Red Horizon: The Truth of Discovery (Discovery Series Book 2) Read online

  Chapter 15

  Good to Go

  NASA Space Command

  Houston, Texas

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 60

  “We ready to go?” Mr. Smith asked as he walked over to Rock in the main conference room.

  Rock nodded and looked for any reason to bail on the man, though they were scheduled to have a final review before launch. Not seeing an easy way out, he responded. “We’re going to have one last briefing and then prepare for a final countdown.”

  “I know. I was informed that I needed to be here for this one,” Smith said.

  “You were?” Rock was surprised. “This is supposed to be a working meeting, not just a brief.”

  Smith tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “You already said it was a brief.”

  “I did?” Rock asked, bringing a hand to his chest.

  “Yes,” Smith countered.

  “Well, I meant it was a working brief, then,” Rock lied.

  Smith stood for a moment, looking at the director for NASA, and then relaxed slightly. “Fine. Whatever you want to call it, I need to be there. Orders from the president.”

  “Of course,” Rock said, but thought, Orders, my ass.

  Jack and Lisa rounded a corner, catching sight of Rock with Mr. Smith, and they both made faces that only Rock could see. “Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Smith,” Lisa said.

  “Miss Wilson, Mister Conners,” Smith said, nodding in turn. The pair walked past them and into the larger room, which was more like a college classroom or auditorium, though a smaller one.

  “Shall we?” Mr. Smith motioned to the door, and Rock turned and entered, heading to the front as his staff followed them, taking seats as they went. Rock sat at a chair near the podium and waited for Marge, who was scheduled to perform the last brief before they launched the day after next.

  Right on cue, Marge entered the room and walked to the front. When she neared the podium, Rock motioned for her to sit by him momentarily. She sat on the seat’s edge with a massive pile of books, folders, and other associated documentation. “What’s up?”

  Rock motioned with his eyes toward the first row directly in front of the podium where Mr. Smith sat. Marge followed with her own eyes and then looked back at Rock. Rock spoke under his breath. “Keep it simple and shorter than normal.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Marge said.

  “I don’t need him questioning things in front of the entire staff,” Rock said.

  “Well, kick him out, then,” Marge said, a look of frustration on her face. “You’re the director of NASA, for crying out loud.”

  “I know . . .” Rock said.

  “Wait a second.” Marge snapped a finger. “I thought this was a NASA-only briefing.”

  “So did I,” Rock said.

  “Even the military isn’t here,” she said.

  “Yes, but the man is rather determined.” Rock looked to see Smith staring at them.

  “He’s looking right at us,” Marge stated.

  “Try not to stare back,” Rock said. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, I got this,” Marge said, taking a moment to pat him on his knee, and then she stood and walked over to the podium, grabbing the microphone and speaking into it. “Everyone, please, take a seat.”

  The room hushed, and someone hit one of the main lights that slightly dimmed the room while keeping the front stage lights bright. Marge blinked for a moment while adjusting her materials in front of her, and then began speaking.

  “We’re going to keep this short and sweet. We all have work to do, and we’ve spent the better part of four years preparing for this moment. First I’d like to take a moment to recognize our team leader, a man who has worked ceaselessly to ensure that we were prepared to undergo such a great challenge in such a short period of time, Director Richard Crandon.”

  The room stood and applauded, and Rock stood himself and nodded, once in each direction, and then motioned with his hands for the applause to die down. He managed to give Marge a look as she had turned to face him and was clapping furiously, a huge grin on her face, not only enjoying the moment of adulation for her boss but a bit of his discomfort at him being in the spotlight too.

  She turned back to the room and resumed speaking. “I’d like to also thank all of you for your hard work and efforts in preparing for the Mars mission and all of the associated missions that supported it.” Another round of applause, and then Marge continued.

  “We are scheduled to boost the day after tomorrow at oh eight hundred hours, Eastern Standard Time. In case you were wondering, this is a coincidence and not planned, as the alignment of the planets along with the current location of the Red Horizon dictated such a launch window.” A slide demonstration came up behind her that took up the entire wall, displayed from a massive projector that was suspended from the ceiling. Marge had taken out a red laser pointer and was using it to highlight what she was speaking about on the slide.

  “The flight path of the Red Horizon will swing it halfway around the Earth, breaking out at the day-night terminator side with an outbound type-one trajectory of thirty-two degrees with a delta-v of . . .” Marge paused for a moment and then looked back at Rock. Rock remained calm and simply nodded for her to continue. He was going to let her do it her way.

  She decided to simplify. “The trip will take four months where we will have a thirty-day window in which to explore the two most important sites that have been identified to have alien technology. The first is the transmitter located on the southwest side of . . .”—she turned to face the slide and then used her own clicker to advance it to a slide of a Martian volcano mount—“Pavonis Mons,” she said, pointing to the middle of a string of three inactive volcanic mountains located northeast of the large Martian canyon that was easily several times the size of the Grand Canyon on Earth. “It should be noted that there may be some importance as to why the device is located on the side closest to this valley”—she used her laser to point to the Valles Marineris—“and not on some other side or on the much taller and larger Olympus Mons, which would give it a greater horizontal angle for transmitting.

  “The landing site will be located about here.” She pointed to a relatively flat spot located between the two, but much closer to the mountain than the valley. “The distances look deceivingly close, but we’re talking about transiting over eight hundred miles between the two. This will require a primary landing, along with a secondary jump, over to this spot here”—she motioned to the western end of the Valles Marineres—“where a heat source has been growing considerably since we’ve been monitoring the planet.”

  Someone raised a hand in the third row, and Marge pointed to the man, indicating he should ask his question. “Has command considered utilizing the second lander in order to investigate both sources of alien technology simultaneously?”

  “That’s a good question,” Marge began. “If you all remember, the initial mission profile was to have one lander for the actual exploration and another as a backup, should the first fail. There is no way to retrieve our crewmembers should the first lander suffer from mechanical failure or if it were to be incapacitated in some way or form.”

  Marge allowed her words to sink in, and the other man spoke up again. “Yes, but the reports we have seen over the last couple of years show that the Chinese have three landers and the Russians have two, the same as we do. However, the newly elected Russian premier has indicated that they are willing to launch both landers if necessary in order to reach both targets of interest in order to arrive there first. What have we done to counter this?”

  Marge put her laser pointer down before addressing the man’s second question. “We have built a ship capable of flying to Mars faster than they can. We should arrive a week or so ahead of them and be able to investigate first the alien signal transmitter and then the heat source that we’ve detected on the planet’s surface. That is how we mitigate this issue, not from taking excessive risks with
our crew members.”

  Rock suppressed his smile at the rebuff of the engineering technician, though he noticed that Smith was taking notes, and he wondered how that would play out in the Capitol.

  “What about the loss of fuel last month when the Horizon intercepted with our shuttle?” a female asked. Rock recognized her as working with the radio interface between the communications equipment and their computer control system. Each system had to have remote capability, and that meant being able to key a mike on board the ship even from tens of millions of miles away. So much equipment, so varied in their purposes and usages, necessitated a large staff, and keeping up with everyone was difficult, even in the best of circumstances.

  Marge answered, “We’ve been able to boost extra supplies of propellant as well as secure some of the reserves from the lunar orbiters in order to make up the difference.”

  “We were able to resupply to one hundred percent?” the woman pressed.

  “No,” Marge said, “but it’s enough to meet mission parameters, and the exact fuel amount as well as our departure speed is classified.”

  Finally, Rock thought, watching as Mr. Smith nodded vigorously in agreement. The NSA and NASA agreed on something.

  “Have we authorized the use of the Mars exit fuel stores?” someone blurted out without raising a hand.

  Marge cleared her throat but remained calm. “That is also classified, though that means that the mission would be extended by well over a year and a half, and that is not something that mission control is prepared to decide upon prematurely. For now, we will follow the current trajectory, fuel burn, boost rate, and flight plan that has been calculated for optimum performance.”

  Rock approved so far of how his second-in-command was doing, though he was ready to step in if necessary to restore some order. He understood, however, that doing so would undermine the same authority and confidence that he had given to her. He took a deep breath and remained seated.

  “Moving along,” she said, advancing a slide. “The initial landing should allow for a quick trip up the mountainside to investigate using the MLV, or Mobile Land Vehicle. The ability to deploy it and store it again will give us the chance to then perform a hyperbolic boost, taking the lander to a point only twenty to thirty miles from the secondary target of interest. The unknown infrared heat source here.” She pointed to the map of Mars, showing a location marked where the heat source was located.

  “Total time for each mission is forty-eight hours, though the secondary target can be extended if necessary.”

  A man raised his hand, and Marge called on him. “The first can be extended as well, correct?”

  “Yes, we can loiter at the transmitter site on Pavonis Mons if there is a need to do so. The timelines for exploration were calculated not only from our flight plans but from the estimates given to us for when the Chinese and Russians, ah, I mean Soviets, will arrive. Our goal was to enable maximum time at each without losing the window, so that, say we arrived at the transmitter but couldn’t reach the secondary target before one of the other nations.”

  “What’s the plan if they’re closer behind us than we thought?” the man followed up.

  Another man asked, “What if they reach the planet before we do?”

  Rock could see Marge’s shoulders sagging a bit. He knew she dealt primarily with facts, numbers, and absolutes. Variables were always to be taken to their minimum and accounted for in one way or another. The mini barrage of speculative questions seemed more suited to a press conference and not a scientific briefing. Marge took another deep breath and started. “If they’re closer, then we’ll work faster, and if they reach the planet first, then I’ll be the first person to tender my resignation.”

  Several staff chuckled, while a few seemed surprised. Marge didn’t let them dwell on it too much before continuing. “If we can move forward . . .”

  Rock noticed that Smith was motioning for him to follow. The man got up during the informal part of the briefing and exited toward a side door, holding it open slightly for Rock. He didn’t like leaving Marge alone, but Smith seemed intent on discussing something with him important, though he had no idea why it couldn’t wait.

  “What is it?” Rock asked as the door shut and he found himself alone with the NSA man in one of the large hallways of the complex.

  “Mrs. Jones will be fine fielding questions like that,” Smith began. “Look, I had something that I wanted to discuss with you, but I just received a text that my presence is required back in DC, and the next flight that I need to be on leaves in an hour and a half, so time is short.”

  “You’re flying commercial?” Rock asked, assuming the man ran around the country on his business in one of the NSA’s Gulfstreams.

  “More often than you can imagine. Budgetary concerns with so much money outlaid for this mission. Anyway, that’s not important. What is important is how valuable do you think your counterpart would be to us from the Soviet side?”

  Rock was surprised, thinking perhaps he was misunderstanding something. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Ruscosmos chief, for the Soviets. Do you know the man?” Smith asked.

  “You must be referring to Vladimir Berdenko,” Rock said, tilting his head slightly and putting his hands on his hips, a bad habit he developed after working with the military. “Either him or Dmitry Osnokov.”

  “No, the first, Vladimir. You know him, right?” Smith pressed.

  “I told you years ago I worked as the liaison with the Europeans and Russians over a decade ago. I know the man, and he took over all space operations for the new Soviet Union once his boss, Osnokov, was elevated to Minister of the Interior. What about them?”

  “Not them, him,” Smith explained, looking up and down the hallway to see if anyone was listening, and then he opened the door a crack where Marge’s voice could be heard over the speaker system. Shutting it, he leaned close to Rock. “Would he know the same level of details on their mission that you do?”

  Rock looked at the man and thought it was a trick question. “Why would you ask that? You know the man is intimately involved in all facets of their operation.”

  “We know the basics, but we have intel that indicates he may actually want to defect, and we need to reach out to him with someone who he knows . . . personally,” Smith said.

  “Listen,” Rock said, agitated now, “I don’t have time for this. We launch in less than forty-eight hours, and I’ll be somewhat occupied, if you take my meaning.” Rock let the sarcasm flow a bit, not caring for decorum at a time like this.

  “I understand, Mr. Crandon, but it will only be a simple phone call. We’ll have you say a few words that we prepared ahead of time that will seem innocent, but they will have already been conveyed to him and will have a different meaning.”

  “I told you, I’m busy.”

  “Please, Mr. Crandon. It will only take five minutes, and we have our own limited window in which to make this plausible. Won’t you at least consider this for a moment?”

  Rock paused and looked the man in the eyes for any sign of an ulterior motive or perhaps deceit, but he saw none. In fact, he wasn’t used to the man using the word please to ask for something. “What do you mean by your own limited window?”

  “This is strictly confidential,” Smith began. “It was customary years ago for the directors of each space program to call and congratulate one another on certain achievements, was it not?”

  “Yes, years ago.”

  “Well, they may be suspicious of any call, but at least this one has a basis in tradition, and we can use it to test our intel. Will you help?”

  Rock moved his arms across his chest and folded them for a moment while he thought about the request. “This is part of your HUMINT initiative that we seldom hear about, the one that sometimes gives us insight into what the Russians are doing?”

  “Yes, the Soviets now, but that’s the idea. We’ve been nurturing one particular source, which worked well for u
s until their damn revolution that made things much more difficult, to say the least.”

  “Someone’s life may be on the line too?”

  Smith saw an opening to appeal to the man’s sense of humanity. “Yes, exactly. Our contact is risking more than we can appreciate to bring us this information. Won’t you help us to help . . . her?”

  The mere fact that the man mentioned the gender of their contact was way out of norm for the NSA man, but it also told Rock that it was important to them. Smith would not have given this information away unless he also wanted to appeal to his sense of honor with regards to his more traditional view. The ploy worked.

  “Fine. When do you need this by?”

  “Tomorrow. Will that work for you?” Smith asked.

  “Yes, but only five minutes. I thought you said you needed to leave?’ Rock asked.

  “I do, but I’ll arrange this by telephone. Expect it to be done from your office, all right?”

  “Fine, give me time to be there, but you’ll have to keep it short. I’ll be in the command center all day tomorrow, as well as the next day.”

  “Great,” Smith said, nodding and walking away. “I got to run, but this will help. I’ll send you the details as soon as I have them.” Smith finished talking as he walked, and Rock watched him reach an intersection in the hallway and turn, taking the man out of sight.

  Rock found himself alone in the large hallway and could only shake his head. He was not a spy, but life was giving him one turn after another. Without a further thought, he opened the door and returned to Marge’s briefing. He would at least see that through.

  Chapter 16

  Vacation

  Vostochny Cosmodrome

  Siberia, Russia

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 61

  The old lady bothered Vlad, but not in the usual sense. No, he was accustomed to beggars or the elderly in his country panhandling or asking for money. Usually it was a drunk looking for a ruble or two in order to join a Troika and split a small bottle of vodka. Normally he stayed in his new quarters on base, but today he went into town to buy a few supplies, as he expected to be busy the upcoming week.