Legacy (73 page)

Jack was about to ask a question when a shockwave struck the blockhouse. It rocked the interior and men fell to the floor for cover thinking it was an earthquake. Only Jack, Everett, and Sebastian knew that it wasn’t.

“Get out of here and take cover,” Jack yelled as loudly as he could.

As the men started to move, they heard the crackle of small arms fire and then another explosion rocked Gallery Number Two.

JOHNSON SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON, TEXAS

Hugh Evans was dozing at his station.

He had been awake for seventy-eight straight hours and refused to leave mission control. His relief would sit in a chair next to him and coordinate efforts with Jet Propulsion Lab in getting signals from the Beatle
John
and correlating the data against what little telemetry could find its way through regarding
Altair
. Thus far they were concluding that
Altair
had reached the surface of the Moon but there had been no word on whether the crew was still alive.

It had been twelve hours since the president announced through a joint communiqué that the Chinese space program was now cooperating with the ESA and NASA teams. This had come as a gesture of goodwill after the sudden death of their great leader, who had suffered a severe heart attack while sitting at his desk. The disturbing factor in all of this was that all three space programs—the ESA, NASA, and the China National Space Administration—had not one single scrap of evidence that there were live members of any crew on the lunar surface. All communication, including telemetry, from all three platforms, had ceased. The Chinese could only verify that their
Magnificent Dragon
had achieved orbit and its LEM had reached the surface. Just after the news had been relayed to the Chinese crew that cooperation between the powers had been achieved, communication with the orbiting crew module and the lunar lander had ceased.

Hugh Evans had heard speculation around mission control and the gist of it was that there were ten-to-one odds in favor of all the crews being lost. They would never say that to Evans himself, but the talk was there regardless. The mission thus far had not only lost contact with all elements on and orbiting the Moon, but information had been received through the gossip corridor that the vice president of the United States and executor of the American space program had been placed under house arrest by the FBI. He was more than likely going to be charged for his involvement with Samuel Rawlins, which would implicate the vice president in the assassination attempt on the president. Hugh could only wonder what else could possibly go wrong with Dark Star and the other missions that had been sent to the Moon.

Someone nudged Evans on the arm and he opened his eyes. He was staring at a cup of coffee held by the oncoming CAPCOM specialist.

“Figured since Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain-grown coffee, the coffee would come to Mohammed.”

Evans smiled for the first time in days and sat up in his chair. His eyes felt like there was sand lodged in them. He rubbed them until they were flaming red.

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the white cup. As he did so, he saw the NASA logo on its side and wondered if the program would be extinct after the debacle of the Dark Star missions. Sipping the black coffee, he could only speculate if he was presiding over the extinct dinosaur that was now the space program.

To be so close and to lose the last of the LEMs had been a shock to him and everyone at mission control. The presidential calls to the center asking for any update were the worst. He had spoken to the president twice, offering his latest version of the same information, only to feel the president deflate even further after his pat answer.

“What was that?” a technician called out from the fifty rows of telemetry stations.

Evans glanced up at the large center screen. The picture was still being relayed by the Beatle
John
and the camera view hadn’t changed. Evans went back to drinking his coffee.

“There it is again. Could someone tell me just what the hell it is? Flight, we have a shadow that has passed over
John
’s lens twice now.”

Evans grimaced at the coffee in his cup and placed it on his console. He adjusted his headphones and microphone, and then stood up, hearing his bones cracking as he did. He looked down and let his anger show for the first time that day.

“Who is speaking to me?” he asked. “When someone has something to report, it would be helpful if I knew who I was talking to.”

A young man in row nineteen of mission control stood and looked back at the mission flight controller. Evans was staring down from his high perch with his hands on his hips.

“Sorry, Flight, this is telemetry from
John
coming in from JPL. We’re getting shadows around the peripherals of the rover’s camera.”

Evans rubbed his eyes and focused on the young kid, who was connected directly to JPL through a computer link.

“Just what the hell does that mean?” he asked.

“I think we have movement around
John.
”

Evans looked up at the picture streaming from outside Shackleton Crater. Neither the camera angle nor the rover had moved in days. The picture was still fixed on the center of the interior, showing the devastation after the explosion. As he watched, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“What is JPL saying?” Evans asked.

“Whoever is on duty missed it. I guess I’m the only one who saw it,” the young engineer said, looking timid.

Evans nodded his head and fixed the technician with his tired eyes.

“That’s okay, son. You report anything you see. You never know.” Evans started to sit down and that was when he saw it. He froze halfway to his chair. The rover had moved. “Jesus, has anyone issued a command to
John
to change positions?” he asked. The heads of three hundred men and women looked up as they wondered what Evans was talking about.

On the main view screen,
John
began to vibrate and the camera angle went off kilter.

“Good God, we have movement of the rover! It could be slipping down the slope of the crater.”

“No, no,” Evans shouted, as he watched the camera view go further askew. “Not now, not now!”

“Wait a minute. JPL is reporting that it’s not
John
that’s moving, it’s the camera’s boom arm.”

Everybody in mission control stood as one. The camera angle steadied and the smiling face of a helmeted astronaut came into view, waving a greeting.

An eruption of noise sounded in the aisles of mission control as they recognized the smiling face. It was Sarah McIntire.

“It’s the lieutenant. They made it!” someone shouted from their station.

“Calm, people, calm,” Evans said, as coolly as he could manage. He wanted to jump up and scream himself. He looked over at CAPCOM, who was staring back at Evans and using a handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. Hugh nodded and placed his hands on his hips once more.

On the screen the small geologist held a finger up as the camera angle jostled and then steadied. McIntire disappeared from view and the camera showed several space-suited bodies moving around near the rover. Some wore the distinctive environmental suits of the ESA, and some the white with red trim of NASA, and still others had the solid red-colored suits of the Chinese. Another loud cheer erupted from the floor, and this time Evans himself pumped a fist.

Suddenly a loud crackle from CAPCOM was heard through the speakers lining the walls of the center. Evans looked over at the CAPCOM station and saw his technicians frantically adjusting the sound quality. Just as Evans looked back, McIntire appeared again, this time trailing a long cord from her backpack.

“Hous … this is … copy, over?”

Evans tried to still his racing heart. He realized McIntire had tied into
John
’s transmitter and was attempting to broadcast by bouncing the signal off
John
’s parent craft,
Peregrine
. He wanted to reach out through the 244,000 miles and hug the smart little woman.

“Damn it, CAPCOM, clean that up. This I want to hear!” Evans said. For the first time he had emotion exploding from his voice. As he watched, CAPCOM nodded and stared at the main viewing screen.

“Houston, this is
Dark Star 3
, do you copy, over?” Sarah said from the Moon.

“
Dark Star
, this is Houston, we read you loud and clear. Welcome back to the world of the living.”

“Thank you, Houston. It’s good to be back. I am pleased to report that the
Eagle
has landed.” Sarah smiled and then laughed. “I’ve always dreamed of saying that.”

Evans plopped down into his chair just as the control room exploded with cheers and applause. Hugh felt around in his pockets and then a hand appeared in front of him. It was the young technician from JPL. He was holding a handkerchief out for the flight controller. Evans accepted it and wiped his eyes. He nodded his head as he reached for the phone that had been tied in earlier. He only had to wait a second after picking it up before the call was answered.

“Mr. President, Lieutenant McIntire has just reported from Shackleton Crater.
Dark Star
is on the Moon and the joint teams, including China, are moving into the crater’s interior.”

There was silence on the other end for the longest stretch Evans had ever endured. Then the president was heard clearing his throat and sniffing.

“Thank you, Mr. Evans—thank you.”

As the line went dead, Hugh Evans looked up with phone still in his hand and all he saw was the smiling face of Sarah McIntire behind her helmet’s glass visor. The little geologist was the new love of his life.

Behind Sarah, Evans could see the joint lunar team moving slowly down the explosion-wracked sides of Shackleton Crater.

SHACKLETON CRATER, LUNAR SURFACE

The first thing Sarah saw was several large chunks of the mineral. She had no idea if they had been there before the explosion or if they were thrown free of the complex below. She examined one of them up close, and then let it slip from her gloved hand as she noticed for the first time the complex below in the crater’s center. She was amazed at the sight as she took in what was once an underground bunker. The explosion had not only removed the top sixty feet of accumulated lunar dust, it had shattered several of the buildings’ roofs. Inside one she saw what looked like tracked transports of some kind, complete with large tanks and other big pieces of equipment.

“It makes one rethink the small problems we on Earth share, does it not?”

Sarah was torn from her thoughts by General Kwan, who had stepped up beside her without her noticing. Sarah looked from the general to the complex below.

“Sometimes we create those problems for lack of something better to do, it seems.”

“Well put, Lieutenant. You and I are the same sort of soldier, I believe. Someday maybe my superiors will allow me access to their thinking about why this project could not take a more cautious approach and a time frame more amenable to safety. I have lost many good men who wanted nothing more than to ride a rocket into space.”

“Well, we won’t find out anything they need to know up here,” Sarah said, as she spied Will Mendenhall bouncing toward her. “I believe my escort is here, General. Would you care to join us?”

“It would be an honor.”

Will bounded to a stop and gestured toward the slope.

“We’re rigging safety lines so we can have handholds on the way down. I didn’t think it would be such a hot idea sliding down on our asses.”

Sarah hit Mendenhall on the shoulder.

“Always thinking of the easy way to do things.”

“Hell, I thought that was why everyone was so hot for me to come along on this little picnic,” Will said, looking from Sarah to the general. “That is one nice environment suit, General,” he said. He returned his gaze to Sarah. “Now why does NASA insist on white-colored space suits where if you fell down no one could see you, while the Chinese use red ones that you can see from fifty miles off?”

Sara rolled her eyes and eased past Mendenhall.

“You’ll have to excuse the lieutenant, General. He’s been bitching ever since he volunteered for this.”

“Volunteered?” Mendenhall protested. He turned to look at Kwan. “That’s our army’s euphemism for kidnapped.”

The general laughed as he turned to follow Sarah.

“In our army also, Lieutenant.”

As they approached the twenty secured ropes, Sarah stepped up to Sergeant Andrews, the man she had chosen to command the rest of the Green Berets. He was conferring with the Chinese soldiers who would be a part of his team for the initial descent into the crater.

“Language barrier?” Sarah asked the sergeant.

“Surprisingly, none at all,” Andrews answered. He slung his weapon over his shoulder. “It seems they picked troops with English-language training. Maybe they knew something we didn’t, huh, Lieutenant.” He reached down and took one of the secured ropes into his gloved hands.