Legacy

15

After the sudden loss of mission commander Kendal and LEM pilot Dugan, the mood had been somber. Sarah and the other technicians, mainly Will Mendenhall, concentrated on devising a makeshift antenna so the lunar excursion team could stay in communication with Falcon 1 while on the surface. Thus far Will was frustrated by not enough time and too little equipment to work with.

As Falcon 1 made its first pass over the lunar surface, most of the personnel were snapping pictures and taking video, along with long-range photography of the landing site two miles from Shackleton Crater. On their first and only pass the long-range telephoto lens on Falcon took some very detailed photos of the interior of Shackleton. The damage was tremendous, but as Houston had said in their second to last communication, there seemed to be intact structures inside the crater. The photography also picked up what looked like the remains of the ESA LEM Astral, lying on its side heavily damaged. The photos and video showed no survivors. Of Magnificent Dragon, there was no trace.

As the only mission specialist who’d be aboard Altair when they landed, Sarah McIntire was to be the command operative while on the Moon. She took her predicament stoically and knew she had the difficult job of deciding whether to recover the technology if the Chinese excursion team was friendly or destroying the weaponry if they weren’t. As for the mineral, she had already decided it was far too powerful and unstable to recover. She had already briefed the team, soldiers included, on her decision.

Sarah slid into the command module with the final landing data for Ryan to enter into the Altair ’s computer system. Ryan accepted the new coordinates without comment. His mind was strictly on setting the lander down in one piece, never mind landing in a specific area. Sarah could see that the usually boisterous Ryan had been in no mood for anything but self-reflection following his jump in grade to LEM pilot, a position he had so thoroughly failed at back in the Houston simulator. As the third part in a three-part backup plan, he knew none of them was even supposed to be there.

Sarah watched as Ryan took her latest data and eased through the connecting sleeve into Altair. She saw Mendenhall bend over a small workstation, trying to keep his soldering iron and small pieces of circuit board from floating away. The module pilot Maggio was assisting, but was mostly trying to stay out of the lieutenant’s way.

“How’s it going, Will?” she asked, biting her lower lip.

Mendenhall placed his hands on the small workstation table and took a deep breath as he tried to calm himself. Sarah, for her part, held her ground and kept her eyes on the frustrated lieutenant. He finally looked up and shook his head at his friend. She could see him visibly relax.

“Well, for about a ten-second burst, we caught some Russian from somewhere in back of us just a second before orbital insertion. We lost the communication pretty fast, and it was weak to begin with. So I was thinking it was nothing more than weird atmospherics and Maggio and Ryan agreed.” He frowned at Sarah. “In other words, it was nothing I did.” He let the soldering iron float free and allowed the small circuit board he was attempting to solder follow. “I can’t do it. I mean, it’s not like running an old antenna wire up to your roof and wrapping aluminum foil around it and hoping for the best.”

Sarah free-floated and nodded for Maggio to start his calculations for detachment of the LEM from Falcon 1.

“Twenty-one minutes until separation. We’re out of time anyway, Will. I was thinking about all the junk we have on the Moon. Can we salvage a dish antenna just for short-range communications with Falcon , so we can get rendezvous data and telemetry for our liftoff?”

Mendenhall looked at Sarah and smiled. “That’s an awfully optimistic outlook. Liftoff?”

“I guess I picked up bad habits from Jack. You know, always planning for the right outcome, just in case by a fluke it happens that way.”

“Yeah, that’s not a bad way to do things. Why I remember-”

Sarah watched as Will’s words trailed off to nothing as he was struck by a thought.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Beatles,” Mendenhall said. “They all have not only long-range telemetry installed but a high-gain antenna for remote purposes.” He looked up at Sarah. “As a matter of fact, their communications may be better than our own, since they don’t have the human touch to operate them. They have to do it all by computer. I think we can use one of them to communicate-maybe not with Houston, but Falcon 1 shouldn’t be a problem.”

“See what happens when you pull back and think about things?” Sarah said, as she squeezed Will’s shoulder.

“Yeah, now why don’t you go and see if you can pass the same confidence on to Ryan.”

Sarah smiled back at Will. “You know what Jason has to do on a continual basis?”

“What’s that?”

“He has to remind himself that he’s the best pilot in the world. If he doesn’t do that on a regular basis, he crashes in his head. My money’s on him when the chips are down.”

“Okay, I’ll buy that, but maybe you’d better remind him that those chips you’re betting are not the house’s money.”

“I think he knows that, Will.”

Twenty minutes later Maggio was the only living soul inside of the command module, Falcon 1. The rest of the mission’s crew were strapped into their seats on the lower deck of Altair, the only exceptions being Mendenhall and Ryan. They were strapped into an upright position on the command deck, both of them poised over the fly-by-wire maneuvering controls of the very much experimental Altair . No one had ever landed anything this size on the Moon and Ryan knew all their lives were riding on his skills as a fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants pilot. He looked over at Will and shook his head.

“Uh, do you want me to give one of those emotional ‘Win one for the Gipper’ speeches?”

“Maybe a prayer would be more appropriate,” Ryan shot back with a smile.

“Coming up on insertion point in five-ready to separate,” Maggio said from his command seat eighty-five feet away.

Ryan closed his eyes and reached for the VOX at his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please place your seats and tables in the upright-” Ryan cut the small joke short and lowered his head. Ryan not finishing a joke worried Will far more than anything he had seen from Jason.

“Ah, hell, just remember where all your emergency exits are located and where the life rafts are located under your seats. Release time in one minute-stand by.”

Mendenhall smiled and nodded. Seeing Ryan not give in to the panic he was feeling was far more comforting than seeing him go silent.

“What are you nodding your head for? You look like one of those dashboard bobble-heads.”

Mendenhall’s face dropped and he glared at Ryan-sometimes quiet from the man was better than the cocky version.

“Okay, Maggio, don’t let in any strangers while we’re out. The number for the restaurant we’ll be at is on the table and don’t let the kids stay up past ten.”

“Roger, Altair, the house will be here when you return. Good luck,” Maggio said. He swallowed the lump in his throat and raised the plastic cover on the release switch that would electrically unscrew the lead that held the two spacecraft together. “Separation in five, four, three, two, one,” he said. He pushed the button and was satisfied when it went from a soft blue to a blinking red. He heard the electric motor engage as it automatically unscrewed with a loud whine. Then there was a pop as the two ships came apart. The snapping of the communication systems came as shock, because it was far louder than the simulations back at the Johnson Space Center. It was so loud that everyone, including the seven Green Berets, thought something else had gone wrong.

Maggio knew it was only his imagination, but he could swear he felt Falcon 1 become noticeably lighter without Altair riding nose to nose with her. He closed his eyes and hit his transmit switch, even though he knew none of the lunar excursion team could hear him.

“Godspeed. Come back home soon.”

Inside the command deck, the absence of the feeling of motion was at first disorienting to both Ryan and his copilot Mendenhall. Altair separated cleanly from Falcon and seemed to be drifting backward, but Ryan knew their forward momentum was still well in excess of 25,000 miles per hour.

“Will, open fuel pressure valves one and two,” Ryan said calmly.

Mendenhall’s eyes widened.

“Right there in front of you, buddy. Just like in our practice runs.”

Mendenhall remembered. He took a deep breath and threw the two blue-colored switches until the lights flashed green.

“We have green on fuel pressure valves one and two.”

Everyone onboard the craft heard the fuel as it rushed through the metal fuel lines.

A young sergeant looked at Sarah. Through her clear visor Sarah winked and the sergeant seemed to relax.

“You’ve flown with the lieutenant before?” he asked.

“Not now, Sergeant,” the Green Beret master sergeant said.

“No, it’s okay, Sarge,” Sarah said, smiling at the two men. “Yes, I’ve flown with Jason three times in various aircraft.”

“All good outcomes, I assume,” the young sergeant said, relief etching his voice.

Sarah couldn’t help it. She just couldn’t let it slip by without comment, as she knew Carl and Jack relished opportunities like this with their younger charges.

“As a matter of fact, the first time was in a Black Hawk. Jason slammed the helicopter into a large rock and knocked our landing gear off. The second time was in a seaplane. We cracked up on a river in the Canadian wilderness. And the third time was two days later when he crashed a brand-new Sikorsky into a forest. We burst into flames upside down and forty feet off the ground.”

The men lining the lower deck of Altair stared at Sarah as if she were joking. She raised her left eyebrow to let them know she was dead serious. She decided to stop toying with the guys.

“He’s the best pilot I’ve ever seen.”

Up on the command deck Ryan flexed his fingers and placed them gingerly on the handles that controlled the jets that the OHM used for maneuvering and for flight. He looked at his attitude gauges.

“Stand by for retro burn and trim maneuver,” he said easily and confidently. Ryan knew he had time and space for mistakes up here, but once close to the surface, the mission became a little more unforgiving.

Will watched as Jason pulled slightly back on the right control and twisted the handle at the same time. He heard the satisfying sound of the OHM’s jet popping loudly as it threw Altair on its back. Ryan hit the left handle to stop the turn maneuver. He checked his navigation and saw that he had fifteen seconds to start the main engine before they bypassed their first option for slowing the craft down enough to get her into the upper reaches of the Moon’s gravity. “Will, I need a ten-second burn on the main engine. Remember, all you have to do is hit the main engine start switch. The computer will do the rest.”

“Right,” Mendenhall said. He waited without breathing.

“Main engine start in three, two, one-burn,” Ryan said calmly.

Mendenhall threw the switch and they heard the loudest pop of all as the main engine came to life. Inside Altair they could hear the rumble of the exhaust as it exited the confines of the main engine bell below them. They felt the ship slow as the minimal gravity started to take effect.

“Main engine cutoff in two, one, zero,” Ryan said. He watched the attitude compass swing north and south on a correct horizontal plane with the surface of the Moon. They were now flying upright, as was the natural order of things.

Altair became silent. Each individual’s breathing was concealed behind their helmet. The rapid breathing that each feared the others would hear was self-contained, so nobody had to worry about being the only one to have shown fear.

“Standby for main OHM burn for insertion,” Ryan said, as he adjusted his feet on the Velcro mat beneath his boots. “Everyone go to internal oxygen at this point, please.”

All crew members, the flight team included, unplugged their suits from the Altair ’s air system. Air conditioning and oxygen would be in self-sustaining mode for the duration of the landing procedure-for obvious reasons, Jason thought.

“Well, I guess we’re ready,” Will said. He looked at the altimeter as Altair screamed down from high orbit at close to three thousand feet per second.

“This is really going to add to our frequent flyer miles, huh, buddy?” Ryan quipped. He also watched the altimeter. “Stand by for main engine thrust-seventy-five percent power until I say so.”

“Ready for main engine start,” Will said, his finger poised over the covered switch.

“Keep a close eye on fuel consumption. We only have five minutes of sustainable thrust.”

“Five minutes? Oh jeez, I forgot about that.”

“Should be plenty of time, unless we run into rocks where they have no right to be. Or craters that have up and moved on us since the photo run an hour ago. Or the shots from the Hubble Telescope last month. We should be fine.”

“If you say so,” Will said.

“Three, two, one, main engine start at 0120 and thirty-two seconds. Start the clock.”

Altair slowed its descent and they all felt the craft jerk and shimmy. Outside it was deathly silent as the vacuum of space sucked up sound like a sponge.

Ryan watched the NAV board closely, adjusting trim to the descent easily, trying hard not to overcompensate. He was learning that the simulator back at Houston was tougher to fly than the actual spacecraft.

“Three degrees off center, and three and half minutes of fuel remaining,” Will called out louder than he intended. “Altitude is thirty-five thousand feet.”

Ryan turned the right-hand handle five degrees to port and adjusted angle. Altair at that moment was coming down right on the target mark.

“Uh, we’re coming down a little fast,” Mendenhall said. He watched the LED readout of the altimeter spiral down by thousands of feet in the wink of an eye. “Thirteen thousand feet.”

“Copy, Will. Easy there, big fella,” Ryan called out, as he adjusted trim once more.

“Up throttle in five, four, three, two, one-one hundred percent throttle. Burn it, Will, burn it!”

Mendenhall reached over and turned the small red knob that sent the fuel injector to full power as it shot the mixture of hydrogen and oxygen into the mixing hub of the combustion chamber.

Below, on the crew deck, everyone felt the shakes and shimmies of Altair as she neared the lunar surface. They all had their eyes closed and were listening intently to the orders Ryan was calling out. Sarah was glad Altair was shaking so violently because it covered up her own internal shaking. She was terrified beyond belief.

“Five hundred feet and slowing to a hundred feet a minute,” Will called out.

“Stand by to power down to fifty percent thrust.”

“Roger,” Mendenhall said. He tried to swallow but found his throat didn’t work.

“Throttle down,” Ryan called.

Will turned the throttle knob. The shaking and loud noises ceased almost immediately. No one onboard knew if that was good or not.

“Throttle set to fifty percent thrust, two minutes of fuel, altitude at three hundred feet.”

Ryan turned his throttle to the aft OHM’s jets and brought Altair level once more after she had drifted.

“Shackleton Crater at three miles.” Ryan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the rim of the giant crater close up for the first time.

Suddenly a warning chime started and three red lights started blinking.

“Goddamn it!” Ryan said between clenched teeth. He started hitting the hand-controlled throttle on the left side of his upright chair. “I have a continuous thrust coming from the aft OHM’s jet. It’s pushing us over!”

Mendenhall watched wide-eyed as Ryan tried freeing the stuck thruster. “Damn it, it’s not here. It’s the shutoff valve that’s stuck open. We’re not only losing our correct attitude, we’re burning our fuel too damn fast. We have to compensate for the roll.”

“One minute of fuel, fifty feet to impact,” Will announced as calmly as he could, not wanting to add to what Jason had to deal with.

“Firing starboard OHMs,” Ryan said, more to himself than to the crew.

The roll ceased and Ryan was making the correction, but the fuel warning bells started sounding and the computer started voicing its opinion rather loudly.

“Pull up, pull up. Obstacle detected in flight path. Pull up, pull up.”

“Shut that damn thing up. I hate its voice!” Ryan said, as he adjusted trim for the last time.

Mendenhall switched the audio warning off. He knew Ryan was thinking about the nice voice of Europa, the supercomputer back home.

“Thirty feet, twenty feet, ten feet!” Will called out.

“Main engine to seventy-five percent thrust,” Ryan said, as he eyed the patch of lunar surface below. He knew he had neither the time nor the fuel to maneuver to another spot if he saw they were coming down onto a patch of large rocks.

“That’s it. Fuel is exhausted,” Mendenhall said. He reached out and braced himself for a hard landing.

Ryan clenched his teeth as he felt the main engine sputter once and then stop just as three of four landing pads hit the surface of the Moon. He cringed as Altair went motionless, balancing first on three and then on only two landing gear. The giant Altair teetered, nearly rolling over, and then her momentum shifted and she fell back, her round shape behaving like a teetering beer can. Then all four landing gear came in contact with the soft surface of the Moon. Her hydraulic struts impacted and retracted into themselves, and then expanded once more as the gas was released, easing Altair into stillness.

Throughout the ship, there wasn’t a sound other than the ticking of the cooling engine bell far below the main crew cabin.

Ryan looked over at Will, who was staring out of the large triangular windows at the crater two miles away. His eyelids didn’t blink and his hand was turning white from his powerful grip on the handle above his head.

“That was different,” Ryan said, and started breathing again.

Mendenhall finally blinked his eyes and slowly looked at Jason.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

The small Navy pilot smiled and patted Will on the back.

“Your visor’s a little fogged up.”

“I don’t know how that can be. You have to breathe for it to do that.”

Ryan hit his VOX and waited until he was sure of his voice.

“Welcome to the Moon,” he said.

The president sat in the White House Situation Room sixty feet below the ground floor of the mansion. He sat quietly and listened to the conference call from the Cape and Houston. Hugh Evans was speaking at the moment, and the president realized for the first time that he was drifting even as Evans was doling out the first good news in days, outside of the fact that Jack Collins and his minimal ground forces had achieved success in Ecuador.

“In essence, even though telemetry and communications with Altair and Falcon 1 are down, we have established that Altair is safely on the lunar surface. Unfortunately, we have also confirmed through satellite imagery that the catastrophic debris strike on Falcon did in fact take the lives of the mission commander and the Altair pilot. The loss of Colonel Kendal and pilot Dugan is a very severe setback to the potential success of the mission.”

The president sat up and leaned toward the table, his eyes roaming over his national security staff, who were being kept in the dark on the most important matters of this and all the missions to the Moon. The people with knowledge of the president’s actions could be counted on one hand.

“Flight Director Evans,” the president started slowly. “We can assume that someone has taken control of the mission. Do you have protocol that dictates who that someone is?”

“We have only one conclusion at this time. We believe Lieutenant Sarah McIntire, U.S. Army, is in command, since she is the senior officer onboard Altair.”

“And it’s my understanding the landing had to have been achieved by Navy Lieutenant Ryan, backup pilot for Altair?”

“Correct, sir. We have verified the safe landing since the retasking of the Hubble Space Telescope four hours ago.”

“Mr. Evans, thank you for your time. Before you go, do you have any contingencies for reestablishing contact with the lunar team or Falcon 1?”

“We are trying to bounce signals off various satellites, but there has been no luck thus far. We do have several other plans, but they require the lunar excursion team to use their own initiative as far as acting on them goes. They could reestablish communications through several sources on the lunar surface. As of right now, we are planning for Dark Star 3 to continue on mission until its conclusion.”

“Thank you, Mr. Evans. Please stay near the phone.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”

The president leaned back in his chair and looked from face to face. The Situation Room was crowded with stars and men in rolled up shirtsleeves. Not one of them save for the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Maxwell Caulfield, and the president knew the real truth of what was happening. The vice president was officially under FBI investigation for incriminating cell phone calls to the now disgraced and on the run Samuel Rawlins, so the president had officially handed over all NASA and Space Command duties to Caulfield for the duration of the lunar emergency.

“Gentlemen, that will be all for now. General Caulfield, will you stay behind please?”

As the council shuffled out of the late night meeting, General Caulfield moved from his seat at the far end of the large table to a seat closer to the president. He saw the commander in chief reach down and place a small laptop on the table. Caulfield immediately suspected that the little bald man with the tired look and thick glasses was on the other end of the monitor.

“General, we’re being joined by my old friend and advisor Niles Compton from Ecuador. You two have met on several occasions, I believe. Niles, I’m taking you off this damn laptop and am going to place you on our main monitor. General, dim the windows, please.”

Caulfield hit a button on the console to his front and the windows surrounding the situation room went completely opaque.

Soon the visage of Niles was on the main monitor and he saw the tired and drawn face of the president.

“You look like hell,” Niles said from deep inside the Andes.

“Thank you, baldy. Never let an opportunity slide by to make me feel worse than I already do. I may say the same for you, buddy. It doesn’t look like mining agrees with you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, and no, I hate field work.”

“Niles, your three lieutenants have done one hell of a job stepping up like they did. You heard Flight Director Evans on their status.”

“I did, but they’re one hell of a long way from the finish line. As far as we know they may have people with guns waiting for them before they reach that line.”

“I know, I know. There’s still no word from the Chinese on their attempt to change the chairman’s mind about cooperation.”

“I never thought I would see the day when we could convince the Chinese military to cooperate and have to finagle and make deals with the devil to get the civilian government to deal with us. It’s nuts,” General Caulfield said as he slid the knot in his tie down and unbuttoned the top button of his blue shirt.

“So, there’s still nothing from Beijing?” Niles asked, the worry on his face evident.

“Not a damn thing. Their people could be waiting for ours to step foot on the lunar surface and then massacre them. We just don’t know.”

“Well, we are now in direct contact with our complex, and Colonel Collins is trying to get into the second mine gallery as we speak. Thus far we haven’t turned up any useful information outside of a large grouping of graves onsite, as I have explained to you already.”

“I do have this from the FBI field team in Ecuador.” The president held up a flimsy. The good Reverend Samuel Rawlins and former Army officer James McCabe were found murdered in a Quito hotel room this morning.”

“That means whoever led the strike team against Jack and his men has gone rogue from his employer,” Niles said and shook his head.

“That’s my thinking. Thus far our forces in country haven’t turned up any leadership for the assault force. The FBI believes they may have made their way out of Ecuador. Niles, had the colonel considered the need to bring more men inside the mine? Your telling me of those German graves was a little unsettling. If it’s security he’s worried about, explain that I am giving permission to bring the rest of the SEALs and the British contingent inside. We can control the British through the prime minister.”

Niles lowered his head in thought. Then he looked into the camera.

“I have already given Jack that order. We now have forty personnel in the mine. It’s not only the mass graves we found-I have a feeling that as aggressive as these maniacs have been, they won’t stop at getting back that mine, or at least its contents. And until we know the Chinese intention on the Moon, Operation Columbus is that much more important.”

“Agreed,” said the president.

“I have one bit of information you may want to have that I’ve been reluctant to tell you with all these other concerns.”

“Go ahead, Niles, while I’m numb inside.”

“We had two additions to our ground team here in Ecuador. It seems Garrison Lee and Mrs. Hamilton came along for the ride.”

The president stared into the camera and didn’t say a word. He lowered his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“I’ll bow to whatever you want to do, Niles. If you want them out, I’ll order it.”

Niles became quiet as he mulled over the question. He looked away for a moment, then removed his glasses and placed them on the table. It was as though he were fighting back some very powerful emotions.

“I think maybe he’s earned the right to be anywhere he wants to be. I also think he’s earned the right to hear what this whole mess is about.”

The president looked away for a moment before looking back at a dirty-faced Niles. He took a drink of water.

“I agree. Leave him and Mrs. Hamilton alone.” The president shook his head as he placed the glass of water carefully down on the polished table. “You know, he’s a national treasure, Niles. If he wants to go along, you’re right. He’s earned it.”

The chairman of the People’s Republic of China sat at his large, barren desk and read the latest communications from the Moon mission, Magnificent Dragon. He smiled as he read the report that the American spacecraft was down and his men were ready to spring the trap that would ensure that China received the greatest edge in technology the world had ever known. He laid the communique down and removed his thick glasses. Then he wiped at them with a silk handkerchief that had his initials embroidered on its corners. The handkerchief and two dozen like it had been a birthday present from the president of the United States upon his last visit to China. Now the chairman only hoped he could repay the gift, only not in the way the president would have liked. The eighty-one-year-old chairman had replaced the thick glasses when his intercom buzzed.

He sat silently without moving to answer. His official title was that of president, just like the American, but he privately ordered his subordinates to call him Chairman, a title he vastly preferred to President. Its association with the great Mao was in keeping with his power, he thought. The buzz came again from the intercom.

“Yes,” he snapped angrily into the infernal device. He had left instructions with his personal secretary that he not be disturbed.

“The vice chairman of the National People’s Congress and General Guo Boxiong, executive vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, are here to see the chairman,” said his squeaky-voiced personal assistant.

“Very well. Send them in.”

The massive double doors were opened by two Chinese army sergeants. The two men stepped inside the large office and made their way, hats in hand, toward the large and empty desk.

“Vice Chairman Zhaoguo Wang, General Guo, to what do I owe the pleasure?” the fat old man asked as he folded his hands on top of the polished desk.

“The situation on the surface of the Moon, Mr. President,” answered Wang.

The chairman looked angrily at the second most powerful man in China. His scowl was meant to send fear into the much smaller, younger man. His use of the title “President” was meant to cause his temper to rise.

“And what would concern you about the mission?”

“We have made our protests well known. And now we are prepared to take our concerns directly to the ruling body of the movement.”

“Is that so,” he said, as a knock sounded at the doors. He didn’t have to answer as his assistant brought in a silver service tea set.

“May I offer you gentlemen some tea?” he asked, not offering them a seat before his desk.

“We are not here for tea. We are here to make you aware of certain… changes in policy concerning our military preparedness, and our request for cooperation with the Western powers in regards to the recent events in our seas and the continent of Antarctica.”

As the assistant placed a cup in front of the chairman, he glanced up at the two men, and then just as quickly poured the tea. He turned and left the room.

The chairman leaned forward and placed the teacup in both of his aging hands, then blew on its contents.

“So, I assume you have bought into this ridiculous plan of the Americans and their lackeys in Europe, the fear of a fairy tale long gone cold?”

“The evidence they have produced is valid. Our military scientists have verified all aspects of the forwarded documents,” Wang said, watching the old man blow on his tea.

“And it is not only the Western powers that have taken the side of the Americans and their warnings, but our allies as well. We are now alone in our contempt of the situation,” offered the general. “We must cooperate or chance the annihilation of our species in less than three years.” He saw the chairman smile contemptuously. “And that had also been confirmed by our astronomers.”

The chairman finally sipped his tea. He shook his head, savoring the rich taste, and then he sipped again.

“You may leave me. The decision has been made. We move on the American spacecraft inside the hour. You may believe the Americans and their Case Blue warnings, but I have lived through their deceit many times before. We have no imminent threat from regions far beyond this planet. Case Blue is a pack of lies. Good day, gentlemen.”

The two men stood before the chairman without moving. He put the teacup down and raised his eyebrows, wondering why the men weren’t leaving his office.

“I said you may-”

The men didn’t react as the chairman suddenly ceased moving. He tilted his head and raised a shaking, liver-spotted right hand to the top button of his tunic. The question on his age-lined face was evident as he tried to make room for more air that seemed to have disappeared.

The vice chairman reached out and gently, methodically pushed down on the intercom button.

“Please summon the doctor to the chairman’s office, he seems to be in some distress,” Wang said. He let the button pop free, not waiting for the chairman’s assistant to reply.

The old man tried to stand, but faltered as he reached out to steady himself. The two men standing before the chairman stepped back to avoid being hit by the liquid. Finally, the old man settled into his large chair and looked up at the general and his vice chairman.

“You have done many great things for the people,” Wang said. “It is time for you to rest. We thought retirement the best course. Unfortunately, the Western powers would be hesitant to deal with the People’s Republic if you were still alive and angry over your loss of power, so we had to take this to the extreme. It is time we join the league of men who will eventually have to defend this planet from outside forces, and we can’t do that by continuing the old ways.”

The chairman tried desperately to pop free the topmost button of the tunic. When he found no strength in his fingers, his arms fell to his lap. As they did, the double doors opened and three men ran inside. Two attendants flanked the uniformed army doctor as he hurried to the chairman’s side.

“I believe the president is having a heart attack,” the general said. He moved to the far side of the room, placing his hands behind his back.

The army doctor felt the neck for a pulse and then the wrist. The chairman’s eyes were wide open and staring at nothing.

The general looked to his left as guards came rushing inside.

“Please secure the vice chairman of the People’s Party. He is as of now the acting president.”

Wang Zhaoguo stood while two of the guards flanked him just as the doctor straightened and faced the men in the room. Then he looked at his watch, noting the time.

“The chairman is dead.”

Sarah knew they had a long walk ahead of them, and she had one angry LEM pilot on her hands. Since she was now the mission commander, it had been her duty to inform Jason Ryan that he was no longer a part of the excursion team into Shackleton. His fit lasted three minutes as he tried to stomp his feet in anger, but found he couldn’t find purchase enough in the zero gravity to throw the tantrum in style. Finally, she calmed him enough to make her case as to why he couldn’t come along. He was the only fully trained LEM pilot left, and in order for them to lift off the uppermost decks of Altair, they needed Ryan safe and sound aboard the ship.

It had taken the strength of Will Mendenhall to help make Ryan see the light of day. As it was, he sat in the command deck of the LEM and started making his checklist for the eventual liftoff of Altair for the rendezvous with Falcon 1.

The weapons for the excursion into Shackleton were handed out to the seven Green Berets who made up the lunar surface team, plus Mendenhall and Sarah. One of the deadly devices would be left to Ryan for the defense of Altair, in case it was needed. The compressed-air-launched M-39 rocket-assisted projectile weapons were a development of IBC Corporation of Lansing, Michigan. Designed to replace unreliable powder and projectile weapons, including handguns and rifles, the M-39 air-launched a solid kinetic energy shot from its twenty-round magazine, which after it cleared the tungsten barrel became a ballistic assist weapon. A small charge of solid propellant sent the round where it was aimed at six times the speed of sound, allowing the solid metal bullet to penetrate almost anything with up to two inches of armor plate.

Each member of the crew had become adept at targeting the heavy-bore weapon that was equivalent to a. 50 caliber steel shot. The stock was solid plastic and the barrel was made of hardened steel designed by Winchester Firearms. The trigger was as large as a household tablespoon and the guard was as large as a jar lid so that a large gloved finger could get access to the trigger. The weapon basically looked like an old-fashioned Henry Repeating Rifle from the Old West, which caused the designers at IBC many a sleepless night after every person on the excursion team laughed at the ancient-looking “modern” weapons they were wielding.

As Sarah looked over her team, she saw Jason poke his head down the access hatch from the command deck. He had his helmet on and was prepared to start placing the first four crewmen into the small airlock on the starboard side of the crew module. He locked eyes with Sarah as he moved past and he nodded his head inside the helmet.

“I’ll have the fire in the fireplace nice and hot when you get back, and a warm cup of soup ready.”

Sarah returned the smile as Ryan patted each individual on the backpack, a gesture of good luck. He stopped at Mendenhall, who would egress with the first four soldiers.

“Don’t let these Green Beret fellas push you around out there,” he said as he half smiled at his friend.

Mendenhall didn’t say anything in return. He knew Jason was worried about them all and didn’t know how to express it any other way than with a snide remark or a joke.

“All right, no company while we’re gone-no women, and no booze,” Sarah said and stepped to the rear of the line.

“You got it, Ma,” Ryan said. He reached out and hit the overly large button for the access port. “First four crewmen of the excursion team, step forward and say status.”

“Mendenhall, oxygen good, COM good,” Will said, as she slid easily into the compartment.

“Andrews, O good, COM good.”

“Johnson, O good, COM good.”

“Martinez, O good, COM good.”

Ryan looked one last time at each crew member’s environmental suit and hit the button again. The door hissed closed on its pneumatic track. As Jason stared through the window, he waited until Mendenhall looked up from the front of the small compartment. The black lieutenant raised his chin inside his helmet in a farewell nod, just as if he were going to see Ryan later for a luncheon date. Ryan nodded and made sure he had a good seal. Then he turned the knob beside the portal and purged the oxygen from the compartment.

“Okay, I want a thumbs-up from each man. Come on,” he said, as he watched the four men.

Each gave him a thumbs-up.

Mendenhall watched as the three Green Berets took up station in a triangular position surrounding Altair. Will stayed pretty much out of the way as he admired the bleak and barren landscape of a place he never in his wildest imagination thought he would set foot on. He moved his legs and felt the resistance of the low gravity. It was just enough that he could feel it though his suit. The weapon he was holding was so light he could very easily forget that he was carrying it. He tried a small hop and was delighted at the height the small effort achieved. He wanted to tell someone, but he felt uncomfortable saying anything to the soldiers around him. He wished Ryan was here. They would have had something to say to each other.

He turned and watched the second team of four exit the airlock. These were Sampson, Elliott, Tewlewiski, and Demarest. He watched them deploy, further strengthening their perimeter. Sarah soon emerged by herself. Will smiled when she jumped the last three aluminum steps to the lunar surface. She was heard loud and clear when she laughed.

“Sorry, I always wanted to do that.”

Sarah saluted and gestured for her team to join her. One by one the men fell into place, two in front of Sarah and Mendenhall, two in back, two on the flanks, and one in the far rear.

The lunar excursion element of Dark Star 3 started moving toward Shackleton Crater.

Jack popped his head into the small tent. Alice was sitting in a small chair and smiled when Collins looked at her. The senator was laying quietly on one of the cots his small group of reinforcements had brought in with the rest of their equipment.

“How is he?” Jack asked quietly.

Alice looked from Jack to the sleeping Lee and shook her head negatively, the smile still on her pretty face.

“Answer the colonel, you mean old woman,” Lee said, as he raised his head and looked around.

“He’s gone as far as he can go,” Alice said. She shot Lee a dirty look.

“That’s what she says,” the senator sniped as he sat up on the cot. “Did you find another way in?”

Jack looked behind himself and entered the tent.

“We have a six-foot opening at the top of the cave-in. It’s right beneath an archway built by the Germans.”

“Kind of exquisite proof that they brought the roof down on purpose, wouldn’t you say?” Lee said, as he slowly lay back down, taking Alice’s hand as he did so.

“We’ll be running a COM line in for Europa, so you’ll know what’s happening at all times,” Collins said.

“Jack, give me a little time. I can make it up there and come along,” Lee said, this time without rising.

“I’m going to answer that the way you would have many years ago-you would be a hindrance and could get people hurt. I have to say no.”

Alice lowered her head as Jack turned away toward the tent’s opening, wishing he could just run from the enclosure. He swallowed the lump in his throat and reached for the tent pole to steady his hand.

“Colonel, please give me the opportunity to-”

Without turning, Jack closed his eyes and said what it was he had to say. “I admire you more than any man I have ever known or ever will know. You and Alice have… have become special in my life, and Sarah’s life also. I-”

“Go do what needs to be done. We’ll be here when you get back. He’ll undoubtedly want a full accounting of what’s over there,” Alice said as Lee rolled to his right side.

Jack nodded without turning back and left the tent.

Niles Compton was waiting for him as he exited. He saw the look on Jack’s face and decided to let his conversation with Alice and Lee go unvoiced. Niles watched Jack angrily snatch up his M-16 and start toward the men who were gathering at the base of the cave-in. Niles hesitated only a moment before scratching on the outside of the tent. Instead of calling out, Alice stepped through the opening.

“How is the senator?” he asked as Alice took a few steps away.

“Disappointed of course, but I suspect you would know that, since you gave Jack the order not to allow him to enter the second gallery.”

Niles knew Alice better than anyone other than the senator. He lowered his head as she turned to face him.

“He won’t last more than a few more hours.”

Niles, like Jack a few minutes before, tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I meant to get here before Jack, but Charlie accidentally pulled the pin on a hand grenade and I had to help look for it. I never meant for Jack to be the one to tell the senator. He disagrees with my decision.”

“Of course he does, dear. He’s a soldier, just like Garrison. Jack’s an idealist, whether he wants to admit that or not. You, my dear Niles, are a realist. Jack believes Garrison should be allowed to go out the way he chooses, while you are of the same opinion as Jack. You’re afraid of seeing it happen. The colonel, while not wanting it to happen either, is not afraid of that. Thus you differ. But one thing Garrison and I know for sure.” She placed a hand on Niles’s shoulder and squeezed. “You both care about him beyond measure.”

“Thank you,” he said, as he placed his hand over hers. “Jack is far stronger than I am when it comes to death, even though the senator would want to go out any other way than the way he is.”

Niles started walking away and Alice watched him go. As she turned to reenter the tent she couldn’t help but realize the world was changing fast, and she knew it was time for her and Lee to leave it for what it was to become. Her own end was maybe a few years down the road, but Garrison’s was soon, and in the manner he would choose-not her manner, not Niles’s nor even Jack’s, but his way. She would allow Lee that one and only advantage in their relationship. He would go the way he wanted.

As Jack was on his way to the cave-in, an excited Charlie Ellenshaw came running over.

“Colonel, you’ve got to see this!”

“Whoa, Charlie, take it easy,” he said as he was joined by Sebastian and Carl Everett.

Charlie placed his hands on his knees and tried to get his breathing under control.

“It’s over there. Pete and I found a building that was out of place underneath that giant outcropping of rock. It looked like it was originally a German Quonset hut, but some modern scientific equipment was inside.”

“Okay, Charlie, lead the way,” Jack said, as Ellenshaw turned and they followed.

Just as Ellenshaw said, the Quonset hut was old, but in good shape. As Jack stepped inside he saw Niles, Appleby, Dubois, and Pete Golding standing around a large lab table. Niles stepped back and allowed the three men to see what they had discovered.

“Well, this is what we were looking for,” Niles said.

On the table, secured by some stainless steel clamps, was a rifle, but one the likes of which Jack, Everett, and Sebastian had never seen before. It was about three and a half feet long and had a thick barrel of what looked like steel. Just like the pictures from the Moon, there was a crystal installed on the tip. Only this crystal looked to be shattered. The stock of the weapon was broken and was the only thing that told the weapon’s very old age, as none of them recognized the material. There was a sighting aperture and what looked like a magazine.

“I suspect this thing here,” Appleby said, pointing to the magazine Jack was looking at, “is the power source. It looks like a large battery. This thing must be very heavy.”

“Look at this,” Ellenshaw said. He was standing in front of a thick rectangle of steel. There was a perfect hole in the center of the plate and it had what looked like a small rivulet of molten material running from it. Jack walked over and looked at the target. He sighted through it and saw that it lined up perfectly with the barrel of the strange weapon.

“Someone got it to work,” Jack said and stepped back around the steel plate.

“Yeah, make that past tense. Look at this,” Niles said, pointing out the smashed crystal. “It looks like some kind of overload.”

“McCabe?” Everett asked.

“Odds are that it was him or someone he’d been working with. It looks as though this may have been the only weapon they found in this gallery. Hell, maybe the Germans originally found the damn thing.”

“The thing is, gentlemen, whoever found it got the thing to work.” Appleby stepped up next to Jack and looked through the large hole. “And work impressively.”

“Colonel?”

They all turned and saw SAS Captain Mark-Patton standing at the open door.

“We’ve found a way into the second gallery.”

As Jack and the other officers went off to get the search element ready for the incursion into the second gallery, Niles, Pete, Ellenshaw, Appleby, and Dubois remained behind in the makeshift lab set up by McCabe and his benefactors. They found no research paperwork on the weapon that had been tested, but they did find small granules of what looked to be the mineral. After removing the power pack from the receiving unit of the weapon, it was Dubois, the MIT engineer, who discovered the ground-up meteorite dust inside. It was blackened and hard to the touch, but to everyone’s amazement it was still warm months after testing had been completed.

“The way it’s packed inside this sending unit, it’s just like a battery,” Niles said, as he held the thick magazine-like unit. “These must be conductors of some kind.” His index finger probed two copper wires that protruded from the thickened mass of hardened meteorite dust.

“I don’t understand how the power is converted to light,” Appleby said while examining the receiver where the magazine was inserted.

“You know, hanging out with Colonel Collins and Captain Everett of late, I have had a chance on several occasions to examine our own weaponry. The receiver for the M-16 rifle is basically a port. The real magic is in the ammunition. The gun itself is nothing more than the dumbest of tools. In this case,” Ellenshaw said, as he lowered his tall frame to look down the barrel past the smashed crystal, “I would say that this weapon is just as simple as an M-16. It’s the power that makes it special. Introduce a heat source or electrical source to the element inside the receiver and allow the material to be trapped inside, and this trigger releases the built-up energy that’s dying to get out.”

“I’m not following, Charlie,” Pete said. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and followed Ellenshaw’s example, looking down the barrel.

“Pete, the crystal that you are looking at is nothing but an amplifier and a lens. Together, they create light. Inside the receiver, once you break it down-which, from the shavings on the tabletop, it appears someone actually did-I believe you will find nothing more than a cooling port, and possibly a small light emitter. That is, you will find a lightbulb. A strong one, to be sure, but basically just a long-life lightbulb. Send power to this light source, a lot of power, and then release it to the only open port available, the barrel end of the weapon. It passes through this crystal, where it is amplified in strength just like the reflector plate on an old-fashioned oil lamp, and pow! You have a handheld laser device capable of doing that,” he said, pointing to the steel plate hanging from the ceiling.

As Ellenshaw straightened, he felt eyes on him. He looked at Niles, who was shaking his head.

“Can I ask you what the hell hanging out with Jack has done to you?” said Niles. “That’s amazing for just a five-minute examination.”

Ellenshaw looked embarrassed, not really knowing if Niles was pulling his leg or trying to make a point about concocting a theory without the least bit of proof.

“Actually, I think along the lines of forensic evaluation, as in my field of work there is very rarely any evidence to examine. I guess I have to use my imagination far more than my colleagues here.”

“Well, I for one think it’s one hell of an accurate theory,” Appleby said, looking closely at Niles. “Just who the hell are you people?”

Jack walked up to the area at the base of the cave-in. Several soldiers were removing the last pile of rocks from its base. As the top row was removed, Collins couldn’t believe his eyes. Underneath the uppermost portion, about fourteen feet off the gallery floor, was what looked like a lighted sign, long dead, its face smashed by the explosion that had sent the ceiling crashing down. Jack could guess the meaning of the bright red letters, but turned to Sebastian anyway.

“Galerie-zwei Gar keine Elektronik,” Sebastian read aloud.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Major Krell. What does it say?” Everett asked.

“Gallery Two-absolutely NO electronics,” the German said, his own words giving him the chills.

Jack remembered the strange vibrations he and the others felt every time they used their radios.

“Well, then, if that’s what it says, I believe we’ll heed the warning,” Collins said as the men removed the rest of the blockage.

Soon they were staring at a set of double steel doors. Jack examined them closely and became uneasy at the sight.

“Well, the explosions really warped these things. They’re battered all to hell,” Everett said, running a hand over the steel plate of what looked to be a portal large enough to accommodate a small truck.

“This is worrisome,” Jack said, stepping back to take in the full length and width of the doors. Then he stepped forward and ran his hand over the battered material. “All of this damage is from the other side of the doors. Look,” he said. His hand rose as his fingers passed over a large indentation.

“Maybe rocks battered it from the other side,” Sebastian offered.

“I agree. Whoever handled the detonation to seal this off couldn’t control the fall of the ceiling on this side alone,” Captain Mark-Patton said.

Collins looked at Everett, who was seeing the same thing as Jack.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t the detonation cause the same damage to this side of the doors? Just as much rock from the cave-in battered this side, but the steel is so thick that not one single dent in this steel is evident.”

Sebastian and several others played their large flashlights over the double doors. Indeed, there weren’t any indentations pushed inward from this side-all of the bulges were from gallery number two’s side.

“I hate to be the first wimp to point this out,” Everett said while shining his light on the large indentations protruding from the steel doors. “But it really looks like something on that side wanted through that door, maybe after the Germans brought down the roof.” He looked at Jack. “Call it a hunch.”

Jack and Everett had seen things in their time at the Event Group that would have sent your everyday soldiers to a mental ward. They had seen things that went beyond strange, so they had come to respect their hunches about certain discoveries.

Jack studied the dents in the door for the longest time and then turned to Sebastian.

“Major, you have the most complete team here besides the fifteen Polish troops that we brought down into the mine. You and your men will follow me through the doors.”

“Uh, no way, Jack,” Everett said, stepping up to this boss. “Sebastian will take his men in with me tagging along. You’re the leader of this makeshift bunch of pirates. You don’t go in first.”

“Mr. Everett, I think-”

“I agree with the captain, Jack. you stay behind until the all clear is given,” Sebastian said. “That’s Assault 101. Remember what you said in your training sessions with us?”

Collins was pinned down by his own words. He just nodded.

“Captain Mark-Patton will form a fast reaction team for backup.” Jack turned to the British SAS captain, who agreed. He pointed to his SAS team and to the ten Marines that would back up Sebastian’s assault element.

“Okay, don’t wait too long. If the gallery is clear, give the call and we’ll follow up with the reaction team. We’ll wait until both teams are inside before we start the examination of the gallery.”

Sebastian and Carl charged their weapons and assembled the German commandos who would make the initial incursion into the second gallery.

“Colonel, the doors are wedged pretty good, but I think if we cut through at the center latch, we can get them to slide open,” a Marine combat engineer said. “If there’s no major blockage on the far side, I mean.”

“Well, Corporal, I think whatever battered the hell out of that door cleared away whatever blockage there might have been,” Everett said, and checked his web gear and the extra ammo he was carrying for his M-16.

“Cut through,” Jack said. He moved out of the way as they brought in one of the cutting torches they had found in McCabe’s warehoused goods.

Collins was joined by Everett as they watched the cutting torch start doing its work on the giant latch holding together the two halves of the steel-plated doors.

“It’s obvious McCabe didn’t make it into the second gallery. With the treasure that was waiting for him over there, you have to wonder why. Do you think maybe he had a little more complete information than we do about what happened here in 1945?”

Collins watched the cutting torch burn through the steel and chanced a look at Everett. His face told Carl everything.

They heard the latch fall through onto the far side of the doors with a loud clang, and then watched as a group of Marines and Polish soldiers started to tug at opposite ends of the double doors. They parted gradually with a loud screech and grumble. The echo from the far side told Jack and the others that they were facing a vast open space. The men tensed as the doorway opened into a dark chamber beyond. At the base of the doors, a large pile of rocks had been pushed out of the way. Sebastian’s assault team was placed strategically to cover the width of the door. Captain Mark-Patton eased Jack out of the way so that his second team had a clear field to cover the German commandos.

“Mr. Everett, you watch your ass,” Jack said, as he turned to a Polish lieutenant. “I want a demo team to place charges above the doorway and I want at least three claymores covering that opening.”

The Polish lieutenant saluted and walked away to get the equipment. Collins was taking no chances in case the German SS had the right idea in the first place.

“Night vision,” Sebastian called out. His remaining six men and Captain Everett lowered night vision goggles over their eyes and then two men at a time entered the darkness beyond the doors.

Jack was champing at the bit as he tensed, waiting for the first signs of trouble. He hated not leading the first team into the second gallery.

“Captain Mark-Patton, take your team in, no night vision.”

“Yes, sir,” Mark-Patton called out as he made his follow-up team ready at the doors. Then, with a silent wave of his hand, the second element moved in.

As Collins watched he felt someone step up to him. He looked over and saw Private Tram standing there. He nodded toward the opening of the second gallery. Jack shook his head negatively.

“No, we’ll wait for the all clear.”

“I believe a commander should be in the lead of his troops at all times,” Tram said. “Meaning no disrespect, of course.”

Jack smiled as he watched the last of the SAS men and Polish soldiers disappear into the blackness of the doorway.

“None taken, Private,” he said. “Believe me, I think the same thing. My military philosophy isn’t that different from your own.”

“Then we shall wait,” Tram said cradling the American-made M-14.

“You know, when this is over, I want that weapon back. You’re too damn good with it.”

Sarah allowed the Green Beret sergeant to ease over the small rise before her. The column of Americans kept silent, not allowing any talking that could lead to a transmission alerting someone unfriendly. As the sergeant peeked over the top of the small ridge only five hundred feet from the crater, he quickly ducked back down and removed the M-39 from his shoulder. He made sure the kinetic energy round was charged and held a hand up to Sarah and the others, indicating they should wait where they were. He crawled back up the small incline and looked over the side once more. He ducked back and waved Sarah up the slope. When she arrived the sergeant slid back down, careful not to snag his white environment suit on a stone. The bulletproof vest on the front and back of his torso made moving that much more difficult. He pointed at his wrist, eying Sarah through the clear visor. He was indicating that she should switch frequencies to suit-to-suit mode. She punched the small LED terminal on her wrist.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“We have seven people down there. They look like they’re just sitting around. I see at least five expended oxygen bottles and hoses for refilling the environmental tanks on their backs. I think they’re ESA, but I can’t be sure.”

“Our briefing said their suits are white and blue.”

“Yes, but maybe the Chinese knew that and changed from red to what the ESA was wearing?”

Sarah bit her lower lip and shook her head inside her helmet. “We have to draw the line somewhere. I mean, that’s too damn devious. The Chinese haven’t done anything yet to warrant that kind of thinking.” Sarah looked at the sergeant. “No, I say we make contact. They may be desperate for help. And we have plenty of air on our sleds.” She looked back down the slope at the four large sleds filled with extra bottles of oxygen.

“You’re the boss,” the sergeant said, nodding.

Sarah eased herself up, switching her COM system to the open frequency used by all nations during spaceflight. She stood momentarily on the top of the ridge and looked down at the seven people below, who seemed to be sitting and resting. She saw two of them move, so they were alive.

“Do you require assistance?” Sarah called from the ridge top.

All seven heads turned at once. They were looking in all directions and a few weapons were raised as most tried to get to their feet.

“Easy, easy. Lieutenant McIntire, U.S. Army. Are you ESA?”

The men below started laughing and patting each other on the backs when they finally spied Sarah and the sergeant looking down on them.

“ Oui. Captain Philippe Jarneux. I have six men and we are very low on O. Are you carrying extra?”

“Yes, we have plenty.” Sarah bounded easily down the slope. Not wanting to fall and embarrass herself in front of the French, she slid part of the way. She was surrounded by the ESA astronauts as her men came over the ridge with the sleds of supplies. She was being pounded on the back by some very grateful ESA men when Mendenhall stepped up to her.

“I see you’ve made some new friends,” he said as he watched Sarah be the hero. Then, before he knew it, he was being pounded on the pack holding his oxygen. “Hey, hey,” he cried, as he was hit so hard he felt his feet lift from the lunar surface. As he watched, the entire U.S. team was being congratulated. The scene was a good one. They had just gained a partner in the exploration of the crater.

Sarah pointed out the four sleds and the containers of oxygen lying on them. Every one of the seven ESA astronauts was down to two hours of O in their tanks.

Sarah stepped away and tried to reach Altair.

“ Altair 1, this is Lewis and Clark, do you copy, over,” she said, as she checked to make sure she was still on the open frequency.

All she heard was static. She was joined once more by Mendenhall, who looked at his own frequency setting and then at Sarah, with worry on his face.

The French air force captain stepped up and listened in as Sarah tried again.

“ Altair 1, this is Lewis and Clark, do you copy, over?” Sarah said, trying to keep any worry out of her voice. Upon exiting the Altair, their communications had been crystal clear. Now there was nothing but static.

“If I didn’t know better, this sounds like the jamming we ran into in Iraq in the first few days of the war,” Green Beret Sergeant Martinez said as he tapped his own radio display on his wrist.

“Lieutenant, you were right about the Chinese not being devious enough, but this is more in their line of operation,” the sergeant said as he broke away from the smiling and happy ESA men.

Sarah, Mendenhall, and the French commander turned toward the sergeant as they saw him looking up and back at the place where the Americans had just been.

“Oh, shit,” Sarah said as she saw a sight that froze her blood.

“Well, I guess the Moon’s becoming a very crowded place,” Will said. He slowly brought up his weapon, but knew if he made it look too obvious the twelve trained guns would make short work of them.

Lining the top of the ridge were twelve red-clad Chinese soldiers and they had very lethal weapons. They were aimed at the sixteen ESA and NASA personnel, who had just lost their enthusiasm about joining forces.

“This could get real ugly,” Sarah said as she raised her hands into the air, the group now surrounded by soldiers of the People’s Republic of China.

The Moon was indeed becoming a very crowded place.

Collins and eighty-five men remaining of the Columbus team waited for any indication of trouble. Jack was standing silently fifteen feet from the double doors. Every few minutes he would see movement in the darkness beyond, but it was nothing more than fleeting glimpses of the men. Because of his order, which he had given on a hunch that really made no sense, Collins knew information making its way back to him could take a while. His hunch may be right, or it may be just paranoia, but they hadn’t heard or felt any of the mysterious vibrations since the order not to use the radios or anything else electronic. He also knew that the German SS had left this place without emptying it of its technological riches for a reason, and all of this at a time when their armed forces could have used the miracle weapons that were obviously buried in the second gallery.

Jack turned when he felt someone step up behind him and saw the faint lighting from above shining off the glasses of Niles Compton. Collins turned back to the doorway in front of him.

“I wish you would stay back until I get the all clear from Mr. Everett and Sebastian.”

“I need to be here, Jack. I-”

“Just when are you going to tell me what the hell is going on, Niles?” Jack turned and faced the director.

Niles took a deep breath and looked around him at the young faces of the soldiers. There were Poles, U.S. Marines, Japanese, Australians, and others who were no more than babies. He felt responsible for bringing them to this awful hole in the ground.

“Jack, there was a time when I wouldn’t give a military man the time of day. Not that I didn’t respect them. I just didn’t think about them.” Niles leaned against a large stone and removed his glasses as he spoke low so no one else could hear his words. “Now look at these kids. They never ask why, or what for. They go where their countries say to go and do what their countries say to do.”

Jack turned fully and watched Niles stare at the ground. The dim lights hanging from the top of the first gallery cast eerie shadows that made Compton look gaunt and sallow.

“Since I became involved with the Event Group and became responsible for these boys, it’s come full circle. I am intimidated to a point that I hate ordering dangerous field missions because I can’t stand to lose anyone. These kids expect that their leaders are doing what’s right, and that makes them obligated to obey an order, no matter how crazy that order may sound.”

“Guilty consciences from a commander, at least from the good ones, will always haunt those that give the orders, Niles. Hell, all those kids out there are good. They depend on smart people like you to give them something to work with when the shit hits the fan. Not necessarily to have everything explained to them up front, but to know that later on in life they won’t have to hang their heads in shame for something they were ordered to do.”

Niles placed his glasses back on and stepped up to Jack. He placed his hand on the taller man’s shoulder and lowered his chin.

“That’s what I’m trying to explain to you, Jack. In the past I have always regretted sending my people-you and your men-out into dangerous places where sick people would kill them for a scroll of paper. But this time, Jack, I have no such qualms about sending boys into harm’s way.” Niles looked up at Collins and the determined look on his face sent a chill down his spine. “Everyone here-you, me, those kids in there and out here-we’re all expendable. I can’t tell you until the president says to, but believe me that I want you, of all people, to know what’s going on here. But I can’t tell you. I wanted to tell you that privately when there was no one around but us, so hopefully you could see my frustration at not explaining things. Just suffice it say that we need this technology and we need it fast. Get it. If you have to take a chance at losing all these boys, do it. We have to take what’s here, what’s on the Moon, and we have to reverse-engineer whatever we uncover. We have a very short time to do it-maybe two years, maybe three, four at the outside.”

Jack watched Niles turn away when he heard the other scientists coming over, silently arguing some point or other. Niles placed his hands in his pockets and turned back to face Collins.

“There’s a storm coming, Jack, and I don’t know if the world will survive it.”

Collins turned back to face the front and looked over at the Vietnamese sergeant as he knelt at his position, waiting for the word to advance. The sergeant turned away and said nothing.

“We have company, Colonel,” Tram said. He raised the M-14 up slightly, but lowered it when he saw the large American naval officer emerge from the double doors.

Collins stepped forward, relieved to see Carl as he slung his M-16.

“Sebastian is securing the front of the gallery. It’s a deep one, vast, too much to cover with only two teams. We found a generator room with old Nazi equipment. We are attempting to get the lights on. You won’t believe this, Jack,” Everett leaned breathlessly against the same large rock where Niles had been a moment before. Collins chanced a look back at Compton and saw that he was watching him closely. The words the director had spoken were beginning to drive a wedge into his thoughts. Without explaining anything, Niles had let on how desperate they were to recover anything inside. How sending Sarah, Will, and Ryan to the Moon was only a small part of that desperation move. He turned back to face Everett.

“We go in,” he said, as he looked at the anxious men around him.

“Jack, I said the gallery isn’t secure.”

“We can’t secure it with only two teams. Let’s get what we came for and get the hell out of here.”

“You may change your mind when you see what happened in there,” Carl shot back, angry that Jack was going against everything he ever taught to his own people about securing an area.

“Sergeant Averill,” he said, as he turned to a Marine gunnery sergeant.

“Sir.”

“Move the entire company in, take your Marines and link up with Major Krell and Captain Mark-Patton. The use of radios is still forbidden.”

“Aye, sir, moving in with the follow-up force.”

Collins watched him go and turned to face Everett. “After you, Captain.”

Everett removed the M-16 from his shoulder and, with one last look at Collins, followed his orders, running to the front where the eighty-five men were gathering.

“Niles, you and the science team stay close by. If I say get out, don’t give me any crap about the needs of the world. Run, is that clear? The sergeant here will be your escort.” Collins faced Tram. “You’re responsible for them, got that?”

Compton followed as Jack turned and stepped in beside the last of the men to enter Gallery Number Two. Private Tram followed and looked around to make sure his new charges were close by.

The men all entered a large space, and just like before they knew it was vast, just like the first gallery. As they waited to be led into a previously reconnoitered area, they used the most minimal of lights. The flashlights went here and there, highlighting the cave-in, the old German digging equipment, and what Jack thought were bodies.

“Cover your eyes,” said a voice from somewhere to their left.

Collins lowered his head and partially closed his eyelids. He heard the powerful generator start up like an old diesel truck. The large motor revved several times and then he heard the discharge of electrical power as it was released. When he saw the blaze of light, Jack raised his head and saw the chamber stretch out before him. His eyes adjusted to the brightness and that was when he saw the first of the bodies.

“God almighty, what happened here?” Pete Golding said. Several of the soldiers leaned down, examining the skeletal remains of several bodies. The bodies wore black German uniforms, with a few gray regular army uniforms mixed in. The remains were in disarray. Some parts lay close to the main body, others were tossed about like they had been mauled by some giant bear.

The lighting hanging from the ceiling above was bright, but in areas of the vast chamber hundreds of old bulbs had been smashed, leaving those areas in near darkness. Jack was looking at the scene before him and didn’t even notice Everett talking to him.

“Jack, I think that’s what we’re looking for,” Carl said, looking from the colonel to Niles. “Jack!”

Collins finally blinked and looked at Everett.

“It looks like the SS set up quite an elaborate science section here. Look down there,” he said, pointing to a small drop-off.

Collins and the others stepped forward as the eighty-five men spread out into areas that had already been reconnoitered by Sebastian and the first two teams. As they approached the edge, Jack thought they would see another massive drop-off, but was surprised when he saw that the buildings or huts were only thirty-five yards away. There were fifteen large tin buildings sitting side by side. The first in line was the largest, looking like it was capable of housing a large contingent of troops. As he counted he saw that there were some of the strange composite fiber huts left by the ancient travelers, only these were larger than those in the first gallery and for some reason they looked more permanent. They stretched far back into the gallery. Many of them had been destroyed by the earth movement that had buried the entire ten-mile area, which had been here long before the mountains.

“It’s a colony,” Niles said. He and the others stepped forward for a better look. They could see that the SS had set up a large perimeter around the three-square-mile site and had encompassed the entire area with watch towers and even a barbed wire fence. In the center of the occupied area, just before the stretch of alien buildings began, there was a large concrete blockhouse.

“How many colonists do you estimate, Niles?” Collins asked, as he scanned the area and watched for any sign of trouble from the men who were going from building to building.

“Hard to say, but for the sake of a starting point-two hundred, maybe less,” Compton said. He received nods from the four scientists, who were staring in amazement.

“They came all the way here and then the planet killed them anyway,” Jack said to no one in particular. He strode forward into the giant cave system.

He saw Major Krell advance toward him. Sebastian saluted, surprised to see Collins had entered with so many men before he had given the all clear.

“Ease up on the military discipline, Major,” Jack said, waiting for a report.

“I believe we have counted close to a thousand bodies and that’s not including the slave labor pen about a half a mile in that direction,” Krell said, pointing. “There are close to five hundred skeletons in there, mostly in the same condition as the soldiers.”

Jack finally faced Sebastian and raised his right brow. Sebastian held his hand out toward the colonel, and when Collins raised his hand the major dropped two items into it. One was a Star of David and the other a red circle of material.

“I believe you know what those are?” Sebastian said, straining with the words as he tried to keep his shock and anger in check.

“The Star of David,” Jack said, as he looked from the torn and tattered material to the angry eyes of Sebastian. “The red circle is a marker for a Gypsy. That was their labor force in the mines.” They were joined by Niles, who took the two items from Jack’s hand and looked at them.

“Hard to take. Here we’re searching for answers for all mankind and to do it we have to be shown the ugliness of our past.”

Sebastian realized that the director said our and not the German past. He was silently grateful for that small mercy. His anger over the discovery ebbed.

“Do you have any idea how they all died, besides very violently?” Jack said as he himself finally snapped out of a haze of thought.

“By the looks of the uniforms and the condition of the skeletal remains, I would hazard a guess that they were torn to pieces, smashed into dust and crushed. A few of them maybe even have been stepped upon by something. There are thousands of expended shell casings, evidence of large explosions, and areas of the gallery that look as if hundreds of men died making a last stand toward the far end of the cave system. There are also many remains by the cave-in, of men who looked as though they fought until the roof was brought down, blocking the way of whatever did this. The cruel thing about that site is the fact that fifty or so of those smashed bodies were wearing those patches, so in the end these people fought for their slave masters in an attempt to keep whatever evil that was here confined.”

Collins nodded his head at the quickly delivered report from Sebastian, then he stepped forward with the others following closely. Everett stepped up to Jack as he was handed the swatches of material and examined them. When he looked around at the smashed bodies of the men who were used to secure this place, he tossed the old material away and shook his head.

“I guess the Germans shut this place down when they thought all of this would hurt the tourist trade they were hoping for.”

As the soldiers followed the German commando, they knew they had just entered a 700-million-year-old mausoleum.

The men had spread out and searched the German huts. Another team spread out into the original colony area. The first real discovery came from Pete Golding, who was examining the body of a German soldier who had died in the seventy-year-old battle. Pete was squatting beside the remains and looking at the smashed and crushed bones when he saw a piece of rotting, red material poking free of a large slice of once molten rock. He stood and pulled as hard as he could. When Charlie Ellenshaw saw what he was doing, he stepped up to assist. Finally, the facing of the large stone gave way and they jumped back when they saw what fell free.

“Good lord,” Charlie said, and felt his bladder weaken.

Lying half in and half out of the stone was the space suit everyone had come to know from the pictures from the Moon. The white helmet was smashed and the skull inside crushed. Pete rubbed his hands on his pants. The remains were so old that they had turned to stone and had become a part of the rock that had killed whoever this was. As they looked on, they nearly screamed aloud when Jack and Niles stepped up behind them.

“Why were they wearing suits?” Jack asked. “Do you think their kind may not have been accustomed to this climate?”

“That’s puzzled me ever since the senator told us his story,” Niles said as he knelt down to examine the upper torso of the body. “I think I’m beginning to understand. When these beings arrived here, the Earth was a young place, as evidenced by the upheaval of the Andes that swallowed them up. But it was also a planet that spewed poisonous vapors everywhere from the planet-wide volcanic activity on what had to have been the supercontinent. During a large eruption, they may have resorted to the use of their environment suits.”

Charlie looked over at Niles and wiped sweat from his brow.

“If that is the case, why would these people colonize such a hostile world?” he asked as he looked from face to face.

“Maybe because they weren’t colonists in the sense we may understand,” Jack said. He looked at the petrified bone smiling back at them through the smashed helmet.

“Meaning?” Pete asked, also staring at the ancient astronaut.

“Meaning maybe they hadn’t a choice but to be here,” Collins answered.

Before anyone could follow up with another question, they were approached by a young Marine.

“Captain Everett sends his regards. He would like you to join him right over there, sir.”

Jack and the others turned and followed the Marine. They stopped when they saw Carl leaning over a body. This one wasn’t petrified nor was he wearing a uniform.

“I think we may have found the man of the hour,” Everett said. He stood and examined something. Jack walked over and looked down at the remains. They were also skeletal, but not nearly as old as the others. There was a black suit jacket and what caught his attention more than anything was the white collar wrapped through his once purple shirt collar. The head had been smashed to oblivion just above the minister’s shoulders.

“I take it this is the Reverend William T. Rawlins, father of Samuel Rawlins, who disappeared many years ago.”

Carl tossed Jack the wallet he was holding and nodded.

“Good guess. I imagine the Reverend went into private practice after the war. He had his son, Samuel, and years later curiosity got the better of him,” Everett said, looking around nervously.

“He met the same fate as the others,” Pete said, looking at the remains but feeling not the least bit sorry for the good Reverend.

“Look at this, Jack,” Niles said, as he straightened from the body. He tossed an object over and Collins caught it.

“A radio,” Jack said as he examined it.

“It was in his hand.”

“He may have been using it when attacked,” Jack said and put the ancient walkie-talkie down.

“It looks like your hunch about the vibrations being linked to the electronic radios may be correct,” Everett said, looking toward the top of the chamber.

“Gather up the men. I want to talk to them as soon as possible. Warn them that we may be in an extremely hostile situation. Also, pick a four-man team and get them back to the surface. Call in more help. I don’t care if it’s Ecuadorian National Guard or their soccer team, just get them here.”

As the men surrounding Jack listened, they realized that they could sense fear in the colonel’s words, and that in turn made them start looking around for anything other than the technology they were seeking.

Something was inside Gallery Number Two with them.