Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (27 page)

“Randy Markham,” he said, offering his hand, ostensibly in greeting but also to help her find the floor. “I met you a long time ago, but you probably don’t remember me.” She’d studied the personnel files of the LRS crew and knew who he was even if they’d never worked together before.

“Sure, at Cadet Orientation. I’m surprised you remember me.” She found the floor with her toes and grabbed one of the console edges to pull her foot into firm contact with the mesh deck.

“Of course. You’re hard to forget,” he said.

“Thanks, but if you don’t tell me where to get some of those locking shoes, I’m going to be hard to clean up after,” she said.

“Down in the gear locker.” He gestured in the direction she’d shoved her bag. “It’s the blue door.”

“Thanks.” She pushed toward the lower deck as the ship twisted, causing the hatch to move about eighteen inches to the left of her trajectory. She swore under her breath but managed to bounce through the doorway without too much embarrassing lack of grace.

“We’ve got about thirty seconds before we make another turn,” he warned. “I’ll try to let you know before it happens again.”

She frantically grabbed the booties out of the locker and slipped them on to her feet, just before the next turn caused the room to spin again. This time she was ready and not flying around the inside of the cabin.

Grabbing the hatch she heaved herself onto the control deck, anchoring her feet into the mesh screen with a firm twist.” I understand our next stop is to pick up the canisters, and then we’re on our way,” she said, looking out the small windows above her.

“Yeah, I’m going to be busy for a couple hours and then we make like a train for the next two days.”

“Well then, I’ll stay out of your hair for now. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.” She could tell that he’d picked up on her suggestive tone. She knew he was single, and hoped he was open to helping her live out that fantasy before the world forced her into her new role.

“Why are they in such a hurry to get you to the LRS?” he asked, sending her ideas of a temporary diversion crashing into the scrap heap.

***

Wenchang Space Center, Hainan, China:

“The greatest challenge we face,” Director General Jiang said over the video link to the CNSA Administrators, “is that we must develop a centralized Mission Control center to oversee the operations of all our space efforts.” Jiang had stationed himself at Wenchang to oversee the early stages of loading the radiological components onto the heavy lift boosters although he planned to head to Jiuquan in the morning, where he would remain for the rest of the mission.

“We have such a center in Beijing, do we not?” Quan Dong-Li asked. The Administrator at Wenchang GEO Satellite Center sat in the same room and they shared a table. They were former classmates at the Academy of Launch Vehicle Technology and had remained trusted allies.

“The Beijing center is inappropriate for the scope of
Zhen-Long
,” the General said, shaking his head. “It also has inadequate security to protect the details of this mission.”

“Yes, but it may be unreasonable to expect that we can achieve this capacity within the timeframe you have outlined in the mission plan,” Czao Yeiwan said. “At this moment we do not have the cohesive logistical infrastructure to support this project.” As Administrator of the Jiuquan Manned Launch Center, Czao was younger than the other Administrators. He had engaging, intense eyes that would have made the Director wither, had Czao not been his underling.

“I agree with Czao,” Quan Dong-Li said. “In addition to the orbital inclination advantages our geographic diversity provides, we all have distinct purposes. The rail facilities at Taiyuan are not suitable to transport the CZ-7 boosters, just as we are not provisioned for crew communications or telemetry here.”

“I understand that,” the Director General said. “I am not proposing that we make every launch center universal in capability. It is simply a matter of coordinating each operation to eliminate redundancy.”

“Our predecessors were all motivated toward building personal Dynastic power within the CNSA,” Czao said, disregarding the notion that at least two of the Administrators in the conference were still entrenched in old-school empires. “Unfortunately, with the
Zhen-Long
program, this historical tendency could be dangerously shortsighted.” The Director General could see that Czao and Quan were supportive of change, but Ng and Hua were already forming battle lines.

“Exactly my point. If we are to complete the schedule of launches required for this mission, we can no longer operate under old management regimes,” Jiang said. He paused and drew in a breath before continuing. “Therefore, effective immediately, I am terminating Command operations at Xichang, Taiyuan, and Wenchang. All command personnel will be transferred to the Jiuquan Command Center. Only engineering and launch support crews will remain at these facilities."

“You can’t be serious, General?” Ng stammered.

“I am not done,” he continued, holding his hand up to stop further protest. “I am also giving command of Jiuquan to Quan Dong-Li.”

A flash of anger shot from Czao’s eyes but he clamped down on it instantly. “May I ask where you have me in this new organization, Director General Jiang?” he said, no reaction evident in his voice.

“I am putting you in charge of the Chang Er and Amundsen laboratories,” he said. “You are to become the Prefect of the PRC’s first off-world territory.” He watched the confusion play across all of their faces. “You will be directly responsible for overseeing every aspect of
Zhen-Long’s
lunar facilities and fabrication.”

“Thank you, General,” he said, struggling to mask his surprise. “I assume this means I will transfer to the lunar base?”

“Yes, on the first crew launch,” Jiang said.

“How long will I be stationed there?” he asked.

“For the duration of the program. Possibly longer,” the General said.

“May I tell my wife about this?” He looked concerned.

“Of course,” he said. “This is an appointment from the Standing Committee of the People’s Congress and the Politburo. It is expected that she will accompany you."

***

ISS Alpha:

Captain Michael Andrews knew it was going to be a rough mission, not due to any particular complexity, but because of the pure malevolence he’d face when he docked and began giving orders to load out.

He’d unloaded the supply canisters from the cargo bay, and maneuvered up to the station’s docking port to begin loading the scientific hardware for the return flight.

Sealable doors had been retrofitted onto the shuttles a year earlier for this type of mission, though they’d never been used before. Like the original shuttles, the bay doors were kept open to allow the radiators to carry heat away from the shuttle’s systems, but while it was docked to the station,
Liberty
could connect to Alpha’s larger thermal arrays. Once they uncoupled from the station, they’d only have a few hours before they had to get back to Earth. The seals provided a shirt-sleeve environment inside the cargo bay, but some of the equipment was going to take work to squeeze through the narrow hatches.

Michael was supervising the activity from the flight deck of the
Liberty
and Scott manned the Control Module of Alpha, while Sergei floated from place to place, watching for problems. The seven new astronauts, all of them military, struggled to get their orientation in the microgravity environment and tried to stay out of the way.

There were still holdouts on the station crew who were refusing to accept the orders, and sooner or later Scott knew the confrontation was going to start. “So what’re we supposed to do when it comes time to use force?” he asked over the voicelink to the shuttle.

“Lange said to do what’s necessary,” Mike said. “They sent us with equipment to get the job done.”

“Equipment?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a taser and enough restraint hardware to make a BDSM club blush,” the shuttle commander said. “The question is, do you think it’s going to come to that?”

“Sergei and I think we’ve only got one real problem-child. We were joking about just drugging him and being done with it,” Commander Rutledge said.

“Which one are we talking about?”

“Benjamin Zehvi,” Scott said. “We don’t think he’s even started shutting down his equipment.”

“He’s the biologist, right? Doesn’t he have live specimens of some type?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. He was working on a study of venom production in reptiles.”

Scott floated toward the hatchway, listening to sounds of an argument in the distance.

“No wonder nobody’s pulled the plug,” Mike said.

“Yeah, but we’re going to have to do it.” The sounds of the disagreement were getting louder. Scott pulled himself into the door, looking toward the problem.

“Stand by Mike, I think I have a situation,” he said.

“Roger, let me know if you need backup."

Scott unplugged the cord to his headset, tucking it into the arm pocket on his coverall as he launched himself in the direction of the argument. Flying along the spine of the station, he could tell some of the voices were ones he didn’t recognize. Through the yelling he knew that Sergei was trying to restore calm, but seemed to be losing the battle.

He stopped outside one of the lateral compartments to listen. He wasn’t visible to anyone inside, but from what he could hear, Hiroko and Sergei seemed to be between two of the new arrivals and some of the retiring crew. Scott thought about waiting and letting them sort it out.

“Ben, we’ve just got to let go of it,” Hiroko said.

“Screw that,” Zehvi snarled.

“What do you propose we do?” Sergei said, his voice sounding like he was dispensing Quaaludes with his tone. “You cannot beat someone because they follow orders.”

Scott realized it was too far out of control not to intervene. Pulling himself into the room he assessed the situation. Two newbies, dressed in their military coveralls, hung cornered in the module while Zehvi, Atwood and Franklin floated with their backs toward him. It looked like they’d intended to lynch the others. Hiroko and Sergei had placed themselves between the three enraged scientists and their intended victims.

“If they’re injured they’ll have to take them back down and then we can stay,” the Israeli scientist said.

“Doesn’t work that way,” Scott said, startling Zehvi, who spun, holding a solid looking metal cylinder in front of him like a sword. “They’ll send a replacement on the next flight. It wouldn’t even buy you much time.” Scott drifted toward Zehvi. The situation was dangerous enough that he felt his stomach tighten like it did before a launch.

“So we do it again,” Zehvi said. The other two didn’t seem as committed to the violence that seemed on the verge of erupting.

Scott tried to keep him talking. “Come on Ben,” he said. “It’s not worth throwing your career down the tube. Let’s call it a day and we’ll forget this ever happened."

He reached out, ostensibly to shake hands, but was met by a reckless swing of the pipe. Scott jerked his arm out of the way. The flailing motion spun Zehvi toward an instrument rack. He collided pipe-first with the fragile hardware, sending a spray of glass and debris across the module. Sergei and Scott both lunged trying to pin the thrashing man to the wall.

Zehvi shoved back, slamming the top of his head into Scott’s face, sending him cartwheeling, trailing a stream of blood from a split lip.

Scott caught himself on the opposite wall, launching toward the raging astronaut with a two-legged spring that drove him like a spear into the small of Zehvi’s back. The two of them plowed full-force into the instrument panel, knocking the wind out of the scientist. When they hit, Scott snagged a rack handle and pulled hard to the wall until Sergei could help. The impact crushed the desire to resist from the Israeli scientist.

Hiroko managed to keep the other two in check with the power of her glare, so that only the three involved had moved.

The pipe, snapped free from Benjamin’s grip when they crashed into the wall, spun violently around the module. One of the new arrivals caught the end of the cylinder in the face and howled in pain. Scott twisted around to look, not daring to let go of Zehvi. He could see a huge cloud of blood floating around the man’s head.

He wrenched the Israeli’s arms behind him, holding them firmly. “Sergei, that looks bad,” he said. The Doctor pushed off to check and Hiroko slid into his place beside Scott. “Punch me in to the shuttle link,” he said, nodding to the headset cord in his pocket.

She jammed the plug into one of the com jacks. “You’re good to go,” she said, pushing Zehvi’s face against the wall out of spite.

“Mike, this is Scott. I need to put someone in irons.”

“I’m on my way,” the shuttle commander responded without inflection. “Anything else you need?”

Looking around the module at the blood-spattered walls, he realized that even though it took very little liquid to make a big mess in space, the injured crewman was gushing badly. “Yeah, bring a med kit. We’ve got a problem.”