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  “My God,” Chon said.

  “Is this why General Wang is missing?” Lin asked, looking around as if expecting to see the man approach them with an armed escort at any moment.

  “I don’t know for sure, Lin,” Hun said. “It could be for a number of reasons, but this seems to be the most likely. I don’t think our politburo was ready to accept another failure.”

  “Then why isn’t it in the news?” Chon asked, despite knowing that most items were censored or edited by the government before being broadcast to the public.

  Hun brought a hand to his chin and rested his elbow in the palm of the other hand. “I’m speculating, but I think the general absconded initially on his own accord, before there could be a reckoning with his superiors.”

  “So where does that leave us?” Lin asked.

  “Good question. I received my last orders from the Deputy Minister of the Interior yesterday morning, indicating to me that I was to proceed with the primary mission as planned and that I was to report any status updates to his department immediately.”

  “Sounds like they are unaware of what the general has done,” Chon said.

  “Not unaware of everything,” Hun clarified, “though I’m fairly certain they don’t know the final outcome of the general’s gambit. The lack of communication from our ships was taken as a sign of failure by our government. Once they learn of the scope of failure, it would be the end of the general for sure. That’s why I think he left his post on his own accord three days ago.”

  “This is serious,” Lin said, shaking her head and continuing to look around for armed soldiers. “Is there anything we can do?”

  Hun brought his hands to his side and said simply, “Yes. We can pray the general doesn’t have another trick up his sleeve.”

  VOSTOCHNY COSMODROME

  Siberia, Russia

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 178

  THE SUN ROSE OVER THE Siberian forest and illuminated the rocket launch towers of the Soviet Union’s major space Cosmodrome, Vostochny. Vladimir Berdenko sipped his tea and watched the Mi-34 attack choppers as they took off for their morning patrol along the border a dozen miles away. Known in the West as the HIND, or Tank Killer, they were one of the few pieces of military hardware that still chilled the blood of the Western powers. This morning the thump, thump, thumping of their thick, heavy blades in the cold Siberian air would instill fear in any remaining Chinese special unit forces that remained north of their border.

  “Good morning, Vlad,” Aleksey Gorky, his chief engineer, said as he walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the observation tower and took in the same amazing view. Wisps of steam rose from the nearby river and hung over the forested part of the complex like a low-lying cloud.

  “Good morning. Will you drink?” Vlad held his cup out in a gesture to invite the man to share in a cup of tea.

  “Nyet,” he said, turning to watch his secretary, Irina, as she put away a few items and disappeared around the doorway into the service area. “I’ve had my fill of caffeine for the day. A good liter of coffee this morning already, to be sure.”

  “So you’re measuring your intake in liters now, eh?” Vlad asked, trying to make light of their current situation with his employee.

  “I’d say so, considering how little sleep we’ve been getting around here, though at least the artillery bombardment has stopped.”

  “Ah, yes, the quiet of the night.” Vlad resumed sipping of his hot tea. “The Chinese still deny any provocation on our border.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Alex said, looking south towards the flight of helicopters that were rapidly disappearing low on the horizon. “How does any country deny something like that?”

  “They claimed we attacked them first,” Vlad explained, watching the helicopters, too. “There have been diplomatic interventions by the Americans, who have brokered a ceasefire.”

  “So the Americans know about the attack?”

  “Probably. I did not say they believed us or the Chinese, but the emergency meetings at the UN seemed to have borne some fruit for our premier.”

  Alex looked at his boss and lowered his voice. “Are you doing well ... Vlad?”

  The question seemed out of place but appropriate considering what had happened the last few days. “Do I seem out of sorts to you?” he asked.

  “Honestly,” Alex said, looking around furtively, “yes, you seem to be nervous and anxious in a way that is not normal—not what I’m accustomed to seeing the last decade, even with the usual anxiety of launches and mission issues.”

  “That is quite an assessment you have of me. Is this something from your own observations or do more of my staff feel the same way you do?”

  Alex shook his head, then looked back at the service area, “Mainly just me, though everyone here knows about you and ... her.”

  Vlad couldn’t resist and turned to see Irina come out and place a steaming chaika of hot water on the service table at the back of the room. She was laying out a bowl of sugar cubes as well as a miniature container of heavy cream. “Irina?”

  “Of course, Vlad. Don’t even try to deny it with me; we’ve been through too much together and, quite frankly, I don’t give a damn who you sleep with—but her constant presence has been noticed.”

  Vlad raised both brows at his engineer. “She’s working.... I mean, what’s unusual about that?”

  “She’s your administrative assistant,” Alex began. “She’s never worked in cafeteria services; we have a pair of workers now standing around doing nothing while she’s playing server up here with you.”

  “So?” Vlad asked, suspicion in his voice.

  “She hardly leaves your side and the overnight stays are quite obvious.”

  “Can you blame a man?” he said defensively. “What’s the matter, Alex, you don’t approve?”

  Alex shook his head. “That’s not the issue. It’s your demeanor that has me worried, Boss. I feel that you’ve been struggling with something and you’ve yet to share this with me, or anyone else.”

  “It’s that obvious, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  Vlad stood and walked over to the small table. He sat down, placing his cup of tea on the saucer there and taking a moment to compose himself. Alex followed suit, though he hesitated to sit until Vlad motioned for him to do so. It was awkward to stand further.

  Vlad nodded before speaking. “You’re right, Alex. I’ve been under a lot of stress from this mission, and the communications blackout was a bit more than I could handle. Also, I don’t know what the KGB has in store for our Spetsnaz on board the Krasnaya Zvesda. You can understand this, can you not?”

  Alex studied his superior for a long moment before nodding. “Da, I think this stress makes some sense.”

  Vlad desperately needed the man to look elsewhere, so he added, “And I’m weak when under stress—you understand this....” A quick look to his left and he met Irina’s gaze, and they exchanged smiles before she disappeared again behind the service room door. “I’ve been lonely, and Irina has been a great comfort to me. This you can understand, no?”

  Alex looked forlornly at his boss, and perhaps took a small measure of pity on him. “I see, Vlad, but if we can do anything for you, let us know. You are not alone in this.”

  “Thank you, Alex. I will do that.”

  “Great. Now, have you heard anything from Moscow on our communication problem?”

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but we’ve sent a missile to shoot it down.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Vlad suppressed a chuckle. “It will take a week to get there.”

  “Not exactly space savvy, are they?” Alex said, referring to the bureaucracy in general.

  Vlad shook his head. “No, they don’t listen to us here in general ... not until they realize it’s too late and the vodka has frozen.”

  “No confirmation of orbital insertion at Mars?”

  “No,” he said
. “They were scheduled to insert about two days ago, so it’s problematic not knowing. You see the stress I—I mean we are under?”

  “Of course. I guess we sit and wait, then, at least until the premier gives us new orders or the KGB does.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “How’s the old man, by the way? Haven’t heard you speak much of him and he hasn’t been active lately. Is he doing well?”

  “Dmitry is fine,” Vlad said. “He’s dealing with everyone else in power in Moscow who doesn’t know the difference between hydrogen and helium. This keeps him busy enough. That, and trying to keep our funding continuous and our operations healthy.”

  “Good to hear,” Alex said with one last look around. “I’ll head back to the command center if you need me. Enjoy your tea.”

  “Thank you, Alex. I’ll see you shortly.”

  THE REST OF THE DAY went by uneventfully, and Vlad found himself walking to his residence not far away from the main office buildings. He passed the guard, who greeted him as usual, and walked through the gate and down the garden path to his front door.

  He opened it and saw Irina’s shoes to the side as well as her coat, scarf, and purse hanging from the coat rack. He set aside his mixed emotions and sighed as he started his evening ritual, which involved taking off half his clothes at the front door. Once done, he walked gingerly to the kitchen where the smell of roasted poultry greeted his senses. Irina had her back turned to him and was finishing some sort of casserole, before she noticed the influx of fresh air.

  “Vlad, you’re back a tad early,” she said, turning to greet him. She walked over to plant a kiss on his lips and gave him a sensual hug.

  He returned the gesture and tried to smile at her, but it was forced, and she saw right through it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” he lied.

  “Come now, love. I’ve seen you this way before. Something is bothering you.”

  Vlad sighed, then plopped himself down at the kitchen table. He had to do it before answering; he took his mic detector out and swept it around the room, noticing the frown from Irina. “I needed to be sure it’s clear,” he explained.

  “You’ve never once detected a bug. Why now?”

  Vlad shrugged. “One can never be too careful.”

  “Alright, it’s clear; you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Aleksey approached me today and said that my demeanor seemed odd to him.”

  “Is that all?”

  “No, he also mentioned the fact that we are often together and that the staff have noticed.”

  “He’s a man, is he not? Surely, he understands what’s going on. Is this so hard to explain, or do I embarrass you?” Irina looked saddened.

  “No!” he exclaimed. “It’s not that way. I have no problems with the way we feel for one another, but I’m your boss. That is the issue I have at this time, and it makes me uncomfortable with other members of my staff.”

  She sat down opposite him and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel, setting it on the counter behind her. “That isn’t the main reason for the way you feel.”

  Vlad sighed and placed both his elbows on the table, and allowed his head to sink into them. He felt her hand across the back of his neck and welcomed it. After a moment, he raised his head and took a deep breath as her hand fell to his hands. “Treason,” was all he said.

  “Not against the country we love,” she countered.

  Vlad shook his head at her. “You were planning on leaving long before the second revolution. What could you possibly mean by this?”

  “I mean,” she began, reaching out with her other hand and gripping his, “that I love my country. I love my family and I love you, but. . .”

  “I don’t like that word.”

  “I know, but life here is not without its ... complications, and even challenges.” She gripped him tighter. “I was ready to leave for my own selfish reasons, but now we have a chance to make a difference. A difference in how humanity moves forward, and we can benefit for ourselves as well. What’s wrong with being a little bit selfish in this matter? Try to think of us now, not just your position or duty.”

  Vlad locked eyes with her and they stared at one another from across the table. He wondered at times if his testosterone did more thinking for him than his brain. She was incredibly beautiful to him, or so he thought. She seemed to be more attractive the older their relationship became, and he could only chalk that up to one emotion: love. As Russians, he understood that their relationship could be very ... practical, for lack of a better word, but life was not without its consequences, and for better or for worse, he was making life-changing decisions based on his emotions for this woman.

  “Fine,” was all he could say.

  “That’s not good enough,” Irina pressed. “How about for your crew?”

  He narrowed his eyes at her in mention of the cosmonauts he commanded. “What are you saying?”

  She got up, walked to the pantry, and brought out a folded-up piece of paper. Then she returned, laying it out in front of him and trying hard to flatten out the wrinkles. “This is what I’m saying.”

  “What is this?” Vlad started to peruse the single page of text. It seemed to have been written by a diplomat.

  “The Americans want to work with us, not against us.”

  Vlad was shocked at the letter, and that it was addressed to him—a very clever ploy to leverage secrecy. How could he turn in something of this nature when the particulars all but laid responsibility at his feet? He scanned it briefly, then looked up at her. “Why not make this overture to the premier?”

  “Maybe they already have,” she said. “Perhaps this is to ensure success not only for them, but for us as well.”

  Vladimir nodded, then looked at her with apprehension. “You understand what it would mean if the KGB finds this letter?”

  She nodded and took it from him, then walked over to the gas stove, lit a burner, and turned to look at him. “You must do this for them ... and for us.”

  She smiled at him as she put the edge of the letter into the blue gas flame and managed to hold onto it right up until the second that the flames flickered greedily at her fingertips.

  The black ash fell to the bottom of the burner, and Irina repeated her two final words: “For us.”

  Chapter 4

  First Contact

  RED HORIZON

  Mars orbit

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 178

  “HOLY SHIT,” ANDERSON said over their ship radio channel. The sudden blaring of the ship’s klaxon was audible to everyone, including those planetside that were monitoring their primary channel.

  “What’s happening up there?” Jules asked.

  “I’m getting a red light on fuel tank four and an environmental warning for the second crew module,” Sullivan stated.

  “Understood,” the commander said, “but what happened?”

  The fact that Commander Monroe wasn’t seeing everything first hand took a moment to sink in for the remaining members of the Red Horizon.

  Major Carter tried to clarify for her: “Man down.”

  “Man down?” Doctor Hill asked, sounding incredulous. “I’d say everyone is down.”

  “You’re making no sense up there,” Jules said, turning her tone into one of command, “Captain Sullivan, give me a sitrep, now.”

  “Ah, Commander Monroe, there’s been some sort of explosion on board the Chinese ship that completely destroyed it. We’ve taken some damage from shrapnel and debris and are assessing damage at this time. I’ll update you as soon as I can.”

  Jules wasn’t going to wait for an update. “Major Carter, what did you do to the Roaring Tiger?”

  “Unknown, Commander Monroe, though I can say we didn’t do anything to it,” the man said coolly. “I lost one of my men in that explosion.”

  There was an awkward pause; then Jules said, “I’m sorry to hear that, Major. Who was it?”
>
  “Petty Officer Murphy.”

  “Understood, Major,” she continued. “You have the condolences of every member of my team. Please inform your men.”

  “They just were,” he said.

  “Did we lose....” Her voice trailed off, unable to think of an appropriate term for the Chinese on board the now-destroyed ship.

  Doctor Hill spoke up: “Yes, Commander, everyone on board the Roaring Tiger is now deceased. The ship is a total loss.”

  “How’s the Horizon holding up?”

  “Let’s just say we were damn lucky we moved it when we did,” Hill noted dryly.

  Sullivan tried to ally the commander’s fears, understanding her need to know something about what had transpired. “Commander, I’m reading our support systems from on board Red Two, so I don’t have the main status board in front of me. From my position, it appears that we’re venting propellant to our port side. It also appears we have some sort of hull breach in the living quarters of pod two.”

  “That’s the military pod,” Dave Dakos added from his position on ship.

  “Do you have contact with all your team, Major Carter?” Doctor Hill asked.

  “SEAL team, roll call,” Major Carter said.

  “Flores here.”

  “Jackson in.”

  There was a long pause when Carter said, “Anderson is with me and Murphy is down. Lieutenant Harris, do you copy?” After a few seconds, the major repeated, “Harris, you copy?”

  “I’m on my way to LQ2,” Hill said—living quarters, pod two.

  “Damn,” Carter said. “I’m headed there, too. Anderson, man the console and standby.”

  “Aye, sir,” the man said. They both ignored the fact that they were talking on the ship’s primary system.

  “This has not been a good day,” someone said.