Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (25 page)

The orbital data for the US lunar shuttle displayed on one of her computer screens. The Americans were predictable, always flying the same path, even though there were other trajectories they could use. The physics of fuel-economy dictated where they’d be in the sky at any given moment. According to the pattern, it should be about to begin its trans-Earth burn and be fifteen degrees above the horizon as it fired its engines.

She worked the controls for the optical scope mounted on the rim of the crater, locking it in on the place where they’d be. The view screen was empty, except for the background stars.

She glanced at the chronometer, surprised that the shuttle was late. Maybe they’d aborted the flight? She widened the field of view and scanned across the region of space where it should be. A faint flash of reflected light pinpointed the vehicle and she switched lenses to zoom in. She locked the scope to track it as it accelerated toward Earth.

It wasn’t late, it had already begun its burn and was heading for Earth on a faster trajectory. She checked its position, confirming that it was more than ten degrees higher in the sky than it should have been.

“Very odd,” she said, wondering if it was worth waking the commander to tell him.
Probably not,
she decided, keying in an alert memo instead. He’d get her report in the morning.

She watched the TLS until its engines shut down, noting the time into her log. She punched the data into the system and waited as it calculated the trajectory.

Thirty-eight hours to Earth orbit. Whatever the reason for the flight, it obviously had to be urgent. Completing her entry with the orbital notes, she swung the spotting scope toward the Earth. She often spent her shift staring at the Earth and trying to pick out the lights of the bigger cities. It was nighttime across the majority of the visible surface, and even though the scope was relatively low power by space-based standards, she could easily make out the lights of Hong Kong and Tokyo along the edge of the great dark Pacific Ocean. The ISS Alpha was also visible as a tiny speck of bright white light just before it dropped into the earth’s shadow and disappeared from view.

If only she’d had access to the big telescopes at the gigantic observatory they were building in Amundsen Crater, she thought in frustration. She’d applied for a posting at the construction site several months earlier, hoping to avoid going home at the end of her rotation, but so far she’d not received new orders.

She was startled by an alert tone announcing a secure priority communication. She swiveled in the hemispherical chamber, slapping her hand down on the stud that activated the laser link to the Communications Center on Earth. Three seconds later the compressed data started feeding into her console.

She watched the file decrypt and display on her screen. It was her responsibility to examine any incoming messages to make sure that decoding had been completed correctly, so she read the transmission with the understanding that what she was seeing was meant exclusively for the base commander.

There had been several voicecom communications that she’d routed to Commander Feng over the last several days, but since they were linked directly to his quarters, she’d not been aware of their content. All she’d been able to infer from that was that the Director General himself had taken an uncharacteristic interest in the affairs of the Lunar Base.

This time however, she was privy to the content of the message.

She stopped reading at the point where the orders cancelled all return flights to Earth. Apparently she was going to be staying after all, although she also realized why. She was still staring at the file when her relief arrived to take over the watch. She closed the screen before he had a chance to see the new orders.

Snagging the microdisk from her console, she headed out to wake the commander.

***

Flight of
Liberty

Outside Stormhaven:

“This is Gregory Baker with GNS, live in the Arizona desert. Fifteen minutes ago, in an unannounced flyby of what can only be described as a truly unbelievable vehicle, Colton Taylor unveiled what may well be his greatest technological marvel. Cameras caught the craft in flight over the remote Corporate Headquarters of Stormhaven.

“What you’re seeing now is the unedited video of this amazing creation streaking across the sky. Witnesses on the ground report that the vehicle made absolutely no sound as it traversed the half-mile from its hangar to a US government observation camp on a small hilltop overlooking our position.

“Last week, Mr. Taylor announced his intent to fly this spacecraft into orbit on the maiden voyage of what he intends to become a regularly scheduled Commercial Transport Service. So far, government officials have had no comment about his proposed flight service, but if historical precedent is to be considered, Mr. Taylor and Stormhaven are going to be facing a tough legal challenge before they get the licenses essential to fly in space.

“We are waiting for an announcement from Stormhaven’s official spokesperson, Viktoria Rosnikov, and will go live to that conference when it begins.

“Stay online with GNS for all your breaking news. This is Greg Baker, logging off for now.”

The camera shut down and a dozen others flashed on, fighting for position in front of the small podium that had been set up in front of the community. Greg stepped off the little riser and handed his lapel mic to the camera operator with a snort. “I hate being the talking head. Why the hell didn’t they send a real reporter. I’m an editor, not an anchor."

“Yeah, yeah, just get over it,” The cameraman said. The satphone on his waist beeped.

“GNS, lost in Siberia,” he said. “Yeah, he’s here, hang on.” He handed the phone to Greg and walked back to the uplink truck to check the file again.

“Baker here," he said, grunting as he walked up the slight incline toward their truck.

“Greg, this is Bradford Stone,” the GNS anchorman said. “What the hell was that thing?"

“I dunno, a flying brick?” the producer said. “It was gawdawful big, that’s for sure."

“So are you ok covering this, or do you think you could use some onscreen expertise?” Brad said. “I was thinking we could bump you up to producer and I’d take over the face work.”

“I could live with that, but why the interest?” Greg asked, wondering why the veteran anchor would want to come all the way out here.

“You know they jerked everybody’s tickets here in DC, so things are a little dead without access,” he said.

“Ah, gotcha,” Greg said, sitting down on the tailgate step of the satellite truck. “Makes for a slow news day in the Capital.”

“That too,” Brad said. “Although the truth is, I just got a call from Viki Rosnikov. She said if I wanted an angle about Secretary Herman bailing on his Damascus conference, I should come and talk to Colton Taylor.”

The rapidly disintegrating summit had been the lead story on every newscast for the last few days. “That sounds like an odd tie in to me,” Greg said.

“Yeah I know, but she sounded like she knew what she was talking about,” the anchor said. “They also offered me the pool moderator seat for the launch coverage.”

“The pool lead? I’d bet that comes with deeper access?” Greg asked, lighting up at the possibility of getting the inside line. He was, after all a wire-head at heart.

“I’d expect so,” he said. “As long as you aren’t going to feel like I’m stepping on your toes?” Brad sounded genuinely concerned, but of course that couldn’t be true. He was one of the biggest hard-asses in the online news world.

“Sure, Bradford. You know I hate being in front of the camera anyway. I’m a geek, not a pretty-boy,” he said, knowing it was how he felt, but sure that the journalist didn’t believe him.

“Ouch. You really know how to make a guy feel like he matters.” Brad’s sarcasm was delivered with the perfect lighthearted tone.

“So when will you be here?” he asked.

“I’ll catch the next flight into Albuquerque. They said they’d meet me with the company jet. Maybe four or five hours?"

“Be careful not to end up like a bug on the windshield of that barge they’re flying. That son-of-a-bitch was huge,” Greg said.

“That’s why I figured I’d let them pick me up,” Brad said.

***

Washington:

“I’m not supposed to like it, but it makes sense.” Sylvia Hutton stared out the windows at the gray sky, thinking about what options they had. “Why does it feel like I’m betting on the wrong side?” she said.

“I understand,” Al said. “I had to chew it over for a while before I started to feel a little less like I was preordaining failure. Once I got past my initial reaction though, I couldn’t find a reason why it wasn’t the right thing to do.” He sat there studying his hands.

“You don’t think we’ll be jinxing Hammerthrow by doing this?” She leaned over the desk to look again at the notes she’d written while he’d explained
Ugly Plan-B.

“I’m a scientist,” he said. “I don’t believe in luck. Sometimes random chance, but never Lady Luck. Even if I did, hedging a bet is never a bad idea when you’re holding for an inside straight.”

“I know better than to believe in those things too, but damned if my guts don’t talk to me about it sometimes.” She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a huge bottle of antacid, smiling sadly.

“Before this is over, I think we’re all going to own stock in Maalox,” he said.

“You don’t think this will spread us a little thin?” she asked. “We can’t afford to lose our focus on the big picture."

“I thought about that too,” he said. “But NASA’s got a lot of eyeballs to dedicate to it. For now there’d be no new resources expended to do the survey, and once Hammerthrow gets launched they’ll be free to get busy on it."

“How soon will they be ready to start on this?” She sat down, looking like the world had just loaded another stack of bricks on her shoulders.

“Actually, they already have,” he said. “Lange gave the order to bring in the TLS to pick up the geologist who was scheduled to take over command of the Lunar Resource Station. He issued orders to start scouting for a suitable site for the base.”

She nodded, unruffled by the fact that they’d made the decision without her consent. “So this geologist, what’s his name?”

“Susan Winslow,” he said. “She’ll be on her way late tomorrow evening.”

“Really? A woman?” she said, surprised that she’d expected a base commander to be male. “Once she heads out, I’ll want to talk with her. After all, if Hammerthrow falls through, she’ll be squarely on the frontline."

“That’ll mean a lot to her. All I know about her is that she’s the youngest woman ever to be put in charge of a NASA operation,” Al said.

Sylvia sat back for a second. “Pass the word that I’m on board with Ugly Plan-B, and if Lange needs to slip any small things through the budget, I can probably help pull it off. We’re going to have a few programs that are bound to be out the window for the time being, so I’m sure we can get the money from somewhere."

“I’ll let him know."

***

Camp Kryptonite:

“What you don’t seem to comprehend Mr. Taylor, is that there’s no way to get what you need in the timeframe you’ve given us.” Shapiro paced around the room, the astro-turf on the floor of the tent making soft crunching noises.

They’d already been at it for several hours, and although the agent was showing signs of frustration, Colton sat leaning across the back of his chair grinning. “Actually, I know it can be done,” Colton insisted. “You have access to the people who can clear the path."

Shapiro came back to the table and sat down. “Ok, let’s start over again. You know the FAA is going to need to do inspections and a series of flight tests before you can get approval for any experimental vehicle."

“I know that’s not really relevant here Shapiro. Your instructions have nothing to do with getting us off the ground.” Tom stood at the doorway into the room, staring out into the distance. “The question is whether you’re going to do what’s right, or just stick it to us.”

“I’ve been authorized to negotiate. We want to get the best possible solution for everyone,” Douglas said.

Tom sat down beside Cole. “What you’re doing is stalling. You’ve been told to keep us talking while you try to figure out our weaknesses.”

“You haven’t offered us anything of substance,” Colton said.

“Our opening position has always been on the table,” Tom said.

The agent glanced at DeMarko who stood off to the side, taking notes. “You have to admit this is a unique situation,” he said. “We have to move cautiously considering the stakes involved. There are risks on both sides."

“No,” Cole said. “There’s only risk on one side. You just have to figure out which side it’s on.”

“What if I told you I could guarantee you’d get your license, if you agree to take it through channels?” Shapiro drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Would you be willing to back off on the deadline?"