trying to stretch our battery supplies.” Ryan agreed with the man.
He floated back through the cylinder to the elevator and had a two-hour meeting about advancing the schedule to begin the ship’s rotation.
As soon as Vitaliy’s two-man team finished the chapel, it would take seventy-two hours working around the clock to remove the defunct engine and secure it in SB-II’s cargo hold for the return to Earth.
Ryan gave orders to complete the chapel, remove the engine, and start tests to begin the rotation.
The ship’s rotation was governed by a computer controlling nine two-inch wide hydrogen thrusters; three were placed in the middle and one on each end of the outer-level cylinder walls. Once the rotation was at its correct speed, the thrusters would blast on and off intermittently to maintain the exact rotation speed and keep the whole ship aligned to stop any rotation wobble.
These thrusters were already operational, aiding with steadying the forward movement control of the ship. They could be turned to face in most directions, like the much larger thrusters on the Astermine craft.
The timing was coming together. Ryan needed another week before SB-II would return to Earth with the engine, followed by SB-III a day later with the designated crew. SB-I would be a day behind.
The newly re-powered SB-III would need a four-day parts refit and two-day refueling period on Earth before returning. Any additional modifications would be done later while Maggie was indisposed. SB-I and SB-II would be refueled the old way, each taking six days to be readied for launch; then, they would depart on a two-day orbital journey up to America One, which would be orbiting at a reduced altitude of 400 miles. Even at the lower altitude she still would not easily be seen from Earth with the naked eye.
The first shuttle to be pulled apart would be SB-I. She was the vehicle designated to be measured for new parts and would receive new hydrogen pulse engines and fuel tanks, laser equipment, and a few other modifications. It would take eleven weeks working around the clock to manufacture and refit the shuttle. There was no need for all three shuttles to carry cargo during the visit, so SB-I would then resume cargo duties after being tested. After the modifications were completed, each of the shuttle craft would not fly the same as its sisters, meaning the flight crews could not be interchanged as easily.
Since many of SB-III’s new parts had been produced on Earth and rushed into space, it would take far less time to refit any newer design features into the most important shuttle. The modifications for the other shuttles still needed to be produced which was why the mechanics were heading down first to take charge of part production.
Once the new modifications were ready it would only take ten days to complete the installations on SB-II, so she would be the main cargo carrier. For the first time since he had set up the airfield, Ryan had more time than cargoes. With all the available space for long-term solid storage in America One, he could launch thirteen flights with 35 tons of mostly solid cargo. Water, he hoped to find on Mars.
One extra launch each would be needed for stores and equipment for the ISS and Ivan. Eight tons of liquid hydrogen gas was to head up on the European freighter, and any launches after that would be water only. He could launch another 100 shuttles with only water, but that wasn’t feasible.
There was enough time to have the weddings before the flights back to Earth, and he set the next Earth Sunday, four days away, for the weddings to be held in the new chapel. That Sunday would be a day off for the whole crew, except for a presence in the Bridge, which would be rotated.
The female flight crews had found ways to bring up several pounds of materials and sewing supplies, and were already working in secret to create dresses for each of their ceremonies. The men would mostly be in military uniform.
The twelve bottles of champagne Ryan brought up with him had not been opened, so there were two bottles for each ceremony, plus a surprise Suzi and Mr. Rose had in store.
The cafeteria was to be decorated by the other crew members including the women and children. Flowers were chosen and prepared by Mr. Rose in the cubes and, as the chapel was completed, the order of ceremonies was discussed.
It was decided that Ryan and Kathy should have the honor of being the first couple married in space. They would be followed by the flight crew, Jonesy and Maggie, Suzi and VIN, Allen and Jamie, and Penny and Michael. Wedding ceremonies for other crew members would take place next. It all worked well until Fritz approached Captain Pete and Ryan, asking to be married to Agent Yoon.
For two days, during which time the mechanics were dismantling the engine and the SB-IIIs modifications were taking place, Ryan, Captain Pete and a select group of crew members discussed Agent Yoon. For the two days, often with Fritz present, the group could not agree to a Chinese agent staying aboard. She just could not be trusted.
Nurse Martha would do a full checkup on Agent Yoon’s body to see if anything metal or out of the ordinary was implanted in her. Even if she had none of her own clothes or anything implanted, with her agent training, she was still a danger to the odyssey.
It was a hard decision to make; Fritz was an important member of the crew.
Wedding Sunday arrived quickly. It was a happy day aboard America One. Ryan dressed in his only suit, and Kathy wore a beautiful, full white wedding dress with a train. Maggie, Penny and Jamie all would wear the same dress. The girls were all about the same size, and there was only enough material for one dress between them.
Captain Pete mumbled the words in a short ceremony, the ship’s log was signed by the captain and the newlyweds, and the dress changed hands. The newly married couple joined the others in attendance to be guests at the next wedding. A few quick alterations were made to the dress, and the next bride walked down the aisle.
Only Suzi and VIN’s ceremony was different; Suzi wanted a floating wedding. The batteries in the chapel were turned off, the congregation strapped themselves down in the pews, and Captain Pete, tied to the altar, tried hard not to float around while conducting the ceremony. Suzi held onto Ryan, who was giving her away, and the two of them floated to the altar, assisted by congregation members on each side of the aisle who gently pushed them forward. Suzi looked really beautiful. She was wearing a simply designed but beautiful long, white dress that was closely fitted around her bulging belly and legs. Seconds earlier VIN had floated to the altar in his marine uniform. His old military shoes didn’t fit his feet anymore, so he had no choice but to wear one pair of the several sets of large Earth-made track shoes that he wore daily aboard ship. Jonesy was holding the gold rings.
The brides in the scientists’ weddings wore different dresses. One of the brides selected a miniskirt wedding dress and one wore a full-length dress, much like the pilot brides.
It took seven hours for all of the couples to exchange vows. The guests in the small chapel graciously took turns giving up the pews where they were seated to the close friends of the couple being married.
When not in the chapel, the other ladies were busy helping the brides and the men were in the cafeteria making snacks and baking under the direction of Mr. Rose, and trying hard not to drink the alcohol.
Finally, the ceremonies in the chapel were over. Fritz and Agent Yoon were married last, with Agent Yoon wearing one of the pretty wedding dresses that fit her best, the long civilian dress. The couple did look in love, and their ceremony was over as quickly as the others. For the first time since Agent Yoon, now Warner, had arrived on America One, she was allowed to be as free as everyone else, as long as she stayed with her husband.
The cafeteria was decked out with flowers, and filled with food and gaiety. Ryan gave the first toast. “To all newly married couples, including Mrs. Kathy Richmond and myself, I offer a toast to a long and happy life, and to happiness aboard America One for our journey into space. Each one of you is a valuable asset. We are a fantastic team, and we have only adventure and a life of learning and opportunity ahead of us. Please raise your glasses to our new married couples.” And they all drank the champagne.
“I can get to like this married life. Can we keep the cafeteria dressed up and the amounts of liquid refreshments at this constant level?” asked Jonesy to much applause.
Ryan replied smiling, “No, Mr. Jones. Mrs. Jones, please elbow or kick your husband as you usually do. Suzi and Mr. Rose have a surprise for you, which I‘m told will stop the illegal bootlegging up here. Suzi, Mr. Rose?”
“Thanks to our wondrous leader, and his forward thinking, and social attitudes toward his crew, Mr. Rose and I would like to unveil our latest inventions.” Both Suzi (who had magnetic shoes on again), and Mr. Rose pulled the cover off the table to show the same five-gallon, clear glass bottles VIN had often seen in the restaurant down in Nevada. Two of the bottles held a clear liquid and two of the bottles held a different colored brownish liquid.
“Heaven has reached America One!” shouted Jonesy, throwing his arms above his head.
“Yes, Mr. Jones,” smiled Mr. Rose. “We have our first brews of homemade, or shall I say, space-made beer and potato vodka.”
VIN smiled. He didn’t have to visit Creech anymore on his visits to Earth. Ryan smiled. His odd bottle stashed here and there wouldn’t disappear anymore.
“Yes, this first five-gallon jug is my favorite, Bavarian Weiss beer,” explained Suzi. “It still has the yeast in the bottom and will make all of you into beer lovers. The second one is English bitter ale. We are still working on a lager for you watered-down Budweiser fans. Mr. Jones, we will have it ready in our next batch in a month.”
“This is all we get every month?” Jonesy asked, his face dropping.
“In beer, no, Herr Jones,” replied Suzi, her hands on her hips. “A pint or three per beer lover every week. Once we get up to steam we will be producing ten gallons per week. Kids under 21 years old can’t partake, which means more for the adults aboard. We have a healthy green soda for the youngsters, as well as our famous chocolate milkshakes.” There was a murmur of acceptance from the dozen or so children. “In vodka, this is a three-month supply. Sorry, our captain won’t allow any alcoholics aboard; but remember, we will also be producing ten gallons of wine every other month.”
“Listen, guys,” added Jonesy. “Until our kids grow up, there’s more for us, so don’t think about producing too many kids too quickly.”
Amid laughter VIN responded, “You are just as guilty for increasing our population as we are, Mr. Jones, so don’t admonish us.”
The first real party on board ship went well. The beer was quickly consumed by all aboard, except for one man who kept an eye on Agent Yoon-Warner. He didn’t drink anyway, and Jonesy raised his glass to him and smiled. The vodka was excellent, as good as what they had bootlegged up from Earth. A comparison test was performed by all of the Russians and Jonesy, and the results were favorable. The champagne was enjoyed by the non-pregnant American women, European women, and a few of the pregnant Americans who thought a glass or two would cause no harm to their unborn babies. There were no government warnings on the labels. The bottles had come directly from Europe.
Ryan was quite surprised at how differently pregnant women from the different countries thought about drinking alcohol. Unfortunately, hangovers, mostly affecting males, contributed to the quiet that prevailed aboard ship the next day.
Slowly life got back to normal. SB-III was coming along well, only a day behind schedule, and her old engines were already out of their engine bays and ready to be placed aboard America One. America One’s defunct thruster was also being removed.
Allen Saunders was happy. He was going to do much of the flying over the next couple of months, and looked forward to it. There were daily communications from the Bridge down to Nevada, and Ryan was informed of each day’s arrivals.
By Wednesday, there were already 100 scientists waiting for him; only three dozen had not yet arrived. Lieutenant Walls asked the government contractors to build several extra rooms onto the motel, as it seemed that several scientists had told others in the original crew that there was a reunion with free transportation to Nevada, and several more arrived than had been invited. By the time the shuttles arrived, the team had expanded from 100 to 140. Ryan didn’t mind. Every scientist was needed, and the $190 million in payments and bonuses was coming from the government, money owed. There was enough for everybody without dipping into his Swiss account.
Ten days after the weddings and three days late, Allen Saunders and Jamie Saunders, nee Watkins, silently slipped away from America One in SB-II.
“We have separation,” Jamie stated as they glided through the corridors and away from the mother ship’s infrastructure.
“Roger that,” responded Ryan in America One, and both astronauts heard a similar acknowledgement from the new Nevada Control back in its original place in Hangar One. “Call us on final orbit,” Ryan added. “America One to Nevada Ground, how is your equipment?”
“We have you visual, and will have SB-II visual once she gets a distance away. We will be able to give SB-II basic information from 100,000 feet, but that’s all for now. I hope SB-II is ready, she’s on her own for this one.”
“Roger that,” replied Allen. “We have all the last descents in the computer memories, and we are going to allow them to do the job until we decrease speed down to Mach 2, under 90,000 feet. Computers are working fine. Will keep you posted. Out.”
Twelve hours later, SB-II came out of radio silence at 97,000 feet. Ground Control told the astronauts their height, speed, and distance to target. As usual, the shuttle, with two tons of engines, mechanics, and other equipment aboard, was programmed to stay on the right direction, speed and altitude by the computers.
Ground Control had very little technology compared to what they had used during the first phase, but the computers aboard the shuttles, backed up by the original computers from the original ground control in America One, kept the craft on a perfect descent.
“Weather clear, infinite visibility, temperature 112 degrees,” reported the controller at the airfield. “We have one of your Nellis tractors and bar to tow you back to the hangar. It’s Vietnam hot down here.”
“Is the swimming pool full? I’m looking forward to a toasty Nevada afternoon and a quick dip in the pool,” replied Allen.
“Ground Control, affirmative. We have been warned that your legs might not work with the excessive gravity down here, so we will have four helpers standing by, and wheelchairs to get you to the pool. Over.”
Allen decided to leave the shuttle under computer control. As it had been programmed, it pulled the nose up a fraction to bleed off speed, and Allen only took over at 71,000 feet over the Nevada line.
“SB-II, 7 miles to target, speed OK, height a little low, try and find 500 feet. Over.”
“Roger that,” replied Allen. “I have the field in sight. It certainly looks different. Co-pilot taking over commands.”
“Five miles to target, leave the brakes in, that could give you the extra height needed,” stated Jamie. She was now in verbal control, giving the pilot any necessary information, not that he really needed it. From five miles out, the pilot was eyeballing the beginning of the tarmac in front of the shuttle and getting her down in one piece.
“One mile to target… wheels going out…… wheels out… 700 yards to target… chute at the ready,” continued Jamie.
“Flaring out now… rear wheels down,” continued Allen. “Front tire going to touch now… OK… Jamie, chute eject now… Houston, we are down. Ground, America One, we are down and slowing. It sure looks like a hot day out there… and I can feel that gravity kissing my butt already. It is really powerful!”
The tractor took a few extra minutes to connect to the shuttle three-quarters of the way down the simmering tarmac. There was not the usual old ambulance and fire truck, and it was still cold inside the cockpit compared to the outside.
The truck managed to reverse the shuttle into one of the smaller hangars, out of the hot afternoon sun. Both pilots tried to climb out of their seats once they had closed down the craft and found that they really had to struggle just to stand up.
Jamie went first. She slipped sideways out of the small side door and was literally carried by the two people who were there to help her. Both pilots were fully suited up with helmets and had been since final orbit two hours earlier.
Jamie couldn’t stand in the weight of her suit and her body felt like she was standing on top of a magnet. Allen was a little stronger, but both astronauts had to be wheeled into the changing room. Their helmets were removed while they sat on a bench and the smell of real Earth dry air was unbelievably strong to both. It was as if they had gone straight down a high mountain and were now right next to the sea.
Rid of their suits they were left in private, while the mechanics were helped out one by one, and the astronauts found the brand new showers built in the hangar’s change room. Struggling to stand, both enjoyed a really powerful, hot shower for the first time in weeks.
Hobbling out of the showers, they found that clothes and two new flight suits had been left for them. Readjustment to Earth’s gravity made them almost feel like they were suffering from hangovers. They dressed slowly, enjoying their first private, tiring moments on Earth as a married couple.
They were whisked over the bright, hot apron towards Hangar One in the two wheelchairs. The sun was like a hot sunlamp, and they had been given hats and sunglasses in case the glare hurt their eyes.
“Wow! I didn’t realize that we were so weak. We worked out every day in the gym up there,” Allen said. He was happy to see Lieutenant Walls again, and a few of the scientists he knew.
“Never been there, General. It’s the same as always for us down here, just a crappy hot day out there,” the lieutenant replied shaking Allen’s hand.
“Not for us. It is absolutely beautiful out there. We can debrief, get some food and a cup of water, and some strong coffee. When the sun goes down, Jamie and I want to be in the pool.”
Ryan smiled at the astronauts’ descriptions of returning to Earth through the communicated briefing. SB-II’s computers relayed the last of the flight’s information to all the other Astermine computers and the crew and astronauts on the Bridge went over the reentry minute by minute. There was little difference from what they anticipated, except that the extremely hot temperatures in the higher atmosphere had been the cause of the height difference.
“Gee, Ryan, I feel like the planet wants to suck me in down here. I’m telling you, drinking a couple of cold beers down here in the pool’s lesser gravity is going to feel like being closer to heaven than you are at the moment up there.”
“I agree,” replied Ryan. “You are making me want to return. By the way, guys, Suzi gave birth to a bouncing baby boy ten minutes ago. Doctor Rogers sent a message saying both mother and baby, named Mars, are doing well.”
“Send her our congratulations, Ryan,” Jamie offered. “Ask Mr. Rose to buy some flowers from the flower shop up there.”
“Tell VIN we will celebrate with a couple of Buds down here in the pool for him,” added Allen.
“Also warn Maggie, Ryan,” continued Jamie. “She must prepare for her entry tomorrow. I’ve already checked. The doctor and nurses are arriving early tomorrow and will be ready when Jonesy flies her in. There is also a fire truck coming in from Nellis, and an ambulance arriving from Tonopah tomorrow just in case. And tell Jonesy the gravity conditions are something Maggie and baby are going to struggle with, and to fly gently.”
“Roger, we both copied that. I’m still seven to eight days out, but my husband will be careful, won’t you, Colonel Jones?” Maggie added over the air.
That night, the astronauts spent hours in the warm pool, enjoying a few beverages and feeling elated to be back on Earth.
The next day, Maggie immediately started to feel contractions as Jonesy touched SB-III down on the tarmac. At 114 degrees with no wind whatsoever, he gently placed the craft down as Maggie pulled the chute ejector.
“I think Jonesy Junior wants to see the action. I need to get out of here,” Maggie said through the cockpit intercom as the side door was opened from outside. She didn’t have a suit on. It didn’t fit her anymore, and it would take time to get her out of it if there was a problem.
The heat wave blasted Maggie inside the craft as the ambulance screamed alongside. Several people helped her from outside while Jonesy helped her extricate her heavy body from inside. He was fully suited up and didn’t notice the temperature change. He shut the side door as the ambulance headed back down the tarmac to the special room set up on base. Jonesy couldn’t see out anymore; the condensation was thick, but he didn’t need to as he closed the shuttle’s systems down.
The shuttle was towed back into a hangar, and the side door opened to allow Jonesy out. A wheelchair was standing at the ready. At the same time twelve wheelchair bearers waited for the crew to exit, one by one out of the side hatch of the cockpit. They exited their crew cabin in the forward cargo hold through the aft cockpit door.
By the time Jonesy and the crew were out of the shuttle, and out of their space suits an hour later, somebody entered the hangar to tell him that he was about to become a father.
A couple of scientists were queued for the male showers, but they let him go first. It was mandatory after space flight. He hurried, was helped to get into fresh clothes, was seated in a wheelchair with a hat and sunglasses, and Sergeant Meyers ran him over to the hotel, where the delivery room had been built. Allen and Jamie were there waiting for him, and ninety minutes later, Colonel John Jones was the proud father of Saturn, a baby girl delivered a week early at five pounds nine ounces.
The baby names had been discussed by the crew and Maggie had decided on “Jupiter” if the baby was a boy and “Saturn” if she was a girl. Suzi and VIN had also decided on “Saturn” for a girl’s name, but had gone for “Mars” as the boy’s name.
Maggie was doing well. She was asleep with little Saturn Jones in a crib next to her, and two nurses in attendance.
Jonesy was wheeled to his room, found the fridge stocked with cold beers, and cracked one for him and one for Sergeant Meyers which they drank thirstily. Then he asked the sergeant—his wheels—to go and find Allen and Jamie, who had already started their own poolside beer party with Bob Mathews and his two female flight crew members. For once in his life Jonesy didn’t have a bad word to say about anything or anybody. Life was great!
The next morning was quiet, the noisy revelers not as noisy, and Maggie and baby were doing well. Michael and Penny broke radio silence that afternoon. This time it was slightly cloudy and the weather wasn’t as hot at 99 degrees. Michael brought SB-I in as perfectly as the other two had. SB-I had little to no cargo; she was towed into the third hangar, and the team of dozens began opening her up to strip her of unneeded parts. Much of the engine—screws, nuts, and systems—would go into her new engines.
In the massive Hangar Two, five enclosed and separated sections were already up, and scientists and engineers were working in each one manufacturing parts for the new systems. Ryan’s crews worked hard and fast, 24/7.
Twenty-four hours after Michael and Penny had been wheeled to their accommodations, Penny was already back in Hangar One working with Jonesy on the next launch, four days away. He was already walking, although it was tiring, and all the astronauts visited the new gym in Hangar One for at least an hour a day.
One of the flight simulators had returned from space inside the cargo bay on Allen’s shuttle, and was already modified to SB-III flight capabilities. Much of its needed programming was brought down in two extra computers with the crew in SB-III.
The new Pulse launch was purely new territory for everybody, and for the first time Bob Mathews and his girls were in attendance. Igor, the Ground Controls leader from phase one, had returned and was to take over until Ryan arrived.
Jonesy was happy to see Bob Mathews and his crew again. Bob gave his friend a Cuban cigar he said he had purchased in Havana. The Dead Chicken’s crew noticed a change in Colonel Jones. He was quieter and less antagonistic than the old Jonesy had been. The birth of Saturn Jones was certainly having an effect on him.
The launch of SB-III was to be delayed for a day, due to the checks taking longer than expected before she could be refueled. In the meantime Jonesy went up with the crew of the Dead Chicken on three practice flights. The aircraft hadn’t been touched since its landing at Creech, except to be flown back to Nellis to have the engines gone over, and then flown back to the airfield. She also had full tanks, thanks to the air force.
Since full tanks weren’t part of their flight plan to 50,000 feet, Allen phoned up a friend at Nellis and asked for a military ambulance and an empty fuel truck, so that they could unload the unnecessary fuel. He smiled when his friend asked for the two missing Bradleys to be returned, and Allen told him to ask the NSA. Maybe they had them.
Both Jonesy and Penny, who was showing a noticeable belly, donned their space suits for the flight 48 hours after they had been aboard for the last test of the C-5. Hydrogen fuel was being pumped into SB-III’s new tanks, and the two rear hydrogen Pulse engines had been gone over a dozen times to make sure every small part was operational.
The load factor, without the extremely heavy solid rocket fuel, had decreased by ten tons, and even with the rear cargo bay filled with a one-ton cargo of frozen beef, she was lighter than ever before. The one original rear second-stage hydrogen thruster was only a third as powerful as the two old first-stage rockets, so on this one practice launch into space the Dead Chicken would launch them from the usual 50,000 feet.
SB-III, still without her two new powerful side thrusters installed, and her laser gun and other added accessories dismantled, was still the same size, and would fit into the Dead Chicken’s cargo bay as before. On her second launch, she would have the two new side thrusters installed between her two smaller cargo bays, and that was the end of the shuttle’s chances of ever getting a free ride. Jonesy’s cargo was only one ton this test launch, frozen beef and an empty crew cabin.
SB–II, only 24 hours behind Jonesy was to be launched with a cargo of three tons of a newer Nano-Silicone plastic and a one-ton, newly developed Nano-Silicone infra-red blast oven the size of a minivan.
The original Silicone material had been applied to the ends of the corridors in space to seal them, the whole outside of America One, and was also poured over the entire apron of the airfield. If one looked carefully at the new airfield, the electric cables weren’t connected to the runway, apron and landing lights. All the runway equipment’s energy—and it needed a lot of electricity—was being supplied by the see-through silicone layer on the large apron.
Over the months in space the specific Silicone team in Germany had continued working on this new material they had invented for Ryan only months before America One was flown into space. They used their bonuses to open a small operation in Munich and had continued to develop and improve on this new material. They were eager to show the improvements to Ryan, and told him of their new research.
Ryan didn’t hesitate. He purchased their available supplies and future supplies of sixteen tons for 30 million dollars. Much of the newer material still needed to be tested in the minus 160 degrees of space. The older material on the ends of the cylinders had hardened in the cold, but was not indestructible, as VIN had found out opening them. On the apron, in the day’s heat it hardened up, but at night, especially on a cold winter night with below freezing temperatures, it became slightly softer.
“OK, Bob, fire her up,” ordered Jonesy in SB-III from the hold of the Dead Chicken. Jonesy had said goodbye to Maggie, who was already walking, but was wheeled out into the warm dark morning to watch her husband and Penny launch into orbit. Everybody was interested in this flight as it would look totally different from Earth, when the lone rear hydrogen thruster ignited. The glare would be greatly reduced without the first-stage system. Also, they were eager to see, hear, or even feel the first pulses emitted out of the two rear hydrogen pulse thrusters at 70,000 feet. One pulse would be emitted every second for ten minutes to get SB-III into orbit. Jonesy and Penny were tightly strapped in, as even they didn’t know what to expect.
“You will need to get out of my way ASAP, Bob,” Jonesy instructed as they rose in the quiet interior of the C-5. “Just in case, get as far away as you can once I ignite, then get down as close to ground as you can in the five long minutes it’s going to take me to reach 70,000 feet. We might even topple over and head downwards at this agonizing expected rate of climb, and I will be on manual flight until those new babies kick in.”
“Roger, Jonesy. I will drop this bird like a stone. Just remember to shout out a warning to me at 68,000. I will straighten her out in case this pulse of yours hits us like an EMP burst.”
“Roger that,” replied Jonesy. “Hopefully this is the only time you will be airborne when these pulsers go off; we are now on the cutting edge of science. Just imagine, Bob, two old cronies like us, two air force pilots now as close to the boundaries of science, as breaking the sound barrier for the first time!”
“Between you and me, Jonesy, and everybody listening,” laughed Bob, “I’d rather be fishing. We are heading through 41,000 feet, the sun’s about to light the horizon, astronauts.”
As he had done on dozens of occasions Bob reached maximum altitude and began his descent. The shuttle was lighter than usual. Without the solid rocket fuel on board she weighed much less. Also the first-stage rocket motors had weighed twice as much as the new pulsers. All in all, on the weighing platform SB-III had come in ten tons lighter, fully fueled than her being empty.
This gave Bob a slight increase of turn rate to head back up, and he had increased her speed by ten knots on full power before he let her pullout and then climb.
“41,000 feet… 530 knots… 43,000 feet… 510 knots. We are keeping our speed up a little better with the low weight, Jonesy. 47,000 feet… 470 knots… 51,000 feet… 445 knots. I’m letting you go a second late……… Releasing now… 53,500 feet… 400 knots on the dot. You are out and on your own, Jonesy… banking hard right and going into a dive, Good luck, Colonels. God speed!” The C-5 disappeared from Penny’s view as the hydrogen thruster ignited.
At the higher speed, the shuttle was calm and non-turbulent. The expected clout in the back didn’t happen. This time Jonesy just felt the thruster ignite, much like it did at a much higher altitude. He was already igniting the second-stage, just lower than usual.
“55,000 feet, 370 knots, we feel a slight acceleration but nothing like the usual. Speed climbing slowly, 390 knots, 401 knots, altitude 56,000 feet.”
Three sets of listeners were paying rapt attention to Jonesy’s commentary: America One, Ryan and all his crew; Ground Control and the controllers on Earth; and the crew in the Dead Chicken dropping rapidly. Bob and his team had to get down to below 20,000 feet to be at a minimum of 50,000 feet from the first hydrogen pulses, when they exploded out of the rear of SB-III.
“Speed 470 knots, 58,000 feet, speed 485 knots, 59,000 feet, I’m turning her over, and the sun is coming into my back. Boy! VIN’s Audi could go faster than this. Bob, how are you doing?”
“38,000 feet and dropping, partner, at 10 knots below maximum velocity. Don’t rush me now,” was the reply.
“I couldn’t if I tried, Bob. An F-16 without afterburner is faster than this bird. Actually a Cessna jet is faster than this… 62,000 feet… 535 knots…”
“She’s gaining acceleration a little faster now,” added Penny from the right side seat.
“Give her time, Mr. Jones. That hydrogen thruster is working overtime to give you acceleration. We need time for the C-5 to get down. Just keep her straight and level,” instructed Ryan from above.
“Not as pretty as usual, Jonesy,” said Maggie using the mike at Ground Control. “You look like a piddley little 4th Fourth of July rocket up there.”
“You just wait a few more minutes, wife, then you will see the power of da man!” laughed Jonesy. “I hope! Altitude 67,000 feet, speed a mind-blowing 610 knots. Mr. Mathews, where are you?”
“Priming hydrogen pulsers,” added Penny.
“Dropping through 27,000 feet and going like a Boeing. I’m going to have to ease her out a bit. Jonesy, give me a little more time.”
“You can have all day as far as we are concerned, Bob… 69,500 feet, 635 knots.”
“Hydrogen pulsers primed, live and ready. Will emit the first pulse when you are ready,” stated Penny over the radio.
“22,000 feet pulling out, give me two more minutes Jonesy.”
“Roger that. Penny, first pulse in 180 seconds just in case… 71,000 feet, speed 670 knots. I’m falling asleep.”
The first pulse shook the entire shuttle. Even Jonesy’s teeth rattled as a horrible feeling of dread overwhelmed him with its power.
“God, that was nasty,” he reported as he felt the pain in his back jolt him, again, and then again every second, worse than the first-stage rockets ever had done. There was a pulse every second from both rockets, and each one wedged his vertebrae painfully.
Penny had hit the fire button at 76,000 feet and 700 knots. Bob Mathews was at 18,000 feet and straight and level when the Dead Chicken began to continuously rattle like somebody was outside hitting them with a massive mallet. All the radio communications went dead. Finally the crew on the ground felt like an F-16 had gone over the sound barrier and the whole hangar began to rattle like an earthquake. All this had happened within seconds of Penny hitting the fire switch.
“Crap, this hurts. Altitude going through 83,000 feet at 990 knots. It’s like we are a leaf in the wind. Anybody hear me?” Penny stated. There was silence.
“I think that boom killed all radio communications,” Jonesy replied to her over their intercom.
They both continued to feel the pulses vibrating through the shuttle, “Altitude 91,000 feet, 1,580 knots and climbing rapidly,” stuttered Penny.
A hundred more painful pulses later, and still without radio contact they were heading into outer space at 4,000 knots, faster than a speeding bullet.
“Hope the computers are recording all this. I think the pain is going away. I’m just sitting here doing nothing, feeling my body ache. I’m sure we are off course but at least we can’t miss space. It’s right in front of us,” Jonesy suggested to Penny, the only person who could hear him.
Both Ground and Ryan had expected radio interference, but not on such a scale. They couldn’t even speak to each other. Ground felt the first couple of dozen pulses, and saw nothing above them.
After a minute, the vibrations stopped, but faint booms above them could still be heard.
Bob Mathews, a little shaken, brought in the Dead Chicken, also without radio contact.
It took ten minutes from the first pulse before radio contact returned to Nevada. The flight controllers could see the path of SB-III but still could not talk to the shuttle. Bob Mathews was the first voice to be heard asking if he could turn around at the end of the runway. He had wait a full minute for a response.
The second voice was Ryan’s, a little worried about his shuttle. For another ten minutes they talked until finally SB-III came on line again.
“…Bravo III passing through the Kàrmán line like a darn rocket on steroids, 60 kilometers and at 17,000 miles an hour. Does anybody copy? Over.”
“Affirmative. We copy you, SB-III. You need to change direction 1.9 degrees to starboard. Over. Your speed is much faster than expected. You should have had another 30 seconds of pulses. Over,” stated Igor in Ground Control.
“Roger that. These pulses are crazy. Too high forward speed, changing course,” replied Penny.
“I ordered her to shut them down,” added Jonesy. “They were not necessary after a certain point, and I have closed down all three rear motors a minute early. Our computers are controlling our correct altitude, but were not in control of the forward speed. Also our speed at 150,000 feet was over 1,500 miles an hour faster than any of our previous launches. Over,” added Jonesy. “I’m going to have a backache for life.”
“Me too!” added Penny. “But it was the best ride ever. Even my eyes were looking through tunnels in my head for a minute or more, we were accelerating so fast.”
“Glad to hear you guys are safe,” said Maggie.
“Yes, same from America One up here. The first hydrogen pulse launch. Congrats, astronauts. Slightly more powerful than expected. We answered two very important questions: first, the single rear thruster will just handle two tons of weight by itself. With the two outer thrusters added, launch from Earth should be within our parameters. Second, the pulsers are more powerful than we thought, and we need to increase altitude before first pulse. 10,000, maybe even 25,000 feet.”
“I’d say 25,000 feet,” suggested Igor from Nevada. “Fuel readouts are back online. SB-III used two-thirds of her total fuel on board. With the two side thrusters added, she will need a minimum of five tons of fuel weight added in each side tank.”
“Igor, I need scenarios on fuel usage from ground using a full pulse burn, not the burn Mr. Jones completed. He saved about a quarter of a ton. If the shuttles can cut off the Pulsers at a certain altitude, every bit of fuel saved is worth it once in space.”
“I’m glad the cargo was frozen meat, Igor, boss,” commented Jonesy. “If it had been eggs, Penny and I would be eating a scrambled breakfast by now.”
“Roger that,” Igor responded. “We felt your first pulses down here pretty badly. I had better go and see if the kitchen is serving scrambled eggs this morning. What were your altitude readouts 120 seconds after your first pulse? We had you at 127,000 feet, but it would have taken time for your pulse to reach Earth.”
“121,000 feet, once I could focus on the readouts. I would say 120,000 feet.” Penny replied.
“Igor, I’ll check the television news and see what happened outside the airfield. You do the same,” Ryan added and there was a rush to turn up the volume of the three television screens, of which only one in Nevada, NBC, was currently showing pictures.
“I’ve got a lousy ABC and a clear CBS up here,” Ryan stated a few minutes later.
“We have a fuzzy NBC, and there seem to be reports of an earthquake in Las Vegas,” Igor responded.
“….it was the weirdest earthquake ever reported,” stated the fuzzy-looking NBC announcer. “We have readings of less than 1 on the Richter scale, but hundreds here in Las Vegas reported cups, plates, and even whole houses shaking as if there was a major earthquake, and it seemed to strike for a longer than usual period. Reports are still coming in, but apart from nervous listeners, there is no reported damage or serious casualties… The water level in Lake Mead is at an all-time low…” continued the news report.
“I think 100,000 feet is our minimum first pulse ejection altitude,” Igor said to Ryan.
“OK, let’s work out fuel usage for the three non-pulse thrusters to 100,000 feet, replied Ryan.
“More speed, fewer pulses,” Igor instantly responded.
Chapter 10
Gravity, Nevada, Air Force One and diamonds again
Fifteen hours later, both Jonesy and Penny were watching one of the latest movies from Earth. Both had a bag of popcorn sneaked in from the airfield kitchen, and they were laying back in their reclined captain’s chairs at 290 miles altitude and at 24,000 miles an hour.
Jonesy had learned to stash away the odd item here and there. He had stowed two bottles of Bud, for him and VIN to celebrate with, a couple of packs of jerky, a large Bowie knife, VIN had asked for, to cut up the jerky, and finally three new Blu-ray movies for the ship’s library.
Penny had done the same bringing up a few items, like several bras and other pieces of expensive underwear from the new airport store, a few other items for Suzi, and a Teddy Bear for Mars Noble.
Most of the crew was already asleep on America One still 200 miles above the speeding shuttle, and 20,000 miles behind them. It had been a long day. The first single accommodation cylinder had come on line, and Ryan was hoping to begin rotation the next day to give his crew their badly-needed gravity.
“America One to Sierra Bravo III, do you read? Over,” squawked Ryan over the shuttle’s one radio the next morning. Penny was already awake and had been for six hours. Jonesy had watched the second movie doing his first six-hour readout-monitoring stint alone, and Penny had watched the same movie while he slept. The headphones in the cockpit kept the movie silent.
Once the interior lights were doused, their only light was from the sun for a couple of hours at a time, the dozens of small LED lights, mostly green, and from the movie on the computer screen in front of each seat as they sped around the planet.
“Sierra Bravo III reading you clear, altitude 331 miles, speed 25,700 miles an hour, computer estimated time of arrival sixteen hours at 453 miles altitude. Over,” replied Penny, the clamor of the radio waking up Jonesy.
“Roger that, same readouts up here,” replied Ryan. “We are going to test the ship’s rotation in one hour. Jonesy, at two cycles per minute, can you dock onto us? I know we discussed this months ago down on Earth, but I think the recent slaps to my head dislodged a few brain cells.”
“Correct, boss,” Jonesy replied. “We analyzed that one rotation per minute was maximum for potential docking. Maggie and I did some good training landing on DX2014, but we had open space landing on the asteroid. Since it’s pretty tight to dock the shuttles below the mid-levels, we need to come in inverted; half a rotation would be safer. What do you think Ryan? How long you do think it takes America One to go from two revolutions per minute, to zero, and then back to full rotation?” The radio was quiet for a few minutes.
“About thirty minutes each way, so an hour plus docking time,” Ryan responded. “It doesn’t really matter since we have rotation alarms set up around the ship to warn everybody about a change in gravitational pull, and they can go off 30 minutes before docking. Since the reduction is over that amount of time, it gives everybody time to tie down and complete their tasks on both the levels.”
“Then, as far as Astronaut in Charge is concerned, me, I believe a halt in rotation is the safest way. Once we are travelling around the solar system, craft comings and goings will be reduced for really extended periods, maybe even a year or more,” Jonesy replied.
“Well said. I agree safety is most important. We will do a test rotation and begin a slow down once you are 30 minutes from docking. Out.”
“It is sure surprising how many things poor Ryan has to work out,” said Penny, opening her own bag of jerky, purchased from the store with her credits.
***
Since the incoming astronauts and crewmembers from space had no money, one million credits, their bonus, were given to each to spend while on Earth. Allen and Michael had received their new Audi R8s a couple of hours after Jonesy left, red for Allen, and black for Michael. The person in charge of finances on base gave a check to the trucker, who carefully unloaded and deposited the cars at the front gate, and drove off. Ryan’s credit was good, and the costs for each vehicle—$109,000, $1,000 delivery, road tax and license costs—were deducted from their credits, not that either of them really cared.
Also, anything the space staff wanted was phoned into Las Vegas and either paid for by credit card, or by check when it arrived at the airfield.
Allen was leaving in less than twenty-four hours, and he and Jamie had enough time to drive his new car to Tonopah and back for a few hours. He had drawn out $1,000 from the office, and had, with difficulty purchased two cokes for them with a hundred dollar note at a rundown gas station in the dusty town. The attendant had looked at them and the crisp new Ben Franklin like they were from outer space!
***
“All prepare for rotation; there will be a gradual increase of gravity over 30 minutes,” Ryan announced over the ship’s speaker system. One by one the sections reported in.
There wasn’t much to do, except for the crews working in the hollow outer cylinders, but certainly not in the cubes, where the gravity could increase by as little as 10 to 15 percent.
“Here we go. First rotation test starting now,” announced Captain Pete, and the nine small thrusters under computer guidance lit up and, with about the force of four or five horsepower in total, the ship began to turn. Several people around the ship were ready to report on any changes.
After five minutes, and two whole revolutions, nobody reported in.
On the fourth revolution three minutes later, there were reports from the outer level of increasing gravity, albeit minor changes.
Twenty minutes after the start, there were reports of powerful gravity changes on the upper level and in the elevators. As the crew had found out on Earth, powerful gravity was something the space travelers were no longer used to.
By the time the ship was revolving at two revolutions a minute, even the reporters in the cubes were detecting an increase of gravity, and the plants were beginning to wilt.
Ryan, going to his apartment, found that the gravity increased in the elevator as he went further out, and found Kathy lying on the bed.
‘I feel car sick,” she stated.
“I think it has to do with your condition,” Ryan replied.
“I feel fine, and don’t sense any movement, but I would hate to look out of a window right now.”
There was certainly gravity, but nobody could remember what it was like compared to Earth. The biology team were already taking rabbits and chickens up to their completed cylinders on the upper level, on the opposite side of the ship to where Ryan’s apartment was. It would take hours with a team of 30 helpers to move all the crates of animals.
The gravity batteries would have to be turned on underneath the animal floors whenever the rotation was halted, and magnetic shoes would have to be worn in certain parts of the ship.
In Astermine Two, VIN reported that the gravity had increased very slightly.
For several hours, the gravity made movement more strenuous and, even though it would help them survive the odyssey, at this moment it was certainly something to get used to. It was the first time any human had been subjected to strong gravity in space.
Several hours later, when the rotation had stopped, Max Burgos and Peter Smith, the standby astronauts on the build team, and VIN detached Asterspace Three to unload the shuttle’s cargo bay. Jonesy was floating several hundred yards off the ship’s starboard bow in SB-III.
With the frozen meat packed in the aluminum canisters, it took VIN less than an hour with the hoist, and spacewalking to empty the shuttle’s rear cargo hold.
Penny then inverted and moved the shuttle towards the mother ship, docking in their original port. To her, America One looked rather naked with four of her six craft not docked to her three upper sides.
The astronauts exited and were allowed to rest while VIN sent the canisters into Cube Two, one by one, through one of the other docking ports. Once Asterspace Three was docked, the rotations were started again.
“This feels just like Earth, but certainly not as powerful,” remarked Jonesy, enjoying a wakeup cup of coffee twelve hours later in the cafeteria. “It certainly helps get you around the upper level though. I could even wet shave in my bathroom, just like on Earth. No more electric shavers, I hate those things.”
“Your first real space shave, buddy,” said VIN. “What was it like shaving upside down?”
“I tried not to think about it,” mused Jonesy as Suzi entered with baby Mars. Penny jumped up present in hand and both girls cooed over the baby, while the men looked on. Ryan entered with Kathy and she too went over to hug Penny and give attention to the baby.
Over the next hour Jonesy and Penny described the airfield to the crew. Ryan told them that Allen and Jamie had completed a good launch and were already completing their second orbit. Bob Mathews had mentioned that he and his crew had noticed the weight difference between the two shuttles, only twenty-four hours apart.
“Did the Audis arrive?” Jonesy asked. Ryan nodded, mentioning that he had heard that a happy Allen and Jamie Saunders had driven out of the main gate the same day. He knew why Jonesy was asking the question, and smiling, told his chief astronaut that the Gulfstream would be arriving the same day Jonesy and Penny were due back.
“Your next load for reentry is light, Mr. Jones, Mrs. Pitt; just the crew of the ISS and several engine parts,” continued Ryan. Jonesy was learning that Ryan’s use of “Mr.” or “Colonel” when he spoke to him depended on whether his boss was angry or not. “I heard you guys brought back some new DVDs, so if you don’t mind, the ISS crew can watch them on the way home. I don’t want our First Class Service to be any worse than our space colleague who owns Virgin Atlantic.”
“If you are serving drinks on the way down, maybe I should get Mrs. Pitt to take us in while I sweet-talk the ISS crew in the crew compartment,” Jonesy suggested as VIN walked in.
“Sure is something you need practice in, partner,” replied VIN. “Sweet-talking, not the alcohol part.”
“Just to show you I’m not sore at your snarky remarks, Lieutenant Noble, here is a gift from Earth,” replied Jonesy throwing him a bottle of Budweiser.
“Bud Light! That’s below-the-belt beer, partner. Nobody’s fat around here.”
“The shop was waiting for a second shipment, Marine, and that’s all they had. Allen, Michael, the rest of the scientists from space, and I drank all the stocks of real Bud by the pool. The pool was so full, the water was coming over the edges.”
“I see that I had better make it a dry airfield again, Colonel Jones, if you and your buddies can’t handle R&R,” Ryan remarked, and there was a sudden silence.
“Here’s two miniatures of Jack Daniel’s I brought for you,” added Jonesy looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to overload that poor hydrogen thruster. It had enough problems with one bottle of Bud and two miniatures. Thank God I didn’t bring a case of each. Mrs. Pitt and I would be strawberry jam somewhere on the vast Nevada desert.”
“Thank you, Colonel Jones, now let’s get back to work. Ladies, please. As you all know, we made a decision about Mr. and Mrs. Warner, nee Yoon, several days ago, and I have a great proposal for them. Our president wants to put a space-knowledgeable team together to talk to Beijing. I suggested that two new U.S. citizens, a German with a Chinese agent wife, could be a good team to help him discuss space and the laws of space with General Ming and his cronies. I suggested that the president expedite her citizenship and warn the Chinese that they are talking to two American Citizens. This will get Fritz and his new wife off America One, and I want Fritz to be my ears on the ground. Also, it will prove that his wife is true to her word, and she has changed sides. I will privately talk to Fritz about the possible dangers to him and his wife, and they will join your reentry manifest on SB-III. Kathy is allowing me to go down and spoil your party aboard ship, Mr. Jones. I will be the third person in the cockpit, so no snoring please. Captain Pete suggested that with ex-agent Yoon, it would not be advisable for me to be in the crew cabin.
“Only Dr. Martin and the German biology professor, Dr. Petra, are staying behind. Both Commanders Philips and Popov have family and children on Earth, and the Chinese professor certainly doesn’t want to stay. So, Colonel Jones, Mrs. Pitt, your manifest is Philips, Popov, the Chinese lady, her name I cannot pronounce, Mr. and Mrs. Warner, Mr. Noble as security guard in the rear, and me in the jump seat with you guys. We depart America One in twenty-one hours, the same time that SB-II arrives with her cargo. The rest of the spacewalkers can unload her, and it will mean only one halt in rotation tomorrow, not two. Igor, Boris, you will begin tests heating the Nano-Silicone up here to 1,000 to 1,200 degrees Celsius in the blast oven. As the guys said in Munich, if their predictions are correct, with the Kevlar grains splitting, or even melting at the right temperature, we should have a clear pane of glass one meter square with minute green Kevlar hairs ingrained. They say that they expect it to be harder than a space diamond at minus 160 degrees, and I want you guys to do your best to break it. If you can’t, I will purchase everything they can produce, enough to build a see-through outer barrier against space somewhere out there. I have already paid for four launches; 16 tons.”
Captain Pete was so worried about Fritz’s wife that he spiked their last meal, sending them both into a deep sleep. Their inert bodies were strapped into the crew cabin a few minutes before the rest boarded through the door from the shuttle’s cockpit. Once they were all in, the door was locked, and wouldn’t be opened until they landed on the airfield.
Twenty minutes later, with the crew in the rear cabin enjoying drinks, food and a new movie nobody had seen, SB-III undocked from America One and began her descent to Earth.
The flights were faster with the mother ship stationed at 399 miles above Earth. The necessary orbits down to reentry were cut in half with the drop in altitude.
Twenty-four hours later, radio communications returned and Jonesy brought the light craft in for a perfect landing, the day even hotter than before at 115 degrees. It was now midsummer.
The crew was helped out through the open cargo doors. Only Fritz’s wife needed a wheelchair as she had been tied down for the entire trip. Fritz woke up twelve hours after departure and glumly looked at his beautiful wife’s unconscious face for six more hours before she came around.
The cockpit team could certainly feel the extra gravitational pull. It was more powerful than being on the upper level, but they all walked themselves gingerly into the showers once the passengers were through. Ryan, like the others, noticed the thick hot air. Showered and wearing hats and sunglasses, they walked slowly across the apron feeling the heat of the air burning their bodies.
Holding hands, Fritz and his wife were escorted to their accommodations first. After being shown into their new hotel room, they were left alone without guard for the first time in their married lives.
Fritz had discussed his mission for hours alone with Ryan before leaving. He was pleased to finally be of service. He understood Ryan’s need to get his wife off the ship and was happy to be told that he and his wife would be meeting the president the next day. She wasn’t to be forewarned.
At eleven the next morning, the two familiar 747s flew into the airfield. This time the president exited from the second aircraft and came down the steps to meet Ryan. The usual number of Secret Service agents accompanied the president and spread out strategically.
“No film crews this time, Ryan?” joked the older man as they shook hands.
“I didn’t think it necessary, Mr. President,” smiled Ryan, noticing that the older man’s hair was now completely grey.
Both Fritz and his wife were waiting in Hangar One with the rest of the ISS crew when Ryan and the president walked in. His wife hadn’t been told about the visit, and was extremely shocked to see the U.S. president coming across with Ryan to meet them. The president shook the hands of each member of the ISS team and then stopped at Mr. and Mrs. Warner. She didn’t know what to do, and as very few Chinese did these days, it being a very old Chinese custom, she bowed deeply.
“I hear you are a force to be reckoned with, Mrs. Warner. Are you ready to go back to China yet?” he asked surprised at her bow. He smiled kindly and bowed back.
“I would like to stay here in America with my husband, sir,” she replied bowing deeply again.
“Your bowing, Mrs. Warner, surprises me. Let me rephrase what I just said. Would you, as an American citizen, go over to Beijing on behalf of the U.S. Government to discuss future country partnerships, Mrs. Warner?”
“I would think so. Would I be protected? I think that my life is not very valuable over there anymore.”
“You will have my protection as an American citizen. You will work directly out of our embassy in Beijing. I will discuss your work on my behalf with my friends over there. How does that sound?” the president continued.
“And I will be with my husband?” she asked.
“Yes, your husband is already a U.S. citizen, and he and you will work as a team, as long as he doesn’t give away any of Mr. Richmond’s secrets.”
“Then I will be honored, sir,” Mrs. Warner stated bowing. When she straightened up the president handed her a document and her new U.S. passport. She opened it to see a photo of her taken by her husband in America One very recently, and realized that he already knew about this plan. He was sure going to get it.
Before she could say thank you, the president and Ryan were walking out of the hangar; she stood hard on her husband’s left foot making him howl.
Thirty minutes later, a jet sent in from NASA to collect the ISS team asked for landing permission. With goodbyes and messages of good luck, the remaining crew boarded for their flight into Florida.
Ryan and the president met for a very long time in Air Force One. The 747s were airborne later that afternoon as a truck with two silver Tesla sports cars on the open rear vehicle area tooted at the gate for entry. The Teslas were offloaded and put away under the hot sun into new carports, next to two Audis, red and black. The black Audi was filthy and already had a ding with a broken headlight. Ryan smiled. It took a learning experience even for an astronaut to drive one of these cars.
For Ryan and VIN, even the two new toys took a back seat to the wonderful warm evening pool with ice cold beers. To be back in Nevada was certainly a pleasure, and the cars could wait.
The air was clean, the hotel food good, and the company happy for the recent arrivals that night. Ryan now believed that gravity did play a part in hangovers. The next morning he needed two aspirins just to get rid of it. He did not remember having a hangover in space, but then they didn’t often drink half a dozen beers or more each. The hangover also brought back the idea of a dry airfield, at least from Sunday to Thursday nights.
He weakly entered Hangar One the next morning, also remembering to start the runway excursions pretty soon. He thought about starting the runs in a few days, but he needed to get the drum solo out of his head first.
The drum solo disappeared as soon as he had a cold beer on the inside patio at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas six hours later. Being mid-summer, the area where he and VIN had eaten lunch a couple of times before was now air-conditioned and still half empty. Several of the crew members walked in a few minutes later, all dressed in newly purchased off-the-shelf civilian clothing.
On the way into Las Vegas, the now friendly black and white waved and flashed his lights as the three cars passed him, all within the speed limit.
Ryan led the way in his Tesla with Igor in the passenger seat, followed by VIN driving Jonesy in his new Tesla, and Michael and Penny bringing up the rear in their dusty black Audi. Allen and Jamie were still up in space, so one car stayed behind. Igor had driven in with Ryan to experience his first real electric sports car. It was amazing. Michael had earlier explained his car’s introduction to a fence post that seemed to jump in his car’s way on the highway a day or so before. He smiled when Ryan explained that the car wasn’t a jeep to drive on dirt roads, but a car made for sticking to clean black asphalt.
Both the Teslas drove silently and extremely well for electric cars. They, as well as Michael’s car, were still new, and the systems needed to be broken in gently.
They ordered lunch on the mostly empty patio. Ryan suggested that the extreme heat was keeping the rest of the population away.
“I wanted you guys to join me in a place I believe cannot be bugged. As you know, I’m still hesitant to trust everybody out there, so we will have a short briefing here over lunch on my meeting with the president. Does everybody here want to help the good old USA? Igor, I know you are a citizen of this country, but you are still Russian by birth.”
“Da, Ryan, this country has given me a good life and a scientific future with you. Why wouldn’t I want to repay the system, now under better management?” The others agreed that they still had the country at heart. Even Jonesy, now reimbursed for the financial hardships he had gone through, was positive.
The waiter came, gathered orders, and left. To the bored waiter, the table looked like a sunburnt group of tourists from Canada.
“We have a mission,” Ryan began. “I’m sure you all know or have heard that this country’s deficit has reached $17 trillion. What many of us don’t know is that $10 trillion of that is directly owed to China. The president told me yesterday that he is expecting China to call in its loans very soon, due to the destruction of its space program. They are not very happy over there, and even though the president has many friends in Beijing, his friendship is not going to last much longer once they want their loans repaid. There have already been rumors that China is thinking about asking for Alaska or even California as payment if the U.S. cannot come up with the money owed. Like a house foreclosure, the Chinese will foreclose on property, throw out all the locals and call it their own.”
“Why don’t we just refuse a hostile take-over of what belongs to us?” Jonesy asked.
“We will, naturally, but the president’s problem is, can we justify going to war with a country we owe money to? And, are they just trying to collect on the unpaid debt? Naturally China will give the U.S. time to pay, and I’m sure there will be conditions; if we don’t meet certain timetables or obligations, then x, y or z might happen.”
“So what can we do about it?” asked VIN.
“As we know there are space diamonds scattered over an area of the moon. Whoever gets there first can clean up the mess from the asteroid impact. To fill you in on what I have received for my investment in sending you guys out there, my deal with the diamond buyers, was that they paid me 10 percent of the current market value of everything I sold them. This was to make sure that over a long period of time, the world’s diamond prices wouldn’t fall as they released the stones slowly into the world markets. I don’t know what they have released to date, but I believe it is less than 5 percent of what they purchased. Diamond prices have dropped over the last few months, but have stayed inside normal price fluctuations.”
“So the president wants us to go to the moon and collect the pretty stones?” Jonesy asked.
“Correct, Mr. Jones, depending on if you guys think there are, or shall I say, were enough diamonds to make the trip worthwhile. Only you guys know that answer.”
Jonesy and VIN looked at each other and both thought back to Maggie finding the fissure, and what they had seen.
“What was the combined current market value for all the diamonds you sent over to Europe?” Jonesy asked.
“Ryan looked at him and smiled. “I will tell you that, Mr. Jones, after you tell me what you think is still up there. How much of what you guys saw on DX2014 did you bring back?
“Well, with the heavy gravitational pull, I’m sure many of the diamonds floating around would have been pulled back to the rock. What do you think, partner?” asked Jonesy.
“I agree. I don’t think any of the diamonds would have got away from the crash landing,” nodded VIN. “The diamonds, and the asteroid were still traveling at about the same speed, and even though there was less gravity after it broke up, I think that every single diamond was drawn back on to the rock before it got anywhere close to the moon’s gravity.”
“So?” asked Ryan as their food came with a second round of beers. It took both Jonesy and VIN several more minutes to take a guess, going over every bit of information in their heads.
“Jonesy saw the whole fissure from a better vantage point in the Astermine craft. I would say that from what I personally saw, we didn’t get 10 percent of what was there in total, and there could have been more that wasn’t even uncovered. Jonesy?” All eyes turned to Colonel John Jones, who was still stewing over the question. He was quiet for another minute, and took a long swig of his Budweiser to help his mind come up with an answer.
“I think VIN is about right. But he couldn’t see what I saw half a mile out in Astermine I. He says 10 percent, I would guess that 5 percent, or even less than 5 percent. How much was 5 percent of DX2014’s diamonds worth?”
“Close to a trillion dollars,” replied Ryan causing knives and forks to drop onto plates around the table.
“So much! And I still haven’t received the $200,000 you promised me as annual pay!” Jonesy returned a full minute later, shocked.
“Remember the diamonds you guys wanted turned into wedding rings?” Ryan replied smiling. “And the diamond I’m still giving the White House? Remember the first diamond from space thing?” Everybody nodded.
“They will be ready to be picked up in a week; clean, polished and, for you guys, in a white gold setting.”
“So?” asked Jonesy.
“Colonel Jones, Ms. Sinclair’s diamond is sixteen carats, originating from a 21-carat rough diamond, flawless, D-color and appraised at $9.8 million.” Jonesy’s mouth hung open. “And your wife will struggle to wear it, it’s so large. Her eyes were far larger than her fingers I believe. Mr. Noble, the same with yours. Your ring is 17.5 carats cut and polished from 23 carats rough, same quality, same color, value $11.6 million.” It was VIN’s turn to look shocked.
“My God!” exclaimed Igor. “How much is the one worth you are giving to the country?”
“Polished and cut from a 680 carat diamond, we have a 595 carat diamond, same color, same clarity valued at $1.04 billion. And we still have a dozen or more of those tennis-ball size stones in rough form hidden away.” There was absolute silence at the table, and the waiter thinking something was wrong came over to see what the problem was.
“I want a cold bottle of the most expensive bottle of champagne you have,” Ryan told him. “My friends are in shock and in need of something to revive them.”
The waiter left to find out what the hotel had and returned several minutes later.
“Sir, we have one bottle of Dom Perignon, the oldest vintage champagne, the head of the wine cellar told me to tell you. The oldest bottle we have is a 1982 and costs $12,500.” The waiter looked at Ryan expecting the worst.
“We’ll take it, and six very clean glasses, please,” said Ryan calmly. The waiter, his face suddenly as pale as Jonesy’s and VIN’s, was already figuring out the tip on this one bottle.
It took several minutes for the table to get back to normal. The food was semi-forgotten as the champagne arrived, being poured by the manager of the wine cellar himself. Ryan had expected that the manager wanted to see if the bottle was going to be paid for before opening it, and Ryan told him who he was. There was no hesitation after that.
When the waiter and manager left Ryan raised his glass. “To diamonds, and the financial liberation of the United States of America. I just hope we can find them. And, astronauts, you leave for the moon in two weeks.” The table enjoyed the nectar. It was literally nectar of the gods! “Your mission, should you decide to accept it,” continued Ryan after enjoying the treat, “is to pay off the U.S. debt to the Chinese. We are going to donate all we find up there to the clearance of this debt.” A couple at the table included VIN nodded their acceptance to this mission. Only Jonesy was deep in thought.
“What do you mean Maggie can’t wear her diamond ring?” Jonesy asked.
“And Suzi, is it still radioactive?” VIN asked remembering what Ryan had told him.
“Picture a quarter, a U.S. quarter,” Ryan responded. Since nobody at the table had one cent with them, and Ryan only had a credit card, he asked the waiter to bring over a quarter. It was passed around the table.
“It’s that big a diamond?” asked Jonesy, placing the quarter on top of his ring finger.
“That quarter is about the same size as a 12 to 15 carat diamond. Hey! I’m not that much of an expert on diamond sizes either, but your rings are about as big as a Susan B. Anthony dollar coin, not that tiny quarter. Therefore, after the president left yesterday I phoned the cutters in Amsterdam and asked them to set six smaller rings for each of us who were married in America One. They suggested three-carat already polished diamonds from the smaller ones we sent over and I agreed. It will take a week to set all six into wedding bands. The company has offered to purchase your two larger diamonds at a 40% value, Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble. Better than I ever got, but that decision is up to each of you.
Both VIN and Jonesy still wanted their over-sized diamonds.
“I think those other tennis-ball size diamonds we have hidden away will be about the right size to cut into laser lenses,” suggested Igor. Ryan said nothing. He was contemplating the fact that the suggested lenses could cost over a billion apiece, and said nothing.
“What about the really big diamonds, the ones bigger than those tennis ball ones we brought back?” VIN asked.
“Actually, to tell you the truth,” Ryan returned. “I’m afraid to offer them to the cutters. I think they will go crazy or something, so I’ve decided to leave them hidden until we return. They could be a retirement fund for all of us when we return and, who knows, inflation might have taken a chunk out of our net worth in a decade or two.”
Chapter 11
Amsterdam, Idaho Springs and Space
Maggie Sinclair wouldn’t travel into space for a few weeks. Saturn Jones needed sustenance, a lot of sustenance, and she elected to stay on Earth for the time being. What she could do was drive to Colorado with her husband and be introduced to her new in-laws. She suggested the idea to Ryan.
To Jonesy, driving meant the shortest possible distance. Why drive when you could fly? He had little interest in a long car trip. It just so happened that the Gulfstream arrived at the airfield while the astronauts and Ryan were sampling ridiculously priced champagne in Las Vegas the day earlier.
They were a happy group when they returned to the airfield. Luckily, the friendly cop was not there when the three cars sped past his usual position on the dual carriageway.
The Gulfstream was in Hangar Three under the Dead Chicken’s wing. Ryan had been told about its arrival when he passed through the gate. If Jonesy wanted to visit his parents, something Ryan thought he needed to do, his ride had arrived.
Jonesy and Maggie could fly into Denver International, then head over to Amsterdam to pick up the diamonds. Jonesy was ecstatic; his wish had finally been granted. He was going to pilot a Gulfstream V, the same aircraft he had nearly blown out of the sky over the Mediterranean.
As soon as Jonesy and Maggie heard it was there, Ryan took them for a tour of the aircraft. It was newly detailed with U.S. civilian insignia and even had “Astermine Inc.” in black letters on the tail. Ryan narrated while the two marveled at the luxurious interior. “It has been totally cleaned inside and out. Dried blood, I believe my own, was still on the carpet where I had lain,” he said, taking Jonesy and Maggie through the cabin. “Mortimer certainly knew what he was doing when he kitted her out; a separate bedroom, toilet and shower, an open seating area for six to eight, a front galley, and separate crew seating area with everything a long flight needs. The refrigerator still has a few bottles of champagne in it. I assume that the cleaners didn’t, or weren’t allowed to drink the stuff.”
Jonesy went through to the cockpit. “Newest Garmin equipment,” he noted. “Pretty neat stuff, but basic compared to the shuttle. Ryan, you have certainly spoiled your pilots. Nothing will ever compare to that last lift off, or every flight into space.”
“I still think there is romance in long flights,” smiled Maggie. “Ten to twelve hours on autopilot in this thing can lead to interesting developments.” Jonesy and Ryan both looked at her.
Maggie suggested that they fly into Colorado on their return flight from Amsterdam. The baby would be a few days older, and Maggie would be wearing her new wedding ring…just in case. Denver International was the closest major airport to Idaho Springs, plus Ryan could get a secure government hangar for the visit; they would have over a billion dollars of diamonds aboard.
Ryan suddenly realized that it was time to pay Jonesy and Maggie; apart from room and board they hadn’t received a penny of what was owed to them. His mother’s old New York bank account had been closed by the last administration, so he had reopened a new account in Astermine’s name at the same New York branch.
A week after the lunch in Las Vegas Ryan handed Colonel Jones and Colonel Jones a check for $1.4 million each for two years of work, plus the same bonus each of the scientists received. The checks were in sealed envelopes, and he was surprised neither had any immediate interest in opening them to see what their first pay check was. To Jonesy, at least, opening the sealed pay check was less important that getting behind the “wheel” of such a pretty aircraft.
The aircraft’s new credit card would purchase fuel wherever it went, and could be used for hotel stays, car rentals, or anything else the pilots needed while travelling. Since the flight would be a family affair, the build team constructed a crib worthy of air travel that included its own baby safety net and secured it to the aircraft floor inside the lounge.
Bob Mathews assisted with pre-flight inspections. Afterwards, the two pilots packed their meager Earth belongings, gathered up their new baby and all the gifts they had received, and Jonesy was prepared to take off—until Maggie reminded him it might be a good idea to call his parents to let them know they were coming.
“Hi, Mom,” he stated, as the call on Ryan’s new cellphone was answered.
“John, is that you?” his mother asked.
“It’s me, Mom,” he replied. He was usually at a loss for words when he spoke to family.
“Are you coming to visit soon?” she asked.
“Yes, Mom. Maggie and I have to fly into Amsterdam, Holland first, and then we are flying into Denver and will rent a car to get out to Idaho Springs.”
“Who is Maggie, John?”
“My wife, Mom, and we will be bringing Saturn, our daughter.”
“It sounds like you have a lot to tell us, son. Your Dad says hi. He is fine, just grumpier than ever. We are both fine, just getting old. Your father wants to know what we are supposed to do with this check we received from the air force. The check is made out to Colonel John Jones, and it came with a letter stating that you had been reinstated, and to Full Colonel, and that this is retirement back pay. The signature on the letter is the new president’s, or the old president, we don’t know which anymore.”
“Just bank it, Mom! Put in in Dad’s account. The money is yours. I don’t need it.”
“But, John, the amount is over $200,000!” replied his mother.
“That’s fine. Go on a cruise or something, but wait until we come and visit. See you in a few days.”
Maggie smiled as Jonesy spoke to his mother as a kid would. It was the first time in her life, he had seen him speak like this. “Will the bank accept the check?” Maggie asked once he had put the phone down.
“I don’t know, my Dad and I are both Colonel Jones, and I’m sure they don’t check that. They never did when I banked any checks. Let’s get some rest. We have a long day of non-stop flying tomorrow. It’s a long flight into Amsterdam.”
The Gulfstream, with a crew of two and a fraction and no passengers aboard, sweetly left the airfield just before midday, three hours before Allen and Jamie were due to return. As predicted, the Gulfstream flew like an eagle as Jonesy was cleared to climb to 35,000 feet. Her tanks were full, and it would still take a couple of hours to bleed off fuel weight before he could achieve an altitude far above the average civilian passenger jet, 51,000 feet.
As they passed over the Rockies, they reached an altitude of 43,000 feet. Two hours later, the Gulfstream achieved maximum altitude of 51,000 feet. They were over northern New York State, merging into the east-bound European civilian aircraft traffic pattern heading up the coastline. Maggie was flying her stint, monitoring their flight, and talking to the various traffic controllers as they flew northeast into Canada and then headed over the North Atlantic. It was already night, and had been for an hour when she needed the bathroom and went back to the lounge area.
She found her husband sleeping on the main couch and little Saturn curled up in the nook of his arm, sleeping on top of her father. What more could an air force pilot want? Her own family Gulfstream jet, and her husband and baby asleep in the inner luxury of the aircraft. As she stood there, she suddenly remembered that feeding time was thirty minutes earlier. The pressurized cabin made Saturn sleep.
As she headed further down the aircraft to the bathroom Maggie looked into the bedroom. It would stay empty. Mortimer had slept there, and neither of them wanted to use the bed.
Jonesy brought them into a small commercial airport just outside Amsterdam eight hours later. Five black Mercedes were waiting for them when the aircraft was wheeled into a private hangar and the doors were closed.
Even though it was early, 7:00 a.m., the visitors were greeted by several employees from the diamond company. Since their air force flight suits were inappropriate for the visit, Jonesy and Maggie wore new civilian clothes purchased in Las Vegas, smart casuals, as they stepped out of the aircraft with baby Saturn.
After showing official diplomatic papers for all three of them to passport and customs agents, they were introduced to the senior members of the company, and then escorted to one of the new luxury cars. One of the company officials got into the front seat next to a well-dressed chauffeur, and introduced himself as Willem Massink. He was in charge of customer relations for the company and offered his services as their guide, if they would like to see the city.
Breakfast, with the best coffee Jonesy had ever tasted, was served in the company offices. It was certainly better than what they had in America One, and he asked the company if Astermine could obtain an amount of the coffee packaged by a local company. The employee’s eyebrows rose when Jonesy said that one ton would be a good amount to fit aboard the jet.
“She can’t take that weight,” Maggie reminded her husband. “We are in a small civilian jet, not the Dead Chicken. Fully fueled, she can only haul 1,800 pounds,” the co-pilot reminded the pilot. “Minus our weight, say 300 pounds, she will be overloaded after 1,500 pounds of cargo.”
Jonesy agreed to 450 kilos of vacuum packed ground coffee in five-kilo bags, all the company had in fresh stock, and a Mercedes was sent to the coffee company.
During the morning, they were shown the diamonds. Ryan had been right. If Maggie or Suzi ever wore their new rings and hit somebody, their skull would crack. The rings were beautiful and ugly at the same time. The diamonds were so large that they looked hideous, totally impractical. The company jeweler said that if they stayed overnight he could turn the two rings into beautiful necklaces. Jonesy agreed, adding that they could pay for any modifications. He had the company credit card, and there was no limit. He hoped VIN and Suzi wouldn’t mind the change. Maybe Suzi liked big junk!
Willem Massink laughed. His company had done so much business with Astermine that anything they wanted would be a gift, even the hangar and the gas bill at the airport.
Jonesy shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t used to living this way, and he was sure that whatever he and Maggie wanted was chump change compared to the company transactions. He asked the jeweler to do as much as his team could to beautify the two necklaces in a 24-hour time period. The two rings were rushed off.
The six smaller rings were perfect. Each had three beautiful three-carat diamonds set into a double-band wedding ring, which made each ring an engagement ring and also a wedding ring. Three were white gold and three were made up with yellow gold.
Maggie tried one on in white gold. It needed a slight adjustment, which would be done immediately. Maggie felt like she was shopping in Tiffany’s in New York. She remembered passing its windows when she was a little girl while on vacation with her parents.
The large diamond to be given to the White house was beautiful. It was cradled in its own home, a special case made out of beautifully crafted red cherry wood. It looked like an oversized ring box, and opened like one. Maggie recalled the many rough diamonds of this size she had seen on DX2014, and her eyes sparkled as the fire from the newly polished diamond hit her face.
The lid of the box was decorated with tiny chips of green emeralds and mostly white diamonds designed to look like the White House itself, surrounded by green gardens. It was certainly a beautiful gift.
When the viewing was over, the diamonds were packed up in a special briefcase. Handcuffs linked the briefcase to Jonesy’s left wrist. He was given the keys, and they were driven back to the airport.
The jet had been fuelled for its return flight and its interior cleaned like a hotel room. He placed the briefcase into a lockable compartment in the cockpit, locked the cockpit door, and helped carry in the aromatic bags of coffee, laying them around the interior of the aircraft out of their way, carefully distributing the weight. He, Willem, and the chauffeur were then asked to leave, so Maggie could feed Saturn.
Twenty minutes later Jonesy locked the outer rear door to the aircraft and watched as two security guards closed and locked the hangar. The aircraft and diamonds were secure.
For the rest of the day they were treated like visiting royalty. First they were taken to a five-star hotel where the diamond company had arranged for their accommodations in the Presidential Suite. Being uncomfortable in such luxury, they immediately asked for a tour around Amsterdam to take in the sights and do some shopping.
Willem was fascinated to learn that Maggie and Jonesy were the actual astronauts who had retrieved the diamonds from the “moon”. The entire world, except for the president, believed the moon was where the diamond mining had occurred.
Ryan had given them specific instructions regarding what they could and couldn’t say, and Willem learned more about life in space than the actual diamond mining.
“Stop!” Jonesy blurted out upon seeing a fish market. The car pulled to the curb.
“My father and I love Dutch herring, although my mother hates the smell. We’re going to visit then in Colorado on the way home. I tried that Russian stuff…”
“Caviar?” suggested Willem.
“Yes. I tried it on board the Russian space station we salvaged. It was horrible, but I really love herring, and so does my dad. And he likes that fancy Dutch beer in the bottles with the slip-off corks….”
“Grolsch,” replied Willem.
“That’s right. Can we get some of that? And my mom loves Dutch butter cookies… and…”
“And so do I, Mr. Jones. And I want some of the best Dutch chocolate. They invented the stuff after all,” added Maggie.
“They did?” asked Jonesy.
“Partly right,” smiled Willem. “Around 1830, 1828 I think, if I can remember my Dutch history. Coenraad Van Houten was the first person in the world to patent a method for extracting the fat from cocoa beans and making powdered cocoa and cocoa butter. He wasn’t the only person to invent chocolate as we know it today, but he invented the “Dutch Process”, which treated chocolate paste with alkaline salts to remove the bitter taste. He made it possible to form the modern chocolate bar we have today.”
“Good,” continued Maggie. “A great present for Suzi, a friend of ours currently up in space. I would like to get the biggest Dutch chocolate bar, or several, in Amsterdam, and a dozen tins of those Butter cookies. Jonesy, how tough are those Gulfstreams?”
“Not as tough as the Dead Chicken, as you reminded me, but we could certainly get her off the ground with overweight of 5 to 10 percent. An extra 250 to 300 pounds would be fine, and I’m not giving up any coffee!”
They had fun for the rest of the day as their car filled up until a second car was needed to carry their purchases.
Willem, accustomed to escorting the company’s wealthy visitors to jewelry stores and up-scale boutiques, smiled when this couple asked to shop for fish, beer, cookies and chocolate. Of course, he knew where the best of everything Dutch was, and each piece of merchandise was weighed and recorded for the Americans before being placed in the “boot”, which Jonesy learned was the car’s trunk. Once the “boots” were filled, the back seat of the second Mercedes limousine began filling up.
By midafternoon over 800 pounds of merchandise had been purchased, not only for Jonesy’s parents and Maggie, but for Ryan and the other crew members in space. Maggie had told Willem about the seven cubes of America One, what they grew, and that whatever they took up from Holland wouldn’t last very long.
Several cases of Grolsch, heavy cases of herring cans, tins of butter cookies, and dozens of five-pound bars of chocolate returned to the company premises where the two vehicles would be kept in the private underground parking area overnight. Another Mercedes took them back to the hotel.
Willem found this American pair to be very different. Neither had expressed any interest in luxurious items for themselves, apart from the diamond necklaces. It didn’t occur to him that trinkets would be of no use on their upcoming space odyssey.
Dinner with Willem in the hotel that night was very interesting. The surprisingly small servings on their plates made Jonesy glad he wasn’t paying for it. The ambiance reminded him of one of his favorite movies, Crocodile Dundee. It certainly wasn’t U.S. Air Force style, but he enjoyed the Dutch beer and the delectable tiny courses that were served. Saturn was asleep in their room attended by a pediatric nurse the hotel had arranged for. Just after dessert, Maggie left the two men alone to enjoy a fine after-dinner drink. Jonesy asked for a glass of the finest vodka and was surprised to find out that it tasted no better than the stuff from Ivan. And the price!
Early the next morning, after sleeping in the most comfortable bed he had ever tried, he got up to visit with his already wide-awake daughter who was making gurgling sounds in the crib.
Three hours after breakfast, they were driven to the airport with Maggie wearing the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen. The two necklaces truly were stunning. The large diamonds were even more exquisite as pendants accented by smaller diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds.
Jonesy was worried about her wearing it until Maggie told him that nobody would think the stones were real anyway.
Willem was there to say goodbye. He had really enjoyed their company and hoped they would visit again. He knew they wouldn’t as they were leaving Earth for a long time, maybe forever.
By this time the aircraft’s floor was covered with shopping bags. Maggie had even bought a dozen massive bars of Toblerone Swiss chocolate and a couple of bottles of Springbank Single Malt Scotch whiskey for Ryan in the airport’s small duty-free lounge, while Jonesy was left to perform pre-flight checks. Again they produced the official letters of diplomatic immunity the president had given them to enter and exit Europe.
“So what’s the weight damage?” asked Maggie getting into the co-pilot’s seat. The aircraft was already outside the hangar, had been turned away from the doors and only Willem and the chauffeur were outside watching them.
“Fuel is at maximum, cargo weight 2,500 pounds plus you, me and Saturn, and of course the few pounds of diamonds back there. I’d say we are at maximum weight plus 500 to 800 pounds, well within plus five percent of maximum load, taking in the fuel. Ground control has just given us an OK. We can start engines, so, co-pilot, get to work.”
A few minutes later, having received permission from the control tower to proceed to the taxiway, they waved goodbye to the two men. Even though it was a small commercial airport it was still busy with small jets, and they were number five for takeoff when they reached the end of the taxiway.
Jonesy gave her full thrust on both her engines and let the aircraft leave the ground gently. Gracefully and with ease, she headed up into the cloud base several hundred feet above the city.
It was an eleven-hour flight into Denver, and Jonesy got permission to climb through 30,000 feet before putting her onto auto-pilot. He was already on Irish traffic control an hour later when he asked for clearance above 36,000 feet.
Jonesy knew that most jets, even 747s, cannot climb to maximum cruising altitude until well into the flight, often around halfway. The weight of full tanks and a maximum load was felt by all jet aircraft until a good proportion of the fuel burned off.
Since they were leaving at midday, the skies were quiet and, heading west, daylight would be extended a couple of hours with their arrival in Denver a few hours past nightfall. Jonesy hoped that the car rentals would still be open. Maggie would do the driving for the last stretch.
Denver was dark and rainy when they flew in. They showed their letters of diplomacy, and as he had done in Holland, Jonesy showed a letter for each of them from the president asking for diplomatic transit.
Then customs official asked them what they had on board, and he gave the woman a fourth letter from the U.S. president. No questions were asked. Washington had provided them with diplomatic immunity on both sides of the pond. Even Saturn Jones was a new U.S. diplomat.
It had been a long day, and they rented the first car they were offered, a small Toyota Corolla at Avis. Fortunately, Maggie had remembered to bring her wallet with her driving license. As soon as they could transfer their personal belongings, two cases of herring, two cases of beer, a couple of the Toblerones, and extra baby clothes to the small car, she drove them out of the airport towards the dark mountains.
Between them, they didn’t even have one suitcase, just an overnight bag. The jet was under military guard in a closed hangar with all the diamonds except, of course, the new, shiny wedding ring on Maggie’s finger and the fabulous necklace around her neck that she had fallen in love with.
If VIN had been with them, he would have found Colonel Jones Senior to be a little more cordial to his son, but VIN wasn’t there.
It must have been the reinstatement to Full Colonel or the mention of a granddaughter which made the old man get out of his rocker on the porch when the car’s headlights drew up. His mother came rushing out of the house and stopped when she saw that her son’s slim wife was so tall, as tall as her husband who was over six feet, and she was so pretty. Seeing the young lady getting the baby out of the crib from the back seat motivated her to continue.
“Hi, Mom, Dad,” Jonesy said, coming around the front of the car. Jonesy’s mother immediately noticed that her husband had gotten out of his chair, something he didn’t do when their son came home.
“John, dearest, it is so good to see you,” she said running up to him for a hug. He was also extremely thin, and she was glad she had spent time cooking, even though it was past dinner time.
“Son!” stated his father, peering at the tall girl with a baby in her arms. He immediately noticed the wedding ring.
“Mom, Dad, may I introduce to you my wife, Lieutenant Colonel Maggie Sinclair, now Jones, United States Air Force retired, and Saturn Jones, not yet old enough to enter the Academy.”
“Colonel, huh! That makes three official colonels in the Jones family,” he responded, with respect in his eyes, as both parents held out their arms to their new daughter-in-law.
“Maggie, call me Jenny, and this must be baby Saturn.”
“Yes, she’s asleep and not very heavy,” Maggie replied handing Saturn over to her grandmother.
Jenny held her granddaughter and was aware that a sensation of warmth and kinship washed over her as she welcomed her newly expanded family. She also noticed her husband held out his hand to his son for the first time she could remember.
“Welcome home, Colonel,” his father stated proudly.
“Ex-colonel, Dad, I’m now Chief Astronaut. I believe that’s my new rank. Same with Astronaut Maggie Jones here.”
“What are you smoking these days, son? Are you going up into space? Both of you?”
“Yes, Dad. We were married in space, but Saturn was born down here on Earth. See Maggie’s necklace and wedding ring? Both made of diamonds we got from a passing asteroid; part of the same one that hit in the Pacific.”
This was a little too much information for the older Jones to grasp, and he needed to sit down in his chair to think about what his son had just said. An astronaut!
Over a late dinner, after the “boot” of the rental had been emptied of gifts, the party relaxed getting to know one another, even father and son. It was hard for John senior to believe his son was an astronaut, but as Maggie recounted how they had met at this new space exploration company in Nevada, and how they had become a flight crew, he began to accept it.
“You mean Astermine, that Richmond guy who got beat up by that now-dead useless president… Jenny and I both voted for?” he asked.
“Yes,” Maggie replied. “Your son is his Chief Astronaut.”
“You guys are flying those new shuttles of his into space, the ones we saw on television?”
“Yes, Colonel Jones, that is your son’s new job, and mine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hold on. I have our paychecks in the cubby of the rental. Let me go and get them,” retorted Jonesy and headed out. He returned, gave the checks to his mother, and sat down. “We don’t need the money. We will be living in space for the next couple of years. There’s nothing to spend our money on up there, so Maggie and I want you to have these.”
“Doesn’t Maggie have family?” Jenny asked.
“My mother passed away a decade ago, and my father three years ago. I have no brothers or sisters. The air force was my family,” she replied.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jenny replied, her husband nodding.
“Well, she has a new family now. Us,” added Jonesy, and his mother smiled. There was silence until the meal ended.
“What must we do with all that money you gave us?” she asked clearing away the plates, Maggie helping.
“Take Dad on a cruise, a bloody long one,” Jonesy replied.
“Can’t get rid of me that easily, son, but I’ve always wanted to cruise on the Queen Elizabeth, the old girl. I heard there is a new ship, Queen Elizabeth II. Now that you’ve brought my favorite herring and beer from Holland, I could be persuaded.”
“That money will keep you aboard ship for at least several months. Go around the world, see the sights. You should have seen our room we had in Amsterdam. Too damn fancy for my liking,” Jonesy continued as the ladies returned.
“Yesterday, after making the bank accept the check I did a little research, son,” his mother said. “Dad’s ship leaves Southampton in England in a week for an African cruise. If I remember, she stops at a dozen cities, ending in Perth or Sydney, Australia, I believe. It’s a full month cruise, and the most expensive.”
“So?” Jonesy replied. “Book it. I’ll even see if the boss will allow me to fly you into London. I need some practice Earth flying.”
“Are those real?” asked the older man looking at Maggie’s necklace.
“Depends. What you are talking about?” she smiled. “All of me is real, Colonel. Ask young Saturn Jones.”
“No, I mean those stones around your neck,” he replied not missing her remark.
“Can’t be, the stones are so big. Even her wedding ring is far too fancy and the stones too large,” added her new mother-in-law.
“No, Jenny, everything I have is real, even my husband. Believe me, I know,” replied Maggie simply.
Must be worth a few a hundred thousand?” Jonesy’s father suggested. His face went very white, and both older people gulped when she told them the value of her necklace.
“I picked it up on the asteroid myself. And, Colonel, this is a small one. Watch the news in a day or two. The diamond our boss is giving the president for the American people is a hundred times bigger.”
“Mom, open the envelopes. They are our pay packets for the last two years. Maggie and I want you to deposit them into your bank account. Both are made out to Colonel Jones, so you shouldn’t have a problem. If you can’t spend all the money, we can when we get back.” His mother, still stunned about the necklace, was due for another shock.
She put her hand to her mouth when she saw how much the first check was made out for. His father didn’t want to know, got up, said goodnight and headed off to bed.
Jenny found her bottle of whiskey and went out on the porch with her son while Maggie fed Saturn.
“Why so much money?” she asked her son.
“How much was it, Mom?” Jonesy asked, and she told him the amounts of both checks.
“That should allow you guys to stay on board for another trip,” he replied, interested that Ryan had paid him what he had promised at the very beginning. She told him that it was impossible for two old people to spend so much money.
Jonesy’s dad asked them to stay another day. Jonesy phoned Ryan and was given permission to stay and also to fly his parents into England. Ryan needed to get the diamond to Washington. They could pick up Jonesy’s parents on the way, travel to Washington, and then onwards. SB-III was having few problems and wouldn’t be flying for another month.
Over lunch, he told them that he could fly them to England, so get booked, and asked them if they didn’t mind meeting the president in Washington on the way. They both stared at their renegade son. The shocks, although pleasant ones, just kept coming.
Since the Internet was down, Jenny Jones had to call the cruise agency in England. The credit card wasn’t authorized until she had phoned her bank and had them call the company to confirm that the $112,000 was available to pay for their sea-view suite for the month-long voyage.
For the rest of the day, Jonesy and Maggie sat out of the rain on the warm summer porch and enjoyed planet Earth, and its bounty of scents, dampness and ever-changing light. Jonesy told his parents much of what he, Maggie, and his old partner VIN had accomplished, since they left Colorado after their first visit.
Jonesy’s father asked Maggie about her life in the air force. Afterwards Jonesy told them the whole story about General Joe Bishop, what he had done to Jonesy, and his explosive end at the hands of the same person whose air force career he had destroyed.
During the day, it seemed to Maggie that the still antagonistic older Mr. Jones warmed to his son, and she was happy that a friendship was developing there, perhaps for the first time. If Ryan was right, this would be the last time Jonesy would ever see his parents.
The Gulfstream landed on a hot clear day in Nevada, the exact opposite weather they had flown out of earlier that morning. The aircraft was a hundred pounds lighter on cargo, and still had enough fuel in the tanks to not need refueling in Denver. It was only a short two-hour hop over two states into Nevada.
Ryan was happy to see them. His complexion had darkened with the sun and he looked healthy again. So did all the crew from space. The diamonds were studied and Ryan agreed with Maggie that the necklaces looked far better than massive rings. Then he was debriefed on the entire journey.
Five days later, watching Allen and Jamie do the next old-fashioned launch out of the Dead Chicken, the Jones family and Ryan took off for Denver International. Jonesy’s parents were driving in and would meet them. Since their son didn’t have a suit to wear to meet the president, they brought one of his old ones with them, just in case. They didn’t know if the president had already met their son.
“We are flying in a Gulfstream 500?” asked Jonesy’s dad as he and Ryan walked them and their two suitcases to the aircraft from the smaller private terminal. They were both happy to meet their son’s boss and surprised to see Maggie and Saturn aboard waiting for them.
“A 550, the newer version, and with extended long-range capabilities. This baby can fly three-quarters of the way around the world at 50,000 feet.” His father whistled.
Maggie flew all the way into Washington, impressing Jonesy’s father, who was watching his new daughter-in-law from the co-pilot’s seat. Jonesy’s mother made him try on his old suit while Ryan looked on laughing. He had asked Kathy to pull out one of his suits out of their America One apartment and send it down to Nevada on the last flight. One suitcase was the only cargo Allen and Jamie had brought down in SB-II. Jenny Jones was now pretty good buddies with her granddaughter who was happy to make faces and spit up on her. Flying wasn’t that easy for babies.
A sister helicopter to the president’s Marine One was waiting for them at Andrews Air Force Base. The party was whisked onto the lawn of the White House to be met by the president, the first lady, and their two nearly grown daughters, who were happy to be temporary nannies for Saturn.
This was all a bit too much for Jonesy’s dad. He did salute the Commander-in-Chief before shaking his hand, but it was not the same Commander-in-Chief he had served under.
The “People’s Diamond”, as the president called it, was officially handed over in the recently refurbished Oval Office with the press present. In a ten-minute ceremony, Ryan presented the stone to the president with the entire Jones family looking on. Afterwards, the group was invited to an early dinner.
The president needed to discuss a few things with Ryan, so after the meal the Jones family said farewell to Ryan and the First Family, and were flown back to Andrews, where they took off for Southampton Airport in Southern England.
Jonesy flew this time while his father sat in the co-pilot’s seat. Jones senior was a pilot, a hobby he had taken up while in the air force, but he wasn’t a professional air force pilot like his son.
“She flies totally different compared to what I flew,” he remarked.
“She flies totally different compared to what I’m currently flying too, but if we were staying on Earth, Dad, I would get one of these as the family runabout.”
“But they cost a fortune, son,” his dad replied.
“Not to Ryan. It’s chump change for him. He offered all of us $100,000 motor cars before we returned to Earth. Like VIN’s car—the one he and I arrived in when we visited you in last time—but cars are not for me, this plane is. As his chief pilot/astronaut I’m sure I could wangle one out of him. Maybe I will if we return before I’m too old. The quantities of those diamonds we are bringing back on our next missions could pay off our national debt to the Chinese.”
“Is that why he is staying at the White House?”
“I think so. Dad, what I’m saying is secret, but the president is asking Ryan to help the country. Even though the last administration tried to kill him, he is still an American.”
“But isn’t that trillions?” his father asked.
Feeling more like an airline pilot as they flew over the Atlantic, Jonesy told his father about DX2014, how the dead president and Mortimer had been so stupid, and how many diamonds the moon actually could hold.
In Southampton early the next morning, Jonesy arranged a car to take his parents to the docks to board their ship. He said goodbye to his parents for possibly the last time. His mother was in tears and even his father, now respectful of his son, hugged him for the first time Jonesy or his mother could remember.
After hugging Maggie and little Saturn, and saying goodbye several times over, the car drove off towards Southampton Docks. Maggie got ready to take command of the aircraft while a tired Jonesy slept with his daughter in the aircraft.
They picked up Ryan in Washington. Jonesy, now rested, flew them onwards towards Nevada.
“Have fun with the president?” Jonesy asked when Ryan entered the cockpit. Maggie was feeding Saturn in the rear.
“Yes, we talked for a long time. He doesn’t want us to stay away from Earth for so long,” Ryan replied. “He suggested that we return sooner and check up on the planet. It seems that they can’t survive without us.”
Four days later Allen and Jamie returned, this time with passengers. Thin and pale, VIN and Suzi were helped out of SB-II with VIN wheeling Suzi in a chair over the hot apron. A soundly sleeping Mars Noble was also visiting Earth for the first time, and was immediately placed in a crib.
Ryan wanted his astronauts to spend a week on Earth; it was time to discuss the future, what the president had asked of him, and to get feedback from his crew.
The next morning, after allowing VIN and Suzi time to enjoy themselves in the pool, and Suzi had a chance to receive and marvel over the ring and necklace, they began the meeting. First VIN and Suzi brought the ground crew up-to-date on America One.
Suzi was first to report. “All seven cubes are doing well. We are feeding the crew. Mr. Rose has everything under control, and apart from bits of rot here and there, the plant life is adjusting to space and our new gravity. Nothing is wilting anymore, and the bodies of the plants are strengthening. The rabbits and chickens are doing fine. We have our first space-incubated chicks, meat chickens, and they are doing well and growing, although a little slower than we would have anticipated compared to their rapid growth here on Earth.”
“The build crew completed the next family apartment cylinder,” VIN continued. “Seventy percent of the crew is housed, and the others are using the empty hospital ward. We had a case of what Doctor Rogers diagnosed as a cold last week. He was worried that a flu strain had reached the ship, but tests confirmed it was a common cold. He suggested that more stringent medical tests should be carried out before launches, and that Allen and Jamie, and anybody else launching into space should be quarantined for twelve hours before flight. He also suggested that a doctor be stationed here to conduct complete crew and passenger checkups, and that flight crews stay away from ground crew for at least an added twelve hours before each flight.” Ryan replied that he would do as the doctor asked. Then it was Ryan’s turn.
“As you all know, Fritz and Mrs. Warner left last week for Washington. They are being briefed there. I met with them during my recent visit. Next week they are scheduled to go to Beijing. Fritz is happy, his wife not so, but they will be staying in our embassy over there. The current administration in Washington believes that the Chinese are seriously contemplating investing all their resources into space travel. The president believes that they will not accept any more apologies from the U.S. over the destruction of their space program. Also, knowing that they have laser technology puts NASA and the other space authorities around the world into a defensive mode. Russia, Europe, and even Australia are ramping up their space programs. Washington will be increasing NASA’s budget three-fold this year and, as you know, our next launch is three new GPS satellites. All the new equipment up there is being tweaked to stay at stationary geo-stationary altitudes, and will not orbit the planet as the old equipment did.
“Our old friend Bill Withers was also invited to dinner by the president to discuss all his new designs. NASA and the air force are already producing more rockets for the same nukes that destroyed the asteroid. I told him that he was barking up the wrong tree and that they would be going to a gunfight with a knife if the Chinese had lasers up there. Naturally, he wanted all our designs, which I’m not giving him. But we will still equip the ISS and Ivan with a laser defense system, and these two craft will still need to orbit earth at LSO, or low space orbit. I explained that we don’t yet have accurate enough lasers to sit at 22,000 miles and will let him know when we do. It is possible Igor and his team of laser designers can increase accuracy from a farther distance with the new diamond lens we are producing. We will begin testing it as soon as the first lenses arrive from the cutters in Israel. I have also purchased the most powerful diamond cutter available to place aboard America One so we can cut our own lenses. That equipment will be arriving in about a month. Until then we stick with what we have.
“Now, to our odyssey. The president persuaded me to modify our itinerary. Our new travel schedule will be to journey to other planets when they are in opposite orbits around Earth. This will enable us to maybe pass by Earth between destinations so we can stop to visit. Before we begin our odyssey, however, we will go to the moon to collect diamonds. In the event we do not find any, I have decided to give him what we have in storage.”
“We still have diamonds in storage?” Jonesy asked. “Where?”
“That, Mr. Jones, is a secret. And yes, they are the big guys you brought home. Let me get back to the immediate problem. China has already asked for a 10 percent payment of the money owed to it by the U.S.A. and they want it within 90 days. They know that the U.S. doesn’t have one trillion in cash and the president asked what they would take in place of cash. China laughed at him and said that they certainly didn’t want any freshly printed U.S. dollars, but would accept precious metals, diamonds, or the U.S. Virgin Islands or the Hawaiian Islands as payment.”
“We can’t just hand over parts of the United States!” exclaimed VIN.
“The Chinese don’t expect us to give them property, but the new Washington administration will lose face before the entire world if we rescind on the deal, revealing our inability to pay debts. That will lead to bigger demands.
“Just tell the Chinese to smoke something else,” remarked Jonesy.
“What can they actually do to us?” asked Allen Saunders. “They have already stopped all their exports into the U.S. That alone must be hurting them.”
“It seems that the whole of Asia, including Japan, are worried about what the Chinese could do next,” replied Ryan. “China has attacked nearly every country in Asia during the last 150 years, and many believe that they are destined to do so again. South Korea, Japan, the Philippines, even Indonesia, want us to send more fire power into their countries. If they are attacked, and we have large military presences in those countries, in theory China is attacking the United States as well. Also, Iran is becoming a good friend to China. What I say next is for your ears only: Washington has learned the dead president received heavy financial backing from certain companies here in the States, to ensure his success in the last election. A significant amount of that money was transferred into these companies and other organizations from a country abroad.”
“Iran,” stated VIN. “It must be Iran.”
“Correct, Mr. Noble. I know you worked close to the Iranian border when you were in Iraq and saw how they operated. It is believed that Mortimer, Bishop, and McNealy, who were instrumental in channeling a lot of that money, were on their way to Iran via Greece when Colonel Jones blew up their boat. Sources at the Federal Reserve have estimated that 95 to 110 billion dollars was fed into these companies through Switzerland for political campaigns. This is the first time that foreign money has been able to change the course of a political election here in the U.S. As a result, the law permitting corporations to make unlimited contributions to a campaign is being revoked.
“So, Iran is in bed with China. Russia is not happy, nor are the Europeans nor, of course, Washington.
“China will fill Iran with nukes,” suggested Maggie.
“Yes. Of course, China knows that Iran isn’t afraid to use them, so it looks like Biblical prophesies might come true. Instead of Russia, China is at the forefront of a possible third World War.
“But China is on the opposite side of the world to the U.S. and the Middle East,” stated Jonesy.
“Perfect for China,” responded Igor. “The best and only place to be when there is a war is on the other side of the planet. They won’t care if the Middle East is taken out by America’s nukes. They will hope we are taken out with Chinese nukes coming from Iran.”
“Exactly,” Ryan confirmed. “So the president wants our help with a deal Washington has made with the Israelis. I am going to send all of our big diamonds to Israel to cut up into stones no bigger than three to four carats so they won’t be big enough to use for laser lenses. Once done, they will be returned to Washington and then handed over to the Chinese. I’m sure you have noticed Hangar Seven is being erected again. It will be our new sorting hangar for all future incoming rocks, as well as the Gulfstream’s new home. It will have a fence around it, and nobody except Igor, Boris or I will be allowed in. If any of you need the jet, Lieutenant Walls will escort you in, but other than that, it is off limits.
“You are giving those three big beautiful diamonds to the government for free?” Maggie asked.
“Correct,” Ryan replied, “plus some of the tennis-ball size ones, the same size as the ‘People’s Diamond’. We are keeping two for our own cutting. What, Mrs. Jones, do you think I should ask as payment for these rocks I consider to be useless, as useless as the large rings you didn’t like?”
“For starters, I could use my own Gulfstream 550 extended-range jet if we aren’t going to spend the rest of our lives in space,” Jonesy jumped in, expecting to be admonished for his suggestion. Ryan smiled.
“Colonel Jones, I’m sure the president would be happy to order you a $50 million jet for ten trillion dollars in diamonds to pay the Chinese. I will put your order on the list. One thing I am asking for is total control and security of this airfield. Within a few weeks, several air force hangars will be erected on the other side of the airfield, and a wing of air force F-35s will be permanently based here. A fifth laser will be produced for the defense of this base. When we leave it will be given to the Europeans. We will also have our own NASA-made communications satellite next year so we can have permanent direct and secret communications with Washington from anywhere in the solar system.”
“So, are we still going on our odyssey?” asked Suzi. “I was scared. All that work up there, all for nothing, and my ideas all kaput!”
“We are going, Suzi. Our first mission will be to the moon to mine for diamonds, I hope. As Colonel Jones suggested, ten trillion dollars’ worth to repay our country’s debts. Our second journey will be an odyssey to Mars. There, our objective will be to set up a second home away from Earth, hopefully using the new Nano-Silicone sent up to America One to be tested. When we return, if Earth is still here, we will begin a five to ten year odyssey to Jupiter and Saturn.”
“What about the crew left on Mars?” asked Suzi.
“Good question, Suzi. A crew of five or six scientists might be left on Mars, hopefully living both above and underground. Either new NASA shuttles or our own craft will supply them every twenty-four months with equipment and supplies to continue building. NASA will build new shuttles capable of reaching Mars with one to two tons of supplies. They will not have our more modern laser system. It will be up to them to perfect their own from the older ones we leave on the two space ships, once they are able to retrieve them. That gives us a head start on everybody. Ultimately, no government can be trusted. What will our own U.S. government be like in a decade or two when we return?”
“You said that there were problems with the new external wing thrusters on SB-III?” asked Jonesy.
“Yes, but nothing we can’t handle, and we are only two weeks behind schedule. We need the new thrusters to get launched from here in Nevada. They are very similar to the much smaller thrusters on the two Astermine craft, with one major difference; these thrusters need to be inside the body of the shuttle during reentry. Each thruster weighs half a ton and will be extracted from or retracted into the center section between the cargo bays on an arm. This arm has to be strong and will be made out of titanium. It also must be locked into position for launch. Our new shuttles will work like the Harrier and all new VTOL, or vertical takeoff and landing craft, manned and unmanned, in the air force today. The two side thrusters get the shuttle off the ground. At 10,000 feet, the single rear second-stage thruster that Colonel Jones tested ignites. At the same time, the side thrusters turn themselves from downward thrust into rear thrust which raises the nose, and the shuttle heads skywards. At 100,000 feet the two pulse engines will be ignited. Seconds before the first pulse, the side thrusters are retracted into doors directly behind the cargo hold, and not used again until space is reached. They can also be extracted at under 60,000 feet on approach for an Earth landing, and at less than 700 knots, or Mach One, but we need to test them. On Mars, in space, or any other moon or planet, they can stay out permanently.
“The problem is that the external wings are also needed for atmospheric reentry. The arms are situated inside the cargo hold and on extraction will produce bad airflow over the wings. Extended, they are going to hurt the air flow over the upper wings, and we haven’t correctly analyzed the exact drag. These arms extend out over the wings, and stop at the same height as the extended wings, causing more drag than we anticipated.”
“Those wings aren’t that stable; more drag could drop the shuttle out of the sky, especially at less than 700 knots,” Jonesy added. Ryan nodded.
“We have more testing to do, and I think our computer models have found an answer, or we don’t use them for Earth reentry.”
“Do we need to?” Allen asked.
“Not really,” replied Igor, “the system will be needed for emergencies, but no big deal. A similar problem was retracting the engines in atmospheric conditions on exit, but we feel that with so little atmospheric drag at 100,000 feet, it won’t matter. Also the hydrogen thrusters have enough fuel to take SB-III up to 125,000 feet before a first pulse needs to be emitted.”
It took three days for the new Hangar to be built, and the next morning Jonesy and Michael took off in the Gulfstream with the cargo of large diamonds for Israel. Even Tel Aviv from Nevada was within the Gulfstream’s range and Jonesy was even more impressed. After handing the several cases over to Israeli military personnel, and getting a full tank of fuel, they returned stateside.
With little to do for the next two weeks, Jonesy and Maggie enjoyed their time on Earth with Saturn and also with VIN, Suzi and Mars. Ryan went back to America One to see Kathy who was close to giving birth. Allen and Jamie enjoyed their flying, and bit by bit, the luxury cargo from Amsterdam was transported up, thirty to forty pounds per flight.
The airfield runs began again, as did no drinking from Sunday night to Thursday night. Life on the airfield was returning to normal. VIN enjoyed his new electric Tesla. It was quiet, and a joy to drive. He took Suzi to have lunch in Las Vegas twice before their return on the next shuttle to space.
The space crew often met with Igor in private and discussed the future for Astermine. The news from around the world wasn’t good. Every country seemed to be arming themselves for a possible war. China was the only country that kept quiet, except to alienate itself from all other First World countries.
Nobody outside the airfield knew that Ryan was in space. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was, even the president. Several days after he left for space, Igor came to find Jonesy. The president was on the phone and wanted to speak to Ryan. Jonesy was, as usual, by the pool. They had run early that morning, and after spending three hours in the new SB-III VTOL simulator, he had fallen asleep in the shade by the pool.
The pool was pretty close to the motel, and Igor’s first choice had been right.
“Yes, Mr. President, Colonel John Jones here,” he said into the phone after jogging with towel and swimsuit to Hangar One.
“Colonel, I need to speak with Ryan. It’s urgent. Do you know where he is?” the president asked. “Unfortunately, he’s not here, and is not in phone or radio contact either, Mr. President.”
“Well, please get a message to him. Our embassy staff in Beijing is being forced to leave within twenty-four hours. Several of our staff members were killed and wounded in a drive-by shooting while dining in a restaurant last night. Our Beijing deputy director, our senior energy analyst, our administration officer, our communications chief and his number two were shot dead, so was Mrs. Warner, your man’s new wife. Mr. Warner was shot twice and was airlifted out a couple of hours later with two other injured staff. He has lost one of his arms and maybe a leg, and is currently in Misawa being operated on by air force surgeons. He is expected to make it, but I wanted to give Ryan the report personally.”
“Who did it, Mr. President?” Jonesy asked.
“We believe that it was Chinese government agents, as one was accidentally run over by a civilian motor vehicle in the chaos, and pictures of him were run through our databases there. He was a prominent Chinese assassin who had been expelled from Europe by Interpol and from the U.S. by the FBI. We made a complaint to Beijing in the strongest possible language and their government responded that every American, from our embassy personnel to all American students studying in China have twenty-four hours to get out of the country, or they will be apprehended as spies. I need Ryan to prepare a laser up there, in case they kill any more Americans. I will not allow them to shoot innocent students who cannot get out in the short timeframe given. We are using all possible civilian aircraft to pick up students from dozens of cities, but we need backup. Will you get this message to Ryan, wherever he is?”
“Yes, sir, he will have it ASAP.”
“Colonel, I’m hoping we will still be given time to pay off our debts to them, and not go to war. Do you believe we can succeed with our moon mission?”
“Yes, Mr. President, I believe we can, within twelve months, hopefully sooner. Get Mr. Warner back here. Ryan’s team can give him a new arm and a leg, and he won’t need the leg up in space. It seems to be a better place to live for guys with missing limbs.”
“Will do. The country and I are going to be really grateful if you succeed in your mission; you might avert World War III. Is there anything you need, or anything I can do to make your life easier, Colonel?” The president didn’t know that he was asking the wrong person.
“Actually two things are a problem right now, Mr. President. And, I thank you for the letter to my father. He quite likes me again.”
“I’m not a genie but I would like to help Ryan’s team if I can. You were not treated fairly by the air force, and I’m sure you are going to play a big part in solving our national debt. Name your two problems.”
“My father complained about having too many colonels in our family. Any chance one of them can be promoted to general? One star would make me happier than Full Colonel, and our mutual buddy General Allen Saunders still outranks me, even though we are both sort of retired.”
“A small favor, consider it done, General Jones.”
“My wife, Colonel Maggie Jones has taken a fancy to the Gulfstream 550, Mortimer’s old aircraft, on loan to Astermine. If I promise to bring back every rock we can find where we are going, do you think the newer Gulfstream 650 extended range is too much to ask as a Jones family runaround? It would give me incentive to return here more often. Get my drift, Mr. President?”
“Where is Gulfstream based?” the president asked.
“Atlanta, Georgia,” Jonesy replied expecting to get rebuffed, as often happened when he asked for things.
“I think that can be arranged. Get the message to Ryan and tell him to call me. Look after Mr. Warner, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Still standing in his bathing suit, and with Igor looking on trying to figure out why Jonesy was having such a long conversation, Jonesy replaced the receiver and smiled.
“Interesting conversation, Colonel Jones?” Igor asked.
“General Jones, to you, Igor. I got promoted. It’s a father, wife, son thing. You won’t understand. Also, Ryan needs to contact the president ASAP. There have been problems in China, the agent chick, Fritz’s wife was murdered, and Fritz is alive but is in intensive care in Japan.”
With that he walked back to the pool. How was he going to pick up diamonds on the moon, and fly his new aircraft if he wasn’t even on Earth! He sat by the pool and pondered that problem until Maggie and Saturn came to join him. He decided not to tell her about his promotion just yet. She might get pissed off.
The next morning he had a call on the line in Hangar One, from Atlanta, Georgia.
“General Jones, Joe Martin, head of Gulfstream, with government orders. I was told to call you for instructions on how to design the interior of your new 650. We have one ready for interior design. It was ordered for another organization, but they have decided to wait twelve months. As it was going into a small country, it has the most extended range we can offer, the most powerful and fuel-efficient engines, and a full Garmin-equipped glass cockpit including their brand new full panel panoramic display. I just need to know your outside coloring and interior design.”
Jonesy gave him the number of Mortimer’s aircraft from its logbook. Joe Martin remembered the aircraft well. He said that the previous customer’s exterior design scheme was simple; this aircraft was white and if he wanted to accept it without a fancy paint job, it could be ready for delivery in two weeks. Jonesy naturally agreed; he just wanted the name “Jones” on the rear tail, nothing more.
As Mortimer had done, Jonesy ordered a larger rear bedroom with bathroom, a mid-seat area for six, a front galley, and a crew area with a second toilet; he didn’t care what leather it came with. It was a wedding present for Maggie, and he was sure he could afford the insurance; maybe Ryan could help him with that.
He decided to inspect SB-III, something he hadn’t done for a few days. He and Maggie spent three hours a day in the new simulator which was upgraded daily from SB-III’s onboard computers. The simulator was good; it felt like he was in the actual shuttle.
He could see the new side thrusters sticking out of the shuttle through the plastic sheeting around the aircraft. She was starting to look like a big brother to Astermine One, and for the first time he was actually looking forward to visiting the moon. Prospecting on DX2014 with VIN and Maggie had actually been fun.
Ryan stayed up in space. He was scheduled to return with Allen, but following his conversation with the President he decided to take command from space. Two days after talking to Georgia, the day Ryan was to return, Jonesy received a package. It was small and contained a letter from the Office of the United States Air Force, The Pentagon, congratulating him on his promotion to general. He showed it to Allen after his arrival, and they hit the pool to celebrate. Maggie gave him an inquisitive look and asked him why he was being promoted, if he was actually on the retired list.
“If you don’t ask you don’t get, was always my motto,” he replied smiling innocently. Nobody would get more out of Jonesy.
The bad news for Jonesy came a couple of days later. SB-III would be ready for her test flight into space in ten days, a day or so before his wedding gift to his wife was due to arrive.
The same day, U.S. Air force engineers arrived at the airfield to begin building hangars and new cement pads on the southern side of the runway for the first three F-35 fighter jets. Since the engineers were from Nellis, Jonesy got Allen Saunders to order an extra hangar, and put it on the existing cement pad Hangar Ten had once stood on.
Everyone thought Jonesy was acting strangely; Maggie thought that it was a result of the shock of his father giving him a hug; the shock might have dislodged something in his brain, and she asked him whether she should look for a sane pilot to fly with.
Allen checked in with the engineers who confirmed that everything Ryan requested for the airfield was to be delivered, and that they were also building new accommodations across the runway for guards and pilots, and installing fuel tanks, and an engineering and aircraft service hangar. They also told Allen that over 300 men would be relocating to the airfield. As a former base commander at Nellis, he knew what Ryan was getting into. With Jonesy acting so strangely, he didn’t.
The next day, Allen left with Jamie for her last flight before giving birth. One of the other pilots on the build-team in space, Max Burgos, would be filling in for her.
Also, in ten days Jonesy was going to launch just an hour after Allen headed up again, in case SB-III needed help in orbit.
Chapter 12
Next stop, the moon
Ten days passed quickly with the team spending twenty-four hours a day getting SB-III ready. Jonesy and Maggie were each spending eight hours a day in the simulator, updating themselves on the shuttle’s new launch technology, and learning how to react in case of ignition failure.
With the vacation over and Saturn was strong enough for her first launch into space, Ryan gave permission for Maggie and Saturn to rejoin the flight crew.
VIN, Suzi, and Mars would be passengers in SB-II with Allen and Penny as co-pilot. Jamie was on the maternity list.
Allen had taken up a new thruster engine for America One on his most recent launch, plus all the supplies remaining from the Joneses’ shopping spree in Amsterdam. The rotation of America One was doing well, the crew in space was now adept at working in the increased gravity, although there would be a couple of gravity interruptions as the new engine was installed. Ryan was determined to get his mining crews to the moon as soon as possible. He had three more necessary supply launches with SB-II before his roster of supplies was complete, followed by the longer wait for the lasers and SB-I’s fittings.
Ryan had a five-week window between the last launch and the completion of SB-I’s modifications. He wanted to fly to the moon and back in that time as a test run for America One. If everything was successful, the diamonds would be returned to the mother ship and then transported to Earth. The flight crew would wait three weeks for SB-II to be outfitted, and for the two space stations to be refitted, and finally they all could begin their first real odyssey, to Mars, before anybody else needed their services.
“Astronauts, silence please,” Igor began the next meeting; it was attended by Jonesy, Maggie, Michael, VIN, Suzi and Jamie—now showing why she was taken off flight duties. Allen, Penny and Max Burgos were also there, having returned a day earlier. “The thrusters are now complete on SB-III. We have tested the thruster retraction mechanism over a hundred times, and it works as well as SB-III’s landing gear system. Since the new side thrusters are exactly midway down the shuttle fuselage and the fuel tanks are forward and aft of the new thruster position, we now have two separate cargo bays; one is aft of the cockpit and in front of the mid tanks and thruster location; the second cargo bay is aft of the thrusters and second fuel tank system and forward of the rear fuel tanks and rear engines. Unfortunately, the total cargo space has been reduced by 50 percent in size and capacity, and there are now six separately controlled operational doors on the shuttle roof instead of the long set you are used to. Four of the doors are for cargo, and two are engine wells for the thrusters. The door control mechanisms are on the co-pilot’s right side panel, and the mid-thruster door controls are on the center panel between the pilots. These have been separated so not to get them mistaken during launch. Jonesy, the computers show that our new maximum cargo load is two tons with the new engines and full fuel in all tanks. Lift offs are from a new square cemented area on the other side of the runway. Liftoff will be expected to be at 85 percent power. I’m sure you remember the thrust needed to get off DX2014 in Astermine One.” Jonesy nodded.
“We made it by the skin of our teeth at 104 percent thrust, I believe.”
“So, at full weight, you only have a 15 percent allowance to full power. Now, with this allowance, you will have to compensate for heat, wind, rain, cloud cover, and other problems we haven’t thought of yet. Optimal outside temperature for vertical launch is 32 degrees Fahrenheit, or less. The colder the better! For every ten degrees over freezing one percent of additional thrust is estimated. So at 82 degrees, which we believe will be the temperature tomorrow morning, your thruster estimate is 90 percent allowing for heat. Air density is the next factor to vector into thrust requirements. Tomorrow, thanks to Nevada’s dry air, our humidity is expected to be in the forties. Again, for every ten degrees, one percent can be added, so add another 4 percent to make 94 percent of full thrust. Wind is expected to be less than 10 miles an hour, hopefully not ground level. Between 5,000 and 10,000 feet, when you ignite the single rear stage, there could be an air movement factor, so we are estimating that your thrusters should be set at 95 percent.”
“Then, in a tropical rain storm, our new thrusters are useless?” Allen asked. “And, General Jones, tell me about your promotion. You are still retired aren’t you?” he asked. Jonesy smiled back at him.
“A surprise promotion from the White House,” Jonesy replied. “Too many colonels in the family, Allen.”
“OK, let’s get back to the briefing,” Igor stated. “Yes, General Saunders, our shuttles cannot launch in high humidity or high temperature conditions. I hope we have the opportunity to do some tests one day when we get a storm through here. It hasn’t rained here for four months and we do not expect humidity or high temperatures at dawn tomorrow,” Igor stated.
“When General Jones and Colonel Sinclair have completed this first manual launch into space, the computer recordings of every millisecond will become your backup for future launches. Our worst possible launch scenario is 80 degrees with 70 percent humidity and a breeze so don’t go landing in the tropics by mistake. Again, maximum thrust in this new configuration is 105 percent on SB-III, for emergencies only. You can maintain maximum thrust above 100 percent for only 30 seconds maximum before the thrusters need to be reduced to 99. At 99 percent, 60 seconds is the maximum duration before thrust must be reduced again. Slowly, the meeting went over the engine statistics….. “this gives you 28 seconds to rotate the nose of the shuttle upwards to a minimal angle of 75 degrees above horizontal before you can ignite the rear thruster. Once the rear thruster has ignition, the side thrusters can be decreased to 85 percent for the remainder of the first stage launch up to 100,000 feet. The side thrusters can run at 85 percent power for a maximum of 30 minutes, not including the higher thrust durations.”
It took Igor a full 30 minutes to get through the statistics for the pilots. Flying the new shuttle was no easy task….. “at worst, if one side thruster closes down, the only way to compensate is to ignite the rear thruster, and you know what that will do if your nose is pointing downwards.”
“Why can’t you bring the 10,000 foot rear thruster ignition down to say 5,000, or even 2,000 feet?” Jonesy asked.
“The single rear thruster will send a powerful shockwave to the ground at any altitude less than 5,000 feet. Computer scenarios show that at less than 2,000 feet, you could shake this whole airfield like a shockwave with ignition of the rear thruster. At 5,000 feet, the shockwave is expected be 60 percent less and at 10,000 feet 90 percent reduced. At 2,000 feet or above, you astronauts can begin the slow nose-up rotation during normal launch sequence, in case you detect a possible malfunction. Astronauts, to save the shuttle during a side thruster malfunction, you will do what you have to do, and you will always have manual control until Mach 2.”
“I assume an early rotation means a drop in altitude speed?” asked Allen who hadn’t done much simulator flying yet.
“Yes, by as much as 50 percent under 100 knots. Over 100 knots, it actually helps, as the nose begins to cut through the air above 70 degrees, instead of the whole roof area pushing through the air above it.
“The next launch section I want to discuss is 75,000 to 100,000 feet. We know that 75,000 feet is emergency minimum pulse thrust altitude. The new launch altitude minimum is 100,000 feet. The computers are telling us that at 75,000 feet, once your side thrusters are extinguished and begin to retract at 70,000 feet, your forward speed should stay stable at between 800 and 1,000 knots. The rear thruster should give you enough power to hold your forward speed steady. If it drops, that’s fine, as long as it doesn’t drop to less than 5 percent above Mach 1, or around 740 knots. At that time the two pulse engines need to be re-ignited. So if you have a rear rocket malfunction above 70,000 feet, the pulsers must be immediately activated.”
“And at 50,000 feet?” Jonesy asked.
“At 50,000 feet or below, you might not have an airfield to return to,” Igor replied. “We could be all dead, and every building flattened.”
“We die, darling, the airfield doesn’t,” smiled Maggie at her husband.
“Next topic, the lasers,” continued Igor. “They are coming along well and we expect to get the four-pound shipment of plutonium-238 in two weeks, maybe three.
“We have begun work on a new project: mini-laser space cubes 12-inches square. These new mini defense lasers will be completely accurate up to ten miles and semi-accurate up to 30 miles in space; they will be nuclear powered and the reactor housing occupies a second square foot.”
“Mini space drones?” VIN exclaimed, knowing full well what Igor was describing.
“Yes, VIN, exactly like what you worked with in Iraq. There is a company in Washington that has produced mini-cubes for space exploration for a couple of years. They have perfected a long-term space-capable cube, or vehicle, which can be blasted off to a passing asteroid to analyze its metal components, after which a larger cube or vehicle, would land on the asteroid and return with samples. A third unmanned vehicle from this company would then be launched to actually mine the passing rock. Ryan was lucky that he selected DX2014. Picking the right asteroid saved a lot of time. However, it is the first cube that interests us. We can use the cube’s long-term characteristics of solar energy and its ability to continuously repower itself. We will add a tenth of a pound of plutonium to a mini laser, and two mini hydrogen thrusters with a 50-pound liquid fuel cell, and a camera with live video feed.”
“They fly around in orbit and blow an enemy craft to bits?” asked VIN.
“Correct. These cubes will be like our own special forces; they will hardly be noticed by any radar. A six-inch thick hydrogen fuel cell will be designed around the cube unit and the reactor to make the unit look like space junk. The targeted spacecraft will automatically bypass the space junk, but the cube will power up and creep in from behind, out of radar view, with its hydrogen thrusters.”
“Short range attack?” suggested Allen Saunders.
“The cube, with camera and live feed will lock on and analyze the make and country of manufacture. It can be controlled from Earth, or from another craft in space.
Accurate range is ten miles, semi-accurate range 30 miles. The laser is very small, but powerful enough to melt a hole through a ship’s outer wall, destroying its bubble of life aboard. If it targets an unmanned craft, it will be programed to destroy the craft’s support systems, external solar wings, antennae, etc.”
“And if we return in a few decades, and find millions of these cubes up there beating each other up?” asked VIN.
“Well thought out, VIN,” laughed Igor. “A second section of scientists are already working liaising with the first group to analyze defense scenarios with these mini-craft. As you said, VIN, these low-cost, low-maintenance cubes could be up there by the thousands one day. Even our new GPS system going up in the next few years could be made up of these little foot-square cubes.”
“What if the Chinese get them?” Jonesy asked.
“I’m sure they already have them,” smiled Igor. “They know everything outside our fences, and we only have a head start; the rest of the world will catch up. Ryan made sure that only scientists aboard America One will work on the Cube Program. Tomorrow both shuttles will carry all of our designs and future ideas, and a dozen of these little cubes purchased from the company in Washington State.”
Before dawn the next morning, the Dead Chicken took off with SB-II in its belly, piloted by Allen and Penny. SB–II was fully loaded and was carrying VIN and family and 4.1 tons of merchandise. Included in the shuttle’s cargo were extra engine parts, laser parts, the cubes, a ton of liquid hydrogen, a ton of soda ash, and a ton of liquid helium. VIN was fully suited up in case something went wrong with SB-III’s launch.
Ten minutes after the Dead Chicken returned and was closed down, and twenty minutes before dawn—the lowest temperature of the day—Igor gave Jonesy his latest suggested power settings. The build team wanted the least strain possible on the ship.
On their launch, SB-III carried five 100-pound hydrogen fuel tanks, the same weight in extra food, water, and other necessities in case the astronauts were stranded for a time in space. A smaller half ton cargo was loaded for this virgin flight, and distributed between the fore and aft cargo bays.
“Jonesy, Igor here. With 1,110 pounds cargo weight, plus cockpit weight of 310 pounds, including your full suit, the computers suggest a 93 percent-power setting will give you lift off. Do you have anything stashed away?”
“Copy 93 percent Igor. We have nothing that hasn’t been weighed. I’m looking forward to Suzi’s vodka up there tomorrow. It was as good as the stuff I tasted in Amsterdam.”
“Copy that,” replied Igor. “Current outside ground temperature is 79 degrees; temperature at 5,000 feet is 55 degrees. Bob Mathews reported temperature at 10,000 is 40 degrees, and freezing point is at around 39,000 feet. Temperature at 50,000 feet was 23 degrees. Humidity is lower than expected, so you will lift off, increase power slightly and then reduce to 88 percent at 5,000 feet to begin a slow nose-up rotation. Ignition of rear thruster at 10,000 feet, reduce side thrusters to 85 percent. Readouts show you achieving 95 percent of Mach 1, at 72,000 feet at current weather configurations.”
“Copy that,” replied Maggie. “Retraction of thrusters by 80,000 feet or Mach 1, retraction time, 20 seconds; wait until 100,000 and then hit the afterburners, turn off rear hydrogen thruster at 125,000 feet. I can remember the sequence in my sleep, Igor.”
“Do you think that guy has forgotten we have spent over 100 hours in launch simulation?” Jonesy drolly asked Maggie.
“Just want you to fly safe, Mr. Jones,” Igor retorted. “We are ready for your tow to the runway launch position.”
SB-III was towed out to the newest piece of clear tarmac apart from the apron where the tow truck with generators on board kept juice flowing into the shuttle until the side thrusters were burning at idle.
Maggie looked at the outside crew and noticed that even at 10 percent idle they were being blown around as if they were standing behind a jet with its engines running.
The team headed away with thumbs up signs, and she got back to her checks. Saturn was still asleep in an enclosed crib. The crib kept her secured in a horizontal position, and the crib itself was installed on a yacht’s stove-type gimbal system, allowing it to pivot on an axis and remain horizontal regardless of the shuttle’s movement and direction.
“Wings 100 percent extended?”
“Wings 100 percent extended,” replied Maggie, backing up her husband’s checks.
“Undercarriage still down and locked?”
Over a dozen final checks had to be made before they could get into the launch sequence. The cockpit was far more complicated now, compared to the first time they had flown her. Launches on DX2014 with the Astermine craft had been much the same, but without an atmosphere holding them down.
“Increasing thrust to 50 percent, permission to leave Earth, Mr. Igor,” smiled Jonesy as the shuttle began to whine around him. He had never flown a VTOL (vertical takeoff and landing) aircraft on Earth, apart from helicopters, but there wasn’t much difference. His main job was to pilot the thrusters and compensate for any forward, backward or side movement, especially in the first 100 feet or so.
“You are on your own SB-III, you are in control,” replied Igor. The ground crew were only spectators at this point, but he felt that he should be given the authority to take off.
“Power at 60 percent…..70 percent, she’s getting light, 75 percent, lighter, 80 percent she’s beginning to slip across the tarmac to starboard, going to full lift setting….93 percent power, we have lift off.”
The team in Hangar One could see a cloud of dirt heading over everything as SB-III disappeared behind it. The shock rattled the hangars, and Igor realized that a new more distant launch pad would have to be made, at least a couple of hundred yards further away from any buildings. The shock only lasted a few seconds as the shuttle rose majestically above the dust and the cloud began to disperse.
“Fifty feet…..70 feet…holding her steady….100 feet, Maggie wheels away….120 feet….150 feet, vertical speed gradually increasing….200 feet altitude…..250 feet…300 feet.”
Now that the dust storm had died down and the sun was about to rise over the eastern horizon, Igor and the team went out onto the apron wheeling a mobile trolley loaded with gauges, wirelessly reading their counterparts in SB-III. They could still see the decreasing silhouette of the shuttle, with its two white-hot blasts coming out of the two thrusters a hundred yards away and 500 feet above them. Jonesy was keeping her stable, and trying hard not to do the usual helicopter maneuver of putting the nose down to gain forward speed. He had no rotor above him, just the two thrusters, and he only needed vertical lift.
“Looking good, Jonesy,” stated Igor, holding his mike and watching the shuttle, pretty big at this distance, rise away from terra firma.
“Five hundred feet climb rate 5 feet per second… 7 feet per second… 10 feet per second……..600 feet,” continued Jonesy over the radio with dozens of people now out of their hangars watching. Everyone in the clean rooms inside the hangars were able to watch the liftoff via a camera installed on the roof of Hangar One.
“Keeping power at 95 percent, altitude 1,000 feet, I’m rotating the nose upwards 5 degrees.” To do this Jonesy just pointed the thrusters from vertical, directly below the craft, to a degree behind vertical, and the nose edged up as more power was forced to the rear of the craft. “Rate of climb, 28 feet per second, nose at 4 degrees above horizontal, altitude 2,600 feet.”
“You should start hitting the cooler air in a few seconds, which will increase your climb rate,” suggested Igor.
“Roger that,” replied Jonesy. “Rate of climb now 35 feet per second and this is the slowest I have ever flown an aircraft, except for auto-hover in a chopper. Passing through 3,000 feet….32 hundred feet and she’s starting to move away from ground. Sun is rising, 3,500 feet, in the sunshine and I’m going to miss the pool today. Don’t drink all the beer stocks guys… 4,000 feet at 49 feet per second. Rotating up 5 more degrees.”
Slowly, the craft got smaller and smaller, as the sun made the shuttle, facing westwards, emit rays of fire, just like a diamond.
“She sure is a beautiful sight,” said Bob Mathews; he and his crew were now standing next to Igor.
“Still a little slow to what the computers suggested at 4,000 feet,” replied Igor. Ground to SB-III raise your thrust rate to 98 percent for 20 seconds, your engine temperatures are normal.”
“Roger that,” copied Jonesy. “A better rate of climb, already over 65 feet per minute going through 5,000 feet….69 feet per minute, 73 feet per minute, now she’s really heading up, about as fast as an elevator!” he joked.
“Add nose up rotation,” ordered Igor. “Less drag at your low altitude, and your nose up should cut you through the air rather than force you through it.”
“Copied that, nose-up rotation another 5 degrees….6,500 feet…..7,000 feet.. engines are getting warm at 98 percent. Power?”
“Roger, I’m seeing that; reduce back to 95 percent and hold there,” Igor replied.
“Roger, rate of climb now steady at 75 feet per minute, and holding….8,500 feet, Maggie prepare for rear thruster ignition.”
“Rear thruster ignition ready,” she replied.
Even though the shuttle was rising, its forward speed was slow, and it was still directly over the airfield’s runway.
“I think the cooler air is working, we are at 95 percent and we are increasing our climb rate again… currently 89 feet per minute….93 feet per minute….95 feet, 100 feet per minute….nose 65 degrees above horizon. How many miles an hour is that? Approaching 10,000 feet….nose 75 percent above horizon… Maggie, ignition.”
Suddenly the crowd below saw a large white plume of white fire exit from the rear of the shuttle. To them it was nearly vertical as the shock wave hit them and they heard the hangar walls around them rattle.
“That’s better, 12,000 feet………… we have a real forward speed, 85 knots and climbing, reducing side thrusters. The rocket behind us is sure a comfortable feeling, about 25 percent of the wicked thrust we got from the old first stage. I thinking Saturn is still asleep….15,000 feet 130 knots.”
For the next minute, even as the shuttle got smaller and smaller above the airfield, the crowd still looked on. It seemed slow to Jonesy, real slow, but as long as three hydrogen thrusters burned, they were still alive.
“Passing through 25,000 feet, 290 knots….. 30,000 feet 330 knots, side thrusters are in optimal temperature range, but starting to cool. Suggest increasing thrust to 89 percent.”
“Affirmative,” replied Igor.
“Passing through 50,000 feet, 495 knots, forward speed faster than anticipated, suggest closing down side thrusters at 65,000, we know that the rear rocket can keep us going,” Jonesy suggested.
“I think 69,000 feet is a better bet or 675 knots whichever comes first,” replied Igor.
“Passing through 62,000 feet, 590 knots, speed increasing rapidly, decreasing side thrusters to 80 percent, that should buy us some altitude,” stated Jonesy a minute or so later….shuttle is now fully compliant for exit trajectory, the sun is behind me as usual. The west facing launch was perfect….65,000 feet 620 knots, reducing side thrusters.
“They are cooling too much,” replied Igor.
“So they should, we can’t put hot babies inside the cargo bay,” Jonesy replied.
“They are at minimum atmospheric safe operating temperature, close them down immediately or transfer them to non-atmospheric operating conditions,” stated Igor.
“Roger that, Ground… 68,000 feet, 670 knots, closing them down,” replied Maggie.
Both astronauts knew that closing down two of their three propulsion units would not increase their forward speed so quickly, giving the retraction system time to fold the hydrogen thrusters into their separately sealed cargo bays after cooling down to less than 200 degrees. This would take a few seconds at the cold temperatures at this altitude. Now the thrusters were becoming a slight drag with the remaining weak atmosphere on the upward movement, and this was the second most dangerous part of the launch.
“Seventy-two thousand feet…689 knots…internal engine temperature 218 degrees. Maggie, begin engine retraction in 5 seconds…4…3…2…temperatures 203 degrees, retract engines now.”
They could feel the loss of power. It felt like the shuttle was in neutral, and it didn’t feel good. The loss of thrust felt like minutes, but twenty seconds later the green retract lights came on showing that the doors were correctly sealed and Jonesy checked their rate of climb again.
“78,000 feet….701 knots, we are about to go through the sound barrier….715 knots… forward speed increasing again, rear rocket feeling good, but could do with a little more horsepower. The blast of the pulsers hurt too much, could you guys develop an intermediate thrust?”
Maggie leaned back to check on Saturn. She was awake, eyes wide open. Little Saturn had the best deal: nine inches of Memory Foam underneath her should help her little body compensate for the upcoming pain in the back. She smiled at her brave little baby, tightened her own straps and got ready.
“The rocket is certainly doing better at this altitude than we did on the previous launch out of the Dead Chicken,” said Jonesy. “We are at least a hundred knots faster than at the lower altitude when we ignited those beasts the first time.”
“Come to Mama,” said Allen Saunders. “We are just over the horizon on Orbit One and have you on radar. Ignite your burners, General Jones, and come play where the real men play.”
“We’re coming, General Saunders, just have to wait until we are high enough so we don’t ruin Mr. Igor’s day.”
“Sounds like you are boasting again, General Jones,” added Penny. “So typical. Maggie, sort him out.”
“Other crew, stay off the air please until Kàrmán Line is reached; we are in a dangerous launch phase right now.” Ryan’s voice came from somewhere in the heavens above all of them.
“Passing through 98,000 feet, 840 knots, we’re going hot, Maggie ignite pulsers…”
The shuttle was now invisible from Earth, until the first boom hit them a minute later. It certainly wasn’t as powerful as the previous time, but it rattled the hangars around them more than when it had left the runway earlier. There was a continuous boom for twenty seconds with the sound fading as the team headed back into Hangar One. Radio contact was also gone.
In the shuttle, the pain was tremendous. Maggie struggled to look around to see Saturn; she had nearly disappeared into the memory foam with only her face and the front of her body protruding. She was crying, but Maggie couldn’t hear her. Jonesy felt like his eyes were in the back of his head, but this was certainly a rush. He had very little to do, the computers had taken over at 100,000 feet, he had aligned the shuttle correctly, and the Jones family headed into the dark void of space.
***
Ryan was up listening to the commentary below. He didn’t pray often, but he was praying now, praying that the shuttle would make its first leap into space successfully, the first ever for mankind, without external assistance. Ryan was on the Bridge, had his eyes closed once the pulses took SB-III off radio feed. He was also praying for little Saturn, hoping that the pulses weren’t hurting her too much. He had worried about how she would cope on this launch for days. He certainly didn’t want his child to go through a launch like this, and he wondered if she would suffer and if there would be any long-term problems.
Doctors Rogers and Martin had told him before the launch that a young baby is extremely supple, and actually could withstand more in G-force strain than an older person with possibly more brittle bones; they felt sure that Saturn would fare better than her aging father. All she needed was good support, and they had prescribed the Memory Foam; enough to cushion Saturn, but not enough to suffocate her, while she survived unattended for the fifteen minute duration between pulse-launch and space.
***
Allen and Penny were also watching the shuttle rise up to meet them. They were overhead, already at 100 miles altitude, and it would take at least one full orbit before the two craft could meet up.
They certainly saw an increase in SB-III’s speed over the several minutes they were overhead. It looked like a missile coming up to attack them from Earth. They passed over the African coastline for the second time with the ever-rising SB-III now out of sight, 5,000 miles behind them and 40 miles lower.
Both astronauts were amazed how quickly SB-III, still under pulse power, began catching up. Not only was the shuttle rising faster than SB-II could at such a low orbit on one thruster, but SB-III’s speed rapidly increased to where their computers predicted that the Jones family would overtake them at the same altitude in only twenty minutes.
***
The pain was gone, even though the pulsers still had a minute of operation left. Jonesy had SB-II on the radar screen, and he had already paired his orbit with theirs. The thrusters were much bigger than those in the Astermine craft, and now, again extended, and in non-atmospheric mode, the two side thrusters could slow the shuttle down without having to turn around; Jonesy had practiced this particular maneuver often in the simulator. SB-III had saved about 50 seconds of programed thrust at 70,000 feet, and he wanted to see the craft’s new stopping power. This was the most exciting flying he had ever done, even though he had crawled through the atmosphere at less momentum than an F-16 without afterburner. It was fantastic flying; from ground to space in one go with no help!
General John Jones felt like an eagle: invincible.
“I think Saturn is fine; she’s crying, probably hungry, and not used to floating. I’m going to hold her, feed her, and put her back down,” Maggie said, bringing her husband out of his invincibility dream.
He watched as she loosened the netting around their daughter’s crib. He supposed that she could feed him before helping him off with his helmet. Like VIN in SB-II, they were the only two fully suited up.
Maggie picked Saturn up, so she stopped floating, but as soon as her big brown eyes focused on the helmeted monster staring in her direction, she howled.
“Maybe you should help me off with my helmet first?” suggested Jonesy. Maggie nodded, returned crying Saturn to the security of her crib, and began working on the helmet.
An hour later, already flying in formation with Allen, orbiting their way up to America One, both Maggie and the baby, strapped into the co-pilot’s chair, were sound asleep. Then Jonesy remembered something. He forgot to tell Igor about his incoming gift from the president. He smiled to himself. Igor would find the right place to store the brand new $55+ million dollar jet.
“Wow! It was a shock for Penny and me see you scream past us. We saw the thrusters turn into a reverse burn, and you slowed so quickly, we nearly screamed by you!” exclaimed Allen who had joined Jonesy in the elevator heading up to the Bridge to be debriefed.
“I have never seen anything in space maneuver so quickly. You retracted those thrusters, reversed thrust for a few seconds, retracted them and suddenly you were going our speed,” added Penny.
“Yes, Maggie and I had experience from the Astermine craft on DX2014. We actually flew them like helicopters,” remarked Jonesy as the door swished open.
They all shook Ryan’s hand and then Captain Pete’s. Ryan did not look too excited to see them, especially Jonesy.
“General Jones, Igor just called me a few seconds ago, to tell me that there is a brand new civilian marked jet on the apron, The name “Jones” in big black letters is on the tail, and a delivery pilot wants your signature on the delivery papers. Know anything about it?”
“Oh, that jet!” stammered Jonesy. “Arrived so quickly! It’s a gift to me and Maggie from the president,” he stated smiling sheepishly as he always did when he thought he was in trouble. “The president called me the other day and asked if I needed anything. Naturally, I said I did. First I told him that we had too many colonels in the Jones family, and he promoted me to general, then he asked if I needed anything else. I told him that we didn’t really need anything up here, but the family could sure use a runabout down on Earth, when we are on leave down there, and things…..”
“So you asked for a brand new Gulfstream 550?” asked Ryan shocked. “As a runaround! What are you going to do with it? Head down to the corner supermarket in Tonopah and go shopping?”
“It’s actually the new Gulfstream 650 extended range, and sure, I could head off into Las Vegas to go shopping, or Amsterdam, or Denver to visit my parents. I just answered the president’s question.”
“A typical Mr. Jones straight-up answer. And I hear you even got General Saunders here to commandeer an Air Force hangar for it?”
“Hey! We can all use the jet! He asked, I told him what I wanted and he agreed. I’m sure it’s pretty cheap compared to saving the entire country’s national debt. And, Maggie, Saturn, and I are doing most of the crappy work.”
“And me,” injected VIN who had come onto the Bridge and was listening.
“Partner, you wanted that electric car, and you have your silver Audi hidden away somewhere. I just wanted a jet; somebody asked me, I told him and that’s that,” he smiled at the others who were now smiling at him.
“Always on the defensive, Mr. Jones,” Ryan laughed. “I don’t blame you, and you have the right to speak to the president. I’m actually looking forward to a long flight with you. Maybe check out Mortimer’s private island, which now belongs to the American government, or somewhere further afield, before we odyssey out of here. I’ve heard they are going to build a new air force base on the island—it’s just big enough. The Turkish government is complaining, but they sold it to Mortimer in the first place. And, you wouldn’t believe who Mortimer’s boss was!”
“Iran?” suggested VIN.
“Correct. We believe the big guy in Iran underwrote the last president’s election. Suggestions are that over $110 billion was spent; private contributions to big syndicates during the election alone. Of course, this won’t get out to the media.”
“Who told you all this?” Allen asked.
“The president himself, when I was in Washington,” Ryan replied. “He got his information from Everson, who grilled Mortimer’s flight crew. They told him about a house in Iran with its own private airfield just outside the country’s capital. He often flew the blue Gulfstream into there and actually saw our dearly deceased ex-president shaking the hand of you know who, over there. So, General Jones, your Gulfstream is small news on a messed up and dirty planet and makes me want to go into space even more.”
“Do you think China has any involvement in this debacle?” Allen asked.
“The president and I are sure that they are involved; they had a long-term plan to destroy the power of the U.S. over time,” replied Ryan. “I think that Mortimer’s stupidity in releasing those nukes too late blew up their program as much as the damage it did to the rest of the world. It sort of put the kabosh on everything.”
“Funny how the Chinese launched five space ships so quickly, and with laser guns copied from our own U.S. Air Force,” Jonesy added.
“Astute observation, Jonesy. Only Mortimer could have delivered those air force secrets into the hands of our two major enemies,” Allen suggested. Ryan nodded at that comment.
“OK, guys, debriefing time. Tomorrow, or shall I say twelve hours from the end of today’s briefing, we will begin our briefing for our flights back to Earth and for the first flight to the moon.”
While Jonesy was in the Bridge, Maggie and Saturn were in the hospital. When the rotation was restarted after the two craft docked, she carried a sleeping Saturn out of the shuttle. Suzi and Mars met her. Using magnetic shoes to get to the elevator, the two women went up to the midlevel to get both babies checked out.
Both doctors cooed over with the babies. Saturn wasn’t happy about being prodded while trying to sleep; she had much of her father in her.
“I think she came through the launch well,” Doctor Rogers told Maggie. “There is nothing I can see, but we can’t see everything without an MRI. I was told that we might have a MRI coming up, and suggested to Ryan that a full body scanning machine was certainly needed. I’m hoping he will purchase a Philips Achieva, the best machine there is. It only costs a million five, and is worth its weight in gold for us up here.”
“I also put in a word about an MRI, and also for a new infra-red x-ray machine,” added Nancy Martin.
“Won’t the weight be tremendous for launch?” Maggie asked.
“Yes, Igor told me that both machines together weigh just under four tons. I gave him measurements and both could fit into the cargo hold of SB-II before she’s dismantled for her new thrusters. It will be the last time we can get anything that large up here, so we are certainly pushing Ryan, Maggie,” continued Doctor Rogers.
“Maggie, I want to check you over for bruising, spine pain or any other abnormalities, and then please send your husband up here,” Nancy said, getting back to business.
“If these types of launches are going to be normal, then I think we should keep all results and perform full checkups after each launch,” suggested Doctor Rogers. “What is the new turnaround time for SB-III’s next launch?”
“Three days, with perfect weather conditions. We refuel and leave America One in twenty-four hours to bring the crew back up.” The doctors requested that the Jones family and crew aboard SB-III report to the medical station immediately after the next launch.
So much that had happened during their month-long stay on Earth, the Joneses had to become reacquainted with the confined space of America One. The elevators were tiny, as were the corridors, and Maggie felt like a lab mouse as she walked back to their apartment. And she would soon have to get used to Astermine Two again, and that was much smaller!
Twenty-four hours later Jonesy undocked SB-III, and they returned to Earth. Reentry was much the same as previous ones; the empty shuttle was lighter and the new side thrusters were not used in atmospheric conditions. Looking down at the hot shimmering desert, Jonesy looked forward to seeing his new toy, but first there would be a debriefing followed by beers by the pool.
Debriefing was short, with more discussion focused on the next launch than the reentry. An hour after entering Hangar One, the Jones family walked over to a newly erected hangar where Hangar Ten had once stood.
Inside was the most beautiful aircraft Jonesy had ever seen, and it was his. For an hour he and Maggie surveyed the exterior, toured the interior, and paged through the flight manual, to see if there were any operational differences from flying the 550. Apart from changes in takeoff and landing distances, the only real change was that the interior was wider, the engines more powerful, and the instrumentation in the flight cockpit had fewer gauges. It even had a heads-up display of all the needed information.
The bed in the rear was comfortable, and there was even a crib installed for Saturn. Now the Jones family had to fly to the moon to repay the loan.
The next morning Jonesy actually filed an official flight plan into Las Vegas for a shopping trip. The couple owned little in the way of ground clothes, as Maggie called them; it was time to shop for themselves, and to look for clothes for Saturn for the next decade, or until she was big enough to wear flight suits as a grown six-foot tall teenager.
Igor was as excited about the new toy as Jonesy was, and happily accompanied them for the twenty minute flight into Las Vegas. At the last minute, Jonesy changed their flight plan, picking Denver International instead. It was two hours away and made their maiden flight a little longer.
The aircraft flew like a dream. It had lifted off without effort, even with full tanks, and Igor sat in luxury, keeping Saturn busy while the pilots enjoyed their new “runaround”.
Three days later, after flights into Denver, Salt Lake City, Las Vegas for lunch, and Santa Fe, New Mexico for dinner, it was time to get back to business.
All of the crew who had worked on the new project—the tiny cubes—entered the replaced crew compartment through the rear cockpit flight door.
The total weight of the cabin plus crew was one ton. All of the purchases from the shopping trips were placed in the rear cargo bay in twenty mostly empty, silver canisters needed for the mining trip. Ryan didn’t want more than a ton of cargo on this launch; most of his top engineers and scientists were aboard. He hadn’t figured on Maggie purchasing four hundred pounds of luxury food items on their travels: chocolate and candy from Denver, a case each of whiskey and champagne for Ryan from Las Vegas, coffee from a famous coffee roaster in Salt Lake City, and even a hundred pounds of canned rattlesnake from Santa Fe.
The weather conditions at dawn were relatively cool and dry, and even with the extra cargo weight, the shuttle easily left Earth.
At 100,000 feet when the pulsers engaged, Jonesy was sure that the ride became a real pain in the butt—and back—for everybody in the “First Class” section. But, those twelve seats had been cushioned with an extra three inches of memory foam. In addition, any discomfort to the passengers was alleviated by self-serve drinks and snacks and the latest movies playing one after the other in the crew cabin.
With the extra weight aboard, it had taken three minutes longer to reach the Kàrmán Line; Jonesy had anticipated it would take an additional two to three minutes with a full two-ton cargo.
They reached America One twelve hours after launch. This was the fastest flight to America One to date, taking only three orbits to get to an altitude of 400 miles. SB-III was pretty empty of hydrogen when she docked to the non-rotating mother ship.
Twenty-four hours after docking, the two Astermine mining craft were being packed with the luxuries Maggie had brought from earth. They weren’t leaving for a month with only food pouches. Each craft had its allotted thirty empty canisters.
Ryan was sure that that America One would only be a week behind them. Kathy wanted to have their baby while they were in orbit around the moon.
As Astermine Two moved away from the large ship, Jonesy could see the spacewalking mechanics installing the new, third engine; he was given a thumbs up from the spacewalkers as he slowly approached to see their advancement. Both Astermine craft, VIN, Suzi and Mars in Astermine One, and the Jones family in Astermine Two, disengaged from the mother ship when America One’s orbit was closest to the moon.
Allen and Penny were already back on Earth, and the mother ship would begin to climb to a higher altitude in preparation for her own 300,000 mile journey.
Maggie got little Saturn comfortable in the rear compartment, still decked out in pink. Neither astronaut wore a space suit, just a flight suit, as Maggie had turned the inner temperature to 72 degrees to keep the baby warm.
“Who is following whom?” asked Suzi from the other craft. Suzi was astronaut-in-charge of Astermine One and would be for the entire mission. She was still ahead of her husband in the flight hierarchy, and her presence eliminated the need for anyone to spacewalk over to help remove helmets.
“Since I have already programmed our flight into our computers, just tie your computers in to mine, get yourself a mile or so on our starboard side, sit back, open the popcorn, and enjoy the show,” replied Jonesy.
The side thrusters, already pointing backwards, immediately increased their orbital altitude and America One quickly disappeared behind them.
After one orbit, the two mining craft would be on a direct course to the moon. It was a three-day trip to the moon, much shorter than to DX2014. When they arrived the first thing they had to do was find where the diamond-studded asteroid had plowed into the dead planet.
Compared to life on America One, life aboard both Astermine mining craft was small and cramped. The rear compartment could hold both astronauts and a crib for the baby, but one astronaut always had to be on watch. Both craft were on eight-hour watches, with one of the crew asleep. Also, both craft would rotate sleep periods so that at least three of the four crew members were awake for two of the shifts. This system of “eyes on the dials” was perfected by Jonesy and VIN on the trips when Maggie had not been present.
Jonesy was hoping they would find a huge mound of diamonds all nicely piled up so that they could load them in and get back, but he knew the probability of that was miniscule. He was eager to complete the mission so he could take his new Earth toy on a round-the-world trip.
At 29,000 miles an hour the Earth slowly got smaller, and the moon got bigger. Still it took three days to fly to the moon; the planet’s ever changing position in relation to the actual craft in space made the flight many times longer than the distance between them.
Right on time, both craft entered the moon’s orbit. Before they went behind the moon VIN radioed Ryan to alert them that radio communications would be lost. Even though communications on Earth had reached an all-time low, in space were direct and easy, once you got used to the short lag time between conversations.
“Well done, guys. We are testing the new thruster in ten hours, SB-II is due back in 18 hours and we will let you know our plans,” Ryan reported. “The doc thinks that living up here could cause Kathy to give birth earlier than expected, so I want to get moving.”
“We looked at the crater’s estimated location and impact area on the computers and in relation to the surface, and it looks like we will be out of radio communications while we are down there, unless you move into a triangular position away from earth,” Jonesy advised.
“Roger that,” replied Ryan. “We completed a burn on the two working engines 24 hours ago and we are already climbing towards a geo-stationary altitude, 1,000 miles a day. SB-II can follow us to the moon if necessary and we are packing in extra crew rations down just in case. By the way Maggie, your Utah coffee is still not as good as the Dutch coffee, and Suzi, we had another space-produced chocolate cake that we think Mr. Rose made for us yesterday. It was fantastic.”
“It had better be,” replied Suzi from the sister craft. “I made twelve cakes the day before we left. I gave one to each of our mining craft and you guys were given the other ten. I know Herr Rose is good, but not as good as me, the cake meister.”
“It was really good,” added Maggie. “We ate our whole cake over three days. I’m worried with feeding Saturn, that she might start looking like one of Suzi’s cakes.”
“Let’s get back to work, ladies,” admonished Jonesy. “Ryan, we are forty minutes from our first pass over the general area, and will report back if we see anything. If we don’t, I will head descent on our second orbit, fly over the area, and see if I can find anything. On our third orbit, I hope to land on the moon.”
They could only use eyesight to view the moon’s surface. Although SB-III was equipped with a laser aiming device, they needed light from the sun or Earth to use it. On the dark side of the moon light from either source was limited to a very short duration.
“We got a visual on a crater; it appears to be about two miles across and barren. It looks like a fresh crater, whatever a fresh crater looks like. We can’t see much contrast on the dark side. It is in the larger area the computers mapped out, but not in the smaller suggested area. I’m going to head down lower and maybe land in it to look around. Ryan, I will relay any messages via Astermine One,” Jonesy radioed after the first pass.
He descended from a forty-mile altitude to a five-mile altitude, and slowed. At this lower altitude everything went passed by quickly. He also felt a very slight pull from the planet, but not enough to prevent the odd, untied object from floating around in the rear cabin.
“The crater should be coming up over the horizon in about ten seconds,” Maggie said. Jonesy aimed the craft to fly over the crater, slowing the forward speed as much as possible. They were still passing over the desolate dark terrain at a rapid speed.
“There it is, a couple of miles in front of us. I can see the contrast of the crater walls,” Maggie observed.
“We’re slowing down but I don’t think I can get her down quickly; we are still at 1,500 hundred knots over the surface. I’m reducing altitude,” replied Jonesy.
Slowly they passed over the crater, seeing nothing. It would take one more orbit, thirty minutes, to land.
This time Jonesy approached at a one-mile altitude, and at a significantly slower speed. It was still hard to see the crater; the surface was dark and would always be, but Maggie plotted its center on the computers during the last pass.
“Twenty seconds to crater,” reported Maggie. “I think I can see its wall, about 200 feet high, two miles in front of us. It’s certainly a wall or a dark rock face.
“Landing and search lights on, landing gear down,” ordered Jonesy as the crater wall came into sight. “Decreasing speed and altitude…. 1,500 feet, we are over the wall…. can you see how smooth it is down there?” he asked.
“What’s smooth? It looks the same as the crater floor on the asteroid from here. Just bring her down slowly. The closer you are with the lights, Jonesy, the better I can see.”
As the thrusters halted the forward progress of Astermine Two, Jonesy let the craft hover at 900 feet. Maggie looked out.
“Bring her down slowly,” Maggie ordered.
“In the hover, 700 feet… 500 feet, slowing, thrusters on 35 percent power, increasing to 38 percent. Four hundred feet. What do you see, Maggie?”
“It looks clean down there to me, the ground is beginning to look red, but I still don’t see anything jutting out.”
“Decreasing thrust to 36 percent, I feel a slight pull, 200 feet…”
“Stop!” ordered Maggie. “There is an incline below us. It’s going deeper into the crater. Take her 200 feet starboard, it looks flatter over there.” Slowly Jonesy moved the hovering space craft to the right, towards the middle of the crater. “Another 100 feet to starboard, Jonesy; there is a large rock, about forty feet high, directly ahead, and still below us.” Jonesy continued heading towards the center until Maggie said that it looked as flat as possible.
“Reducing thrust to 35 percent, altitude 170 feet…”
“Halt, descend,” ordered Maggie. “Jonesy, what did we see shining on the asteroid?”
“Diamonds…. holding at 180 feet,” he replied.
“Well, I don’t see anything sparkling down there. Don’t you think they should be all over the surface from the impact?”
“Also, remember how magnetic that rock was? I’m sure that there should be more of a magnetic pull if we were directly over the impact sight,” added Jonesy. He slowly turned the craft in a circle to look for any glitter on the surface. There was nothing sparkling.
“That’s how we are going to find this treasure, glitter and gravity fluctuations,” Maggie agreed. “Jonesy the best viewing altitude was at about 200 feet, spend a bit of time canvassing the crater.”
For twenty minutes, they searched the crater surface, it was barren and empty. Jonesy then increased altitude a few hundred feet and began a circular pattern around the outer rim of the crater. There were thousands of smaller craters everywhere, some in other craters, and after ten minutes they gave up and moved closer to where the computer configured the point of impact was, twenty miles away.
“Keep her low and slow,” said Maggie. “Aim for the center of the area. We have about ten minutes before we have to land to conserve fuel.”
In the middle of the ten-mile square area where the computers calculated the impact should be, Jonesy put Astermine Two down on the moon for the first time. They had found nothing, and it was time to rest. On VIN’s next pass 40 miles above them, they told him the Jones family was preparing to spend their first romantic night on the moon.
Their first moon dinner consisted of a sardine-sized tin of New Mexico rattlesnake, complimented by a pack of cheese snack biscuits, purchased in a Las Vegas supermarket. The meal reflected the view outside: barren desert. It was more desolate than Nevada. Maggie, being a good wife, had brought some fresh fruit, already a luxury on America One.
Before they left Nevada on their three-day shopping trip, Maggie asked her husband how they were going to pay for anything since neither of them had an available ATM for their old bank accounts or even a credit card. So, Jonesy went to the airfield office to see if he could get some cash. When the office administrator asked how much he wanted he suggested $10,000. The administrator looked at him quizzically. When Jonesy advised him that a Gulfstream 650 would take a lot more than that to tank up, he received a company credit card instead. With the credit card and $500 in cash, they could purchase what they wanted.
Maggie bought oranges in an outdoor market in Santa Fe, but didn’t tell the vendor that she and her husband would be enjoying them on the moon, 320,000 miles away.
After the oranges, they ate cheese and biscuits and Jonesy pulled a half bottle of champagne out of a hiding place.
“I don’t really like the stuff, but I thought it would be appropriate for our first night on the moon,” he told Maggie. Then smiling, he reached towards his secret stash, bringing out two bottles of Budweiser and a small bottle of a clear liquid. “A present from Suzi,” added Jonesy. “For purely medicinal purposes only.”
“I could be in a row boat a hundred miles from shore and stranded for days, and you, fake General Jones, would still pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
The only spaceship on the moon certainly rocked that night; of course Frank Sinatra was playing in the background on the computer.
“Astermine One to Astermine Two, you guys still alive down there?” came a familiar voice over the radio as the sleepy pair were finishing breakfast, a scrambled egg pouch and freshly brewed Dutch coffee. Living on the moon wasn’t as bad as Neil Armstrong had made it out to be.
“Morning, partner, just having breakfast, and too early for the morning run,” replied Jonesy.
“Found any diamonds down there yet?”
“Sure millions, I took Silver, my trusty steed, and Tonto and I headed out over yonder and rounded up all the diamonds. We are ready to go home,” Jonesy replied with a western drawl.
“Stop bull crapping General Custer, life up here is getting boring. Suzi and I are going around this little planet like a damn yoyo.”
“OK, we will clean up and take off in thirty minutes,” replied Jonesy.
Looking at the ten-mile area, Maggie suggested they stay as low as possible, check for any abnormal gravitational pulls, and keep all outer lights on full power looking for anything that shined back at them.
Ten minutes later VIN came back over the radio. “We see you guys, a faint light on the surface. What can we do to help?”
“VIN, Suzi, on your next pass bring your craft down to about five miles and slow her down to about 200 knots forward speed. Suzi you will need to hover the craft to stay up. I want you to search for craters. Down here it’s like scuba diving on the bottom of a dark lake. Maybe you can lead us to a crater. We will land and wait for you. Let us know when you come over the horizon and I’ll get her back up.”
Thirty minutes later Jonesy lifted off the surface as Astermine One appeared on his radar screen. Suzi was not as experienced at flying Astermine One as VIN was in these conditions, and he had taken over. “VIN here, 13 miles above the surface at 580 knots, still slowing and coming down fast. I have you on radar; will put my lights on so that you can see me pass over.”
“I have you visual,” stated Maggie two minutes later as the two craft closed.
“390 knots at 7 miles altitude, twenty miles behind you,” VIN reported.
Slow her down to hover over us, just like we practiced on the asteroid,” instructed Jonesy.
“Will do,” replied VIN. “Five miles altitude at 220 knots, 9 miles out.”
“Keep coming,” Jonesy replied coaching VIN on. He wasn’t bad at flying, he just wasn’t as good as he and Maggie. If they didn’t find it in the next hour, they could both land; and he could suit up and walk over to VIN’s machine, with Maggie flying theirs.
“Bring her to a hover directly over us VIN at about 2 to 3 miles altitude, and then you and Suzi tell us where the craters are.”
“Roger that, 3 miles altitude, going into hover-mode, two miles behind you and slowing through 100 knots….80….75….30…. Partner, we are overhead, give or take a mile or so. Suzi can see the front lights of your craft. Head starboard to your two o’clock position, there’s a large crater a couple of miles wide about a mile from you.”
Both craft did this for an hour, using up valuable fuel and achieving nothing. After a dozen craters, and completing half of the ten-mile radius field, they gave up for the time being and landed in a large flat crater.
“Good flying, partner,” Jonesy commended VIN on his new ability.
“So where do we go from here?” asked Suzi, feeding Mars. Life on the moon was getting as routine as down on Earth.
“We have covered half of the small concentrated area where the computers show a 90 percent probability,” replied Maggie.
“We covered a small part of the larger area. If we don’t find anything on our next try, say in two hours, then we will have to go back into orbit and report in. Also we will need to refuel our tanks with the spare tanks in the cargo hold. That gives us five more hours before we are stuck here waiting for the mother ship to come and beam us up.”
For two more hours they searched the rest of the area, VIN at two miles high looking for decent sized craters, and the lower craft surveying the entire area within the radius of each one. Again they both landed. As VIN came in Suzi saw a distant two-mile crater a few miles away and told Jonesy about it. But it was too late; he needed to refuel first. Astermine One had more fuel because she had completed two fewer orbits.
Craters about two miles in diameter were what the computer analysis determined were most probable. The one Suzi had just seen was optimal for the asteroid’s size and impact speed.
Three hours later Jonesy suited up to refuel his craft, which could only be done from outside. It didn’t really matter when they worked, since on the dark side of the moon it was always night. He would be the first of Ryan’s team to step foot on the moon. As usual Saturn screamed her head off, when she saw the helmeted monster before her.
“One small step for General John Jones, one giant leap to pay off America’s debt,” Jonesy said as he took a small jump and landed on the moon.
The moon’s gravity was much less than DX2014; it was about the same as the cubes when the mother ship was rotating. He was now accustomed to low gravity conditions and got to work taking out several 100-pound tanks of liquid hydrogen, one by one. He connected them to the pressurized fuel inlet and, from the cockpit, Maggie opened the valves to allow the fuel to enter. They only had ten tanks in reserve, and Jonesy used up seven of them filling the craft’s tanks. Full tanks would give them only five hours of hover time.
Jonesy then walked over to the other craft 150 feet away; it was the maximum distance he thought would be safe taking into account any fine moon dust on landing.
“At least Mars doesn’t scream his head off when he sees me wearing a helmet,” Jonesy said as VIN helped him remove his helmet.
“There was less dust on landing, did you notice that?” VIN asked when Jonesy was able to talk.
“Actually, I did. There was much less dust than on our last two landings. I wonder why?” Jonesy replied.
“Maybe a vacuum sweeper cleaned it up,” joked Suzi.
“I think you could be onto something, Suzi,” Jonesy replied.
“Not a vacuum cleaner, but maybe something hitting the surface and blowing the dust outwards in a dust storm,” suggested VIN.
“Well, we don’t have atmospheric wind since we don’t have an atmosphere here,” Jonesy continued, but I’m sure a rock impacting the surface could have caused a blast shock, and I’m sure that a shock would have done the same thing. Suzi, which direction did you say you saw that crater?”
“As you army men say, when you describe a direction like a clock face, over there, about one o’clock to where both craft are pointing,” Suzi responded, also turning and pointing in the direction. “It had to be right, or starboard, as that was the side I was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat. Do you have a co-astronaut, or just a co-pilot in English?” Suzi asked Jonesy.
“Never thought of that one,” replied Jonesy looking at VIN, who shrugged his shoulders. “About two miles away?” Jonesy asked, and Suzi nodded.
“The space between this crater we are in, and the next one is the same size as the crater itself,” Suzi replied.
Jonesy got into the left hand seat put on the headset and began take off checks. “Maggie, you should have full tanks.”
“Just under the full mark,” she replied.
“We have half tanks so we have about two hours. VIN and Suzi noticed little dust in this crater, so we will head into the next one and land. If it’s the same then we might be on the right track. Just keep looking for shiny diamonds, all of you. The first one you see, you can keep.” That made the crew smile. What were they going to do with it?
“I think we should search for about 70 minutes, then one of us goes up into orbit to report to Ryan,” VIN suggested.
“A waste of gas right now. He must wait, and I don’t want to tell him that we are searching for a needle in a haystack,” replied Jonesy. “We go up when we have just enough fuel to get into orbit, then Asterspace Three can come over with fuel supplies. I know old Max Burgos is dying to get a real journey in space.”
Jonesy took off and Maggie followed, keeping a few hundred feet to the left of Astermine One so Jonesy could see her at all times. At 300 feet they glided over the rim of the crater and flew the two miles to the next one.
Three minutes later the rim appeared, and what Jonesy immediately noticed, was that the crater wall looked like the mountains in Arizona, totally barren of dust. He could see every nook and cranny in the crater walls. He told the crew to look for any dusting atop the crater ridge and they replied there wasn’t any.
“The first crater we checked out yesterday was full of dust. Guys I think we are onto something here.
They searched the crater for 20 minutes and found nothing.
“Maggie, continue on a mile and see if you can find another crater of this size, in the same direction we are heading. I’m going to land to check the dust quantity,” Jonesy ordered. She disappeared over the crater rim as Jonesy descended. There was absolutely no dust at all when his thrusters hit the yellowish surface.
“I am about three miles at your two o’clock position, and I see a massive crater. It must be at least ten miles across, far too big. It is starboard of my craft. That’s all I can see…hold on…..there is a darker shadow inside the crater itself. Jonesy do you know what it looks like?” Maggie asked.
“Like what?”
“It looks like a crater within a crater, just like I found on DX2014.”
“Stay at hover Maggie, I’ll head over and use your lights as a beacon,” replied Jonesy powering up the craft again.
“It looks the same as DX2014, but the inner crater looks only a mile wide, not two, and it is pitch black inside the inner crater.”
Jonesy could see Maggie’s lights as he rose over the rim. He headed slightly to Maggie’s right and within minutes, he was at the lip of the massive crater, its walls over a thousand feet high, and there was no dust there either. Jonesy got excited.
“Maggie, save some fuel. VIN and I are going to have to refuel this baby anyway, so go in and land. I’ll check out the black area and then return. Just leave the lights on, and I’ll come home.”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I want to be the first one to find a diamond,” Maggie admonished.
“You have enough diamonds already, wife,” Jonesy retorted heading down into the blackness of the crater in front of him. “Sure is a crater in a crater this one, I see the walls. It’s like going on a deep scuba dive, like that movie to the bottom of the sea. Here goes…. going in.”
Again there was no dust where the lights shone, he could see the crater wall below the craft and he slowly headed inside the second crater.
“Maggie, you still reading me?” Jonesy asked.
“Yes, but you are getting fainter.”
“Just keep talking so I know when you lose communications,” and Maggie started singing to Saturn.
The second crater was pitch black, and he descended at least 400 feet when the bottom came up to meet him. He could just hear Maggie.
“Maggie, this is scary. It reminds me of that film guy who loves going to the bottom of the sea, what is his name?”
“James Cameron, he did Titanic and those three fantastic Avatar movies,” Suzi replied sitting next to him. “It feels like we are in his sea craft. I watched a documentary about him diving down to the sea bed, years ago.”
“Like who?” shouted Maggie. “I can’t hear you.”
“Like James Cameron and his sea diving documentary,” shouted Suzi. “Sorry, Herr Jones,” she added seeing that she had shouted so loud that she had scared her pilot. He was on edge.
“We have landed on the floor of the second crater. It is dust free and I can’t see anything shinning,” Jonesy reported over the radio. There was no response from Maggie for several seconds, until she came back loud and clear.
“I’m hovering directly above you at 400 feet. You are about 1,200 feet below me on radar, I can see your lights, but I can’t see anything else,” she responded.
“Ok, I’m going to edge around and see what I can find,” said her husband. “Maggie, stay at hover for five minutes, then go back to land.”
Jonesy lifted off and headed in the three o’clock position to what he thought would be the center of the crater. It was smaller than the two-mile craters they had checked out and he couldn’t see anything, even at 100 feet above the floor. Everything was just so black. Maggie radioed in to tell him that she was heading down, when he had to reverse thrust quickly. There was suddenly a thick black crater wall just below him.
“Gee, another crater, another level,” he stated. “Maggie just stay hovering above me. Can you see my lights?”
“Affirmative, I can see the wall shining in front of you.”
“OK going into crater number three. Why do these things come in threes? And this one is less than 800 yards wide, and very dark inside.”
Slowly, with the space around him like a blackness he had never experienced, he descended another 400 feet and found a black, shiny, and clean bottom surface again.
“Jonesy, radar is showing you are 1,950 feet below me, the previous crater’s floor was heading downhill towards the middle.”
“Thanks Maggie, I can hardly see anything down here, even with the lights on.”
“I hope this is not the lair of the space shark,” joked VIN through his suit mike behind the pilots.
“Oh shut up and use your eyes, partner. Any deeper and darker, and I think a massive jelly fish, or calamari is going to shoot out and swallow us.”
“The bottom is black here, Maggie, like that black graphite we saw on DX2014. Gravity has also risen about 10 percent. I’m on 40 percent hover thrust and about 10 feet off the floor. This crater is smaller than the last one. We’ll spend a couple of minutes checking it out and then we must call it a day. Maggie, get its position on your computer ready to send back to Ryan when we go back up.”
It was so dark, that the lights around the ship didn’t illuminate much. Jonesy stayed at the same direction and edged forward. Within a minute he had to reverse thrust again, there was another wall, a black wall right in front of the craft and he had to increase power to 45 percent to stay off the ground.
“Maggie, you won’t believe this, a fourth crater. We beat the record. I am going to look over the rim and then come up; we are out of gas.”
Slowly the craft rose 50 feet, then 55 feet and slowly the lip dropped below them. This deep vertical hole was narrow. Jonesy could just fit Astermine One into it. He estimated that he had about 20 feet fore and aft to spare. He positioned the front of the craft to within ten feet of the wall and slipped into the crater. He began to descend very slowly foot by foot, 50 feet, 100 feet, 150 feet.
“You are 2,100 feet underground, Jonesy. Are you going mining down there or what?” There was no response. “Jonesy! Talk to me, Jonesy!”
Nobody responded to Maggie; they were in total shock. Less than 100 feet below them was the most beautiful sight any human had ever seen. There were millions of dazzling lights going off in every direction. And right below the craft, right next to the wall of the crater, was the first diamond Jonesy had seen. It was big, bloody big!
“Maggie we found them! You should see this one. It’s mine, mine! Yippee! It’s about the size of a minivan and there is no way we could fit it into either of these two craft. I’m going in to pick up a few small ones…hold on…. there is no flat place to land…. VIN, we need fuel, the hover thrust here is at 51 percent, we have found the mother lode! We have to go up.”
Maggie could hear cheering in the other craft; she increased her altitude to 2,000 feet, positioned Astermine Two directly above Astermine One and allowed the computers to get a fix on their position using the stars like a sextant.
“Jonesy I’m going into orbit; follow me, you must be low on gas. We can always return tomorrow. Let’s get Max Burgos and Peter Smith on the road in Asterspace Three to pick up your rock.”
“Roger that.” On very low tanks Jonesy ascended, the extra gravity pulling at him just like DX2014 had for the first 100 feet. Astermine One’s hydrogen tanks were virtually empty when he finally joined Maggie in orbit forty miles up. They would have to refuel up there. There was no way he could get down again.
***
The cheering continued in the Bridge of America One when radio communications were resumed, and the good news came through with the exact coordinates of where the diamond mine was.
Ryan did not leave the Bridge while there was no communication from the mining craft. He knew that America One would not hear from them after they went in to land, but the last twenty-four hours had been a lifetime. He was like a dad worried about his son taking the family car.
Kathy was about to give birth. Doctor Rogers guessed that they had about three more days. The engine was finally installed and testing was about to begin. The tests needed the ship to be stationary so that the mechanics could work outside.
Max Burgos and Peter Smith already had Asterspace Three filled with empty canisters and extra hydrogen, and within an hour of the radio message, they undocked.
Captain Pete ordered the first motor tests and for the first time, the third engine ignited and ran on idle for ten minutes. There were bad vibrations coming from the engine, and the spacewalkers began to balance the thrusters after the engine was turned off. By then, Asterspace Three was leaving orbit and heading towards the moon.
***
The excitement in Astermine One had been tremendous. Even Mars Noble had wailed, adding his voice to the excitement of the adults upon seeing the collection of diamonds pretty much all in one place.
With the added thruster power, and with diamonds weighing far less than the platinum rocks they had first collected, Jonesy felt confident about emptying the fourth crater of its wealth. The only problem was that the fourth crater was small, just over a hundred feet across. He and VIN decided that the asteroid that had hit the moon must have created the third crater. The heavier impact of the large vein of graphite and diamonds had certainly made the fourth crater. It was going to be dangerous to get down there, but the minivan-size diamond was his, and he wanted to personally give it to the president of the United States of America as payment for his new Gulfstream.
The flight crew rested for eight hours. Jonesy, and Maggie in the other craft, were tired having done much of the flying. Jonesy had to rest before returning to Maggie and Saturn in the other ship, so he dozed in the right seat of Astermine One, while VIN suited up. VIN would refuel the craft in orbit, something he had done often.
Within eight hours, and with enough fuel in the tanks to get them back down, Jonesy was roused from sleep, immediately he wanted to return to his family. Since walking across had been easy; they had been on the surface, this time they were above the planet in orbit and he would need to be tied to the craft for the transfer. He was helped on with his helmet by VIN who then let out a cord for Maggie to tie to her docking port 300 feet behind them. Finally, with the cord tied between the craft, Jonesy connected his belt safety harness to the cord and carefully pulled himself across to his family.
Once he was helped off with his helmet Maggie and Saturn were glad to see him. He now felt elated.
Jonesy felt guilty asking the president for so much without Ryan’s knowledge; the president was Ryan’s friend after all. But he had seen his opportunity and taken it, and now he felt relieved. At least his persistence had paid off, and there was a really big diamond to repay the country for the Gulfstream. He knew full well that the taxpayer had paid for his luxury, and he was not in favor of wasting taxpayer money.
“OK, who is driving the other rust bucket over there?” he asked, readying the craft for landing.
“Your faithful companion, Tonto, Mr. Lone Ranger, sir,” joked VIN. “Ready and waiting for orders from the almighty astronaut.”
“OK, we begin our descent in three minutes, follow me and we will land outside the last crater, partner. There isn’t much room in there, and we need to make room for Max in Asterspace Three, so don’t take up the whole parking lot. Set reverse thrusters at 80 percent for seven minutes, at a 10 degree angle above horizontal, and let’s go down and coral all them horses.”
It would take two orbits to slow down from 7,000 miles an hour to zero, and to descend from 40 miles up. Jonesy moved the thrusters in reverse and with VIN doing the same, both craft descended down to the moon’s surface.
VIN was getting good at flying and followed a few hundred yards behind Jonesy. Going across the sunlit side of the moon was really bright at these lower altitudes and they needed sun visors for the fifteen minutes of the maneuver.
“Altitude 29 miles, slowing to 4,000 knots, thrusters at 80 percent for five minutes,” Jonesy reported, as he coached VIN down so that they wouldn’t get separated.
The surface of the moon came up to meet them. There were mountains once they descended lower, but the highest mountain on the moon was less than five miles high, and they were a long way from that area, also on the dark side.
“Altitude seven miles, speed 400 knots, 80 percent thrust for two minutes, partner, increase you thrusters to 20 percent above horizon,”
“Copied that, partner,” VIN replied while Suzi was in the rear compartment feeding Mars.
Jonesy headed down and at two miles altitude could see the large crater in front of them. They had seven miles to go.
Ten minutes later and at hover, he dipped into the blackness while VIN stayed aloft. With his lights on, he found the lip of the deepest crater, and at 51 percent thrust put her down.”
“OK, partner, 50 percent thrust will bring you in. There is a small flat area I can see, fifty feet on the starboard side of our craft. My lights are illuminating about half of that area. Look at the line where my light ends and it goes into darkness, get your craft aligned with ours, and you should be perfect. Final landing thrust is 51 percent.”
VIN took Astermine One in and was as accurate as Jonesy wanted him to be. Jonesy had checked out the small area first, and had parked in the middle parking bay. There was enough room for Max or Yuri to get the third craft down on his port side when they arrived, and all Max had to do was what the two mining craft had just done.
They were on the moon. The outside lights were switched off, the blackness enveloped them, and they could easily see the lights from the other craft’s cockpit.
Asterspace Three would still take two days to get there, and there was a lot of work to be done before then.
Chapter 13
Bounty by the canister load
Eight hours later, both ships’ docking ports opened simultaneously as VIN and Jonesy headed through them. The ladders were extended and gravity was strong enough to pull them down the ladders slowly, rung by rung.
All outside lights were on, and would need to stay on while they worked outside. They only had enough battery power for 12 hours of light on full power, so Jonesy told the girls who were now in charge of the mining craft to reduce light power by 50 percent. That would double their usage, and since they could only spacewalk for three hours at a time, they could complete eight walks before they would need to return to orbit to recharge the solar batteries.
Jonesy began to unload canisters from his craft; placing them around the area to his left, he created a designated parking place for Max. It was easier to land when the pilot had delineated zone to aim at.
VIN unloaded his first dozen canisters and, like a wolf, loped to the crater’s edge with them one at a time. He hauled out a Kevlar rope ladder and easily threw it up and over the rim of the 60-foot crater wall above him. The ladder was 300 feet in length and should be long enough to reach down to the ground on the other side.
Until Asterspace Three arrived, they would be the only two miners working, as the ladies had to look after the babies, who didn’t have space suits. There was no way they could get Saturn or Mars across to the other ship, except inside a sealed empty canister, far too dangerous and unnecessary; an emergency procedure only.
Once the landing zone was mapped out, Jonesy grabbed two five-gallon aluminum buckets out of the first cargo hold and headed over to VIN. The buckets were lighter than the automated vacuums that could rake in the small stones, but too heavy to get over the wall. The stones down there were too big for the machines they had brought along. And, since this mission was for diamonds only, the metal analyzer wasn’t aboard either, which created more space for canisters.
VIN tied down the soft ladder, moving some large rocks onto it. With half the gravity as Earth, he could lift or roll twice the weight, and he rolled three large moon rocks the size of cars onto the end of the ladder.
“It’s like a marine assault course,” VIN commented to Jonesy through their suit mikes.
“We had the climbing walls in the Academy as well, partner, it’s up one side, leg over and down the other.”
They had helmet lights on their suits, as well as a space flashlights tied to their belts.
“I’ll go up first,” said VIN. Jonesy nodded.
“Mind that space shark, it might be living up there,” Jonesy teased as VIN began to climb up the ladder. The ladder had three-inch nails protruding from it which kept the rungs away from the rock allowing their large spacesuit shoes a foothold on the rungs.
VIN got to the top and with a mallet he hammered two U-shaped nails into the rock to secure the ladder to the top of the crater. Then he disappeared down the other side. Still in radio contact, he slowly began his descent into the crater, rung by rung. The gravity was stronger than on the outer side.
A few minutes later VIN’s voice came through their suit radios, “I think I’m directly opposite you, about 60 feet down and it is sure dark in here.”
“There is no way we can do this and carry a canister,” said Jonesy, waiting for VIN to get to the bottom.
“I was thinking the exact same thing,” VIN responded, resting and looking into the pitch darkness around him. “We still have those nets we used to collect the last load of diamonds out of the cargo bays. You know the ones we pressurized with cockpit atmosphere to collect the diamonds?”
“I saw them stashed in the back of the cargo bay somewhere, but remember we also have nets holding down the canisters in each hold. I have a great idea,” said Jonesy.
“Perfect thinking, partner. We can lower the canisters into the crater in the nets, fill them up, and haul them out again.”
“Great minds think alike, partner, but think I thought about it a few seconds before you did,” returned Jonesy.
“And you could lower me down here at the same time with the nets and save time,” VIN added.
“I’m sure about 100 feet from the blasts of the thrusters should be safe for you,” Jonesy suggested.
“Hey, General Jones, remember I’ve even waterskied behind these ships collecting diamonds. There is nothing I can’t do. OK, I’m down. I’m about 210 feet from the crater rim. I have thirty feet of ladder left, and I think I should come back up and we try my way, there is no way I’m carrying canisters down here. Oh! A nice diamond, about the size of the one Ryan gave the president. I just stepped on it, they are everywhere.” VIN climbed back up the ladder holding his first diamond.
Thirty minutes later they got a net out of a cargo hold, put 10 empty canisters into it and connected it to the bottom of Astermine Two. VIN passed a 100-foot Kevlar cord through the middle of the net and secured it to hooks underneath the craft. He clipped his suit belt onto the cord and put his foot into a loop at its end. The canisters would hang just above his head. He practiced slipping his large boot in and out of the loop while Jonesy fired up the thrusters, and lifted off the surface as slowly as he could. VIN shouted out Jonesy’s altitude as they got to the second half of the cord and the canisters lifted off the ground; one fell out and VIN loped over and threw it back in, walking directly beneath Astermine Two. The Kevlar cord was attached to a small middle hook underneath the space craft, like a lifting helicopter, and without effort he slowly headed upwards underneath the net of canisters.
As the gravity lessened, it became more like floating. Jonesy gingerly headed over the crater wall, and with all lights on full power, he descended foot by foot into the blackness careful to ensure VIN’s safety. Suzi, in the other craft, looked on aghast at what these two men were doing.
“I can just see the glitter down there, about thirty feet, Jonesy, 25….15…slow a little….5 feet…. I’m on the surface. Keep coming, five more feet, OK, canisters are down, the release hook is sixty feet above me, the net is on the ground, I’m moving it to the rear of the craft out of the blast zones…. 20….. 10….6, OK, hover! I’m unlocking the net; it’s free. Head back up and get a new load while I see what we can do this side. Since you can’t help me, bring in two more nets of canisters. How long do I have before I must end this walk?”
“One hour forty minutes,” Jonesy replied.
“OK, you have time to lift two more nets, let me see how hard it is to fill the canisters, and then you can lift me out.”
“Roger that,” replied Jonesy and, after VIN had cleared everything away he rose up and out. Only VIN would be able to work down there until the third craft arrived. He also noted the amount of fuel needed to complete the ten minutes of hovering. They were using a lot of fuel.
VIN went to work. It was sure nice to be out of the craft, but the blackness did not make him feel as free as he had felt on DX2014. On the asteroid, there had been much more light, and the movement of the sun broke up the time.
First, he looked around. His helmet lamp illuminated the ground to about twelve feet in front of him, and the glittering diamonds made the area even brighter. He looked at his feet; he was standing on black graphite shards about three to four feet from where the main mound of diamonds started. This mound was also about four feet high and looked like the middle of the impact area. Except for the diamonds, everything that was scattered here and there was covered in the shards of black graphite; even the walls of the crater looked black. There were hundreds of diamonds strewn in the area his helmet light visited. Stepping very carefully, and over diamonds the size of soccer balls, he carefully walked around the mound. It took him twenty minutes, and he estimated the mound to be about thirty to forty feet across. There was twice the amount of room in the gap between the sides of the mound and the walls of the crater, about 80 feet. The vertical walls stretched nearly 200 feet above his head. VIN suddenly felt like a tiny insect in a vertical pipe, and realized that Jonesy had hovered Astermine One into this hole with less than forty feet spare on each end.
“Jonesy, did you know how tight the hole is compared to Astermine One?” VIN asked.
“I eye-balled it when we went in; I estimated 30 feet front and rear, and you saw me keep the nose within 5 feet of the wall in front. The drop was getting tighter as we went in, but the walls are nearly vertical, thank god!”
VIN then stepped up to the mound and slid his right foot across its side; small, rough diamonds slipped off and spread out into the shards. The whole mound looked like the diamonds had separated, or broken apart on impact. He went back to grab one of the buckets inside a canister. Then, much like a child on the beach, he dug the bucket in sideways and the aluminum slipped through the surface of the diamonds for a few inches before getting stuck on a bigger one.
He pulled the bucket out and it was a fifth full of diamonds. He grabbed the second bucket and began scooping diamonds into the first bucket. Ten scoops later it was full and he had uncovered a large basketball-sized diamond. He hauled it out and began scooping again. This was exciting work.
“Ready to haul in the next net of canisters,” Jonesy said over the radio.
“Roger, I’m a little out of breath, but I have one canister already full. It’s pretty easy. Did you see any of the shovels we used on DX2014 in the holds?”
“Yes, I saw one, want me to get it?” Jonesy asked “You have fifty minutes left; I’m filling the last hydrogen cylinder into the tank. We have enough for two more hovers into the hole, and one launch into orbit. The other craft has one tank remaining, so we can enter and exit four more times before we have to wait for Asterspace Three,” replied Jonesy.
“So, you come in one more time, drop the net and canisters, pick me up, and then I have three more trips in here; about eight hours, plus or minus getting in and out. I reckon I can fill a canister an hour pretty easily, plus throw the bigger diamonds into the net. That at least gives me a chance to fill ten canisters with the smaller stones before the fuel supplies get here in two days. Perfect timing.”
“OK, will be there in 30 minutes. Throw my rock into the first net once you are done,” Jonesy replied.
VIN worked hard, the scooping was alright, but a shovel would have been faster. A pile of bigger stones was growing by his side but they always stopped him from getting a clean scoop through the mound.
Thirty minutes later, the walls around him lit up as the mining craft entered the cavern 200 feet above him. VIN had filled two canisters before the second net of canisters dropped next to him. He unhooked and hauled the whole net with the 10 empty canisters to the rear of the craft. The mound of diamonds was less than two feet from the hovering craft, and luckily there were no shards of graphite small enough to be blown around by the thrusters, which were directly over the diamond mound. It would still be several days before Jonesy could attempt a landing.
VIN connected the first rope, slipped his foot into the end loop and slowly Jonesy headed back up, with VIN holding on 100 feet below.
After parking Astermine Two next to VIN’s vehicle, Astermine One, VIN climbed the ladder, and entered the port. He was tired, feeling like a miner after a hard day in the mine.
Suzi gave him a meal and he was asleep by the time she had cleared away the pouches.
***
America One was already powered up by the time VIN returned from playing in the diamonds, and had been for a couple of hours. The mother ship was already at full power. Her three hydrogen thrusters, in thrust mode not pulse mode, were already powering her out of orbit at 19,000 miles an hour towards the moon; she was five hours behind Asterspace Three, now 100,000 miles ahead.
Nothing had changed aboard the massive vessel. Since America One had been in orbit around the Earth, movement wasn’t new, only that her forward speed had increased by a few thousand miles an hour. She was in full rotation again, her new engine working well, and Ryan was keen to try the three pulsers to see what would change.
Three hours later, only a slight vibration ran through the vessel as the three large hydrogen pulsers began emitting their pulses every second for one minute. The forward speed began to increase three times faster than on the less powerful hydrogen thrusters, and the pulsers used only half of the hydrogen fuel needed for the other thrusters. The speed increased over the next few hours to 30,000 miles an hour. The journey would cover a total of 400,000 miles, the ship pointing to where the moon would be in three days’ time.
Ten hours after the hydrogen pulsers stopped, forward thrusters were already working intermittently to slow her speed down. She wasn’t able to maneuver as quickly as the much smaller shuttles, or the mining craft, on such a short flight.
At the same time that Allen Saunders was on reentry to Nevada with Penny, Asterspace Three was 70,000 miles ahead of America One on the same flight trajectory, and VIN Noble was getting ready for his second day of work at the diamond mine, as he called it, in conversation with Suzi over a breakfast of pouches of scrambled eggs.
Jonesy had also donned his suit, sorting out the nets with the 40 remaining canisters from both craft, and he had refueled Astermine Two with every drop of liquid hydrogen to spare. The other craft had enough to get back into orbit, but that was it. Jonesy hoped they had enough extra hydrogen fuel aboard Asterspace Three. Since they were not in radio communication, and wouldn’t be until the third ship was in overhead orbit, they didn’t know if America One was on the move. They hoped so, since it was Ryan’s hope to have his baby born in orbit around the moon.
VIN descended for his second stint at the mine. He saw his pile of larger diamonds as he neared the exact same spot he had been collecting them, and stepped off the loop, telling Jonesy to head back up. He would return in two hours and forty minutes; had taken VIN fifteen minutes of his three-hour spacewalk to get out of the craft and into the crater.
This time VIN took the shovel from the net delivered the previous day and began digging deep into the mound; he calculated that it would take about 120 shovel loads to fill a canister. He concentrated and timed his shovel. He had to step on the side of it to get it into the diamonds. At the gravity in the crater, VIN only weighed 80 pounds at the most with his suit on, and it took all his weight to push the shovel in. He worked the shovel gently. He knew diamonds, especially these space diamonds were the hardest material known to mankind but it still felt like he was scratching them, as he pushed the long handle of the aluminum shovel downwards to scoop up a pile. He lifted the pile, not weighing very much, and let them slowly fall down into the canister by his side. As each canister was filled, he could easily push it to the wall out of the way and get another empty one.
He was on his third canister when his shovel, now deep into the mound, stopped. He had again hit a bigger one, and he needed to find a new place to begin digging.
By the time Jonesy returned VIN had filled three more canisters, and had another two dozen large soccer-ball sized and bigger diamonds like a mound of cannon balls in his pile by the wall next to Jonesy’s diamond, still three times bigger than any of the others.
He was exhausted as he was brought out. He slowly climbed the ladder onto the roof of Astermine One and slipped feet first into the docking port.
Suzi had cleaned up while was out; she immediately gave VIN dinner, and he went to sleep in the closed rear compartment so that Mars’ crying wouldn’t wake him. The gravity was soft but firm in the craft; nothing floated. Suzi’s job was to empty her husband’s suit of any liquids, blow dry the inside with a hair dryer-type blower, fill his drinking pouch with water for when he wanted a sip from the mouth piece inside the helmet, and keep Mars and herself fed. She was dying for a slice of chocolate cake.
Maggie, aboard the other mining craft, did the same, except that Jonesy’s suit was not as wet inside as VIN’s was, and the wives could chat to each other throughout the day. The compact living arrangement was getting to them, and once America One arrived they could leave the men to their routines. Their husbands would have two other men in the work team and they could go back up to the larger mother ship. Living in a space the size of a minivan wasn’t fun for more than a few days at a time, and the smell of dirty diapers was beginning to overwhelm both craft.
It was the next shift when Maggie couldn’t take the smell anymore; the internal system wasn’t handling the increasingly foul odors, and she ordered Jonesy to take out the garbage, a husband’s job.
“But that is pollution!” Suzi complained from the other craft. VIN was already at the mine.
“At least we can get the stuff out of the ship! Suzi, pack your space trash bags together. I’ll get Jonesy to slip a canister into the docking port; I’ll fill it with my trash and then he can carry it over to you and you pack yours in it. I don’t know how we can label it, but Jonesy can put it outside and at least it’s not pollution until VIN needs the canister.”
“Great idea, Maggie” replied Suzi. “We can take it back up to the big ship and get it through the recycling compactor. I wonder if Martha Von Zimmer has thought about thousands of dirty baby diapers over the next twenty years? Maybe we can make a coffee table out of the remains…?”
“Or maybe fuel for the pulsers, like that old ‘Back to the Future’ movie years ago? Just shove the dirty diapers into the engine reactors or something!” laughed Maggie. Life on the moon was a housewife’s dilemma.
Meanwhile, VIN was on his last canister for this shift, when he needed a break. He had found a large rough diamond about two feet square and he used it as a seat now and again. He was on his eighth canister, it was nearly full, and he still had ten minutes before Jonesy would come and get him. He was thinking of a way to get three guys down here at one time and the only way he could figure out was with three separate cords. The pile had hardly diminished. He wasn’t taking out all of the larger diamonds, and they would need to get full shovel-fills each scoop.
On the trip they could get the first haul up, but he wasn’t happy to be dangling underneath, so he decided to complete the ten, and leave them ready for the next flight up.
Finishing the next shift, he had just completed his tenth canister, and was packing larger diamonds inside the flat net and on top of the canisters when a new voice lit up all their radios.
“Asterspace Three to either Astermine craft, Asterspace Three to the team on the moon, we are descending through a 50-mile orbit around the moon at 7,000 miles an hour. Is there anybody down there?” There was a commotion as everybody tried to talk on the radio at the same time; VIN took his seat on the 18,000-carat square diamond and smiled. Jonesy finally got the excited girls to stay off the air, and he gave Max Burgos the necessary details: orbital direction, speed of descent, angles etc., to come in and land on his prepared LZ.
Max thanked Jonesy, and updated him on America One: she was two hours behind him, still slowing, and he had sent her the coordinates of their whereabouts; America One would go into a 100-mile altitude orbit, and Kathy Richmond had just gone into labor.
Jonesy returned to pick up VIN, while Asterspace Three completed another orbit.
It took Jonesy 30 minutes to pick up his partner and as VIN landed on the dark surface, the lights of Asterspace Three came over the crater, a couple of miles out at three miles altitude.
Max Burgos had flown the simulators as much as Jonesy had, except that he was also on the build team, which meant that he didn’t get in that much real flying. He brought her in perfectly, with Jonesy coaching him down until he could see the landing zone arranged for him by the two miners. Once he could see that at one mile high and on hover, he expertly descended and the three craft sat on the moon, like a busy parking lot outside Walmart; all in a row.
Already in their full suits with helmets on, both newcomers, Max and Yuri, one by one exited the craft to step on the roof. Jonesy could hear how excited they were.
“OK guys, it’s only the moon. Throw your ladder over the top, just like ours and slowly climb down. The gravity here is about 25 to 30 percent of Earth’s so don’t jump, step gradually. There is no dust; the impact cleaned this whole area for us.”
“This is fantastic, Jonesy, far more exciting than working on that thruster. I never want to see it again. Can we plant a flag? Both Yuri and I brought one along, one American, one Russian.”
“When you have them unfolded you’ll need to find some rocks; plant the flags at least 200 feet away and in front of all three craft. VIN and I have a habit of always blowing them over on launch,” Jonesy replied.
After a few minutes the men were on the ground and both yipping like puppies and bouncing around. Kids in a sand pit wouldn’t have been any happier. Jonesy and VIN watched the men’s antics with amusement; they had done the same on DX2014 a lifetime go. After a few minutes both men came up to greet the two experienced moon astronauts and shook gloves. Jonesy didn’t have good news for them.
“OK, Max, Yuri, work. Get four hydrogen tanks out for us for each craft; we are out of gas, and the ladies want to help Kathy with her birth, whatever that means. VIN has already gone back inside; he was already ten minutes over the allowed three hours, so the three of us need to refuel these two mining craft. Better down here than in orbit.”
The two newcomers headed back and with the hoist from inside the upper cargo doors, had eight tanks out within 30 minutes. As they came out two by two, Jonesy already had the first one connected and fresh liquid hydrogen was filling the very empty tank.
“How many of these did you bring?” Jonesy asked.
“We have 20 stored in the hold for you guys and four for us to for our return trip to Earth. I assume we can catch a ride with the mother ship,” Max replied. “We also have 20 canisters, the most we could bring, but America One has another 120 aboard. That’s two hundred canisters Ryan is hoping to fill.”
“Two hundred, huh!” Jonesy was sizing up the mound in his head. “Hey, partner. You said you have 10 already full. How many could you fill with what is down there?”
“At least 200 hundred, maybe more,” VIN replied getting undressed in Astermine One.
“Then we had better fill the 200 first,” replied Jonesy.
“Just remember, Jonesy, many of the big ones will not fit into the canisters, so we will just have to net them and somehow pack them last, tightly bound in the nets.”
“Good idea, partner. We should be done here in an hour and then we can fill your craft up,” Jonesy replied, getting the second tank attached.
“While you are out there, can you clean the windshield and check the tires and the oil?” joked VIN. Jonesy ignored his simpleton for a partner.
Two hours later they had eight empty tanks, and both craft at more than three quarter full. Jonesy told the newbies to enjoy their first night on the moon, sorry it was so dark, and that they would only have radio when America One was close overhead. This crater wasn’t pretty, just a dark night that went on and on. He climbed in while Maggie began the checks and one by one the two Astermine craft headed upwards to meet with the mother ship now just beginning her first orbit 100 miles above them.
Nothing happens quickly in space, except the birth of Kathy and Ryan’s baby daughter, Lunar Katherine Richmond. Lunar arrived three minutes after entering their first moon orbit and the two Astermine craft were still several hundred miles ahead of her, and climbing up to meet them.
An hour after the birth, Kathy and Suzi, with babies in arms, entered the cube and marveled at the size of it compared to the mining craft. They felt as if they were in a tropical jungle with the fresh nature smells and the birds flying around. The gravity was off, so Maggie slipped on a pair of magnetic shoes and pulled Suzi and Mars along towards the nearest elevator.
Meanwhile, the men were left to close down the craft, chatting happily together about how good a beer and a few slugs of vodka would taste.
“Congratulations!” exclaimed most of the crew in the cafeteria a few hours later, once normality returned to the ship. America One had just successfully achieved her maiden flight, and there was a new baby crew member on board.
“Thank you for all the well wishes, team.” Ryan thanked everybody for the comradery. Being a father was new for this man. Ever since Ryan could remember, he had been caught up in space, travel, ship design and the odyssey getting ever closer. Now he was a father to a tiny baby girl, and suddenly the enormous risks he had taken felt worthwhile.
Thinking through the glass of champagne, and the vodka shooter Jonesy just made him down, his mind was racing at a billion miles an hour; he was reviewing his whole life, from the first day he could remember, to being at the bedside of his first child. Forty years. He had not yet had time to think about the newest, most important person in his life. He was together with Kathy, the other most important person in his life and a moment of poignancy overtook him.
“Come on Ryan, smile. It’s the most important day of your life!” Ryan was brought back to the present, by Jonesy’s words, and a pale face smiling at him from a few feet away.
“Thank you, Mr. Jones. Can I assume that if you can be a father, then it won’t be too difficult for me?” The team roared with laughter. Jonesy had been trying to rile Ryan, but as usual the younger man had the last word.
The party didn’t last long. Two bottles of home brewed vodka for toasts and two bottles of champagne for the ladies didn’t go far. It was still a working crew and the moon orbit needed to be monitored.
Suzi, Maggie, and the two babies went back to the hospital to visit with a tired, but happy Kathy, the men to the bridge for a debriefing.
“So, why so much fuel usage on the moon’s surface?” Ryan asked Jonesy. And he was brought up to date on the reasons. “So there are enough diamonds down there to fill every craft we have?” was his next question.
“It seems so, but some of them are really large, especially the diamond Jonesy is giving to the president,” VIN added.
“Oh! So our General Jones has his own diamond stashed away to give to the president?” Ryan asked smiling.
“Just one, to pay off the Gulfstream he gave me,” replied Jonesy.
“I think it’s to alleviate his guilty conscience,” added VIN.
“I hope this gift does, but I‘m sure our General Jones didn’t feel guilty asking for a $50 million aircraft,” Ryan said. “They are all going to the same place, the U.S. government, and I suppose our lead astronaut has the right idea; to make sure we don’t leave Earth without paying our debts. So, how do we get all these diamonds back?”
VIN elaborated on the net idea and Ryan agreed that if the diamonds were in nets, they could easily be stored anywhere for the return journey.
“How long do you think we need to collect this vein of wealth for our country?” Ryan asked.
“Two weeks, maybe four,” VIN responded.
“America One has to go back, but since we have all our pre-planned cargoes already up here, the mechanics can start on the second shuttle down in Nevada early, and hopefully have SB-I ready for launch in a month. Or, General Saunders can fly SB-II here, to the moon, and get refueled from us here. Since SB-II still uses the old semi-hybrid first stage fuel for launch, he will have just enough hydrogen on board to leave Earth’s orbit on his first round, complete a twenty-minute burn, achieve the 30,000 plus miles an hour needed to leave orbit, and fly here. He will be on fumes when he gets here, but we can spacewalk hydrogen tanks over to him in orbit.
“We could then fill SB-II’s cargo hold to the brim with nets of diamonds, and we have SB–III docked here on America One already. Asterspace Three is still in a bulk-cargo hauler configuration, so she could be filled with cargo and return with the two shuttles to an Earth orbit. Allow Mr. Saunders the first day to reenter. Mr. Jones, you reenter on the second day in SB-III, refuel, replace your cargo with air tanks, launch, and return to orbit. While SB-II is being refueled on Earth, you transfer Asterspace’s cargo into your two smaller holds after transferring the air tanks into the cargo craft. I believe that the two smaller holds in SB-III equal the larger single hold in Asterspace Three exactly. Take the third cargo down to Nevada, allow Mr. Saunders to launch before dawn and then you launch after the Dead Chicken lands, with a second two-ton cargo of the 100 pound atmospheric air tanks. Mr. Saunders will have two tons of liquid hydrogen and two tons more of the Nano-Silicone.
“Once you are both ready, exit orbit, and fly back here. In the meantime, the two Astermine craft head down bringing up the nets for the next loads for Earth. The second loading could be up here, not on the planet’s surface, by the time you return. How does that plan sound?”
“Who flies Astermine Two if I’m flying SB-III?” Jonesy asked.
“Well, Mr. Noble can be in-charge of the operation down on the moon. Max Burgos is flying Asterspace Three. We have Yuri Gellagov and Pete Smith who can man your mining craft. I think Suzi and the baby can stay up here, and Mr. Noble can take another space walker to help, now that the external work around this ship are complete. We do have six astronauts for six craft, Mr. Jones!”
Slowly a plan came together. All the build teams were needed inside America One, there was still three months of work to get the interior of the craft shipshape, but a couple could be spared to help bring up the treasure.
While the two men down on the surface waited for the Astermine craft to return fully fueled, Ryan sent a message to Nevada to ready another two tons of liquid hydrogen and Nano-Silicone; the atmospheric air could be bottled on site. They were going to need more air now that they could build a small dome, or two somewhere.
Ryan could make the decision to purchase as much as he could of the new Nano-Silicone, as the latest tests on the first flight of Nano-Silicone, brought up several launches earlier, were complete. While Jonesy and VIN readied themselves to return, Ryan and the dozen scientists involved held a meeting in the cafeteria.
The results were good. The Nano-Silicone/Kevlar mix had hardened under heat. The most successful hardening temperature was at 700 degrees Celsius. Any higher temperatures weakened the Kevlar. The blast oven had pressed the melted liquid into hard, window panel frames, four-feet square. Under immense pressure, the panes were heated and cooled several times, which made them totally transparent, other than the minute Kevlar strands throughout the pane. At one-inch thick, each pane was strong enough to hold hot or cold atmosphere on one side, and the vacuum of space at minus 170 degrees on the other. The production was a long process; it took 15 hours to make five panes at the same time.
Using a diamond cutting tool, each pane was cut into half across the diagonal, forming two triangular panes. The team made a hexagon of the triangles and bonded them together with a melted black graphite paste which, when dried, was harder than steel. Then the scientists pumped three atmospheres of air through a minute hole, sealed it, and passed it through the large rear engine compartment cargo port, and into space.
The hexagon held together. After hauling it back through the cargo port, they increased the pressure inside to five atmospheres and again released it. Again it held. The results were that the panes were stronger than anything ever produced that looked like glass. One of the scientists estimated that each pane was more than ten times stronger than the best armor glass on Earth.
The hexagon travelled to the moon outside the ship and radiation sensors inside showed only triple the radiation inside the hexagon as was coming through the ship’s walls,. Two panes, plus a foot of helium gas in-between them could solve that problem. Ryan asked Captain Pete to add another order of four tons of liquid helium to the growing launch manifest.
The second real success was the indestructible black graphite obtained on the return trips to DX2014. It had the usual melting point of carbon, 3,500 degrees Celsius, and hardened into a better welding material than anything on Earth. The scientists could melt the carbon graphite, tool it into preformed strips with two-inch deep grooves and use it to bond the silicone panes. America One’s many aluminum panels had been bonded together much the same way, but with Silicone, not the stronger graphite. On his next ship, Ryan could use this more powerful form of bonding, as well as one day when they found a new place to live, use it for see-through, anti-radiation protective barriers against the harsh environment of space.
All of this was extremely good news for the crew. With their remaining Nano-Silicone they could make about 90 panels. Another cargo load would treble that, enough to make a decent sized, double-walled half-hexagon dome on another planet.
The three useless European freighters still connected to the ship made her look more like a “bag lady” than a fancy space vehicle. When the fourth freighter arrived, they could be turned into storage units for the Nano-Silicone and helium, and then added to the build at the end station. Ryan put in an order with Igor for as much of the Nano-Silicone as the company in Munich could produce. The carbon graphite was available by the ton on the moon’s surface.
While this very important meeting was going on in the cafeteria, the two Astermine craft and SB-III were returning to the moon’s surface. Suzi was disappointed that she could not be part of the continuing mining expedition, but she had a baby to think of first, and the men would be back within a few days. With one man flying in and out of the forth crater, and five men to gather and collect the diamonds, the loading would be faster.
Jonesy, Maggie and Saturn would be in the shuttle for three nights while it was filled up with what VIN had already collected, plus Jonesy’s rock. Then they would return to meet Allen Saunders, who was about to be launched out of the Dead Chicken.
Jonesy was to be the cargo pilot. His job was to haul the full nets up to America One while the men rested between their three-hour spacewalk shifts.
The two men already on the surface needed extra canisters to make a new landing zone for the fourth parking bay, and Jonesy floated her in, setting his larger shuttle as far to the end of the growing parking lot as he could. He didn’t want her dented from flying stones.
VIN felt happy; he would have company down in the “hole” as he called it. Jonesy was fully suited up and Maggie helped him on with his helmet; he exited the shuttle’s docking port to the sound of a shorter scream from Saturn and transferred to Astermine Two.
Once VIN showed the men how to get a foot in one of the three ropes he had connected underneath the mining craft, Jonesy slowly drifted up, plucked the men off the surface and descended into the narrow hole. The three men underneath each had one foot through his loop, his belt strapped onto the cord, and they linked arms to keep together. The remaining men, who VIN had already instructed, set out a net, placed empty canisters on top of it, and prepared a new net for Jonesy’s return.
When the three men dangling from the shuttle reached bottom, they undid their cords, and placed the full net, with Jonesy’s large rock inside onto the hook underneath Astermine Two; at full power, Jonesy fought the gravitational pull, and the extra load, and slowly flew upwards. For the first time VIN and the men had to take cover behind canisters as small diamonds were spewing out directly underneath the rockets.
The pilot returned with the next net and with the two other men looped in below. Then, Jonesy’s job was over, until he needed to retrieve the men after their shift.
VIN showed the four new men what to do. He brought shovels from the other craft, and gave each a canister and a shovel to fill. VIN emptied the third net of canisters, spread it out, and retrieved all the larger diamonds to place them inside the net. The other guys could do the grunt work for a change.
Right on time, Jonesy returned down the pipe. The team had the larger diamonds ready with 15 basketball-sized or smaller diamonds in the net. These larger diamonds did not fit well in the canisters. The craft was hooked up with three cords this time, and VIN and Max accompanied the small load. Jonesy returned several minutes later and retrieved the three remaining men, then VIN re-attached the first net for lift up to America One. On their first stint they had filled six canisters.
While the new crew rested, three in the other craft, and three in the shuttle’s cockpit, Jonesy flew to the 100-mile altitude. It took him three hours to hand over the tightly bound net of ten canisters and his big diamond to two spacewalkers waiting for him. They tied it to the side of America One, and Jonesy returned for another load. He would need to do this eleven more times before the three returning craft would be completely loaded.
Over the next three days, the hard working crew managed six more lifts, as well as filling SB-III’s hold with two of the four nets. These nets weren’t filled to maximum, so that two nets could fit in each of SB-III’s smaller holds.
On Jonesy’s eighth lift, he saw SB-II at its docking port. Allen would have 24 hours before they would return.
Slowly the load came together. VIN and a smaller team would take the remaining nets and ready them for Jonesy’s return, two weeks later. When Ryan asked VIN how much of the diamond vein had been depleted, he was informed that they had decreased the mound by two feet, but he didn’t know how far the diamonds continued below the surface. VIN was also looking forward to a rest.
With both shuttles refueled and the crews rested, Penny took a turn as Allen’s new co-pilot, and Max Burgos and Pete Smith piloted Asterspace Three. Jonesy, Maggie and Saturn returned to Earth.
During the three-day flight, including several orbits to decrease forward speed and altitude, Allen, now on his 30th reentry went in; Jonesy was due twenty-four hours later.
Ryan had been in contact with the president and by the time Allen, Michael Pitt and Pete Smith, who had spacewalked over to SB-II during the last orbit, saw the hot shimmering runway, there were a dozen heavily armed Bradleys along the length of the runway, and two F-35s had just taken off as air cover. The president, wanted to be there to see the yield; Ryan suggested that he fly in on the sixth day after SB-II arrived. By that time all three cargos would be on Earth.
Twenty-four long hours later, the remaining three astronauts, saw the same scene, Allen had a day earlier. Jonesy had never seen so much security around the airfield, and the area surrounding the runway was very built up since they had left.
An assembly of personnel watched the shuttle slow down the runway.
“Hey! I remember that fire truck and ambulance,” remarked Maggie who was in the co-pilot’s seat as the parachute slowed them. “Those vehicles are both from Nellis. They followed me on every landing I made there. Maybe landing back at Nellis could be less busy than here. It seems we have entered the runway of Fort Knox or something.”
“I don’t see Air Force One,” replied Jonesy, keeping the craft straight down the middle of the long runway.
“Remember, Ryan told the president that our next landing will be the big one, after we have cleared Asterspace Three,” Max added from one of the rear jump seats.
Having remained aboard America One with its higher gravity, Maggie was stronger than Jones and Max who needed wheelchairs and helpers to get over the hot apron. Once they were showered, and wheeled over to Hangar One, Jonesy saw what looked like two F-35s coming into land. “Maybe he could steal an hour in one of those?” he thought, smiling to himself.
It was easier for Saturn Jones on the return leg, but she was irritable; the heavier gravity was getting to her. She wanted more food, and was happy to sleep while Jonesy was debriefed by Ground Control.
Since there were enough ground crew to unload and refuel the shuttles, after debrief, he joined a healthy and still sun-browned Allen Saunders and a pale white Michael Pitt in the pool. The beer was cold, and life was good again.
“They had the nets out of our shuttle in twenty minutes,” Allen stated as a very pale and weak Jonesy slid into the warm water; it was easier to move in water than the gravity outside.
“Are the diamonds being flown out?” he asked. “I missed a bit of the briefing up in America One before we left, I needed sleep.”
“We weren’t told what was happening up there,” Allen replied. “I was told by Ground Control during yesterday’s debrief. It seems that the president is arriving the same day you return with Asterspace’s load. The government has set up a secret base somewhere with hundreds of American and international diamond cutters, cutting machines, and diamond polishers. Some of the air force guys think that it is inside Area 51, which is secure enough for such an operation. Their reasoning is that there has been a huge amount of new air traffic into Area 51 over the last couple of weeks. Jimmy Stillshot, who used to work with me back at Nellis, is the Air Force Colonel in charge here on the airfield; he is the person I was talking to.”
“Sounds like a big operation,” Jonesy replied enjoying his cold Bud.
“Gee, Jonesy, have you seen all those stones we are bringing back, besides the big ones? Hundreds, maybe thousands in each canister!” Allen replied.
“Did you tag your stone?” Michael Pitt asked, staying in the shade of the pool change rooms.
“Oh crap! I had better go and tell the guys, which one is mine. Just when I was thinking of a fresh beer,” Jonesy replied. He got out, gathered his dressing gown around him, sat back in his wheelchair and shouted for the nearest security guard to wheel him back to the hangar SB-III was in.
“You can’t come in here, sir,” stated one man on the group of security guards outside the hangar. He certainly didn’t recognize the astronaut in his dressing gown. As soon as Jonesy, in his usual demanding tone, informed the security guards of his rank and that he was the shuttle’s pilot, he had one of the hangar security guards wheel him in.The Shuttle’s top cargo doors were opened, and the second net was being lifted out by a small mobile crane. There were already a dozen long tables set up and cases of what looked like plastic lunch bags. Jonesy knew that each diamond would be weighed, sorted, recorded, and sealed in a bag.
“I hope you have some big bags. Many of those rocks won’t fit into a sandwich bag,” he said as he was wheeled up to an Air Force Major, head of security.
“And who the hell let you in here?” the Major replied, signaling the guard pushing Jonesy to about-face and exit the hangar.
“I suggest you stand at attention when you see me, Major and hold your trap until you know who you are talking too,” Jonesy admonished. “Hey, Gary, come and tell this bristling piece of brass who I am,” he shouted to one of the dozens of white coated scientists watching the unloading procedure.
“Hi, Jonesy, I nearly didn’t recognize you either,” laughed Gary, one of the Ground Control crew as he ran up. “Major, this is Air Force General John Jones, Chief Astronaut with Astermine Inc. He just flew this bird in a couple of hours ago.”
The Major immediately saluted. Jonesy smiled at him, and asked Gary to take control of his chair and push him to the rear of SB-III.
“Gary, I lifted these four nets up from the moon myself. In the lower net in the rear hold, you will find one lonely separate really big diamond. It is big; big enough to break your foot if you drop it, so don’t. That baby is mine. Actually I’m personally handing it to the president as payment for my Gulfstream, you know, my new toy?” Gary smiled nodding, he knew Jonesy well. “Anyway I want it cleaned and giftwrapped in plastic so that I can officially hand it over to him. I don’t like being in debt to the government, and even though they will get the stone anyway, at least I’ll feel that I don’t owe them anything. I found it, packed it, and transported the mother all the way down here.”
Gary nodded. “Are you sure I will know which one it is?” Gary asked.
“Easy,” Jonesy replied. “It’s the only lose diamond in that net, and the biggest one here. It is at least three times bigger than anything we have brought down to date. It is this big…..” and he placed his right hand horizontally against Gary’s belt buckle. Gary’s eyes widened, and he whistled. “Ryan know about this?” he asked.
“Yep, I explained it to him up in America One, and he just smiled. All these diamonds are going to be cut down to size; all as small as marbles so that the Chinese can’t use them to cut lenses for any long distance lasers. Gary, you know about the new laser lenses don’t you?” Gary nodded. “My diamond is so damn big that even an elephant couldn’t wear it on its finger.
“Maybe it could fit on the finger of a dead chicken?” laughed Gary and that made Jonesy smile and nod his agreement. “Remember, these diamonds are still radioactive Jonesy. Maybe you should ask the president for his new diamond to be stored here for a couple of weeks after you officially hand it over, at least until it is able to be manhandled. He might want to put it in the Oval Office or something.”
Chapter 14
The two official visits
Three days later SB-III took off into space again with Jonesy piloting and Allen Saunders the co-pilot. Allen was excited. This launch was totally different from what he was accustomed to. He had already completed 200 hours on the SB-III simulator and knew every second about the launch, except for the agonizing back pain at 100,000 feet. This launch really hurt, and he couldn’t understand how little Saturn Jones could handle it.
Michael Pitt and Max Burgos accompanied them on the flight; they were going to spacewalk the transfer of cargos. The Nano-Silicone had not yet arrived, so Jonesy took up a ton of one hundred pound atmospheric air tanks and the same amount of helium tanks, which had arrived just days earlier.
On their third orbit at 100 miles altitude, they reconnected with Asterspace Three. In the next seven hours they exchanged the now weightless tanks—tied in groups of five, placed the four nets into SB-III, and readied for a one-orbit reentry. Max and Michael were to refuel Asterspace Three and fly her back to America One, still in orbit around the moon. She was needed to haul up more diamonds from the crater.
Ryan had informed the president of the exact time of each reentry; Jonesy could see both Air Force One aircraft on the apron as they descended through a sparse cloud layer at 10,000 feet, just over a mile from the target.
“Six thousand feet… speed 370 knots…30 knots too fast, releasing air brakes at 50 percent for two seconds,” Allen reported. Three thousand feet altitude, 12 hundred feet to target, 290 knots, brakes away.”
They came in fast and the parachute blew out the back. As Jonesy passed the apron entrance he could see the president and two Secret Service agents watching them from the upper staircase of the first jet. SB-III swept by the entrance and the usual two vehicles followed the shuttle as it came to a halt, well over a 1,000 feet from the end of the runway. With this new engine configuration and half the original cargo weight, the stopping power of the parachute was more evident.
Thirty minutes later the crew of two was helped out of the side hatch in the shade of the hangar. The president, NASA Administrator Bill Withers, and FBI Director Joe Everson were there to welcome them along with scores of Secret Service and the air force personnel assigned to the airfield. Jonesy noticed that the hangar had been cleared of tables and the diamonds from the last reentries were gone.
“Welcome back to Earth, General Jones, General Saunders,” said the smiling president as both men saluted. They shook hands and Jonesy looked around for Gary, who had been given explicate instructions of what to do at this precise time. Gary was standing next to a trolley, which held a round shape covered by a blanket; he held a Geiger counter in his other hand.
“I have a gift for you, Mr. President,” Jonesy said. “A friend will roll it over on a trolley. You can’t touch it but you can look at it, from five feet away.”
The president nodded, and two Secret Service agents walked over to Gary who was wheeling the trolley forward. The agents stopped the trolley, peeked under the blanket, and asked Bill Withers to join them; then they ordered Gary to turn on the counter. Its steady noise filled the hangar. Bill discussed the safety factors of the gift and then allowed Gary to move forward, stopping him ten feet from the president, who was looking at the display of safety with his usual calm smile.
“It seems they think you are endangering my life, General Jones,” smiled the president. “Too big for a bowling ball?”
“It’s a just payment for the gift you gave me: the aircraft, papers, and everything, Mr. President,” Jonesy replied.
Only a few scientists had seen the diamond and everyone gasped as the blanket was pulled away to reveal the naked rough diamond, the biggest diamond anybody had ever seen. It was big, and even though rough and unpolished, it had an aura of power around it. The ceiling lights bounced off the rock streaming the hangar with beams of light.
“Oh my god!” exclaimed the president. He was shocked at what Jonesy had brought back for him. “How many carats is that?” he asked Gary; in his white coat, he appeared to be the only person who could answer that question.
“We estimate it to be 290,000 carats, Mr. President. It is approximately 170 times the size of the diamond Ryan and Astermine gave you in Washington before it was cut and polished. It has minute flaws in several areas, but the color is as good as the other diamonds.”
“And that diamond’s value was over a billion dollars?” the president asked. “Does that make this diamond worth as much as I think?”
“Not my place to guess, Mr. President, but I believe this one diamond is worth more than any one man’s worth on this planet,” Gary replied.
“I found it on the moon’s surface, loaded it into SB-III, and brought it down. Is that good enough to repay my debt to you and the U.S. Government? Like most Americans, Mr. President, I hate owing a debt to the government.”
The president turned to Jonesy, still smiling from everybody’s reaction. “I believe your gift to the country more than repays the $50 million for the aircraft,” he replied smiling at the now relieved older man. General John Jones was so American!
The president didn’t stay long. He did ask that the diamond be airlifted to Washington once it was polished. He wanted it placed in the Oval Office, where it would serve as a temporary reminder of the day the country’s debts were repaid by a group of adventurers who just wanted to go to space.
In a short speech to the group in the hangar over a glass of champagne, he said he was proud to be an American, and even prouder to soon be the president of a completely debt-free country. A proud and smiling General John Jones, serving as a proxy for Ryan, stood next to the president; the speech was recorded by Joe Downs for a future media airing, when the country had actually paid off its debts.
***
Ryan, Igor, and many of the crew orbiting the moon in America One managed to watch the recorded feed from Nevada, several hours later. Ryan smiled at the gasps elicited by Jonesy’s gift. It looked pretty grand down there and he was pleased that his Chief Astronaut’s idea had gone over so well. Ryan enjoyed the president’s simple speech but relished the idea that within a few weeks he would be away from all the pomp and ceremony for a long time.
VIN watched the ceremony twenty-four hours after the others. He and the mining team had filled all the canisters they had, and they were all due for a two-day rest period. They had now completed much of the extraction, finding the same black graphite shards two feet under the deepest diamonds, and were waiting for Asterspace Three to return with the nets from Earth inside her cargo hold.
***
Twenty-four hours later both SB-II and SB-III were refueled and ready. A day earlier, a C-17 transporter out of Nellis Air Force Base had flown in and collected all of the diamonds to transfer them to a secret location. The Ground Control team in Hangar One followed it on radar. The C-17 airlift was protected by two of the F-35s now on the airfield; it never rose above 2,000 feet and disappeared in the direction of Area 51, twenty minutes after takeoff.
Early the next morning, Bob Mathews piloted the Dead Chicken into the air to launch SB-II, for the shuttle’s second to last launch in its old configuration. Time was running out for the Dead Chicken, which all base personnel had grown very fond of.
Jonesy and Maggie launched themselves and Saturn two hours later with the first two tons of the new load of Nano-Silicone bound for America One. This should have been SBII’s last first-stage rocket launch, but Ryan had paid a fortune for the rest of the year’s production—20 tons of the new Nano-Silicone—if the company could fulfill the order that quickly. Six tons had arrived at the airfield aboard a German transport aircraft. SB-II would be needed for this one extra launch. SB-I would be ready for its test flight when Allen Saunders returned with Jonesy and, like SB-III, would be able to haul up two tons at a time.
Once in formation in their first orbit they blasted out en route to the moon. Three days later, both craft docked at their ports on America One.
Ryan congratulated Jonesy for managing to pay off his debts. The Jones family felt physically strong again. It was surprising how time on Earth strengthened the body.
The Joneses decided to tour the ship with Captain Pete, Ryan, Allen Saunders, and a few others to see how the build was progressing. It would be a long walk with much to see.
The whole upper level cylinder corridor system they had stayed in was now complete. There were three accommodation cylinders including nine family units and four single person cylinders, separated by four storage cylinders. The storage cylinders had a corridor and four storage rooms where hundreds of items were stowed in bins and on shelves. The rooms looked more like bulk food warehouses than supermarket shelves. This area of the ship contained all the dried food stocks.
The mid-level had a biology/chemistry lab in the second most forward cylinder behind the chicken breeding station. The third cylinder was the rabbit breeding station and then four cylinders of plant and animal feed storage cylinders.
The cafeteria was located in the middle of the upper level of cylinders in front of a kitchen/refrigerator cylinder; a walk-in freezer took all of the cylinder space on the upper level. A corridor to the side enabled the crew to pass the cold areas.
Behind them were two medical storage cylinders with two single unit accommodation cylinders on either side. The lower level accommodated the hospital/surgery cylinder, hospital ward, examination rooms, testing department, medical storage cylinder, and a cylinder for biology lab tests and storage. The last three cylinders incorporated the mechanics’ workroom, testing center, chemistry lab and an area for scientists to work on projects.
The build team had three more accommodation cylinders to go: a gas production unit of two cylinders, and a third cylinder for various other labs, or work centers to make up the 42 cylinders in all.
“In two more months, except for the accommodation cylinders we don’t yet need, we will be complete; the entire team will be able to go back to future design and production experiments,” explained Ryan. “Let’s go to the cafeteria for lunch.”
After lunch the main team of astronauts, VIN, and Igor met in the Bridge. “So, Mr. Noble your thoughts on the diamond mining please?” Ryan asked.
“We are over halfway,” VIN replied. “We have enough canisters and nets, now that the returning ship replaced the 70 empty canisters. Since both shuttles arrived with the second load of nets and 50 new canisters of Silicone, we should have enough to complete the mission. Ryan, how much of the graphite do we need to bring up here once the diamonds are on their way back to Earth?”
“I would say that if you could fill the two Astermine craft to the brim that should be enough to compensate for the amount of Silicone we will have up here. That should give us at least eight tons of graphite to bond 20 tons of Silicone. The graphite can be stored in the cargo holds of the two crafts since all the expendable freighters will store the Silicone. By the way, I have delayed the launch of the last European freighter full of liquid fuels until we return to Earth’s orbit in a week. Captain Pete, when is the best time to depart for Mars?”
“We will return to Earth orbit in a week; the crew needs three weeks to remodel SB-II, and to complete the lasers. Mars’ orbit will begin to extend farther away from Earth and the sun in two months and nine days. If we leave in four weeks, that will give us a journey of five months and twelve days. For every 24 hours we delay after that, it will increase travel time by 48 hours. Once we are on the move, for every 20 minutes of added burn time, we can deduct a week from our travel time, which in my view is total waste of fuel. Longer burn, faster cruising speed.”
“OK. We have four weeks, to get every diamond out of that crater. Regardless of the amount we give to the government, I want to store at least 50,000 carats of the larger diamonds to replace the initial amount we gave to the country. This will be a spending reserve to offset inflation in the event my paper money becomes worthless. We will also look for other precious metals to offset any costs we as a crew might incur in the future, or for the future of our children. We will have a complete crew meeting after we leave orbit for our journey to Mars. Everyone knows his job, so team, let’s all keep to the schedule. VIN, I will be returning with you and your team; I want to say I walked on the moon. Is there room for five craft?”
“Not in the third crater,” responded VIN. “We have just enough room for four, compensating for the blast possibilities; but I’m sure a window view on the actual moon’s surface will be better than down in the darkness where we are working. Once we have four of the craft down around the crater we can load them up one at a time, and they can fly up to the surface to join you. Max, Peter, and I can bring up a load and fill your craft while you check out the vista. Then, Max and Peter Smith can fly you down, and that will give Allen Saunders a few days’ rest.”
The plan was ready; they just had to wait for the canisters of Nano-Silicone to be unloaded through both shuttles’ docking ports. Another two hours of work, and the team could resume the diamond collection.
It was quite a sight as Captain Pete, Allen, and Jamie watched all five craft detach one after the other from the docking bays and fly away from the ship. It was like watching an armada of ships leave port in a long line a mile apart.
Since all astronauts had accomplished the flight more than once, the formation of space craft descended through one orbit, with Jonesy and Michael leading the way in SB-III. Once again the girls remained in the mother ship.
Jonesy found a nice site for Ryan in Asterspace Three just outside of the edge of the first crater. He picked up Ryan’s pilot, Peter Smith, and followed the others, who had gone straight in.
By the time he got down, the landing zone was awash with lights and he saw several nets ready to be loaded aboard. As soon as he landed, Jonesy got help to get his helmet on. Yuri floated up in Astermine One with three men holding nets underneath. Jonesy wasn’t the only pilot who could negotiate the thin pipe down to the bottom; He had taught Yuri well before he left.
VIN and Pete exited; each slipped a foot into the cords under Yuri’s craft for the second flight into the diamond mine. Minutes later, close to the bottom, they saw that the mound had virtually disappeared. The crew was now inside the mound and black shadowed areas could be seen between the glistening stones.
VIN and two other crew members attached two more nets full of diamonds to the hook underneath Astermine One, and Yuri flew up taking most of the light with him.
“Not that much left?” asked Jonesy, happy to not fly this three-hour stint.
“About five nets to go,” VIN replied. “We’ve cleaned up all the diamonds blasted into the crater edges, and only have what’s left in the hole in the center. There is another large diamond right in the dead center; we keep hitting it with our shovels. It’s even bigger than yours, maybe the alpha diamond or something, but I think that could be the last one. Hopefully Ryan keeps this one for our retirement package when we get home.”
Jonesy helped with one of the shovels. It was hard work, and you never knew when the shovel would hit on a larger diamond. After an hour he threw it down and began rolling the larger stones out of the hole.
By the time they finished their shift, one of the five nets was full and there was a decent sized mound of big diamonds.
On the next shift twelve hours later, VIN was to come up with Jonesy to fill the craft Ryan was in while the others, including Yuri, returned to the mine to dig. At the same time Ryan was to get his first spacewalk on another planet.
Ryan was really excited when VIN entered through the docking port to help him on with his helmet. Far above the action Ryan had spent fifteen hours alone thinking and he had enjoyed every minute of it. He would help VIN and Jonesy load the full nets into Asterspace Three. The four specially sized nets of diamonds would be lifted out of Astermine Two cargo holds one at a time by the lifting arm in Asterspace Three. It would take less than 45 minutes.
VIN helped Ryan down the steps and suggested he say something on the last step like Neil Armstrong had. All the other guys had said something on their first step on the moon.
“One small step for America, one giant leap for mankind to Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and beyond,” stated Ryan. It was the first thing that came into his mind. Then, he jumped the small step to land on another planet; the fulfillment of another part of his dream. Jonesy, holding a video camera, recorded the moment for history.
“Let’s walk,” VIN suggested, and while Jonesy worked the loading arm he chaperoned his boss for a 20-minute walk on the moon. Ryan looked up at the Milky Way every few minutes, and five minutes later the Earth rose over the horizon. The sun wouldn’t make it over the horizon, but the Earth was in direct sunlight and appeared as a ball of radiant color in the darkness of space.
It all ended too quickly, but he would have another chance in twenty-four hours. After helping Ryan take off his helmet, VIN bid him goodbye, exited the craft and caught a ride down to the darkness inside the third crater with Jonesy. Asterspace Three was packed and ready for her flight back to Earth.
The next day was a repeat of the previous one. The full nets were hauled up to be packed aboard Ryan’s craft where the light was better. VIN and Ryan managed a 30-minute walk around the barren and totally desolate area, and Ryan expected that Mars would look exactly the same. What would the other planets be like further along in the odyssey? He hoped that they would have more interest than this dead moon.
On the third day Ryan waited for the team to rise up from the depths. Over the intercom he had faintly heard that all of the nets were full, except for the last one, which was to hold six full canisters and all the large diamonds. There were no nets left, and still there were diamonds, and several empty canisters in America One. Ryan told VIN that they had to collect every diamond; they were not coming back to the moon again.
Finally, the last net was filled and packed away in SB-II and all craft returned to the lighter area on the moon’s surface. It was time for a meeting.
“So, Mr. Noble, what is left?” Ryan asked.
“The big diamond right in the center. It’s about the same size as Jonesy’s diamond,” began VIN over the intercom. All the other craft were listening in. “There are also about two to three dozen tennis ball and soccer ball diamonds. I think that if the whole team went in together, we could pack another canister or two of small ones, plus get the six remaining canisters full of graphite in one three-hour session. There is one net left up in orbit and all of these space craft are already full to the brim. There is just no more room to fit anymore in.”
“We have a couple of those smaller Russian freight capsules still tied to the side of America One. You could fit one of the nets around it. The nets must be big enough. Could you place one of the freight capsules into the last net, take it down into the hole and fill it directly?” Ryan asked.
“Ryan, Max Burgos here. I think we could place one capsule into the last net, but the mining craft will only be able to land it into Crater Three. It is too dangerous to try and fly it into Crater Four. Then we could carry up the diamonds, fill the freight capsule up with the bigger diamonds, graphite shards, and then lift the whole lot back up to the ship. That will give you your eight tons.”
The plan was put into action and 30 hours later every single diamond and at least eight tons of graphite shards were in orbit 100 miles above the moon. The men were tired, but they could rest on the way back to Earth. And, Ryan promised unlimited beer once they got there.
VIN was sad to see the last diamond packed into the net to be taken up to Crater Three; it was the largest one of all of them—it even beat Jonesy’s—and this one would be Ryan’s. It took three men to roll it onto the net and place it on top of the pile. The net was slowly pulled up by Astermine Two, and a cord was tied around the top to close the hole. The fourth crater was now empty, and looked as dull as the rest of the planet. As far as VIN was concerned, the Chinese or the Russians could now have this barren piece of real estate.
As soon as the full freight capsule was tied back to the outer surface of the mother ship, and all five spacecraft were docked onto their bays, Captain Pete ignited the thrusters. America One’s forward speed slowly increased, and she began pulling away from the moon’s orbit.
VIN had worked as hard in the pit as he had ever in his Marine career, and it was bliss to put his feet up in the cafeteria and enjoy one of his wife’s and Mr. Rose’s ice-cold brews together with the rest of the mining team. Only Captain Pete who was the designated driver on this trip missed the impromptu party. Everyone toasted Ryan on his first walk on another planet; he couldn’t wait to return and tell the President all about it, and turn over the fortune in mined diamonds to him.
For three days the flight and mining crews rested. The astronauts prepared for the return flights to Nevada, and the mining crew, who were also heading down to rest, including Ryan, were going to spend time in the sun and by the pool. Since over half the interior build out of America One was complete, the rest of the work could be done on the way to the next planet: Mars.
Since most of America One’s crew members wanted a last visit to Earth after the diamonds were safely transported, the small and modified 12-person crew cabin would be placed in the forward cargo hold of either the newly refitted SB-I or SB-III when they were launched up with supplies. It would take five reentries to get all the stones down and the craft could return to America One with two tons of supplies at a time. He asked the crew to anonymously submit requests of luxuries important to them to bring on the odyssey and the completed list raised Ryan’s eyebrows: pork, bacon to go with the eggs, steaks, clothing of all types, material to make clothes, sewing machines, popcorn for the movies, model aircraft kits, toys, eyeglasses and lenses, an MRI and an X-ray machine for the medical department, the new brand of Twinkies, board and electronic games, the latest educational material, a satellite television Dish network account, and numerous other ideas that often made him laugh. The best two were sex toys and a skateboard to ride the corridors! He was very curious to know who had submitted the last two, and had a few ideas who they might be!
Earth grew slightly as they neared. Jonesy and Maggie were keen to go on vacation and begged Ryan to let them leave a day early.
SB-III left first, a 70,000-mile flight home carrying Jonesy, Maggie, Saturn, VIN, Mars and Suzi. By the time they landed, America One reached orbit and SB-II was about to complete her last orbit before refit. Allen Saunders was flying this one, with Michael as co-pilot. Jamie was beginning to be noticeably pregnant, and Penny was three weeks away from her due date. She decided to have the baby on Earth—the last baby to be delivered in Nevada.
Ryan, Kathy, and Lunar would be the next family to fly down when SB-III returned in a week’s time. Jonesy and Allen would pilot the next launch with VIN in the jump seat, on a three-day trip. They would unload the diamonds in Astermine One, bring up two tons of liquid hydrogen fuel, and return with another diamond haul. The day after reentry, Jonesy and Allen Saunders would take up the refitted SB-I on a test flight. This flight would only carry 1,000 pounds of orders from the list of goods purchased in Las Vegas and return with Asterspace Three’s cargo.
Jonesy wouldn’t rest yet. While SB-I was being refueled, he and Michael would return in SB–III to collect the last load of diamonds from Astermine Two. When this reentry was complete, he would rejoin his family on vacation, while the other crew got on with the business of transporting luxuries, parts, computers, popcorn, and movies to the ship and returning with the crew.
The Jones family read their mail on the first return; there were a dozen postcards from Mr. and Mrs. Jones Senior from all over the world with the most recent postcard, mailed from Cape Town, stating that they were docking in Victoria, the capital of the Seychelles, in about 21 days. The younger Jones family had about 36 hours to get there.
Thanks to the continuous gravity aboard America One, Jonesy and Maggie were not very weak and wheelchairs weren’t needed. They rested that night, first asking the office staff to find them a nice hotel on the main island of the Seychelles close to the harbor for a week. Jonesy checked that his Gulfstream was fuelled up and calculated his fuel needs and expenses for a flight to the Indian Ocean. Because it was a distance of over 10,000 miles, Jonesy decided to refuel in Bermuda. He had done that often flying into Amsterdam. He also made sure that he had at least two credit cards to buy fuel, Visa and American Express. It was a five- to six-hour flight into Bermuda and a ten-hour flight into Victoria from there. VIN and his family were going to accompany them on the trip. The office gave Jonesy a letter confirming that two rooms at one of the island’s Hilton Hotels were reserved, paid for by Astermine Inc., for the two families for five nights.
The Gulfstream took off nine hours later, ten hours before the next shuttle came in.
The senior and junior Jones families did meet up; they spent two days together sight-seeing and enjoying family company and met Suzi and Mars. Sunburn was kept at bay by sunscreens, and the two partners, who had just emptied the moon of over $10 trillion in diamonds, weren’t recognized by anybody. The relaxed group returned six days later.
On SB-II’s next launch with Allen and VIN, Jonesy was happy to show them where they had flown on the Gulfstream as they circled the Earth 85 miles higher. SB-III was low enough to search for the cruise vessel his parents were on, but were unable to find her through the laser’s aiming device. It was still a big planet down there.
The cargoes were exchanged over three hours, and Jonesy and Allen returned to Earth with Ryan and his family. VIN would await the next flight.
A day after Ryan’s triumphant but unnoticed return to Earth, SB-I was ready for testing. Jonesy and Allen were excited to pilot the newest version of the Astermine fleet; she sped upwards into space as slow, and then as painful, as SB-III, working perfectly. Jonesy had less and less to do on each flight, as the computers had been fed the inputs from each SB-III launch, and the systems just copied the launch angles, climb speeds and throttle power.
Over the next week, all the diamonds were transported to Earth, and on the last reentry, Air Force One made its elegant appearance over Nevada’s eastern horizon three hours before Allen was due to land SB-I again. The Joneses and Nobles were already back in the Seychelles, deep sea fishing from a remote resort off one of the Seychelles’ most remote islands, Denis Island.
In Nevada, the president viewed the last four loads, with the fifth cargo from SB-I about to be unloaded.
“That sure is a lot of stones!” exclaimed the president as he gazed at over six tons of diamonds. Each stone had been weighed, recorded, and marked, and there were thousands of bags in 100 two-foot cubed wooden cases ready for shipment to the secret cutting and polishing location. The location didn’t interest Ryan.
“It looks like we could have twelve tons or more in total, and that doesn’t count the first load I gave you, plus the diamonds I want to keep,” Ryan replied.
“I heard your young men found an even bigger diamond, one of the last ones?” the president commented, smiling at Ryan. “I also see that space travel is agreeable to the human race, babies everywhere; even you, Ryan, that young Force Recon guy, and even ‘young’ General Jones,” the president joked. “Where is my old hero anyway?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Ryan smiled back. “The last diamond Lieutenant Noble found was the centerpiece of the vein. It is still dangerously radioactive and about ten to fifteen percent bigger than the one General Jones gave you. I’m going to keep it for the crew’s retirement packages when we return. And yes, babies are in abundance at Astermine Inc.; I think it’s because of all the sexy Air Force pilots stationed at this base. Mr. President, General Jones is making good use of the jet you so kindly gave him. He is in the Indian Ocean somewhere, in the Seychelles I believe, with his family, and I’m taking the jet you loaned me to visit there in a few days. Do you have any estimates of value on the first cargoes we handed to you? Are all these diamonds going to pay off the country’s debts?”
“No, not all of them,” replied the President accepting a cup of coffee.
“Space coffee, Mr. President,” Ryan informed him. “We recently shipped a tree up there, and the beans were picked, roasted, and then brought down for you. I have a gift basket with a few space-produced items for you and the First Family, including a rich chocolate cake, a dozen eggs, a frozen rabbit, a frozen space chicken, and several other items.”
“Thank you, Ryan. I will be sure to tell the girls to enjoy them. They will be very excited. To get back to your question: the initial cargo of bigger diamonds was close to a trillion dollars. Eighty percent of the second load we picked up from here last month has been valued and adds another 4.9 trillion to the estimate, say five trillion in total. With this load I would say we will have a total of 12 to 13 trillion, Ryan. That will completely clear our country’s debts to China and Japan at current market values. We will hand over the payments at one time, which will leave us with about one trillion to repay Germany and the UK. Our current debt is 16.7 trillion dollars. Your donation to the country could pay off 85% of the country’s total debt, minus the amount for General Jones’ aircraft and the 50 million dollars to reconstruct your airbase here, say 100 million, which we will write off as expenses.”
“What about the guaranteed diamond devaluation once you hand over these tons of stones?” Ryan asked.
“Good point. We learned a lot from your deliveries of diamonds to Europe last year. Those diamonds devalued the world’s diamond prices by 12%, but due to your planned slow release of those stones, the 12% has remained steady. We will tell the Chinese and Japanese governments the same thing. If they are judicious about releasing them over time, the market shouldn’t go down by more than another 5 to 20%, depending how quickly the world markets learn about these stones. As far as our government is concerned, we are not publicizing the type of currency with which we are paying off our debts. If the countries accepting payment want to tell the world, and have their repayments devalued, that is not our problem; these stones will have repaid our debts long before that happens.”
“So, we haven’t paid off the country’s debts?” asked Ryan.
“No, you would have if you hadn’t given the first loads to Europe. Without the first devaluation it would have covered 100% of the country’s debt, but that was reduced to about 85%; however, we will have the Asians off our backs, and the balance is owed to friendly nations. Ryan, while I’m in power I want to enact new legislation to ensure our country doesn’t go back into debt ever again. It will be tough, but so was forming the Constitution 250 years ago.”
Air Force One baked in the hot sun on the apron while the president joined Ryan and several of his crew for lunch on the airfield. This would be the last time the president and Ryan would meet for many years.
Three weeks later SB-II was ready for her maiden flight. Jonesy and Allen launched the upgraded shuttle with two of the new lasers aboard, two one-pound cases of plutonium-238, and two spacewalkers who were to fit one of the lasers onto the ISS and the second onto Ivan. SB-II successfully rose into space for its first space flight directly from the airfield.
The other two lasers and their power units—one pound of plutonium each—were already installed in the two shuttles, their aiming devices and equipment already active.
Bonuses were paid out to the scientists returning to their normal lives, each one million dollars richer, and proud of his or her part in Ryan’s operations. Ryan was sure they would be hired by NASA, Space-Ex, Earth-Exit, Planetary Resources, Russia, Europe and the Chinese in droves…if they wanted to work. Ryan had purposely made them wealthy enough not to ever have to work again.
The F-35s, the air force, and FBI security details were gone. So was Bob Mathews, his crew, and the Dead Chicken. He and his flight crew were already fishing in the Caribbean, his wary skipper now always on the lookout for submarines on the fish sonar.
After the final launches, the empty airfield was to be protected by Lieutenant Walls, Sergeant Meyers, a small group of military police, and four retiring air force maintenance men and their families out of Nellis. The airfield was to be kept ready if ever America One returned one day, which the president was sure would happen. Maybe not in his lifetime, but he hoped so.
The hangars, mostly empty, would be left intact. The whole airfield now belonged to Astermine Inc. and would be kept secure, clean, repaired, painted, and maintained by the crew from Nellis Air Force Base.
Ryan still had his secret underground location under Hangar Seven. The stores had been checked and increased by Vitaliy, and his team while they were on the planet. Only the two Gulfstream jets were too big to leave at the airfield and, now that Ryan had been officially presented with the Gulfstream 550, they were to be stored in specially equipped hangars at Nellis Air Force Base.
Jonesy and Allen flew them over to their new homes where a team of mechanics would keep them maintained; nobody would fly them. Ryan and VIN picked up the two pilots in their new red electric sports cars, and after a grand lunch at Mandalay Bay, drove them back.
VIN remembered to say goodbye to his buddy at Creech on the way back, and he had a two-carat polished diamond to give to his new buddy, the cop in the black and white. They had grown to be friends.
VIN also sent another diamond, a much bigger one, to his old friend Joe, in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Joe and his policewoman wife had started VIN on this great adventure and VIN hoped that the $50,000 stone would repay any debts Joe incurred from investing his money, whatever was left. In the note to Joe, he gave him permission to use his investments in any way he wished; VIN himself wouldn’t need the money for twenty years or so, and he said he would visit Fayetteville when he was in the area again.
The time was approaching to depart on the journey of all journeys. The limited time left on Earth for the few down there, was used to the optimum. There was just only one thing holding up the whole odyssey.
Chapter 15
Goodbye
Even though the departure date was a day away, the remaining crew on Earth was still waiting for Penny Pitt to give birth. Her desire to have the baby on Earth had closely coincided with the scheduled departure. A week earlier, Doctor Rogers had suggested that she was going to be a few days late. She finally went into labor 40 hours late.
As planned, the airfield was closed down after the final launch, and Lieutenant Walls and Sergeant Meyers stayed on in charge of security. Their families had been relocated to two new, well-constructed, furnished bungalows in the growing gardens, close to the swimming pools. Ryan had offered each of them a lucrative contract. They would never want for anything again, and one was always free to travel while the other stayed to manage the daily maintenance, crew, and military police on duty.
The rest of the scientists who were staying on Earth had all departed. Only the dozen remaining space crew patiently waited. Penny’s baby needed at least a few days to get strong enough to travel. There was still much to do as last-minute requests for items to be added to the cargo were still arriving.
Above Earth, orbiting separately within a mile of the mother ship, the ISS and Ivan were being worked on.
Boris and his team of three were in the ISS, fitting the laser, programming the automated aiming system, and setting up the live feeds to Earth through the three new, small GPS satellites high above them in geostationary positions. Igor and his team were in Ivan doing the same, taking turns to spacewalk outside.
Cargo arrived at the airfield daily: several cases of whiskey, cases of caviar for VIN, clothing, and material to make clothing. The dismantled MRI and X-ray machines had already been delivered in parts to America One aboard SB-I on her third launch into orbit. One thousand pounds of popcorn arrived, as well as six new complete cubes made for Ryan by Planetary Resources in Bellevue, Washington. Extra laser parts arrived and, finally, another two pounds of plutonium-238 arrived in a 500-pound protection container which was whisked up by SB-III to the mother ship in one hold and the popcorn and cubes in the other.
Three days after Penelope Michel Pitt was born, the first Astermine child not to be named after a planet, several hundred pounds of denim and other materials arrived, as well as a couple of new sewing machines. Martha Von Zimmer and Petra Bloem, head of the new sewing club, would be happy ladies.
Six days after the birth, the crew got ready to load all three shuttles now on the ground. In four days they would clear Hangar One for the last time, say goodbye, and launch thirty minutes apart.
Jonesy and family, now brown and healthy, were still in the Seychelles. They weren’t going to miss one day of this warm, beautiful living and had returned to their little paradise as soon as they knew there would be a delay. VIN, Suzi and ten-week-old Mars were with them. The group enjoyed a third visit to the islands, thanks to Penny’s late delivery and there was no way they were heading back until they were needed. The Gulfstream was ready for their return in a cool hangar at the airport.
The Hilton was luxurious, the pool big. To stay fit for the launch, each morning the astronauts went for a morning run while Suzi looked after the babies.
VIN was tanned and strong. Working out for hours in the hotel’s fitness room, he had regained strength and body mass. Exercising just wasn’t the same in low space gravity. He had also made sure that Ryan had stocked up the exercise room on the upper level of the mother ship. Instead of steel weights, he had found bigger plastic units that held water and sent those up. He was not going to let his and Suzi’s upper body strength weaken again.
Suzi wasn’t enjoying the hotel as much. VIN’s legs were permanent, but hers still needed to be attached. She had requested this because it was easier for her to float while working in the cubes with the gravity off. In America One, she often didn’t need to attach her legs. In the hotel during the day she was happier in a wheelchair without her steel additions.
The other guests couldn’t understand why she was wheeled around during the day, but walked into dinner without assistance at night.
“I’m certainly going to miss this,” VIN said to Jonesy over a Tequila Sunrise on their second to last evening as they watched the sunset. They were stretched out by their favorite beach bar on sun loungers and watched the orange sun dip towards the horizon.
“Well, we wouldn’t be here without Ryan and that eventful day we decided to drive over to the gates of the airfield,” replied Jonesy.
“I know. You would be still searching for single women at that Vegas Casino I had to drag you out of,” VIN answered, smiling.
Jonesy thought about that for a while and said nothing.
“I reckon we ended up with our asses in a pot of jam, Mr. Jones,” VIN quipped, copying how Ryan spoke to his partner.
“Not a bad life for a useless side gunner like you either, Mr. Noble,” replied a smiling Jonesy, also copying Ryan.
Maggie and Suzi were feeding the babies in their rooms and had left the men alone, knowing that they needed a bit of time to themselves.
“Well, I think my time is still coming, Mr. Chief Astronaut,” replied VIN watching the sun kiss the flat horizon to the west.
“Why’s that?”
“I got this gut feel that when we return from this odyssey, or whatever Ryan wants to call it, the world is not going to be the same place,” VIN added.
“Why’s that?” Jonesy asked.
“I don’t know. Look at what the scientists have achieved. We now have laser guns that can shoot down targets thousands of miles away. We have Tasers that spit out plasma. The world’s diamond supply is going to crack and fall if China isn’t careful. The Chinese are working 24/7 on world dominance, just as the States are. There is a new race to occupy the lower orbits with lasers, communications, and spy satellites. Can you imagine in twenty years, or when we return to Earth, what the space area around Earth is going to look like? All this might not be here when we return. In a few years, it might all have been blown up!” VIN stated pointing at the majestic setting sun.
“Then your side gunner attributes should come into play?” asked Jonesy, collecting two more tall Tequila Sunrises from the waiter’s tray.
“Hey! I might be too old to be the side gunner then,” laughed VIN. “I’ll have to teach Mars my job.”
“I wonder what life on Mars, the planet, not your son, is going to be like,” Jonesy wondered, thinking about their next mission.
“I suppose we will live like underground rats for twenty years, or until a dome is built from that Nano-Silicone stuff, or until Ryan gets sick of living like a mole. Sitting out here like we are today, I think I’ll work under the sun lamps in a bathing suit with Suzi in the cubes and stay tanned.”
“The cube lamps won’t tan you,” Suzi commented. She held the two babies in her lap as Maggie pushed the wheelchair over to join their husbands and watch the sun disappear into the ocean.
“In the future, if I close my eyes I can always believe that we are back here,” replied VIN.
“That’s what the sauna-pool is for,” admonished Suzi. “Just safer without a sunburn.”
“What’s the fun in that, living like sickly-white old people underground in a rat cave?” asked Jonesy.
“Well, here’s an idea,” Maggie suggested, sitting down on a lounger with Saturn. “Since we have to refuel in Bermuda why don’t we land a few hours early? We can pick up some cases of Dark and Stormy, that black rum and ginger beer you guys fell in love with, and at the same time, we can go shopping for a big sun lamp or three, that really tans you.”
“Well, Ryan said that the rear cargo bay of SB-III is still empty, so we might as well fill it,” Suzi agreed. “That gives us 2,000 pounds. We purchased the entire fish shop down the road yesterday, and asked the guy to freeze it. That was 600 pounds of game fish and 300 pounds of squid in the two chest freezers that we can just squeeze through the aircraft door. If the freezers are 100 pounds apiece, plus the batteries we have to purchase to run them on the way home, we should have room for five to six hundred pounds of rum and a sun lamp.”
“Don’t forget, eighteen hundred pounds maximum cargo in the Gulfstream, minus the ten pounds of beach shells and 300 pounds of bloody beach sand you girls are taking up so that the kids can have a sand pit. We only have room for 100 pounds of cargo in the 650,” Jonesy interrupted. “Leave the beach sand. We can take rum and ginger beer instead.”
“Ginger beer is no problem. Buy me 50 pounds of ginger root, take more bottles of rum, and the biology department can supply you and the kids ginger beer instead of that horrible tasting root beer you Americans drink,” replied Suzi.
“We can ask for an extension cord in Bermuda to refreeze the freezers. If we pack them aboard tomorrow and allow them to get really cold in the aircraft, the freezers should stay frozen for nine to ten hours while we fly,” suggested VIN.
“Good idea, partner, that will save us another 100 pounds,” Jonesy added.
Refreshed, and with the Gulfstream feeling like an overloaded vacation car heading home, the group, sadly left their island of luxury and flew to Bermuda to complete their shopping. Even though the 900 pounds of frozen fish wouldn’t last the whole crew more than a few months, at least it would help them overcome homesickness. Each staple food on Earth was already becoming a luxury in their minds.
Bermuda was hot and sticky. An extension cord kept the fish frozen while they found a taxi to take them shopping; rum, and 30 pounds of Mexican-produced fresh ginger root, enough for Suzi to plant and nurture, were purchased in an open market. As a precaution, she called ahead to the airfield in Nevada to ask the food supply company to send over whatever ginger root they had, within twenty-four hours.
The overloaded Gulfstream 650 laboriously left Bermudan air space. Its interior looked more like an air force cargo freighter or a UPS aircraft than a $55 million luxury jet.
It was dark when they finally reached Nevada eight hours later. The runway lights came on as Jonesy came straight in from the east on a weird and rainy evening for the dry airfield. They hadn’t seen rain like this for at least a year, and the snowfall over Christmas two years earlier.
The crew immediately went to see Penelope Michel Pitt for the first time, and Jonesy couldn’t help but notice the difference with them all standing around the medical room, congratulating the happy couple. He remembered their first meeting over two years ago, when Penny had just joined the team. Including Ryan and Kathy who had just left on the most recent flight, they were all single and all people on a mission. Now they looked like a scene in a day care center: married couples chatting baby-talk with kids everywhere. Even Jonesy was beginning to mellow into fatherhood.
Doctor Rogers came in. His family was still up in America One with Martha the nurse on duty. He and Doctor Martin were waiting for their return flight; it was time to leave.
“Forty-eight hours, Penny,” said the doctor, “and I think little Penelope will be strong enough to go to space. We have the new foam crib ready in SB-I for Penelope.”
“Why don’t you guys go to the pool with Michael?” suggested Maggie. She knew when the time was right was to get rid of the men. “Give the poor man one of your new Dark and Stormy rums, and let us women do what we do best, gossip!”
Jonesy was called to the radio, the only piece of equipment left in Hangar One, a few hours later. It was Ryan in America One.
“I hope you haven’t filled SB-III’s rear cargo bay,” Ryan said over the radio 400 miles above Nevada.
“Unfortunately, we have. We have 300 pounds available cargo weight left,” Jonesy replied, telling him what they had purchased in the Indian Ocean as well as in Bermuda.
“Oh, crap!” replied Ryan. “All that stuff is valuable, especially the frozen fish.” The radio went quiet for a minute while the boss’s brain worked. “SB-III is ready to go, right?”
“Fueled up and ready to launch. The rain’s gone, the sky is its usual wall-to-wall blue,” Jonesy replied.
“It rained?” Ryan asked surprised. “OK, I have two unscheduled mini-plutonium reactors arriving this afternoon as well as two extra pounds of 238. When we got the extra two pounds of plutonium from NASA two weeks ago, I ordered the two extra nuclear batteries. Each battery can be carried around by a couple of space walkers in extremely low gravity conditions. I’ve just managed to wrangle the last two pounds of their first eight-pound production out of the government. These reactors are the same as you have in the front cargo hold in each shuttle, except they are oval-shaped with carrying handles and weigh 400 pounds each. You will have to figure a way to take as much stuff as possible.”
After the call ended Jonesy went back to the pool to think. “Allen, could you squeeze in another 100 pounds of cargo. Michael, what about you? I know you guys are loaded to the gunnels. Ryan has found another half a ton of radioactive equipment he wants up there. We are going to have to move the crew compartment from SB-III to one of yours. I reckon you could fit at least another hundred pounds of weight in there.”
For an hour they played around with cargo configurations. The crew cabin could take another 200 pounds of cargo, Michael could squeeze in another 100 pounds into the flight cockpit, and that left 200 pounds for Jonesy; he wasn’t going to leave anything behind, unless it was VIN’s crappy frozen squid!
Twenty minutes after dawn, Michael and Penny and their new baby launched in a slightly overloaded vehicle. He had done this launch three times and was familiar with the new system. All the astronauts had forgotten what the Dead Chicken was ever needed for.
Thirty minutes later Allen and a seven months pregnant Jamie headed up with the crew on board, leaving one last shuttle being towed out to the new launch pad, away from the hangars.
The astronauts said their last farewells to the two security men helping them launch and exactly 33 minutes after SB-II, the last of Ryan’s shuttles left Earth for a long time to come. When they would finally return, nothing would be the same.
Chapter 16
The Odyssey Begins
The next few days the crew in America One was packing away the last of the cargo while the mechanics and scientists completed the two space stations.
Several days after the final launch from Earth, the space stations were tested and successful and, two days past schedule, America One blasted out of orbit at 29,000 miles an hour. Ryan was in a darn hurry. He wanted to escape from Earth before he was asked to do someone else a favor. Their destination was Mars. SB-II and SB-III were still moving the two space stations into their permanent orbiting sequences around Earth; they would easily catch up to the mother ship when their task was completed.
Three orbits later, the two shuttles were on the right orbit over the southern border of the United States. Allen Saunders slowed to increase distance, while Jonesy and VIN speeded up. Allen and Michael slowly positioned their shuttle one half of an orbit behind Jonesy and then gently released the ISS at the correct speed, 120 miles above Earth. That made sure that when Ivan headed over the U.S. horizon to the east, the ISS came over the western horizon.
This slightly higher orbit would decrease the orbital decay of the two space stations, and they should both still be in orbit in 20 years. They did have their own thrusters and fuel to maneuver, but the supplies were limited until somebody launched from Earth to refuel them. The new plutonium-238 would also outlast any orbits.
Twenty-four hours after the mother ship had headed out into the middle of nowhere, the two shuttles followed suit. With their new Pulsers, it took the shuttles only a few hours to equal America One’s forward speed, already 120,000 miles ahead of them.
After 48 hours of orbits, Jonesy, with Allen in formation a mile away on his starboard bow, soared away from Earth. At 34,000 miles an hour, it would still take three days to catch up, as the ship’s speed was also increasing. Jonesy and VIN were used to these long flights and explained to Allen and Michael how to cope. The shuttles’ cockpits were slightly larger than the living quarters of the Astermine craft, but not equipped for long distance travel. At least the two captain’s chairs lay flat so they could strap themselves down to sleep. They were at zero gravity.
Since the craft were traveling directly away from Earth and the moon, radio communication between the planet and America One was already at its limits at 300,000 miles. Ryan radioed the president to say final farewells.
“Yes, we are in full rotation. We have 85% of Earth gravity on the upper level and 40% gravity on our mid-level area. Yes, Mr. President, we are full of supplies. After General Jones’ visit to the island, I’m surprised that there is any food left on Earth. Yes, the shuttles were overloaded on launch. SB-II and SB-III crawled into space slower than any of their previous launches. We have learned not to overload them again.” Ryan’s conversation with the president had to overcome a great deal of static. Jonesy was listening to the conversation, ready to assist if America One couldn’t hear. America One’s communication radios were already patched through SB-III’s radio system to aid the conversation in both directions. Both shuttles were tuned in to the conversation.
“Well, friend Ryan, and crew, I wish you God speed. I hope you find what you are looking for, and I hope you or your children return in my lifetime. I understand that we have only a day or so of communications left. By the way, Ryan, the Chinese Government accepted the first load of cut and polished diamonds. Thanks to you and your crew our national debt has decreased by 13% so far. I believe they will accept the rest of the shipment, although they don’t really have a choice. It’s the diamonds or nothing. But I believe we will meet all our debts with China and Japan, and the government will hold back a small amount for two budget increases, which Capitol Hill is in the process of discussing. We know that China and North Korea are powering up. We need to complete the same missile defense system, ‘Iron Dome’, that the Israelis achieved in 2012.”
“Didn’t they get the basic systems from the U.S.?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, we still have only the basic system, but we need to purchase their upgrades. We have to cover an area a thousand times larger than Israel,” replied the president. “For about 500 billion dollars, we can protect most of our large cities and decrease the prospect of a missile strike by about 60%. Over the next several years by increasing the second phase of ‘Iron Dome’ in combination with the two orbiting space stations, we will be able to shoot down enemy missiles in space. One day we hope to be 100% secure.”
“So, sort of an ‘Iron Dome’ in space?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, we had a system in place before, but the last president ended it altogether and destroyed much of what had been developed over decades.”
“So, the U.S. has to start again?” Ryan asked.
“I’m afraid so. What the last administration didn’t destroy on land, Mortimer destroyed in space. But, Ryan, I feel that the glass is still half-full, and the country will have a modern protection system in place within five to ten years.”
“Won’t other countries be doing the same?”
“Of course,” the president replied. “The next world war will be above us, in space, where you are now, and we hope to retain domination of space until you return. I must give you one word of warning, though. You will need a secret code to penetrate any of our modern systems on your return. The code has already been set up in our defense computers down here; they will stay dormant until our defense system is established. On your return you will be asked for three words. Only you and I will know the code as all submissions of these codes have been erased. The three words are the three names of the first three children born to you and your crew. In case somebody is listening, they are to be named in the reverse order of birth.”
“Yes, I have that recorded exactly as you stated it. I will keep the code safe,” Ryan replied.
The conversation was as private and scrambled as the latest systems could devise, but nobody knew who could be listening in. There was less than a one percent chance anybody could listen in, and the frequencies were automatically changed every few seconds, so any other listening computers had to scramble to find the channel the two men were talking on.
After farewells to all the crew, the last conversation with Earth ended. The silence after the conversation was a pretty poignant for Ryan, who sat on the Bridge with Captain Pete in command. The two shuttles behind them were gradually creeping closer.
Ryan felt an odd sensation. Absolutely nothing had changed since leaving orbit. The only difference was that outside space was getting slightly darker as Earth receded; it was their primary source light. There was absolutely no feeling of movement, change of direction, or any thrust from the engines when they lit up on autopilot from the onboard computers.
It was time for a fresh cup of coffee and a piece of chocolate cake. Ryan went down to the cubes to chat with Suzi, Mars and Mr. Rose, and to let Suzi know when her husband was expected to join them.
Three days later and already 600,000 miles from Earth, the shuttles got to within 20,000 miles of America One. Communications with Earth were completely nonexistent. The three craft were totally alone.
The entire voyage to planet Mars would take six months. This gave the build crew time to finally complete the interior of the ship and prepare for a gradual increase in population. The storage units were filled to the brim, but would empty over time as the luxury items from Earth were consumed and not replaced. Over half the corridor system was designated for storage, and the freight capsules connected onto the outside walls were also full of supplies. He gave permission for the crew to finally fill the pool. There was enough gravity at 80% of Earth’s to keep the water inside the pool, as it rotated upside-down on the upper level, around the middle of the craft. The thrusters working the rotation were spot on, needing little manual guidance; the computers kept them in tune.
Ryan, Captain Pete, Igor, Boris, and Vitaliy spent a couple hours each day monitoring energy usage from the outside reactor. Since most of the lighting consisted of the most modern LED system, the system required little energy. The heating stayed on constantly in the main areas, but was lowered when apartments had sleeping occupants. Nearly 55% of the daily usage was dedicated to keeping the interior of the ship warm. The six docked craft and freighters were also kept at 45 degrees Fahrenheit, the minimum temperature to keep them from freezing, unless they contained frozen supplies, like fuel tanks. The outer craft used up another 20% and the cubes the balance. Many of the systems, such as the cafeteria kitchen which used infra-red cooking units, were highly efficient and used minimum energy.
All corridors were walked every hour by two security guards. They often visited the lone member of the crew in the infirmary, Fritz Warner, who caught a ride back on the second to last shuttle out of Dodge. He was in a bad way, needing prosthetics for both a leg and an arm. The team of prosthetic specialists that had worked on Suzi and VIN’s new limbs were working on Fritz’s new limbs, and anticipated that Fritz would be mobile again by the time they reached Mars.
The poor man had gone through hell. In addition to his physical injuries, his new bride had been murdered. She had told him to expect it, but nobody could have foreseen the attack. This insult on diplomatic immunity had really angered the U.S. All diplomatic ties to China were ended and the Embassy was closed. The United Nations imposed sanctions on the world’s second most powerful country. Canada, Europe and Japan banned all imports from that country and in the course of a few weeks, China lost 75% of its export business. Repayment of the debt owed to China by the United States would compensate for only a fraction of the loss resulting from the ban of imports by the other large countries.
The arrogant Beijing government began to bully smaller countries to force them to increase imports. Warnings were fired off in both directions. The insults and threats diminished once the U.S., with the permission of Japan and South Korea, openly moved dozens of nuclear weapons into those two countries. Neither of the two countries liked China.
A month before Ryan reached Mars, the U.S. debt to the Chinese was completely paid off.
NASA, the U.S. Air Force, Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Planetary Resources, and dozens of other companies kicked into high gear, producing defense and new space systems to repel the promised attack from China. In low space orbit, the two laser-equipped space stations went about their silent business of defending the free world.
The crew aboard America One knew nothing of what was going on behind them. They were out of range and most had little interest in contemporary world affairs. The crew established daily routines which quickly became habit. The astronauts spent hours in the flight simulators to keep their flying skills up to par. After a month in America One, VIN and Jonesy became bored. Jonesy, in particular, was accustomed to an edgier life with serious challenges and moments of breathtaking excitement. The convention of living every day exactly as the day before was frustrating: eat, workout, simulator, three hours of security detail, eat, swim and sunbathe, simulator, and finally, sleep.
VIN worked hard with Suzi, his fingers becoming greener as time passed. Seven couples were adapting to family life with their new babies and two more women were pregnant. The crew would soon grow to more than sixty.
One thousand pounds of disposable diapers had been supplied by one of the shuttles; however, Nurse Martha realized that after ten children, they would have to turn to cloth reusable diapers. Diapers were the biggest new problem aboard ship!
Garbage was another weekly chore for many aboard. Everything possible was recycled, but a few objects, including diapers, could not be. One of the Russian freight capsules, frozen outside of the ship’s hull, was used as a garbage can. Once a week, a spacewalker took out the garbage and deposited it into the freighter. When the freighter was full, it was to be fired up and directed towards the sun where the garbage would be incinerated.
The exercise room, cafeteria, and pool room became the centers of meeting, relaxation, and gossip. Like in all human establishments, certain aspects of civilization could not be forgotten.
The exercise room, half a cylinder, could hold a dozen people at any one time. The small electric sauna was on for 16 hours out of every 24 and at least half of the crew used it daily. The pool area had half a dozen sun loungers, made by the build crew out of the older, softer Nano-Silicone, and the pool could hold three or four adults at a time. The two sun lamps, donated by Jonesy and Maggie, could only tan two people at a time. The lamps couldn’t really provide a good tan because too many people signed up to use them each hour, but the vitamin D supplied by the lamp was more important than the color of the skin.
Schedules and lists of users for everything were placed on walls everywhere.
It was decided that families could have the privacy of the pool room for one hour a day. Singles could mingle, up to ten people per hour, and rosters were filled with names. Ryan, Kathy and Lunar used their hour every day. It became a real relaxation center and the crew often thanked Suzi and Maggie for their forward thinking.
Every member of the crew had chores. Some were on cooking detail, while others, mostly male, did security. Life on the ship wasn’t any different than a naval vessel at sea or an average home, except that every chore was communal. Each member needed to work six hours out of every twenty-four, and Kathy, Nurse Martha and Martha Von Zimmer were in charge of daily duty rosters. Even Ryan had to participate just like anyone else. The only thing Ryan did not do was cooking detail; he was a lousy cook, and exchanged his hours in the kitchen with extra hours on the bridge.
There were weekly meetings of crew details either in the cafeteria or, for the astronauts and defense teams, on the bridge.
Two months into the journey a large mass appeared on the Bridge’s furthest radar searches, 199,000 miles behind the ship. The blip on the radar was about three times the size of America One, on a direct course, and very slowly catching up to them.
Chapter 17
What the hell is that?
“Guys, we are being chased by something. We believe that an asteroid, not an enemy space ship, is on a path close enough to ours that it could prove a danger,” Ryan began at a meeting the next morning.
“Do we have any actual enemies up here?” VIN asked.
“Precisely, Mr. Noble,” responded Ryan. As usual, fresh coffee was being served to the three shuttle commanders, Captain Pete, Igor, Boris, and VIN, who was in charge of security, by one of the cafeteria crew on duty.
“It’s still 196,000 miles behind us, travelling approximately 500 miles an hour faster than we are and in the same general direction. I put my money on an asteroid.
“Oh, no!” returned VIN. “Not more diamonds!”
“Hopefully not,” smiled Ryan. “We have all the diamonds we need, but what I‘m hoping is that there could be gases or metals we could use. We have enough rhodium aboard, but we do need other rare-earth metals like ruthenium, osmium; even nickel and cobalt could be worth mining, plus any gases that we can tank. This could be a good practice run for future Mars mining.”
“Why don’t we fly over to it and check it out before it catches up?” Allen Saunders asked.
“I already need a break from this ship, and I‘ve always wanted to walk on one of these asteroids like VIN and Jonesy did,” added Michael Pitt. “You guys have all the fun.”
“Wait until you smell your sweaty, unwashed crew member in the enclosed Astermine spacecraft,” laughed Jonesy, his usual direct self. “My partner VIN could certainly stink up the place on his diet of caviar and vodka.”
“Likewise, General Jones, with your dependence on beer and jerky. You think you smelled any better than I did?” VIN defended himself, smiling at the memory of what they had gone through aboard the mining craft.
“At least I smelled American, with the beer and jerky, not like some old fishing boat from the Black Sea,” Jonesy returned the serve.
“Thank you, gentlemen, and General Astronaut Jones, I’m a little partial to caviar, squid, and the fineries of life myself, as are many of us here. I’m not a country boy from Texas like you!” Ryan joked, winking at the others. “To get back to our next mission, before I put only regulation food pouches in the Astermine craft, I’m hoping that Captain Pete is right; that we have an asteroid bearing down on us. Its angle is less than a tenth of a degree off our course and will bypass us in about three weeks. On its current course, it will have passed within 130,000 miles of Earth, but with their loss of space-monitoring systems, they didn’t even see it go by. Maybe the asteroid-search telescopes did, but at that distance nobody really cared.”
“Are the mining craft ready to launch?” Ryan asked Captain Pete.
“Apart from fresh provisions and, as Mr. Jonesy eloquently stated, added luxuries, they can undock within twelve hours; it will take that much time to bring the ships up to maximum power. The computers are permanently locked in together and all our coordinates on this tail are already aboard.”
The only MMA, or Magnetic Metal Analyzer, is aboard Astermine One, and we already put in several more shovels and buckets from our stores,” added VIN, now Head of Mining Expeditions.
“Do you want to take Asterspace Three?” Jonesy asked Ryan.
“Maybe Suzi might want to check up on asteroid biological possibilities, and the family can come,” added VIN.
“You think there might be habitation on the asteroid? Or are you scared that the almighty space shark might be following us?” Jonesy joked, not understanding that side of science.
“Please, Mr. Jones, at least we know that Mr. Noble’s marriage to Suzi has given him a broader perspective of the basic sciences. Mr. Noble is actually right. Mr. Noble, please invite your lovely wife up here.”
Ten minutes later Suzi arrived in her wheelchair. The magnets always on under the bridge’s floor wouldn’t allow her to float as she usually did in the cubes. She always used a wheelchair to go from their apartment to the middle of the ship.
“Suzi, would you like to go and check out an asteroid a few hundred thousand miles behind us and catching up?” Ryan asked, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Of course,” Suzi replied. “Both Martha Von Zimmer and I must go. Dr. Bloem cannot leave and she can carry on the biology department. That is why Martha and I have been getting experience in the spacesuits; to one day go where no man has gone, only woman!” she joked.
“Both of you need to go?” asked Jonesy, working out the numbers and craft in his head. Suzi ignored him.
“I believe an asteroid will have more vital items in an enclosed space compared to what we will find on Mars,” Suzi continued. “I don’t even want to begin a search on a large planet. Asteroids should provide much of the information we need to find out. Hopefully, a few of you remember your basic school science lectures. However, I will make this lecture simple so Herr Jones can understand. First, water is a chemical compound with the chemical formula H₂O. A water molecule contains one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms, and here, on America One, we have the scientists and technology to split them into two of the most important elements we need to find. On an asteroid, we might find water in frozen or crystalline forms only. The same can be said for methane gas, and we can use both.”
Suzi laughed as Jonesy rolled his eyes. “He certainly couldn’t have done well in biology or chemistry class!” she thought.
“Gentlemen, a short science lecture, if you will bear with me. Besides the noble gases, nitrogen is the fourth most abundant element in the sun and the universe overall. Nitrogen is synthesized by fusion of carbon and hydrogen in supernovas. Due to the volatility of elemental nitrogen and its common compounds with hydrogen and oxygen, nitrogen is far less common on the rocky planets of the inner solar system, and it is a relatively rare element on Earth. However, as on Earth, nitrogen and its compounds occur commonly as gases in the atmospheres of planets and moons that have atmospheres. On the Earth, it is an indispensable ingredient of the biosphere, being essential to DNA, RNA and proteins. In other words, it is necessary for life’s information transfer and catalytic processes.
“An abundant exogenous delivery of nitrogen-ammonia, something we hope to find out there, might have been significant in early Earth’s molecular evolution; we should expect that it participated in numerous abiotic as well as prebiotic reactions. Many industrially important compounds, such as ammonia, hold organic nitrates for your propellants and explosives, Herr Jones and fellow astronauts. Also, all fertilizers contain nitrogen, as does Kevlar fabric, and antibiotics, drugs for blood pressure and even morphine for pain. Gentlemen, that, in a German nutshell, is why we need to find nitrogen. For everything! Sorry, Herr Jones, Ryan asked me up here, and I’m telling you why Martha Von Zimmer and I need to go with you. Nitrogen could be in the rock, or actually the whole asteroid could be surrounded by frozen water or methane, or even a concoction of different crystals in different rocks. Yes, Ryan, the asteroid could be surrounded by pure H₂O. That is why Earth has so much water.” Even Ryan learned something new from Suzi’s lecture.
“Let me continue. Hydrogen cyanide, urea, and other substances considered essential to the formation of the most basic biological molecules can be obtained from the salt Prussian blue. We can produce this salt on Earth, but Astrobiologists believe it can be found in its purest form in space, again in crystal form. When Prussian blue is dissolved in ammoniac solutions it produces hydrogen cyanide, a substance that could have played a fundamental role in the creation of the first bio-organic molecules, as well as other precursors to the origin of life, such as urea. I know for you astronauts, this is far above your limited brain capacity, so I will end there.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” replied Jonesy. “Lady, I just fly the transport, I don’t make it. I want to drink out of a bottle, not pee in it. I just want to bathe in our little swimming pool, not know what’s in it!”
The others laughed while Suzi looked at him, smiling. What else could anybody expect out of Herr Jones’ mouth?
Twelve hours later, the metal cover of the swimming pool was screwed into place, America One’s gravity rotation was halted, and the three Astermine craft, with SB-III as the protection shuttle, undocked and edged away from the mother ship. As expected, Suzi and VIN, both now experienced Astermine pilots, were housed with little Mars in Astermine One. Maggie was piloting Astermine Two with little Saturn and Professor Martha Von Zimmer aboard, a girls-only crew. Michael Pitt and Boris were in Asterspace Three, and Jonesy and Allen Saunders were riding shotgun in SB-III.
Michael and Boris, both experienced spacewalkers who loaded and unloaded arriving craft, were excited. It would be their first time close to an asteroid.
With all computers on the four craft aligned and interacting with Jonesy’s in SB-III, all four craft ignited reverse thrusters at the same time, and as America One began to rotate again, they fell behind.
First it was a hundred feet, then 300. The reverse blasts were only for five minutes, but a few minutes after the reverse blasts ended, the mother ship was a speck on a horizon that didn’t exist in space. Ten minutes after leaving her, she was gone into the nothingness of space.
When they turned their ships around 180 degrees, they were looking directly at Earth, which was a little larger than a tennis ball. The moon was not visible anymore. VIN, Jonesy and Maggie were accustomed to these distances, but for the rest it was as if they had just been marooned in the middle of a pacific, in a row boat, and there was nothing but water around.
“Wow! This is more like a Hollywood movie than anything else,” exclaimed Allen Saunders. “It’s like we were set adrift. I can see America One on our radar screen, but not with the naked eye.”
“Takes a bit of getting used to. America One is less than 300 miles ahead of us,” Maggie said.
“Powering up all thrusters for a second three-minute blast in reverse thrust mode this time,” Jonesy alerted the crews. He controlled all eight thrusters on the four ships with his computers. It was easier for one set of computers to keep all the craft within a two-mile area in these vast expanses of space.
The four craft slowed, and would do so for twelve hours as their forward speed was decreased by over 20,000 miles an hour. It would take five bursts before they would again turn into forward thrust and gradually speed up to equal the speed of the asteroid as it closed on them.
The radio was silent, apart from hourly radio messages to America One. On the Bridge, Ryan was also getting all the telemetry from the space ships and, as their range increased, it showed up on the Bridge’s multiple screens.
Twenty-four hours later, after breakfast, Jonesy sent the first message of the day. The crew had slept in alternate shifts for a twelve-hour stretch, with one astronaut always awake in one of the craft as lookout. There was nothing to see, just trillions of stars, the sun in the distance, and a tennis ball which was Earth.
They all spent time looking at the small ball, realizing that eight billion people were getting on with their lives, not knowing they were being watched from outer space.
By midday, they were halfway between America One and the asteroid, 130,000 miles behind them.
Over breakfast the next morning, VIN saw something far behind them. Jonesy had altered the computers slightly to allow the rock to catch up to them more quickly. They had sufficient fuel reserves on board, and with full thrust they could easily speed up to equal the speeding asteroid 300 miles behind them.
The asteroid was closing rapidly, and Jonesy increased the thrusters to full thrust for seven minutes. With the asteroid passing within five miles of them, it came and went within six minutes, catching up to them, passing, and then whizzing out of sight.
“Wow! That was a blast!” Michael shouted into the radio as the asteroid, which looked like a peanut in its shell, screamed by like an express train barreling through a railway station.
“That was worth coming up here to see,” added Allen. “That rock was moving faster than any F-16 on afterburner I have ever seen.”
During the next twenty minutes, the speed of the four craft increased rapidly to where the asteroid slowly came into view again. Jonesy switched the thrusters off, and waited as they closed in the asteroid. Three miles, 2 miles, and then less than a mile behind, he began working all four ships’ thrusters in reverse mode.
“Can you drop us on the rock, please, Herr Jones?” Martha Von Zimmer asked over the intercom.
“Not that easy, Martha,” replied Jonesy. “We need to observe the rotations of the asteroid. I need about fifteen minutes to let the computer cameras work on the incoming data, and then I’ll take us in.”
After several minutes the computers spat out the necessary data: length, 2,000 meters, width at the widest point, 890 meters; forward rotation, nil; backward rotation, one rotation every 57 minutes; sideward rotation, one rotation every 2 minutes; estimated gravity with rotation, 12% of Earth.
“Yippee!” exclaimed Suzi as the gravity amounts were read out. “Only three percent less than the cubes with the gravity off. Just enough to carefully walk on the surface. VIN, you can look after Mars. I’m going out there.”
Mini spacewalking baby carriers were in production, but were not yet completed. This asteroid was just too early for Mars Noble to attempt his first spacewalk in a baby bubble.
“OK, releasing all auto-pilots now. You astronauts are on your own. Maggie, you are the best chopper pilot here, other than me, of course. You take her in and remember DX2014. This baby has a far slower sideward rotation. Follow me down. I want to find a decent LZ (landing zone).”
Jonesy worked the thrusters and headed over the asteroid’s surface looking for any craters or darker areas that could be rock piles. The actual speed of the space ships and the asteroid through space were now aligned. It looked like they were all standing still and just floating in the darkness.
The sun still lit up one side of the asteroid as it rolled and Jonesy flew over to that area. At 500 feet above the rock’s surface everything on the surface became easy to see, thanks to the sun’s rays.
“Maggie, I see a cliff, but the whole surface of the rock glistens like it’s wet, like black ice….” Suddenly Suzi’s recent lecture hit him between the eyes at the same time Suzi admonished him and reminded the crew why it was glistening.
Martha Von Zimmer yahooed excitedly several times and a rapid conversation in German with Suzi ensued.
“OK, girls, I can’t hear myself fly. Can you keep the noise in the biology lab down so that we can actually get down there? Suzi, will this ice be like black ice? Could it be slippery?”
“I believe so, Herr Jones. But I also believe that over thousands of years of travel, this asteroid has picked up particles of matter, like our craft’s forward anti-matter shields do. Since it rolls in all directions, I believe the surface is not slippery, more like ice that has been covered over with sand particles.”
“Roger that. Maggie, behind that cliff about three hundred yards in front of my nose, go in to land. There is a nice flat area that can accommodate all of us.”
Gingerly, Maggie floated over the top of the LZ and compensated for the roll in both directions, while Allen and VIN watched how she did it. She verbally detailed her movements as she performed them.
“Three seconds port thrust, halt… one second forward thrust, halt … two seconds starboard thrust… rear of asteroid rising up slowly, one second aft thrust, halt, compensated. Vertical thrust going down, two seconds… 100 feet, 75 feet… starboard thrust half second, halt. Vertical thrust down, one second… 45 feet… 40 feet… 25 feet… halt. Port thrust spurt and halt. I’m totally aligned…vertical thruster going down…10 feet…… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… I’m on the surface, thrusters on idle. I’m not moving or sliding. What does it look like to you, Jonesy?”
“As stable as a rock. Excellent job, wife. Allen, you want to try?”
He did, and under Jonesy’s guidance he took twice as long as Maggie, but got the hang of it and put the second craft down about 70 feet from Maggie’s. VIN did much the same and finally Jonesy landed. The shuttle needed more room so he stayed 100 feet away from Astermine One.
Compared to DX2014, the gravity was soft and gentle. Jonesy and Maggie thought it was much easier to land. Maggie had only used 25 percent power to connect.
They radioed back to America One that they were down, and within an hour VIN and Boris exited through their respective docking ports with cords to tie down their craft. Mining leader VIN had devised a new way to tell if there was sufficient gravity to hold the space vessels down; he tried to pick Astermine One up by placing his gloved hands underneath the craft, bending down on one knee and, with his strong metal legs, literally tried to lift the craft up.
It didn’t budge and he told the teams that even his powerful legs were no match for the asteroid’s gravity. On this asteroid his craft must have weighed over 800 pounds, the maximum he could lift.
Martha Von Zimmer was impatient to suit up and get out, but VIN told her that she would have to wait until the team was ready for her. They had about ten days to work before the asteroid would catch up with the mother ship.
They had 40 empty aluminum canisters aboard the four craft; there was no room on America One to store any more until the Earth stores were depleted. And Ryan had ordered VIN to fill the empty canisters with whatever the biologists wanted.
Before VIN allowed Martha, Boris, and Allen to exit their docking hatches, he unloaded the rear of his craft, taking 30 minutes to lift out six canisters, shovels and buckets, and pull the MMA on its rails outside the craft. Then he permitted them to exit at the same time, giving them the same three-hour spacewalk window. Suzi would exit once he returned. One astronaut would remain in each craft until they felt secure on the asteroid. Suzi would work with Michael, while the others ended their stints and returned.
As soon as the “one step for whomever” phrases were uttered by the newbies, VIN got them to walk around the area, remaining within sight of the craft, to determine what lay inside the perimeter. They found several rock piles, and VIN returned with a rock for the MMA. He already knew what it was, exactly what they found on DX2014: platinum and its family of metals. He was surprised when the machine analyzed the rock as only 41% platinum, and iridium at 22%. Palladium was next at 12%, with ruthenium at 11%, nickel at 7%, and traces of cobalt at around 5%.
Martha returned with a piece of the ice they were standing on, and VIN cut it down to fit into the machine. This time, less than 5% of the ice was metal, osmium, with traces of gold, platinum and nickel.
“If we clean the crystal up, I believe we will have at least 90% water or methane,” Martha excitedly related over the intercom.
“We need both, Martha,” added Suzi from inside Astermine One.
“Ja, Herr Noble,” she continued in her usual German authoritative tone. “I want one canister full of those rocks and one canister full of the ice. You get the rocks, and we will chip at the ice crystal over there. The ice, whatever it is, looks dirtier over there for some reason,” she said, pointing. “Go over there by the cliff and that will give us more metal and less water.”
VIN, now used to the manner in which she and Suzi issued orders, did as he was asked. He carried over a canister, and within 90 minutes had almost filled it. At about three-quarters full it was heavy, and when he lifted it, he struggled slightly. He did the calculations in his head and determined with gravity being so low the estimated 200 pounds of asteroid weight was equivalent to 900 pounds of Earth weight.
He returned and placed the canister inside Astermine One’s hold, and joined the other three who were chipping away at the ice surface with the shovels. At minus 170 odd degrees, the crystal shattered pretty easily; the team had already filled six canisters with chips.
At the end of VIN’s three-hour shift, he packed away two of the canisters in his craft’s hold and entered through the docking port. Within 25 minutes, he helped Suzi exit through the same port to go to work, and he took over babysitting duties.
It was easy to view the workers from inside Astermine One. VIN heard Jonesy telling Ryan what he had seen from his craft. VIN took over and told Ryan the MMA readings and what they had collected on his first stint. He was cut off before he ended as the asteroid’s continuous rotation turned the ship out of direct sight of America One.
Two hours later Suzi returned with Michael. They had walked the area and not found anything different. They packed another two canisters with crystals or ice, and she returned excitedly to VIN and Mars.
“I think we should hit this asteroid with the laser beam and dig a hole in it. How deep do you think we could get down?” Suzi asked VIN once he had taken off her helmet. Her cheeks were rosy and her blonde hair messed up from the helmet and the exertion.
VIN chatted for the next hour with Jonesy and Ryan, discussing what Suzi had suggested. Jonesy asserted that no craft should be on the asteroid when a laser was turned on it, but before that, the canisters should all be filled. Then they could blast the rock several times to see what would happen.
The crews rested for the next twelve hours, eating, sleeping, and watching movies. The asteroid’s rotation was no different than America One, except that they all had windows. After a few hours, watching Earth or the sun became boring as they passed overhead.
It was VIN’s turn to work again, and he joined Allen on his second asteroid walk. For the first 90 minutes they filled two more canisters, leveling that particular rock pile. Then they helped the crystal crew fill more canisters. The crews rotated shifts again, with the crystal crew going back. With the closest rock pile gone, VIN decided to walk further afield with Maggie who suited up and went out. Martha took over baby duties. Since Maggie was going out, Jonesy suited up and joined them. They looked for a new rock pile, and for the first time they disappeared from the view of those watching them from the craft.
It took Maggie ten minutes to report something new. It was she who discovered the diamonds on DX2014, and now she had located something new.
“Wow!” Maggie said over the intercom. “There seems to be a vein of something silvery over here. It looks like pure silver.” The two men went over. VIN got out his hammer and within a few seconds broke the vein into smaller rocks.
“It looks like pure silver,” Jonesy stated. “Know what it is?”
“Nope!” replied VIN and Maggie together.
VIN grabbed a decent-sized rock, as did Maggie and Jonesy, and walked over to the MMA. The analysis excited Martha and made VIN smile. The result was 93% molybdenum, and 4% gold or nickel. The machine was having trouble discerning the breakdown; maybe it was a mix of both. Gold was important for certain tasks but certainly not as valuable as it was on Earth, and they were not going there.
“Molybdenum is the silvery metal,” Martha explained over the intercom. “It has the sixth highest melting point of any element. It readily forms hard, stable carbides in alloys, and for this reason most of the world production of the element (about 80%) is in making many types of high-strength steel, including high-strength alloys and super alloys. It is not as strong as our Nano-Silicone, but it could be added to it to strengthen certain building parts. Herr Noble, I want at least six canisters of the molybdenum.”
Feeling like a nagged husband with a shopping list, VIN grabbed an empty canister out of Astermine Two and returned to the vein. Jonesy and Maggie did the same.
Over the course of the next two days, the vein was chipped out and six canisters were filled. VIN estimated that they had about two tons of the stuff. It was very heavy. The dozen or so canisters remaining were filled with the ice or crystals. Within a week of landing they filled all of the canisters.
It would be three more days before they would catch up with America One, only 35,000 miles ahead of them. At this range they had good 24/7 communications with the mother ship and Ryan suggested they come home. It would take them a day to catch up, the same amount of time for the build crew to unload the canisters, and a day to transfer empty canisters for a second round.
Three days later, the asteroid caught up with the ship. Captain Pete had increased the ship’s speed by 450 miles an hour to equal the speed of the approaching rock, now only several miles behind them. It would pass by within a mile of the ship. They wanted to get in front of it before Jonesy attacked it with his laser.
SB-III detached herself from a non-rotating mother ship when the asteroid passed by. As it sped in front of them, Jonesy, with VIN in the second seat, went after it.
America One slowed down to its cruise speed, and the two shapes ahead disappeared into the nothingness of space.
“One thousand miles in front of you,” Jonesy reported three hours later.
“I think we are at a safe distance for you to fire,” Ryan replied. “Try to dig a hole, not pepper the rock with machine gun fire. If we find something, we can take in one of our new mining spiders and let it dig out rocks.”
Jonesy set his sights on the landing zone he had previously used and coordinated the shuttle with the rotation of the rock, turning as the rock did. He finalized the aiming device onto a specific point from 500 yards out. At this height he was in a ballet with the asteroid.
He fired a three-second burst and nothing much happened, so he fired a five-second burst in exactly the same place and saw what looked like a black hole on the surface. Then, he fired a seven-second burst at full power and the area literally exploded, showering shrapnel everywhere; some glanced gently off his forward protection shield. He blasted another three times at full power and shrapnel exploded out. There was, in fact, a hole developing on the flat surface, especially visible when the sun shone on that particular area.
With Ryan’s permission he fired several more times. Each time bits and pieces spewed out to float in space around his ship. He mentioned this to Ryan who asked Captain Pete to head a few degrees off course and to speed up slightly, as at an equal speed any small pieces wouldn’t hurt the outer walls.
Jonesy decided to hit the rock one more time and this decision was the death blow of the asteroid. After recharging the laser, Jonesy blasted it with all the power possible. The asteroid broke apart into hundreds of pieces, all slowly radiating out in different directions. Jonesy immediately reported this outcome to Ryan who ordered Captain Pete to take evasive action. He quickly activated their thrusters to speed the ship away from the spreading pieces. With full thrusters on reverse the mother ship slowed 1,800 miles behind the explosion as Jonesy also sped away from the debris.
Captain Pete maneuvered the ship through the debris. It was vastly spread out and not in any danger of hurting the ship. Hundreds of smaller shards of ice or crystal bounced off the forward areas of the ship, but did not have enough momentum to do any damage.
Jonesy docked a couple of hours later. He had enjoyed the firing practice. Back on board he dutifully sought Martha out to tell her the bad news, her new asteroid was gone. She wasn’t very happy about that.
The excitement was over. The Bridge got the ship back onto course for Mars, and the scientists began their research on the rocks and crystals after allowing the radioactivity to decay over a week.
Chapter 18
Is that a round asteroid or a baby planet?
A month later and halfway to Mars, Jonesy was sitting in the Bridge one morning chatting with Ryan and VIN when Martha Von Zimmer and Petra Bloem arrived with cups and a carafe of water.
The men drank the water which tasted like water always tasted aboard ship, clean but with a slight metallic tinge.
“Don’t tell me, the ice from the asteroid?” Ryan asked enjoying the water.
“Correct, Commander Richmond,” Martha replied to her boss. “Pure water. We collected 1,300 gallons of it for drinking, and we are splitting the other 1,300 gallons into oxygen and hydrogen. The oxygen we can breathe and the hydrogen will replace the fuel used to collect the ice. That is self-sufficiency for you.”
Thirteen hundred gallons, that would be at least two launch loads if we hauled it up from Earth,” Ryan observed.
“Well, Martha,” replied Jonesy, “at the next asteroid supermarket, we could see if there are any potatoes and we could turn the water into something more powerful.”
“What is that, Herr Jones?” asked Martha.
“Vodka, or schnapps, in your language, Martha,” replied Jonesy, smiling sweetly.
“Dom kopf!” replied Martha. “You men are all alike,” and she looked at Jonesy stone-faced.
“Commander, I have the report on the rest of what we found in the asteroid supermarket, as Herr Jones thinks of it,” she continued. Ryan tried hard to look serious. “We have cleaned and purified all the metals for reuse. We have 91 kilos of pure rhodium. Gentlemen, I do not work in the America method of weights and measures, multiply it by 2.2 to get pounds. Palladium, 74 kilos; ruthenium, something we really need, 18 kilos; platinum, 202 kilos; nickel, 195 kilos; cobalt, 92 kilos; pure gold, 13 kilos; erbium—a great find and the most valuable rare-Earth metal for our future laser mining needs—11 kilos. I will not give you a lecture right now, Herr Jones, but I will say that erbium is a valuable resource to continue our laser research. Amounts of erbium are already in the laser you used to destroy my asteroid. Let me continue: gadolinium for magnet production, 7 kilos; holmium, also for laser production, 6 kilos; scandium, 5 kilos. Scandium mixed with aluminum is already in our ship walls as an alloy. This valuable rare-earth metal also helps produce mercury-vapor lamps, a system of easy accessible lighting for our future underground caverns on Mars. The last really valuable rare-earth metal pulled out of the ice is ytterbium, extremely valuable in our future infrared laser research and production. We now have three kilos of this metal.”
“It sounds like we achieved a lot,” replied Ryan. “The first locally-grown, asteroid-mined produce, just for us.”
“All free. Potatoes would have cost more,” added Jonesy.
“And then Herr Jones goes and blasts apart my valuable asteroid,” she admonished angrily. She handed Ryan his copy of the list, turned around and with her always-quiet accomplice, strode off to continue her work. Ryan then realized that this now disintegrated asteroid had been far more valuable to research than DX2014 ever was.
By this time Earth was just another distant star, millions of miles behind them, and even the sun had shrunk slightly. At the halfway mark Earth and Mars were 61 million miles apart. By the time America One reached the red planet, because of where Mars would be in its orbit around the sun, the distance would have grown by 12 million miles, so in theory they weren’t half way.
Construction inside the ship was complete. Three cylinders on the mid-level consisted of more than 20 small offices for the team of scientists who worked on all the projects needed for space travel, and they were finally available to move into them. The heads of departments, five of them, were all in one cylinder on the upper level; these offices had been complete for some time.
Suzi’s department of biological growth, just one office, was inside the cubes, to allow Suzi access to lesser gravity to float around. Mr. Rose also had his own office at this low-gravity level. He was happy to either float around or use magnetic shoes.
VIN often helped in Suzi’s area. Little Mars was now four months old and enjoyed floating around chained to his mother or father. However, to ensure bone growth, the doctors only allowed the babies to be in low gravity conditions for a maximum of four hours per day.
Life aboard was now very routine and slow for the astronauts. The scientists and others had full workloads. Jonesy spent a lot of time working out, swimming, or sleeping; he was at the stage where if an asteroid or the Chinese Space Force didn’t appear pretty quickly, he was going to go out and find something.
With the weakening sun the area around the spaceship seemed to get darker and darker. Many noticed the subtle change in light when in the Bridge with the lights on low, and when peering outside at the stars that never changed.
From the bridge, which did not rotate, the stars never moved, disconcerting for humans on Earth used to watching the night skies constantly change. On Earth, some days there was no moon, some days a full or half moon. The moon never stayed in the same position to other stars, and the stars moved around the night sky as well. On America One’s bridge nothing ever moved outside the windows. It was as if they were looking at murals of the night sky through the windows.
Time began to stand still for many, especially the non-scientists. Jamie Saunders gave birth to a fine baby girl, the third baby girl in a row. Once again the solar system was the reference for choosing a name, and the newest crew member was named Pluto Jane Saunders.
Over beers, Allen and Jonesy often played chess and chatted. Jonesy said that Pluto was a boy’s name and Allen and Jamie should call their baby, if it was a girl, Mercury, or plain Moon. Jamie didn’t like either, so Pluto, a boy’s name in Jonesy’s mind, was given to the baby girl.
“Your boy Mars, and Martha’s boy Jacob are going to have a field day with all these chicks up here, whichever planet we are on,” Jonesy said to VIN over Saturday night beers a few weeks after the birth. The two partners had a free night; no security detail, no chores, and they decided to reenact life on the Seychelles island beaches while relaxing at the pool. The sun lamp was on full power, the room warm and two pitchers of ice-cold space beer were at their side. It was the closest the men could get to heaven, while actually being up there, in heaven, wherever it was.
“I wonder if it’s in the water,” VIN replied, talking to himself.
“What’s in the water?” Jonesy asked, his eyes closed to bring the imaginary island beach scenes closer and make them more realistic.
“We used to say that in Iraq,” VIN replied, also in a bathing suit and lying back, eyes closed. “We used to walk through small desolate villages, around an oasis, or around a well in the shadow of a mountain range. Sometimes, all the kids we met were boys, and in other villages, there seemed to be a mass of girls. We always assumed that all these different villages got together once or twice to marry the kids off.”
“So you think we could have the same problem up here?” Jonesy suggested.
“I spoke to Suzi. Mars, our boy was actually conceived on Earth; your Saturn, too, so that’s the average gender distribution for babies conceived on Earth. On this ship we have two baby boys and now seven girls, and three more couples are pregnant. Suzi thinks that if all three of these babies are girls, not only will Mars and little Jacob have romantic days ahead, but it will prove her theory that the lack of gravity is changing our reproductive averages for some reason.”
“We need a war or something to get our minds off all this science,” Jonesy replied.
“Your beer was made with science, General Jones,” remarked VIN as he helped himself to another pint. And they argued that important topic until the sound system squawked out a message around the ship.
“All astronauts to the Bridge, astronauts to the bridge in ten minutes. Out.”
Jonesy and VIN were not entirely in sound mind and body when they arrived, and the door opened to “swish” them onto the bridge. “A real night off, and I can’t fly for eight hours, because I’ve been drinking,” admitted a smiling Jonesy, taking a seat.
“I would expect no less than that, Mr. Jones,” smiled Ryan. The “General” Jones thing had sort of stayed on Earth. “OK, we have found another fish for you guys to hook. She is a big baby, an asteroid about 100,000 miles to our starboard and about 90,000 miles ahead of us. She came on radar a little over an hour ago and Captain Pete and I estimate that she is about 2,000 times bigger than Martha’s asteroid that you blew up,” smiled Ryan at Jonesy. “This piece of space rock is about 50 times the size of DX2014, and is travelling in the same direction we are, albeit slower and one degree off our course. We will cross the asteroid’s bow in about seven days travelling starboard to port, and will pass about 1,500 miles ahead of us. She is so big that we will be able to see her from that distance.”
“I believe we have a nice window to visit this asteroid and check out her mining attributes,” added Captain Pete. “If the mining craft leave with SB-III, just like the last time, it will take you three days to get to her. A nice six-day window opens up and you guys mine what you can, depart the asteroid at the latest 100,000 miles out on our port side, and take the same amount of time and fuel to return.”
“I want the same crew, but don’t blow it up this time, Mr. Jones,” smiled Ryan. “It pisses Martha off, and I haven’t heard anything else from her, except that you blew up her rock.”
Twelve hours later, both men still feeling the effects of their space-beer binge drinking, the four craft left America One, this time with double the number of empty canisters to fill. There was still no storage room anywhere on the mother ship, and any samples they returned with would have to stay in the cargo bays of the smaller craft themselves.
The ride was soft and silent. Jonesy’s computers were locked onto the asteroid. Chess, movies, and sleep was the routine for the 60 hours it took to approach it. This large asteroid was coming towards America One’s direction of travel at an angle, and Jonesy set up the same turning maneuver they had done approaching DX2014: coming in on a long 170-degree curve to position themselves behind the asteroid, and then catch up to it.
This asteroid looked like a small planet, or a moon; it was not shaped like an extended sausage, or a peanut like the previous two had been. This unnamed asteroid was round, as round as earth, shiny, and rotating slowly.
VIN was happy seeing this, because on this mission, they had two newly developed mining spiders on board. Armed with mini lasers and a tenth of a pound of plutonium-238 for each, these guys could melt holes in anything. This planet looked like it needed some melting. VIN thought it looked like a ball of steel when the weak sunlight shone on it 200 miles ahead of them.
“Probably very little gravity,” Jonesy said over the radio.
“I don’t know; she’s at least sixty miles wide, and the computer is showing that she rotates once every seven hours. She must have some decent gravity,” VIN replied.
“I checked her direction, and ours, and her relationship to Mars,” chimed in Ryan, speaking from the Bridge while listening to the conversation. “She is travelling 8,000 miles an hour slower than we are. By the time she reaches Mars, with her angle, she will pass by Mars within 10,000 miles, about six months after we get there. On her current trajectory, this asteroid has an extra 39 million miles to travel to approach Mars’ current orbit. If you guys find anything of interest, we can leave a couple of mining spiders on the asteroid to build a cavern for us. If we find nothing on Mars within six months, we could leave and hitch a ride on this vehicle. The computers show that if America One stations herself in a low orbit around the asteroid, we would become her moon, and travel across the solar system for free.”
“I also got the computers to look at her orbital trajectory,” added Captain Pete. “This asteroid completes the same long, oval loop. The computers have been following her for four days now. She has an elongated orbit around the sun, and believe it or not, she bypasses Mars every 9.1 years, Jupiter every 11 years or so, Saturn every third orbit, and Earth every 13.3 years or so. We only have a semi-accurate reading of her orbit so far.”
“A bit of a long wait for her to come around Earth to drop us off,” suggested Jonesy.
“We could look at this asteroid—which the computers are telling me is an M-type asteroid with heavy amounts of iron and nickel—as a free bus ride, or a vacation RV to spend weekend getaways on,” laughed Ryan in return.
The crews began work to land the four craft. As they neared it they saw pockmarks depicting strikes from other asteroids. They weren’t as deep as those they had seen on the moon or on the first two asteroids, and it showed that the rock was comprised of sturdy materials. It sure look liked a grayish-blue cannon ball blasted out from gigantic cannon somewhere in the universe.
“Let me tell you what this M-type asteroid can offer us,” came Martha Von Zimmer’s voice with the beginning a new lesson; Jonesy rolled his eyes in SB-III. He was glad that his wife and Martha got on so well together, but he wouldn’t allow Martha to crew on his ship.
“There are good biological uses for iron,” continued Martha smiling happily; she knew that she was riling the poor pilot. “Iron is necessary for plant and animal life. It is present in the hemoglobin molecule and assists plants in the manufacture of chlorophyll. Iron sulfate is used in the treatment of anemia. If you mix iron oxide with aluminum powder, you can ignite it to make a thermite reaction.”
“Now that sounds like I might get to like this rock,” Jonesy interrupted. The rest of the crew laughed enjoying Jonesy’s dilemma.
“This reaction is used in welding, purifying ores, and in fireworks,” the scientist carried on unperturbed. “Iron is used in making magnets, electromagnets, paints, dyes, insecticides, and is used in some water filtration systems. With iron always comes nickel. Nickel plays important roles in the biology of microorganisms and plants. Nickel is used in many specific and recognizable industrial and consumer products, including stainless steel, magnets, and our future production of rechargeable batteries.
“Also, enzymes of some microorganisms and plants contain nickel which makes the metal an essential nutrient for them,” added Suzi from in Astermine One, and adding to their Chief Astronaut’s bad attitude toward the lecture.
“OK, that’s enough science crap for today, ladies and others,” interrupted Jonesy. “I need to get us down, and if you don’t let me, I’m going to get the gun and blow this shiny marble to smithereens.” That shut Martha Von Zimmer up.
The asteroid’s rotation was easy to maneuver, it was only in one direction, and it was big enough for them to go into orbit; one by one they parked next to Jonesy. That was it for the work day; Jonesy needed to run numbers through the computers for gravity. He knew the results a millisecond before they did. His engines had used double the thrust to get him down, which meant that there was more gravity on this planet compared to the last one. He was pretty accurate, the computers showed 59 percent of earth’s gravity. They weren’t going anywhere and were secure on the asteroid.
Twelve hours later VIN was, as always, first out to unload the mining equipment as well as the two spiders from Asterspace Three. Ryan had spoken to Martha an hour earlier and both had decided that ten canisters of iron and nickel would be enough. This asteroid was predicted to be composed of a limited range of materials they needed, especially the Rare-Earth metals. Also VIN noticed that there were no rubble piles on this one, nor any ice. It felt like solid metal underneath his feet.
He hit the ground with a shovel, he couldn’t hear anything, but he did feel the vibration of metal against metal. Apart from the spiders digging in, they could only search around for loose rocks or stones. There was no way they would get through this rock. VIN asked Boris, the spider specialist, to come out, and told everyone else to stay put.
Between VIN and Boris, they found a smooth flat area about 200 feet from the ships. VIN selected the place because there was a cliff on one side about 20 feet above his head, and the flat ground was pockmarked with small holes big enough to put his fist into. It was like blast shrapnel had hit this particular area, or somebody had tried to dig here before, to test the area. He laughed internally at the idea, telling himself that he was either going mad, or had already gone mad. People digging here? What were the chances of that?
He and Boris programmed the spiders’ computers and watched as their lasers turned on, emitting short intermittent blue light blasts at the rock between their eight feet. The two spiders began the vertical shaft by standing on opposite sides of the selected site and poured laser fire onto the same piece of rock between them. The hole had been computerized to be the exact size hole to have a docking port installed one day at its entrance, if necessary.
Once the spiders were thirty feet underground, they could be programmed to start tunneling a larger horizontal underground structure. Their lasers could blast rock as high at four feet above their bodies, creating underground corridors and rooms in levels of eight feet. Ryan and his scientists didn’t want large underground spaces, as they didn’t want to waste atmospheric air by pumping it into them.
These spiders were about the same size and weight as VIN, ten times more powerful, and they could do just about anything with their eight legs. They could also work 24/7 for the next couple of decades. All that was needed was a “dig” diagram mapped out on their main computers. The CAD program that controlled them was like a computerized design program. The length, breadth, and height of a hole or cavern could be programmed into the computers, and they would automatically work as a team to complete the task, allowing for levels within the cavern.
It was interesting to see how fast they burrowed into this asteroid, causing minute chips and rocks to spew out in all directions. Once they blasted rocks loose, each spider had a shovel system under its belly, which would empty the hole of loose rubble. Next, they would fill an aluminum canister with rock and carry it with four legs while walking out of the hole with the other four. VIN knew the spiders could walk faster than he ever could, even using only four of their legs. They could climb up a tunnel or along a floor at up to 30 miles an hour with a 500-pound load of rocks in a canister.
Once out of the cavern, they would place the rocks at a pre-programmed location. Of course, Boris programmed the robots to place the canisters close to the ships and return with an empty canister.
The spiders were already working two hours after the two men stepped onto the asteroid so they still had an hour to check out the surrounding area.
VIN permitted Martha and Michael to exit the vehicles. The two newbies were to unload a few more canisters from the craft, inspect the metal chips blasted loose by the spiders, and begin collecting them. Once the two emerged, VIN and Boris went further afield. They found a slope to walk up onto the ledge where they could see further.
“It is really weird on this planet,” VIN told everybody listening to him, including the America One Bridge crew. “It is smooth and clean of dust up here. Also the daylight hours are less than three hours in length. When we first exited the sun was over the one horizon, and now it’s about to set over the other. I suggest all the craft turn on your external lights, so we can continue work.”
For 30 minutes they looked around for rubble piles; there weren’t any to find. What they did find was a vertical hole hidden behind the small cliff in the surface only thirty feet from where their spiders were digging. It was nearly perfectly round and slightly smaller than the one their spiders were digging. VIN aimed his helmet light into the dark hole. The light penetrated only several feet, and stopped revealing rubble that looked like melted rock. A cold shiver went down his back.
“Boris, what do you make of this hole?” VIN asked.
“You know, I have a feeling that something made this hole. It is too perfect to just be a hole made by an asteroid hit. I don’t know, but the edges are cracked and jagged slightly more than ours will be. It is very old, you can tell by the weathering. VIN, I don’t know what to say; maybe it was made by a piece of molten lava, or a hot comet, by the melted rock at the base.”
It was time to return to the ships and a twelve-hour rest.
Over their rest period, other spacewalkers went out in pairs to collect the shards of rock. By the time VIN and Boris returned the two spiders were already two feet deep into the hole. They headed back to the other hole they discovered, searched around the area, but found nothing.
The days came and went every three hours. The rapidity of day to night to day again was very disconcerting and two of the crew were already feeling ill.
During their next shift, VIN and Boris joined Jonesy and family in SB-III, and they spent twenty minutes during the daylight hours flying a hundred feet above the surface of the asteroid. They saw a second hole, about a hundred feet away from the first one, and Jonesy put the craft down.
VIN, Boris and Maggie exited to examine the second hole; it was exactly the same size and in the same condition as the first, old and very cracked, only one foot deep, with the same solid, melted rock sealing it. There were several dozen loose rocks lying around it.
Boris was on one knee, feeling the solid, sealed entrance to the hole. “It looks like the rocks were pushed up from underneath. The force must have been extremely hot because they melted together. Whatever pushed them up must have spewed all these rocks out around the hole. I believe now that it was some sort of volcanic reaction from inside the planet, not from a comet hitting it.”
“I have an idea about this,” Maggie offered. “Maybe there was a volcanic explosion inside the asteroid, just like on Earth, and lava spewed up creating these round exit holes to release pressure. I bet when these rocks are analyzed they will show volcanic activity.” Both men nodded, happy that a woman could give them a reasonable, alternative to thinking that somebody had been there before them.
VIN and Boris felt relieved, and now with the possibility of something hot and dangerous under their feet, on such a small round asteroid, they wanted to leave for home as fast as possible. What might happen if the spiders hit lava and it began to spray out over them?
Ryan, listening in to all conversations, agreed that they should leave after the next shift. He asked the three crews to fill a canister with any loose rocks they found for analysis on board the mother ship.
They returned to the first landing zone to find one of the spiders still hard at work, now eight feet deep. The other was on standby mode waiting for the other to complete the tunnel so it could enter and work in a different area.
After two more shifts, the ten canisters were filled, plus the one from the second site. They had been on the asteroid for three days and within ten hours, it was going to pass within 1,500 miles of America One. It would be a short trip home.
Because they had six months before the planet approached Mars, the second spider wasn’t really needed. Ryan directed Boris to reprogram the first spider to complete a two-level internal chamber beginning 25 feet under the surface, 60 feet across, and eight feet high.
The spider’s computerized readout analyzed that at the current digging speed, the cavern would be complete in 152 days and six hours, or in just over five months.
Boris set up an area within thirty feet of the hole, where the sider would deposit the rubble it dug out, and programmed smooth walls and floor. A slightly rough ceiling wouldn’t matter, as with the good gravity, they wouldn’t be walking on the ceiling.
The four ships lifted off two hours later and exited orbit towards America One. The single robot continued its work. It didn’t need solar power, and with its tiny power pack of plutonium-238, it could work underground 24/7. As they headed away, Maggie and Suzi agreed over the intercom that they hoped it wouldn’t be lonely. VIN replied that he hoped the robot wouldn’t be waylaid by a female robot blinking its blue light at the masculine spider. Jonesy decided not to contribute to the conversation.
“Great job!” stated Ryan as the mining team gathered in the cafeteria, after bathing and cleaning up. The bridge had actually seen the asteroid, the size of a lit-up star in the night sky pass by several hours earlier. It had passed from left to right in front of them, and they would see it again in the near future.
Chapter 19
Mars sighted.
The next three months aboard America One went by without many more asteroids coming into range of the 200,000-mile radar screens. One passed by 170,000 miles away, traveling over 100,000 miles an hour, which made Ryan realize that the range of their defense system, would not give them enough time to dodge a bullet if a rock headed their way at high speed. Boris, Martha and Igor were sure that even a million miles an hour was possible out here in the deepness of space.
Nothing remained still except the sun itself. Everything from a tiny piece of rock to the largest planets was on the move, if not in orbits around the sun or other planets, then just passing through space. Every object in space was moving, which made something standing still just as dangerous, due to excessive high speeds.
The only revelation from the last asteroid came a month out from Mars; it surprised everyone, especially, Maggie, VIN and Boris. The loose rocks they had retrieved from the second location revealed no sign of any volcanic activity. Something, with temperatures of over 2,000 degrees, had broken them up, but it was not volcanic or lava. Whatever it was, it appeared to have melted and sealed the hole.
Ten days later, Martha and her team reported even more spell-binding news. The melting had occurred over ten thousand years ago. That relieved VIN and Boris somewhat.
Jonesy remarked that at least the poor lonely spider left on the asteroid wouldn’t be fried spider by the time they could retrieve it.
Two weeks later, Mars, slightly starboard to the center of the Bridge, appeared as a red marble. The sun had decreased in size slightly but was still powerful enough to light up their destination. They weren’t heading directly to the planet, but to where it would be in two weeks.
Many, in addition to Jonesy, had grown weary of the long flight. Six months of being cooped up in a space ship was certainly a challenge to get used to. He and the other pilots were raring to go; they wanted to get out and do some flying.
America One had been designed to always stay in orbit and never land on any planet. Her landing undercarriage had been designed for when new vertical thrusters would be placed on her and then, one day, maybe land on another world. Unfortunately the maximum gravity could be no more than 30% of Earth’s, or the ship’s superstructure and cylinders could collapse.
“Team, here are the facts about Mars,” started Ryan the next morning at a flight crew meeting in the Bridge. “Length of day, 24 hours 37 minutes; temperature, same as space, down to a cold minus 190 degrees on average, and possibly minus 237 at one of the poles in midwinter. It can be much colder on Mars than the average temperature we have had up here in space. Atmosphere, 95% carbon dioxide, 0.13% oxygen and other gases. But, what interests me is the gravity: 38% of Earth’s; nearly low enough to land America One, but unfortunately not low enough to risk it.”
“Are we going to tour all the unmanned, human-made junk heaps littered around the planet?” Jonesy asked. “I’m sure we could power them up and get them to do things like bring us coffee, or a beer when we are slaving away digging holes in the planet.”
“Yes, we will have salvage rights, and I’m sure that we can do so if we need them,” smiled Ryan. “But first we need to decide on a place to land. For at least two weeks, we will orbit the planet and search for anything out of the ordinary that might tempt me to set up base. The poles have ice, so we will do a flight down there to gather information on what it is comprised of. We do have room for more water, only water, and I would like to fill all our tanks and not have to recycle it through us so often. The two tanks built inside the cubes are still only half full and we could handle another 20,000 gallons. The biology team and I will be ecstatic to have that much water on board.”
“Maybe they could produce a Mars beer, maybe a fine lager to beat Bud on Earth? We could all become very rich. I can see it now,” continued Jonesy, interrupting the meeting. “Why drink polluted Budweiser when Astermine’s virgin Mars lager will give you better taste with water that hasn’t gone through 100 humans before it reaches the bottle!”
“Thank you for your creativity, Mr. Jones,” smiled Ryan. “I didn’t realize that you had so much in you. Unfortunately, at minimum, it would cost at least $500 a bottle, which would not tempt the average American beer drinker. I don’t think you figured in the cost to get a beer, even one manufactured in orbit and sent back to earth.
“A smaller, wealthy market, maybe?” added Jonesy. “At least we can make it and perfect it up here. I’ll be chief taster.”
Coffee arrived with freshly made cakes, and Jonesy was left to think about his new business venture by himself.
Over the morning, a plan of action was developed to get all three shuttles and the mother ship fitted with a range of cameras, to span out and record information on the planet’s surface. Ryan wanted a more accurate, more up-to-date map of the Martian surface. Igor calculated that 14 days of continuous orbits at 110 miles altitude over the entire surface would produce that map. The information would be recorded on a hard drive in a computer on the Bridge and then the computer would search for any abnormalities it could find in the information. Martha Von Zimmer’s team had spent the last month programming the system.
Igor continued the discussion explaining the activities of liquids and frozen solids on Mars. “Sublimation, or phase transition, is the transition of a substance directly from the solid phase to the gas phase without passing through an intermediate liquid phase. Solid carbon dioxide, or dry ice as you pilots know it, sublimes readily at atmospheric pressure at -78.5°C. Snow and ice also sublime, although more slowly. For example, this allows a wet cloth to be hung outdoors in freezing weather and retrieved later in a dry state. In freeze-drying, the material to be dehydrated is frozen and its water is allowed to sublime under reduced pressure or vacuum. The loss of snow from a snow layer during a cold spell is often caused by sunshine acting directly on the upper layers of the snow. So, under conditions on Mars, solid frozen matter does come and go much like Earth, but under much harsher conditions. If you left drops of ice on the planet’s surface, they wouldn’t be there a few days later. The ice sheets on the planet’s south and north poles move through sublimation constantly. The ice disappears and returns. That is why we don’t want a permanent station in the colder regions; however, our mining craft can certainly land there for a few days, up to a week at a time, and collect water to fill our tanks.”
“What are we looking for?” VIN asked Ryan.
“Thank you, Igor. Mr. Noble, a good mining venture as well as a new permanent or temporary base on Mars. There are very mean storms on Mars, far worse than on Earth. The climate of Mars has been an issue of scientific curiosity for centuries because Mars is the only terrestrial planet whose surface can be directly observed in detail from the Earth. Although Mars is smaller, at 11% of Earth’s mass and 50% farther from the Sun than the Earth, its climate has important similarities, such as the polar ice caps, seasonal changes and the observable presence of weather patterns. Although the climate is similar to Earth’s in some respects, including seasons and periodic ice ages, there are also important differences such as the absence of liquid water, though, as I earlier mentioned, frozen water exists. Mars’ atmosphere has a scale height of approximately 11 km, or 36,000 feet, 60% greater than that on Earth. Pilots, please go and study ‘scale height’ after we are finished here. It will be important for landing on the planet. The climate is of considerable relevance to the question of whether life is or was ever present on the planet.
“Mars has been studied by Earth-based instruments since as early as the 17th century but it is only since the real exploration of Mars was begun by NASA in the mid-1960s that close-range observation has been possible. Flyby and orbital spacecraft have provided data from above, while direct measurements of atmospheric conditions have been provided by a number of landers and rovers. Advanced instruments in orbit around Earth, which were destroyed thanks to General Mortimer, used to provide useful ‘big picture’ observations of relatively large weather phenomena. Igor, will you continue with past missions? You are more familiar with the history,” asked Ryan.
“The first Martian flyby mission was America Mariner 4 which arrived in 1965. That quick two-day pass was limited and crude in terms of its contribution to the state of knowledge of Martian climate. Later, Mariner 6 and 7 missions filled in some of the gaps in basic climate information. Data-based climate studies started in earnest with the more technical Viking program in 1975 and continues with such probes as the Reconnaissance Orbiter,” Igor explained.
“Mars’ temperature and circulation vary from year to year,” continued Ryan, who had studied this planet since middle school. “Mars lacks an ocean, a source of much inter-annual climate variation on earth. Martian weather tends to be more repeatable and hence more predictable than that of Earth. If an event occurs at a particular time of year in one year, the available data, sparse as it is, indicates that it is fairly likely to occur the next year at approximately the same location, give or take a week. That is why we have designated a few places we would like to set up a base; we know their predictable weather patterns. Of course, once we have our Nano-Silicone shield or dome built, the only part weather will play will be landings and launches. We cannot have our craft under the dome. They must have their own dome hangars or holes in the ground outside. The weather can vary tremendously. On September 29, 2008, the Phoenix lander took pictures of snow falling from clouds 4.5 km above its landing site; Of course the precipitation vaporized before reaching the ground, a phenomenon called virga. Differing values have been reported for the average temperature on Mars; they are so extreme that the highest temperature ever recorded at one of the winter polar caps was an unbelievable 81 °F, the coldest, -237 °F. Scientists believe, and this is extremely important, that temperatures even colder than minus 237 degrees exist below the ice caps, or the surface of any ice. The Martian atmosphere has a mean surface pressure of about 1/20th of Earth’s. One effect of this is that Mars’ atmosphere can react much more quickly to a given energy input than that of Earth’s atmosphere. As a consequence, Mars is subject to strong thermal tides produced by solar heating rather than a gravitational influence; these tides can be significant. Earth’s atmosphere experiences similar diurnal and semidiurnal tides but their effect is less noticeable because of Earth’s much greater atmospheric mass.
“Although the temperature on Mars can reach above freezing, liquid water is unstable over much of the planet, and water ice simply sublimes into water vapor, as Igor mentioned earlier. Exceptions to this are the low-lying areas of the planet, most notably in the Hellas Plantitia impact basin, where we will definitely visit first. The Hellas Plantitia is the largest and deepest crater on Mars. It is so deep that the atmospheric pressure at the bottom is 89% higher than the average pressure on Mars, so if the temperature exceeded 0 °C, liquid water might be in existence exist there. Any questions? And, Mr. Jones, please stay awake.” There were no questions.
“OK, on to winds, winds that could rip an Earth aircraft to shreds,” and Jonesy’s attention was again in the room. “The surface of Mars has a very low thermal inertia, which you pilots know means it heats quickly when the sun shines on it. On Earth, winds often develop in areas where thermal inertia changes suddenly, such as from sea to land. There are no seas on Mars, but there are areas where the thermal inertia of the soil changes, leading to morning and evening winds akin to the sea breezes on Earth. For example: When the Mariner 9 probe arrived on the planet when I was a kid, in 1971, the world expected to see crisp new pictures of surface detail. Instead they saw a near planet-wide dust storm with only the giant volcano Olympic Mons showing above the haze. That storm lasted for a month, an occurrence scientists have since learned is quite common on Mars. I can see several of you have eyes beginning to glaze over, so to end my short lesson, let me say we need to treat Mars with respect. The weather here is certainly going to be a factor in all our activities.” Ryan ended.
“What has all this got to do with us flying in craft adapted for space travel?” VIN asked.
“Easy and very important,” replied Jonesy. “Pilots must treat the atmosphere of Mars just like on Earth. With winds and dust storms, we have to factor in extraneous forces, and the safety of flying down there.”
“Well said, Mr. Jones,” Ryan responded.
“And up to an attitude above 100 miles, higher than on Earth,” added Igor, and the pilots nodded.
“How deep is this massive crater?” Maggie asked. Ryan smiled.
“It has to be deep to get that sort of atmospheric pressure. 24,000 feet to be precise, and the floor is 30,000 feet below its crater rim. There are reputed to be glaciers on the crater floor, and I want to look at building our first outpost down there.”
“Will the crater protect us from the weather?” Jamie asked.
“Maybe a little, but I don’t think so. It could be a good place to mine for metals deep inside the planet’s surface.”
“Ryan, as we have discussed for so many years, I believe the crater is a dust bowl, and like a drain, collects its fair share of dust from the dust storms. If we build a permanent dome on the crater floor, it could be covered over in a decade or so,” Igor added.
“Quite true, Igor,” Ryan replied. “There is nothing wrong with a subterranean cavern, or dome; it would be like having a dome under the sea.”
“Won’t be many fish down there on Mars, Ryan. Mr. Noble, it could be the home of our friend the space shark!” chimed in Jonesy.
“Oh, shut up with your space shark story, General Jones,” replied VIN, looking to the heavens outside the Bridge, holding his arms up and pleading. “Would somebody please demote the guy? Maybe a decrease in rank will silence him and his space shark saga!” There were numerous comments sympathetic to VIN’s plea. Even Maggie smiled. Her husband’s story was getting long in the tooth.
With the long meeting over the crew proceeded to their chores. Mars was only a few weeks away, and the crew was eager to touch terra-firma again.
Chapter 20
Mars – Terra Firma
A month later SB-III approached the floor of the largest crater on Mars with Asterspace Three flown by Michael and Boris.
Nearly seven months after leaving Earth, the crew were well adjusted to life in space. Even though the journey so far felt like a lifetime, they knew that it would be a much longer time before they saw the blue planet again, and they would just have to put up with this dusty red one.
As Ryan had planned, the four craft mapped and recorded the planet, and its current storms into their one billion terabytes of computer memory aboard America One.
Three areas of possible habitation had been finalized by Ryan and his crew of scientists, and it was up to Jonesy to check out the first one, to see if liquid water did actually exist. Liquid water was possible for VIN and Boris to collect. The canisters had not been designed to pick up liquids, but only samples were necessary for the scientists to analyze; they had designed an aluminum one-gallon bottle and cap on the end of a four-foot pole to collect any liquids they found.
Ryan predicted that where there was liquid water, there could be life in the water, and he wanted to be the first to research that possibility. Ryan would be the happiest man alive to be the first person to find life on another planet.
The flat surface was dusty when the thrusters got to within twenty feet of the crater’s floor. They had again found a crater within a crater, and they were down inside the second crater, close to the 30,000 foot high mountainous peaks of the largest crater on Mars. The thrusters sprayed out massive amounts of dust below them, which could damage the engines. The engines did not suck in atmosphere, but a dust coating inside the thrusters could cause an explosion or make the engines become erratic.
Asterspace Three was to land on the top of the wide wall of the second inner crater several miles away, ready for Jonesy to call her in if it was safe to land. VIN was with Jonesy this time. It was too dangerous for Maggie and ten-month-old Saturn.
“Can’t see much with the dust storm you are creating below us, skipper,” VIN stated.
“Maybe if you got out, rappelled down and swept the place, it would be easier to see,” remarked the Chief Astronaut, concentrating on looking for a place with less dust.
“Look below us,” remarked VIN, “slightly to our right. There seems to be a sort of dome being cleaned off from the dust. It seems to be higher than the surrounding area.” Jonesy acknowledged that he had seen it and SB-III hovered over to the dome.
As the thrusters cleared away more dust, Jonesy carefully hovered around in a circle getting rid of the dust which was forced away from the area directly below them.
“Wow!” exclaimed VIN. “Will you look at that? You have cleaned off all the red dirt, and now it looks sort of white.”
“Ice!” shouted both men together.
“Hey, Ryan, we found some ice,” VIN reported over the intercom. “The dust is clearing but it looks like an iceberg, or glacier. It is slightly dome-shaped, like a desert island in the Pacific, and its sides slope back down into the red dust. It looks like a sunburned man’s white bald head.”
“See if you can clear away the dust some more. There could be water underneath the dust,” Ryan directed.
Jonesy hovered lower and slowly the dust storm grew, this time enveloping the ship. He descended another few feet, and then with full power brought the shuttle out of the dust storm. The full power really made the dust cloud spread out and he raced up 100 feet before he escaped back into the dull Martian daylight. Luckily for them, the sun was overhead, and its powerful Martian rays shone dimly into the crater and the growing dust cloud spreading out below them.
Jonesy expected that it would take hours for the dust to disperse. There was a slight movement of the dust cloud, a breeze was blowing it in one direction, and he flew up to Asterspace Three to enjoy their first night on the surface.
With the shuttle parked within a hundred feet of Asterspace Three, and the dust not so bad atop this 3,000-foot high ridge, they watched their first Martian sunset.
The view was magnificent. About thirty miles away was the mountainous peaks of the large crater that looked more awesome than the Himalayas back on Earth. They sat on a narrow 200-foot wide ridge in the second crater, about 1,000 feet higher than the floor of the large crater. Before them, the second crater spread out for about 40 miles in front, and Jonesy had recorded that the second crater floor was another 3,000 feet lower than the first crater’s floor. It was a far grander view than anything on Earth, about a thousand times bigger than the Grand Canyon in Arizona.
It wasn’t very romantic for Jonesy and VIN to see this wonderful sight without their wives. It was certainly not as warm and luxurious as the beach in the Seychelles, downing Tequila Sunrises while watching the sunset, but VIN had brought two bottles of beer, Grolsch bottles from Amsterdam with the reusable tops. They clinked glass and ate some jerky, while watching the sun go down directly in front of them. The area around the craft turned from grey to black and the outside temperature dropped 100 degrees within an hour.
“Nothing like a cold sundowner viewing a Martian sunset,” smiled Jonesy into the intercom.
“Got a spare beer?” asked the crew from Asterspace Three.
“Boris, you have more chance of getting pregnant in there with Michael Pitt, than getting a beer from us,” growled Jonesy in reply. “Go down to the local supermarket and get your own.”
“Comrade Jones, I’ll tell my Russian friends aboard America One to never allow you to have our secret Russian vodka aboard the ship ever again,” replied Boris smiling. There was no way he was prepared to spend an hour dressing up in his spacesuit just to visit a neighbor to bum a cold beer. He was just pulling Jonesy’s chain, and there was no secret Russian vodka. All stocks from Earth were long used up.
Much like Earth, the Mars night was just over eleven hours long when the sun rose over the horizon behind them. It had been so dark outside that the weak dawn was pretty impressive. The red sand far below in the crater lit up as the sunlight shone on it, with the line between sunshine and darkness moving across the vast crater at breakneck speed.
Jonesy took off again, leaving Asterspace Three to wait for the command to join them. Even with the weak Martian atmosphere, valuable liquid hydrogen gas was being used up by the shuttle. The fuel was still as valuable as gold to Ryan.
“OK, we see the same ice cap we saw yesterday,” said VIN over the intercom. “It’s about a mile across but it’s hard to determine its height above the surrounding layer of flat red dust. We certainly cleaned the area. I see some glistening on the ice. It could just be the ice dazzling in the sunlight. Over.”
“SB-III, go down and attempt a soft landing on the ice cube. If you feel it is secure, call in Asterspace Three. I want pilots in command and thrusters ready for any emergency. This ice cube could just roll over, or sink at any time with your added weight. Better yet, since your safe landing zone is only twenty miles or so from the ice, I want only one craft down at any moment. SB-III, you drop off Mr. Noble with bucket, spade and water bottle, and get out of there. Asterspace Three, go in, drop off Boris, then both leave them on the ice for 30 minutes, no longer, unless they need you. All I want is ice and liquid samples if we can get them.
Jonesy did as ordered. This time there was little dust as he lowered the larger shuttle towards the ice dome. As they neared, both VIN and Jonesy noticed that it wasn’t as high as expected. The dome had a gentle incline and it was no problem for Jonesy to touch down.
After telling Asterspace Three to take off, Jonesy gingerly lowered the thrust, even after the shuttle had touched down. Slowly, he allowed the full weight of the shuttle to be added to whatever they were landing on. It could have been a ball of ice in a lake for all he knew. They didn’t move and VIN prepared to exit out of the docking port, already suited up for the occasion. The gravity down there was no different than the overnight location and Jonesy had used 25% thrust on both approaches.
“VIN is out with his toys, and fifty feet away from the craft. He has taken a cord as well as mallet and nails. I’m taking off, gently.”
“Roger that,” replied Michael. “One mile out, at 200 feet above the floor and coming in from your rear.”
“I’m going out forward, Michael. You are clear to land; just treat your landing like it’s on thin ice.”
“Roger, Jonesy, Asterspace Three going in.”
Twenty minutes later the second craft banked away towards Jonesy, already sitting on the ridge.
“This ice is pretty strong,” VIN said to Boris. “I’ve chipped away a few small chunks, but I want to get to the edge of the ice.”
“I think we should fill up the one canister I brought, and then the sample containers. We can put it back into the hold to keep it cold. Then we head towards the edge and use the rope. We only have 30 minutes,” replied Boris.
With ice picks they chipped away at the ice. Together they loosened a large piece that they had to pare down to fit into the canister.
“If this is water, then that is at least fifty gallons,” Boris guessed. “While we are here, we might as well fill it up.”
“Boris, Mr. Jones,” stated Ryan,“there is the dust storm heading your way, the one we discussed on the bridge and reminded you about yesterday. I believe you have two hours before you must be gone. It is coming in from your north across the large crater, and it is halfway across, about 4,000 miles away from you. Wind speed is about 1,700 miles an hour.”
“Roger that,” replied Boris. “VIN, we still have time to fill this canister.”
For the next 15 minutes, they chipped and forced pieces of ice into the aluminum canister until it was hard to close. They then got it ready to be packed into the hold of the craft.
They walked towards the northern edge of the bald ice dome to the line of red dust, about 200 feet away. VIN hit a three-foot long nail into the ice with his mallet and tied one end of the 100-foot cord to the nail. Then he ordered Boris to stay by the nail, and slowly walked towards the line where the ice ended and the red dust began. He was three feet away when he couldn’t believe what he saw. A wind ripple was coming across the red dust towards him.
Suddenly the first wind gust hit VIN, nearly blowing him over. Boris felt it a second later and immediately called in the rescue craft.
VIN just stood there, feeling the wind hitting his space suit, and suddenly the red dust was not so flat anymore.
“There’s liquid under the dust, Ryan. I can see ripples, like on a lake coming towards me. Jonesy, we have a direct wind coming in from the north, I would say about thirty knots, and I’m earning my side-gunner salary right now. It is suddenly not nice here anymore.”
“Mr. Noble, fill up the two bottles and get back for rescue,” ordered Ryan.
VIN got to the end of the rope. It was ten feet too short and he put it down to go forward. Gently, like treading on egg shells, he moved to within three feet of the red dust when the first tiny wave broke on the ice.
As the dust was churned up, he saw a clear liquid, and he dove in his first bottle on its four-foot pole and allowed it to fill up. It didn’t gurgle as a bottle would on Earth, but he felt it become heavier as something entered the bottle. He capped the bottle just as a second gust hit him hard and literally flattened him on his back on the hard ice; he hoped he had not broken anything on his backpack. As he reached for the second bottle a second wave, this time a foot high, came in and approached to within inches of his feet.
“Filling the second bottle with clear liquid. I think I have damaged something on my pack, it’s getting harder to breathe.”
“VIN, get back to Boris, now!” shouted Ryan. “Jones, your partner needs you!”
VIN watched as the bottle filled, and taking a hard gulp of air, he placed the top on it, picked up the first one, grabbed the rope and headed back to Boris. Boris already had the rope taut and pulled VIN towards him. VIN’s next breath was even harder.
“Twenty seconds out, coming in from the south, I’m decompressing the shuttle cockpit. Boris, push VIN in the side door we use on Earth. I’m suited up and ready,” Jonesy ordered as a third wind gust hit them pushing both men onto their stomachs this time.
“Jonesy, wind gusts intermittent, 30 seconds apart, forty miles an hour at least,” VIN said, gasping for air.
Jonesy came in fast, closer to where they were standing, put the shuttle down quickly and opened the side hatch, which allowed the atmosphere of Mars to enter the cockpit. Boris pushed VIN in from his metal legs while Jonesy hauled him in holding his helmet.
“Michael, land by the canister. I am not leaving without it,” shouted Boris while Jonesy closed the door. The next gust flattened Boris, and if the shuttle wasn’t facing into the wind, it could have lifted it off as well. But Jonesy had other problems; he needed to get VIN’s helmet off while pressurizing the cockpit at the same time. VIN’s face was beginning to turn blue, and he was gasping for air. The cabin would take at least ten minutes to be safe to breathe, and while he unscrewed VIN’s helmet, he reached for an emergency bottle of oxygen from behind his seat.
“Come on, hurry up, helmet. I don’t want to give the guy mouth to mouth,” he stated to the helmet as it unscrewed what seemed like a hundred rounds. VIN’s eyes were fluttering as the helmet came loose, the pressure was bad, but that didn’t matter. Jonesy opened VIN’s mouth and he forced the mouthpiece in.
The oxygen sprayed into VIN’s mouth and his eyes opened as an even stronger gust hit the ship making it begin to slide slowly backwards towards Asterspace Three.
“Partner, breathe! You are on your own!” Jonesy said, suddenly realizing that VIN couldn’t hear him. He wiped his hand across his throat, showing VIN that they were in trouble, and his eyes told his partner that he was on his own. He jumped back into the left seat, made sure that the cockpit pressurization system was on full power and lit up the thrusters to 50% power.
The sliding had stopped, as he lifted off, and a second gust hit him at only 20 feet above the ice sheet. He hit full power, and immediately banked right to get away from being rammed into Asterspace Three, pushed the throttles to full power, and like a leaf in the wind he was blown upwards and away from the ice sheet.
Asterspace Three was ready when the gust hit. Boris had packed away the canister and the bottles and was climbing inside the docking port. He had just pulled in the rope when the vicious wind hit them, spewing red dust all over them. Asterspace Three, like the shuttle slipped backwards towards the other red dust line, now only yards behind it. Michael saw SB-III pass above him only a few feet higher and through the corner of his eye, watched Jonesy bank away. The thrusts from the shuttle’s blasts vibrated his craft. He pushed his throttles forward and lifted off just before his ship slid down into the dust behind it. Under full power, the mining craft shuddered as its assistance from the ground lift underneath the thrusters changed from solid ice to liquid water, causing havoc with the aided thrust off the crater surface.
With smaller thrusters than the shuttle, Michael grappled with the controls as it dropped a couple of feet. Boris was trying to close the outer hatch and was nearly thrown from the craft. Then the thrust air must have bounced off solid ice or rock again, as under full power the craft headed up fast, and was literally blown away backwards as another gust hit it. Boris was thrown to the bottom of the port, the outer hatch slammed above his head, and like SB-III, they were whisked away like a leaf in the wind.
Chapter 21
Mars – The South Pole
It took VIN a week to recover from his encounter with the atmosphere on Mars. Jonesy had him back in America One within two hours, after narrowly missing the mountainous ridge of the large crater by less than a few hundred feet. Michael Pitt had actually been forced to fly through a hole in the cliff wall, to get out of the crater. Both craft required maximum power to climb out of the first 40 miles of the Mars atmosphere.
Jonesy headed straight for America One’s orbit. VIN was laid out on the floor of the shuttle, but breathing. The internal cockpit air and air pressure had returned, Jonesy had vented the bad air out of the cockpit, and his computers were calculating liaison with America One on her next orbit far above them.
Boris was OK in Asterspace Three. He had held tight inside the docking port for the first minute, as they were blown this way and that. Once the main directional struggle died down, he sealed the outer hatch, vented the port, resupplied it with fresh air, and opened the lower hatch. Thank God he had managed to tie down the canister in the hold, or it could have blasted through the craft’s cargo wall with all the turbulence.
Once out, he lowered the hatch downwards the three feet to its parking place, and strapped himself into to his seat. He felt dizzy and he wanted to puke, but he was OK. As he watched Michael fly the craft, Boris realized what a good pilot he was. Michael was relaxed, his hands were doing several things at once as the 30,000-foot high mountainous ridge came up to destroy them.
They were still too low and already at full power, and Michael began looking for a hole, or valley to slip through. Boris saw one to their right about fifty miles away, Michael nodded and turned the craft towards the rising valley, still thousands of feet above them.
Suddenly his stomach dropped as a strong gust from below hit the craft hard. Then Boris figured out that the wind must be hitting the base of the crater wall, and was pushing them upwards with tremendous power as it rose to escape. The valley Michael was aiming for slowly lowered to allow them through and at two thousand miles an hour they slipped through a mile-wide valley so fast that it took Boris’ breath away.
The two men were carried out of the docking ports. Safely back in America One, the two miners were quarantined in the hospital ward under plastic infectious disease tents, as was Jonesy’s space suit. Ryan told them that by wearing it, Jonesy had saved their lives. Full spacesuits would be mandatory from now on for at least one of the two pilots when performing maneuvers in the Martian atmosphere.
Both men were given full checkups including blood tests and saliva tests. VIN’s face had erupted with red spots, like a teenager with acne. Jonesy mentioned that VIN’s new acne made him look twenty years younger, which earned him a hefty kick from Maggie, who was sitting next to him. Saturn and Mars were not allowed into the medical cylinder.
Doctors Rogers and Martin were excited to have an opportunity to examine VIN; this was new ground to them. After a day’s tests, they believed that he was experiencing a horrible skin irritation from the bad air inside the cockpit. Dr. Martin explained to VIN that people don’t just explode once subjected to the vacuum of space; first their blood begins to boil.
Jonesy and Michael were surprised to learn that the gusts that had blown them around like leaves were the earliest, smallest gusts from the storm still 2,000 miles to their north. There was no way any of the craft would have survived stronger gusts unless tied down, and certainly not when the storm hit with winds a hundred times more powerful. Compared to Mars, Earth was a peaceful planet. Many lessons already had been learned by the crew.
Martha Von Zimmer and Suzi were thrilled to be handed the canister of ice and the two bottles of liquid the team had saved. Under safe conditions especially designed for these circumstances they excitedly began tests.
Of course, Suzi often checked up on her husband, but she knew he was tough, and a little crappy air wasn’t going to hurt him. His body was one-third metal anyway.
There was no rush. The health of the crew was of utmost importance to Ryan. They had all the time in the world to orbit and wait for the two crew members to be nursed back to health.
Boris was released three days after returning, and VIN, still with a bad case of acne, two days later.
The next day, Ryan held a briefing to discuss new rules and regulations for flying down to the planet. All crew members would be fully suited up until further notice, unless in a safe resting. There would be a third crew member on each craft to help if one was in trouble. There would be two pilots aboard at all times who were able to able handle the craft.
It took another week for reports on the ice and water to reach the bridge.
“Yes, it was water,” smiled Martha Von Zimmer, “with large quantities of radiation, and a very acidic pH level of 1.79. The water can be used aboard America One after considerable radiation filtering and the addition of alkaline soda ash.” The shuttles had brought up five tons of soda ash for this exact purpose.
“Unfortunately, the upper surface of the ice is, as predicted, 99 percent pure dry ice, all carbon dioxide,” she continued. “But, after more study, we found something interesting on the thickest block, a block over two feet thick. On its underside, where the mean temperature was much colder than in the atmosphere, we found 93 percent carbon dioxide and seven percent nitrogen. This mix of dry ice and frozen nitrogen is not possible on Earth, since they have different melting points, and Earth is far too toasty for liquid gases. Therefore, we must realize that at extremely cold temperatures, with certain atmospheric pressures in some remote places on Mars, certain gases can combine. I believe that deeper, where the ice may be colder, we could also find frozen hydrogen in the mix. The reason there is no nitrogen on the upper surface of the ice, is that the nitrogen has turned into a gas with the warmer temperatures.”
“Can we bring this extremely cold mix up here?” Ryan asked Martha.
“Yes, if we use the same type of tanks we store our liquid hydrogen fuel in. If we ever had a loss of power aboard this ship, all our liquid hydrogen, our fuel, could be in danger. As you all know, our fuel tanks must be well insulated to prevent boil-off; and nitrogen, one of the coldest gas/liquids, must be pressurized for safe storage on Earth. This means that we must first warm up the ice to allow the nitrogen to boil off into a gas. We then collect the gas, decrease the temperature again and turn it into liquid, and only then pressurize it.”
“So you think we could gather decent amounts of nitrogen down there?” Ryan asked.
“I believe that if you had the chance to dig deeper, say another six to even ten feet,” replied Martha, “we could see a larger mix of nitrogen, even parts of pure oxygen in the ice at minus 300 degrees. So, to answer your question, take down insulated tanks to bring the ice back. With the room-size cryogenic air and gas separation plant in our lab, we can allow the ice to slowly melt. At minus 235 degrees the hydrogen will burn off. We collect that and tank it. Then, we reduce the temperature to minus 190 degrees so that the nitrogen burns off. We collect that and store it. Then, my good friend Mr. Jones can add the dry ice to his schnapps for all I care. It has very limited uses.”
“What is the melting point of frozen oxygen?” Maggie asked.
“Minus 297 degrees Fahrenheit,” Martha responded. “It is much harder to keep the coldest ice we can find on Mars at that temperature, but it is possible with what we have to work with on board ship, and also necessary for us to survive for the extremely long periods in space Ryan wants.
“So, if we incorporated a tank surrounded by pressurized hydrogen, this will solve our transportation problem, even for frozen oxygen?” Ryan asked.
Martha nodded. “I think that would work, or we could just use the same materials we used in the walls of the ship. I believe that the best transportation unit we already have, is one of the smallest cylinders with its walls primed for extremely cold temperatures. But you guys have gone off the mark,” smiled Martha. “What is water?”
“One hydrogen atom and two oxygen atoms?” suggested VIN.
“No, Herr Noble, the other way around; two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom, H₂O. With the water you found, Herr Noble, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and you, Herr Jones, for flying it back to us, all we really need to produce air to breathe, fuel to blast us around the solar system, and food to eat—other than the water you brought—is nitrogen. You two have already found the most important element in the universe. To keep our lives simple, we just need to add the nitrogen we found in the dry ice and water, and America One has all the basics for survival out here in space.”
That got Ryan thinking. He gave orders to Boris to bond ends to an extra cylinder to turn it into a large tank that could fit into Asterspace Three’s hold. It would need an opening to place the ice into it. And if there was boil-off in transit, then the nitrogen gas would still be inside the cylinder. He was feeling very good about the scientific side of his odyssey. He did have the best brains from Earth aboard his ship and enough equipment to keep them all alive.
A month later and still in orbit around the planet, three craft returned to the bald ice sheet Jonesy had to uncover again to land back on the dry-ice shelf.
With new digging and lifting equipment, and the next storm not scheduled for several days, a larger mining team of five, with VIN and Boris in charge, used much larger, more powerful oxygen pneumatic hammer guns to dig deeper into the ice.
Within hours they were hauling out square slabs from a ten-foot depth and as soon as they had them out, each foot-square cube was lifted into the cylinder inside Asterspace Three.
Over four days, they reached down into the ice while others filled the canisters with water and placed them in SB-III. All of them thought it was very weird to see water in liquid form at minus 170 degrees. Even the space suits were at warmer heat settings to keep the miners alive. It could only be done with the heavier than Earth’s atmospheric pressure in this small part of Mars.
Ryan’s crew was like a professional mining operation at the Antarctic, except that one slip-up or heavy gust of wind could mean instant death.
Two days before the storm was due, the three mining craft and SB-III left with a thousand chunks of dry ice, and 1,800 gallons of valuable acidic H₂O. Ryan had mapped out the area, and could return at any time. Now he wanted to check out the south pole of Mars and test the ice there.
Once the crew was rested, the same ships and crew members took off for the coldest place on the planet. Like Earth, Mars had seasons, and if the planet were Earth, it would now be summer in the northern hemisphere.
Much like the Antarctic on Earth, an expanse of white covered a wide area. The three craft picked the lowest area they could see with infra-red and night vision sights on SB-III’s laser gun. It was pitch black on this side with little to no sunlight. The temperature was also cold enough to freeze nitrogen. They could detect all this from 20 miles up.
Again, there was a small deep crater, close to where the South Pole should be. It was deep, over three miles deeper than the surrounding white expanse, and Ryan instructed Jonesy to try a landing. There were no wind storms expected in this area for a week.
However, there was wind when Jonesy landed, and it looked like the movies he had seen on television. The snow blew sideways, and he hoped it was water, not methane, or hydrogen, as his engines could explode at any time. The crater shielded much of the 200 mile an hour winds above the crater, but close to the lower windward wall, there were 20 to 40 mile an hour blasts now and again.
The other two craft, Asterspace Three and Astermine Two came in and they had a windy, snow-blown first night after the craft were tied down with nails and cords by the mining team. It was so cold outside that for the first time in his life, Jonesy heard the walls of the shuttle clicking and cracking with contractions. It was quite scary, especially when all the cords froze and snapped like frozen twigs.
The next day, the wind died down and the team went to work filling everything they had with the ice. They dug down ten feet below the crater floor with their new tools. It was still pure white ice. In one-foot cubed blocks they filled the special tank aboard Asterspace Three in three days. On the third day it became impossible to work due to increasingly cold temperatures; the crew was beginning to freeze in their suits and spacewalks were reduced to 70 minutes. With over three tons of pure, transparent ice, and a ton of the windward swept snow, they returned to America One, tired, cold, and thinking about beaches, hot weather, and Earth.
Chapter 22
Oh my God!
The beer, sunlamp, and warm water of the swimming pool was certainly relaxing after the cold, difficult trip. They had to unload all the supplies in the shuttle and Astermine Two before they could take a break, and this had to be done outside the craft to keep the temperatures as low as possible. The space outside America One was a toasty minus 163 degrees; summer to the mining crew and the craft.
The crew rested for a week while the scientists worked hard solving the puzzles the miners had brought them.
At the same time, Ryan was conducting meetings, this time on where to park and set up camp on Mars. There were four major areas that suited a long-term site and all four sites were good: the six-mile high walls of Melas Canyon; the Gusev Crater, a place which likely had contained water; the Athabasca Valley, where the youngest water channels seen on the planet used to flow; and last, Hematite, an area named after the grayish-colored rock near the equator. This was the only area on the planet where hematite abounded, which needed water to form.
He knew which one the mining crew wanted, the last one; temperatures there often reached above freezing and even the rich red hematite dust covering the landscape on a hot, balmy Martian day reached as high as 50 degrees Fahrenheit. Ryan’s mind was made up before the pilots made up his mind for him.
“Good day, gentlemen,” said Ryan at the first meeting to determine the location for a base on Mars. He had grown into the habit of saying “Good day”, like the Aussies did back on Earth, because there wasn’t a real “Good morning” or “Good evening” time to say those phrases. It was dark all of the time and, with different shifts, one person could say “Good morning” to another who was going to bed. It just didn’t work. “What do we need to set up a decent, livable site on Mars?”
“A nice beach with blondes in bikinis and a beach bar?” suggested Jonesy, smiling, always the first to contribute useless information.
“Sunlight for solar power as backup,” suggested Igor.
“No damn, crappy, cold conditions like we had digging out that ice,” VIN put in.
“A place with less dust so we don’t have to sweep house so much,” suggested Maggie.
“No wind,” added Boris. “It’s dangerous here!”
“Solid ground to dig underground accommodations,” suggested Penny.
“We need to grow plants somewhere, so sunlight is good, even the weak Mars sunlight twelve hours a day will help, giving us a greenhouse effect.”
The flight crew had run out of ideas, so Ryan spent an hour describing the four best places to search out a new home and then asked each person in turn which location he or she preferred. Everyone said Hematite, so he agreed that Hematite City would be their first Martian home. This decision had been an easy one.
“I was expecting you would all say Hematite. I also believe it is the best place for us to set up camp. The Mars Rover, Opportunity, managed to survive here until it got stuck in sand last year near the Endeavour Crater. We might as well aim for the same crater. The Rover began travelling toward this crater in August 2008; the rim came into sight on March 7, 2009, and it arrived at the edge on August 9, 2011. In 2013, it got stuck in the sand or dust. Bill Withers at NASA asked me to free the Rover if we ever get a chance, so this could be a picture-perfect time to stare into its cameras once we power her up. Pictures of you can be sent back to Earth when or if they have any video feed still from the Rover. Proof that we are actually out here! What is important to us is that in December, 2011, Opportunity Rover discovered a vein of gypsum sticking out of the soil along the rim of Endeavour Crater. Tests confirmed that it contained calcium, sulfur, and water. The mineral gypsum is the best match for the data sent, and was likely formed from mineral-rich water moving through a crack in the rock sometime in the past.
“Gypsum is a very soft sulfate mineral. It can be used as a fertilizer and is the main constituent in many forms of plaster, as you already know. As a mineral, it is alabaster, which has been used for sculpture by many cultures. Gypsum has the definition of a hardness of only 2 on the Mohs scale of mineral hardness, which means that it will be easy for our mining spiders to dig out an underground home.”
A week later, the crew was ready to visit their third area. Instead of buckets and spades, five of the craft were filled with day-to-day survival supplies, mining equipment, and the rest of the spiders, eight of them. Three of the craft carried 1,100 complete, four-foot square Nano-Silicone window panels, as well as long columns of the pre-made pure graphite window connector panels. Most importantly, one ship had dozens of solar panels, batteries, inverters and a mobile nuclear battery with one pound of plutonium-238 to start up the power units.
Two cylinders with short aluminum legs were buckled to the hooks underneath Astermine One and Two, and would be used as storage units for the equipment when the storms arrived. They could be automatically released once on the ground.
It was “summer” in this area at the moment, and there were no major dust storms expected for 40 days, which gave them a window to set up some sort of exterior dome to protect the equipment when the storms came.
Fine dust would be the cause of equipment malfunctions, and a bad dust storm could last for months. The good thing was that close to the equator, where Hematite was located, the storms were considerably less powerful, comparable to strong storms on the large deserts of Earth.
Ryan was also coming along on this trip, leaving America One in the hands of Captain Pete. Also, no children were allowed on this first visit which would last two weeks, after which SB-III was to return to America One with rock and dust samples for testing, and then come back to the site with hydrogen fuel, air, food and water.
This first visit had three objectives: find the best location in, or around Endeavor Crater; begin piecing together a smaller 3,000-square foot dome, which would become an emergency dome inside the larger planned 12,000 square-foot dome; and get the spiders digging. Since each dome would have an inner and an outer wall, and in between a foot-thick helium gas layer to restrict radiation and radioactive penetration into the dome, several thousand panels would need to be constructed from 16 tons of Nano-Silicone. Another ton of Nano-Silicone would be melted and thinly sprayed onto the inner walls of the underground rooms to seal them from internal dangers.
Under the flight direction of the Chief Astronaut, the five Astermine craft, loaded with crew and a dozen of the build team, descended. Extra space suits had been completed on the journey over to Mars, and now Ryan could space-walk a team of twenty people at once. In SB-III, Jonesy had the crew unit in his forward cargo bay. It had been recently fitted with two extendable docking ports for the crew to enter and exit, and they would live in there until new housing was ready. The compartment had changed in the last couple of months. It was reconfigured with six double bunk beds, a space toilet and shower system, tanks of air, supplies for two weeks, heating, a refrigerator, and connections into SB-III’s systems for heat, air, and garbage disposal. All waste would be stored, to be returned to America One and converted into fertilizer.
Four of the five craft landed close to where the Rover Opportunity was stuck in the dust, while Jonesy hovered over the nearby wall of the crater, and then further down into the 14-mile wide, one- to two-mile deep crater.
Most of the walls were shallow cliffs up to the surface and within twenty minutes Jonesy had flown the circumference of the crater mapping out the walls. His computer had been programmed to look for ledges or areas of flat ground close to the steep cliff edges as a possible protection from the storms. Since most of the storms that hit the crater throughout the Martian year came from the southeast, there were steep vertical sides in this area.
The computers mapped and reported that there were three flat areas to land on. One was too small, showing a 30-foot high wall, and a flat surface of about 12,000 square feet, directly southeast of the wall.
The second looked perfect; it had a 75-foot high protective wall, and a bigger area about the size of an American football field; the ledge was shiny, appearing to have had very little dust on it. The middle ledge was still underneath the crater wall where the worst storms would come from.
The third area was too big; half a mile square, perfectly flat, and dull, it looked like it collected a lot of dust.
Jonesy put SB-III down on the middle ledge. As they descended, VIN, in the right seat, looked down at the approaching ledge. It resembled the last asteroid where they had left the spider: grey shiny rock and pretty clean. The wall protecting the ledge looked pockmarked and was extremely rough.
Endeavor wasn’t a deep crater; it was less than two miles at its lowest point, and the slope below the ledge wasn’t vertical like the one above, but a soft and gentle slope into the crater. A four-by-four jeep could have traversed down to the floor.
It took VIN twenty minutes to get out and he quickly walked around the ledge. It was clean, the ground flat, and it was harder than gypsum. He then felt the wall with his space glove. It was also firm, and no particles were loosened by his gloved hand moving across it.
“Ryan, this place is as perfect as any. I think our solar panels on the outer fringe of the ledge will get adequate sunlight. It’s clean and I’m ready to begin work.”
“Roger that,” replied Ryan. “All craft descend down to SB-III. Let’s all take a look.”
One by one the craft came in. VIN watched how graceful each one was. Allen Saunders and Max Burgos brought in SB-II first. Being bigger than the three mining craft, it would take up more room. Jonesy had parked to one side and Allen came in and parked SB-II directly in front, looking into the cockpit of SB-III, twenty feet away with no dust rising.
Then Jonesy helped coach the smaller craft down, and lined them up facing him on his port side, one by one. By the time all five craft were down, less than a third of the ledge had been used. It was perfect.
Since each spacewalk would be the usual three hours, there was enough time for everybody to exit, except for the five pilots who stayed with their ships. In total, fifteen spacewalkers began to scout around and search the ledge.
“You guys could play a game of football,” Jonesy said, watching them walk around. “Want me to throw out a ball?”
“Sure!” replied VIN, smiling and looking at SB-III’s cockpit windows, trying to give Jonesy a space finger. “I’m sure you have two in there, and both the right size for football.”
“Thank you, experienced miners,” Ryan interjected. “Would you be so kind as to let us newbies get used to walking around on a new planet first, before we play ball?”
VIN, so used to walking around on just about anything, had forgotten that the build crew was totally new to this treat: walking around on a planet or asteroid outside the space craft with low gravity. He bounded in giant leaps to where he thought Ryan was. The “football team” on the ledge all wore the same uniforms without telltale numbers on the back.
“Yes, Boris, Igor, Mr. Noble, I believe this place is perfect. Let’s get the ships unloaded. We only have three weeks before you, Mr. Noble, have to return to the asteroid to collect our lonely spider. I don’t think we will be needing it as a second vacation home anymore.” Ryan didn’t know how wrong he was.
With so many men, the unloading went pretty quickly. After two days, and pleasant daylight warming up the rocks around them, the craft were unloaded.
On the third day, a really beautiful day, he allowed the pilots out. For the first time, all twenty space suits were being used at the same time, and the work proceeded faster.
During the nights, breezes sprang up. Nothing like they had seen in the first crater, but the ships were tied down with quick release cords just in case.
On the fourth day, Ryan and his crew mapped out the ledge and decided that two holes would be dug vertically into the floor of the ledge, about twenty feet from the wall above them. Since in this area, the wall was nearly vertical, America One’s computers were tasked to determine the optimum way to build a corner garden-room that incorporated the floor, the corner, and the wall of the crater, instead of a perfect 180-degree dome. This idea would save them a ton and a half of the valuable Nano-Silicone.
It took several of the crew using several computers to figure out that the four-foot square window panes wouldn’t need to be cut into two to form the triangular halves for a half hexagon dome. The three walls could be constructed with whole panes, using up less graphite as well.
Ryan decided to build the inner emergency room the same way, and asked Boris and Vitaliy to get the other four spiders to work cutting horizontal shafts into the crater wall.
Two days into their dig, the vertical spiders had gone down 25 feet, and Ryan had them reprogrammed to dig horizontally underneath the ledge and towards the wall. When the tunnels were done, the spiders would connect them and then excavate larger rooms between the three-foot wide tunnels.
A day later, 25 feet into the cliff wall and three feet above the ledge the men were standing on, the second two spiders were reprogrammed to dig horizontal shafts into the cliff wall, and twenty yards in, then go vertical to meet the lower ones digging towards the wall. The slag or rubble coming out of the holes was deposited into several canisters to be taken up to America One for analysis. Then the spiders began depositing the loose rocks at the end of the ledge, making it even bigger.
VIN was still in charge of security, and there wasn’t that much for him to do after the craft were unloaded. The view from the ledge was pretty, certainly nothing compared to the first trip to the big crater, and the fourteen miles across the crater was unobstructed and, during daylight hours, calm and serene. Some days it reminded him of the Nevada desert. The only problem was they always had to wear spacesuits while outside.
“Mr. Noble, you have little to do. Why don’t you get aboard Astermine Two with Mr. Jones and try to fix the Rover? It should be directly above us,” Ryan suggested, walking over to him. Gazing out on the ledge, he was watching one of the spiders deposit about a hundred pounds of rock off the ledge. “Take a battery charger. I’m sure a battery juice-up would do it good, and keep it mobile for NASA for another decade.”
“Boss, can VIN do that in a day or two, or before we leave?” asked Boris, interrupting the conversation over the intercom. “We are about to start melting the graphite in the press chamber onto the silicone panels. We have got the chamber warm enough, and he can help us get the emergency room started.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders. The Rover could wait another day or two.
So, VIN got the job of helping to mount the press so that the heat machine, a $3 million fancy heater connected to the plutonium-238 power cell, sitting on a table and on rails, slowly moved across an extended 25-foot long table. On the table were ten panels, five on each side of the press and already placed in notches along a six-inch wide piece of graphite. It took three hours, the length of time of a spacewalk, as it moved the panels into its cavity, sealing the graphite onto the glass panes’ edges.
VIN was needed to lift the now-solid 20-foot long eight-foot wide wall of panels with six other men and carry it to a growing pile. The rest of the crew was working the graphite collected on the moon. With a change in plan, they had revamped a second press to make six-inch square, eight-foot long columns so that the panels would have support from underneath to the floor. The one-foot long and much thinner supports between the two walls of glass and graphite were already made.
On the third day after starting the panels, the crew had the three vertical walls standing. The inner emergency room was twenty feet long and twenty feet wide. An entrance/exit chamber would be inside the emergency room. Here spacewalkers could enter the four-foot square chamber from outside. The chamber would then be purged with fresh air, and then the person would walk into a second larger aluminum-walled room to take off his spacesuit and leave it to be cleaned in stalls made for them. Of course this wouldn’t be needed once the outer 12,000 square foot unit was complete. It too would have an entrance/exit chamber on each side.
Much of the interior was still being made in America One by the crew up there, and would be transported down and enclosed in the room before the final section of see-through roofing sealed the unit from the bad Martian atmosphere forever.
Finally, VIN wasn’t needed anymore and he caught a ride with Jonesy to the top of the crater, 100 feet above them.
There below them was the little Rover with what looked like its front left wheel stuck in a round hole filled with dust. The hole suddenly made VIN’s hair on the back of his neck rise. He had seen a round two-foot wide hole similar to this one before; on the asteroid!
“Jonesy, I don’t think I am going to like what I’m going to find out there.”
“Still wondering about the space shark?” joked his partner, gently landing the craft fifty feet from the ledge and twenty feet behind the poor little Rover. Having had a meal before they took off, neither were wearing helmets so nobody could hear them.
VIN hesitantly got his helmet on with Jonesy helping him. “Just dig out the little machine, connect the battery charger, and we come back tomorrow before we leave and disconnect it.”
“I hope so,” replied VIN. He exited and saw that there was more dust up here than down on the ledge. Still standing on top of the mining craft’s roof, the view went on forever and the crater from here looked like a 14-mile round swimming pool. He grabbed the charger he had brought out through the port and carefully climbed down the ladder.
The dust was about an inch thick, and where the thrusters hadn’t played with the light dust, he could see the old tracks made by the Rover heading in both directions around the crater rim. The little guy had certainly travelled around before it got stuck in this hole half-filled with dust.
Before he freed the Rover, he carefully walked towards the edge and looked down, knowing that this time and in 30 percent gravity he would still fall and bounce off the ledge below. He was surprised to see that the hole where the Rover was stuck was directly above the new walls of the emergency cabin they were erecting, and about twenty feet in from the edge of the ledge.
Then he approached the hole. The Rover was pretty light, and with his metal legs he didn’t have a problem lifting the pretty little silver and gold machine free. It looked like it had an antenna and a large modern mobile camera placed on top of it. He searched for a power point, found one and within minutes the battery was feeding life-giving power into the brave little Rover that was only meant to last one year walking around Mars, and had lasted ten.
He pulled the Rover a few feet away from the hole and for the first time he looked directly inside the hole. It was perfectly round, jagged by weather on the sides and the same width as the two holes he had seen on the asteroid millions of miles away. His heart jumped. He returned to the side hatches of the spacecraft and hauled out a 100-pound tank of oxygen, which on Mars only weighed 30 pounds.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked Jonesy into the intercom. “That is our air reserve!”
VIN didn’t listen. He needed to know what was under the dust inside the hole. He pointed the opening of the tank into the hole, an inch above it, and opened the tank.
Red dust enveloped him and he went blind. He let the jet of air spew out for a few more seconds and stopped. He was sure the hole was clean. In the fog around him he headed back to the spacecraft to replace the tank. The dust cloud hadn’t got that far and to Jonesy, sitting in the cockpit, VIN looked red and dusty as he returned. Jonesy also didn’t have a word to say. Within minutes the cloud floated away, and VIN slowly returned to look inside the hole.
He had been right; the bottom of the round hole three feet below the surface was closed up tight. Tight with molten rocks, exactly like on the asteroid!
With his hands trembling he returned to the mining craft climbed the ladder and dusted himself off before entering the hatch. He said nothing while Jonesy flew him back to the ledge. VIN was in shock, and his mind numb. He couldn’t believe what he had seen and knew that he needed to get back to the asteroid. It was about to pass by Mars.
After blabbing to Ryan about holes everywhere for a few minutes once they got out, he stopped, calmed himself down, looked directly into Ryan’s helmet, and ordered him to allow Jonesy to fly him to the asteroid immediately.
Ryan, understanding that VIN had nearly lost it, thought for a second, then looked at Jonesy, still sitting in Astermine Two, and told him to do what VIN wanted. They would have to change spacecraft at the mother ship as this one was short of fuel, and he suggested they take SB-I to the asteroid, and that Boris should go with them.
Three days later, the three men landed on the asteroid, exactly where they had landed before. It didn’t take VIN long to find the clean new hole the single spider had dug. It disappeared into the rock below him. He needed to get down there. VIN grabbed the most powerful mining light from Boris and asked Jonesy to get out. The gravity was stronger than that on Mars, and the craft was secure.
He had already explained to them what he wanted to do and with both men holding two cords, they lowered VIN gently down the hole that was deeper than expected, thirty feet deep. At thirty-eight feet exactly, his feet touched bottom, and he stood there getting his bearing and staring out into a large cavern the spider had dug out.
He knew the exact direction where he had seen the first hole in the surface of the asteroid. It was twenty feet behind where he stood, and looking at the wall twenty feet in front of him, he knew that the spider’s diggings would have reached the other hole.
The light in the cavern was better when he switched on the extra lamp he had brought, and it showered the large eight-foot high roof with light. He looked directly forward and saw a roundish cavern. He pointed the lamp left and right and it was if he was standing in a cave, both sides heading away from where he stood for about 20 to 25 feet. With the hairs on his backing standing at attention, he turned and looked at the wall behind him.
In the wall was a hole, a three-foot wide hole going into a second chamber, not as tall as his. It looked round from what he could see, like something had made a smooth tunnel…and there was no mining spider to be seen.
“Oh my God!” was all Lieutenant VIN Noble could say.
Books by the Author
The Book of Tolan Series (Adult Reading)
Banking, Beer & Robert the Bruce – Hardcover and eNovel
Easy Come Easy Go – Hardcover and eNovel
It Could Happen – eNovel
AMERICA ONE Series (General Reading)
AMERICA ONE – eNovel and Paperback.
AMERICA ONE – The Launch – eNovel and Paperback.
AMERICA ONE – The Odyssey Begins – eNovel and Paperback.
INVASION USA Series (General Reading)
INVASION USA I: The End of Modern Civilization – eNovel
INVASION USA II: The Battle for New York – eNovel
INVASION USA III: The Battle for Survival – eNovel
INVASION USA IV: The Battle for Houston … The Aftermath – eNovel
INVASION EUROPE: The European Side of the Story – 2013
INVASION USA Series: Paperback Editions
INVASION USA I: The End of Modern Civilization
INVASION USA II: The Battle for New York
INVASION USA III: The Battle for Survival
INVASION USA IV: The Battle for Houston … The Aftermath
About the Author
T I WADE was born in Bromley, Kent, England in 1954.
His father, a banker was promoted with his International Bank to Africa and the young family moved to Africa in 1956.
The author grew up in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe) and his life there is humorously described in his novel EASY COME EASY GO, Volume II of the Book of Tolan Series. Once he had completed his mandatory military commitments, at 21 he left Africa to mature in Europe.
He enjoyed Europe and lived in three countries; England, Germany and Portugal for 15 years before returning to Africa; Cape Town in 1989.
Here the author owned and ran a restaurant, a coffee manufacturing and retail business, flew a Cessna 210 around desolate southern Africa and finally got married in 1992.
Due to the upheavals of the political turmoil in South Africa, the Wade family of three moved to the United States in 1996. Park City, Utah was where his writing career began.
To date T I Wade has written ten novels.
The Author, his wife and two teenage children currently live 20 miles south of Raleigh, North Carolina.
Thank you for reading the America One Series.
It you would like to ask the author a question about the series, or make a suggestion, please email the author at tollan1wade@yahoo.com
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