The Launch
Author: T I Wade
Date: 2014-01-10T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: scify; space shuttles; usaf; space travel; nasa; asteroid mining
Description: Ryan Richmond has dreamed about going to space since the age of seven. Reading space updates—and seeing pictures of Neil Armstrong on the lunar surface in National Geographic—was the ignition of this dream. Growing up in a middle class neighborhood of Henderson, Nevada his aspirations of space exploration seemed unattainable. Nonetheless, Ryan proved to be far from ordinary, and by the time he left high school he was about to sell his first business for $100,000 and invest the money. A short time later he was the proud new owner of his first space company, a business started in a derelict old
Publisher: T I WADE Books

America One - The Launch

- Title Page
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26

America One – The Launch

By T I Wade

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 T I Wade

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Note from the Author

This novel is only a story—a story of fiction, which could or might come true sometime in the future.

The people in this story are mostly fictitious, but since the story takes place in our present day, some of the people mentioned are real people.

There were no thoughts to treat these people as good or bad people. Just people who are living at the time the story is written.

The author is not an expert in the field of space travel. The author is only a storyteller.

Even though hundreds of hours of Internet research were completed to write this story, many might find the scientific description of space travel lacking, simple, or simply not accurate.

The fuels, gases, metals, and the results of using these components are as accurate as the author could describe them.

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Don’t Push Me!

Chapter 2

The Repercussions

Chapter 3

DX2014-Second Visit

Chapter 4

DX2014 has a problem

Chapter 5

Return to Ivan

Chapter 6

Meanwhile, back on Earth

Chapter 7

Back to Earth

Chapter 8

Diamonds by the thousands

Chapter 9

The Last of the Treasure

Chapter 10

Capitol Hill

Chapter 11

All quiet on the Western Front

Chapter 12

Sierra Bravo III and “60 Minutes”

Chapter 13

Double Trouble: In space and from Washington

Chapter 14

Ryan’s meets the skeleton of
American One

Chapter 15

The first tour of
America One

Chapter 16

NASA has a big problem!

Chapter 17

The last Christmas

Chapter 18

Air Force One

Chapter 19

The interesting end of DX2014

Chapter 20

Oh Crap!

Chapter 21

Peace in Nevada

Chapter 22

Flights resume

Chapter 23

America One becomes a real spaceship

Chapter 24

A new weapon

Chapter 25

The “End Game” of political chess

Chapter 26

Cuba is nice at this time of year

Chapter 1

Don’t Push Me!

The airfield was peaceful. The desert was inherently quiet. Few birds twittered or chirped and the silence was almost complete. Then, the door to Hangar Three opened releasing a cacophony of sound as the C-5 Galaxy, loaned to Astermine by the United States Air Force, was about to be towed into the hot morning sun.

Ryan Richmond stood in the middle of the large simmering apron, a handheld radio in one hand and his cell phone in the other. His incoming shuttle from space was still eight minutes out, and many of his friends—and enemies—were twenty minutes away.

The white streak of a civilian jet could be seen far to the north, the jet extremely high and too far away to hear.

He saw his platoon of thirty well-armed security guards approach along the tarred road from the direction of the airfield’s only entrance. Ryan also saw Bob Mathews heading towards him as his handheld radio squawked.

“Sierra Bravo II to ground, do you read? Over.”

“Ground control to Sierra Bravo II, we have you in radio contact again, and on radar. Your speed is a little high, your altitude is 140,000 feet, 3,000 feet lower than normal, but within your entry window. You are about to pass over the West Coast and look good. Weather here is 98 degrees, wind calm, zero cloud cover. Over.”

Ryan was not part of the conversation, and just kept himself informed of his incoming shuttle’s progress. This exact same reentry flight had been successfully completed by his two shuttles over a dozen times, and he felt confident that any problems on reentry had been solved. His craft were now the best in the world.

“Roger that, ground control,”
he heard Jonesy reply.
“We are coming in heavy, so will keep the speed high. I will compensate for the low altitude once I get manual control in thirty seconds. Over.”

“Ground control to Sierra Bravo II, seven minutes to touch down, suggest you decrease your glide slope to straight and level for five seconds. That should give you an extra 5,000 feet and bleed off your speed. Over.”

“Sierra Bravo II, roger, will do,”
replied, Colonel John Jones, Ryan’s Chief Pilot, or more correctly, Chief Astronaut.

Ryan felt the world around him as he stood in the hot dry heat of Nevada. He was accustomed to this beautiful hot, dry weather. Ryan had been born in Las Vegas to reasonably well-off parents the same day that Neil Armstrong had walked on the moon. His father was a casino manager, his mother, Head of Accounts for one of the larger gambling houses on the strip.

In those days Vegas wasn’t the mega city it had grown into. Everybody had jobs, everybody lived in suburbia, and not everybody visited or had any interest in what went on around The Strip. The area around Hoover Dam and Lake Mead was a place for weekend retreats where residents went to cool down and play. In contrast, the locals of this modern day went to the large air-conditioned casinos to escape the heat and eat cheap meals in the many buffets on The Strip.

Unemployment—over ten percent—was at an all-time high in the city. Growth had been stagnant in Clark County, as well as the whole of Nevada, for a decade now. Ryan now used the Las Vegas food supply companies to feed the 400 people living on his airfield.

It was only fifteen months ago that he had completed the twelve hangars around the large light-colored, cement apron, had only one aircraft on it, the C-5 Galaxy which was about to be towed onto the simmering white expanse.

He remembered his early years in Henderson, the only child in a happy family. Both his father and mother were tall, slim, and wore glasses to read and work. He had also needed glasses from an early age, and was always slim, a few inches taller than his elementary school classmates.

“I have manual flight,”
squawked Jonesy over the radio.
“Speed 2,900 knots at 85,000 feet, raising her nose for straight and level flight for five seconds.”

“Roger that,”
he heard his team back in Hangar One respond.

In elementary school Ryan did well academically, though he was often so bored he stared out the window and dreamed. However, he did not do very well dealing with a few of the kids who often picked on him due to his slim build. On the playground he was a pushover for the bullies, not understanding their desire to rile him.

He studied the bullies, realizing that each of them needed to prove something, which they accomplished by pushing him or other kids around. They didn’t do well in class, and were often noisy, and in trouble with the teacher. It seemed to him that the purpose of their aggressive behavior was to hide their own lack of confidence. They also ran in packs and needed encouragement and approval from their friends when they messed with him. It seemed that it was the only way they got attention from the other boys, and often, the girls around them.

At first, Ryan tolerated their messing his hair or pushing him from one boy to another; but after a couple of years of this, he finally began to get angry.

One day a kid about four inches shorter than he, but twice his weight, with a big round face and ginger hair went too far. The kid grabbed Ryan’s glasses and stood on them, grinding them into the ground. Ryan needed glasses to read; his distance vision within a few feet was good, but he needed glasses for school work.

The boys around Mark Sposnik, the ginger-haired boy (Ryan never forgot his name), began laughing. This encouraged Mark to look up at the slim boy and, smiling, said, “So Richmond, now you are blind, what are you going to do about that? You wouldn’t even see my fist coming if I wanted to flatten your face.”

Ryan felt the anger build up inside. He had been wearing a new pair of glasses; his mother paid twenty-five dollars to upgrade them and now she would be mad at him for breaking them. Plus, he felt like he had let her down by not protecting her new investment in him. Ryan thought that he had to respond in some way, and the words Mark Sposnik had just spoken gave him an instantaneous way to avenge his mother.

“Sierra Bravo II, you are over the Nevada state line at 73,000 feet, your speed is too fast at 1,120 knots. You still have 3,000 extra feet altitude.”

“Roger that, ground control, I will reduce speed to 900 knots.”

With his hand clenched into a solid fist, Ryan hit Mark Sposnik straight on his nose. He hit him quite hard, enough to make blood shoot out of the boy’s nostrils. Ryan had not seen so much blood in his life and just stood there as the other boy reached for his bleeding nose, screaming at the top of his lungs.

He recalled how loud the screaming was and remembered pictures of firing squads and suddenly the hangman’s noose floated in front of his eyes. He thought he had just killed Mark Sposnik! Nobody around him did anything. They were all frozen, shock written all over their faces. The audience just stood there watching the boy bleed. However, he didn’t seem to be falling over, dying; he was just screaming, holding his nose and looking at his own blood on the ground.

Seconds later a female teacher grabbed him and the bleeding boy by the backs of their shirts and dragged them into the school building, straight to the nurse on duty.

Ryan watched as the nurse plugged Sposnik’s nostrils to stem the blood and kept him standing upright telling the boy that the bleeding would soon stop, as his face was higher than his pumping heart.

“Will he live?” Ryan asked the matronly nurse, whose bright silver hair was a stark contrast to the kid’s red blood and bright orange hair. He felt the teacher still standing behind him.

“Of course he will, stupid! I see this every month. A bully like you might not be the one to be alive, once you see the inside of the principal’s office. I would fear for your life, and not so much this young man’s.”

“Thirty miles to target, speed 840 knots, height 60,000 feet,”
stated ground control.

This was Ryan’s first trip to the principal’s office. Behind a dark wooden desk sat the principal, a tall man, well over six feet, speaking into the black telephone on the desk. “I understand, Mrs. Richmond, but school policy states that any children who fight must be taken home immediately until the matter is resolved…….Yes, I understand you are at work, but maybe some understanding drilled into him of what he has just done, hurting another boy, might prevent any future need for you to leave work. Thank you Mrs. Richmond.” The principal looked at Ryan, and said nothing more than “Your mother will be here in forty-five minutes. Go sit outside the office and wait for her. What you have done is disgusting.”

As he left he heard the principal ask the teacher to round up some of the kids who had witnessed the fight and bring them to his office.

Ryan was enjoying the heat as Bob Mathews walked up to him, saw him deep in thought, and said nothing. The squawking radio would tell him all he needed to know. His security detail was in front of the C-5, which was now out of the hangar. Ryan was facing west, watching for the shuttle’ arrival.

“Lieutenant, disperse your men, but I want you to remain here with me with one other man. I want every front and side door of every hangar guarded. I don’t want anybody to get inside any of the hangars without my authority.” The lieutenant gave orders, relaying Ryan’s instructions.

His mother was angry with him, until she realized that his new glasses were missing from his face. He just sat there looking guilty as his mother stormed into the principal’s office demanding to know what had happened to his glasses.

His mother waited until three witnesses were brought in; she stared scathingly at them, hands on hips, until the principal, not used to irate mothers, found out what had really happened. Sposnik had pulled off Ryan’s glasses and quite simply ground them into the hard dirt of the playground. That was the last time Ryan was ever bullied at school, and Mark Sposnik’s parents did pay for new glasses. From then on his parents allowed him to learn boxing at the local gym, a sport which he excelled in. His ability and long reach forestalled anyone thinking that this tall thin kid was good bully material.

The feeling of panic, and the utter helplessness of what to do in front of a bully was not one he ever forgot. He had not been afraid; he just didn’t know how to react. Now, today at the airfield, he was not going to be bullied as an adult either. But the memory of that feeling washed over him just before he had walked out onto the hot apron to get some fresh air.

“Twenty miles to target, 57,000 feet, speed 730 knots.”

“You are in your window,”
he heard his radio man reply to the shuttle from ground control several hundred feet from where he stood.

The tractor that had just towed out the large C-5 Galaxy continued across the apron with the wheeled, steel-poled tow-unit clanking behind it; it would return the shuttle from the end of the runway to its home in Hangar Six. The medical vehicle, an old Ford cargo van with a red cross painted on each side, and the forty-year old fire engine he had purchased at an auction in Las Vegas, weren’t far behind the tractor.

“Fifteen miles to target, 48,500 feet, 710 knots. Air brakes out at one notch…..air brakes away,”
stated Jonesy, flying the shuttle.

Apart from the vehicles driving down the side of the runway to the eastern end, there was still no noise. Ryan wondered if he would hear the noise of helicopters, or a fixed wing jet engine first. The shuttle would make no noise on landing. He listened hard, trying to detect any other noises farther away.

“Five miles to target, 22,000 feet, 495 knots……….three miles to target, target in sight, 16,100 feet, 455 knots.”
Ryan now heard a female voice over the radio knowing that Maggie was reading out the information to the pilot. Jonesy was now concentrating, looking for the runway spreading out for 10,000 feet a couple of miles in front of him. Ryan looked far into the western blue sky and saw the silver form of his shuttle coming in steep and fast. He gripped the radio harder than before.

“One mile to target, 8,000 feet, 330 knots,……….absolute perfect slope 300 yards out, 1,600 feet, 280 knots, flaring out…………..wheels down…..the shuttle has landed…..front wheel down,”
stated Maggie as Ryan watched the perfect landing 5,000 feet away at the end of the runway.

The shuttle came in fast. The landing looked much faster than it seemed when he experienced it a few weeks earlier from inside the cockpit. The Silver Bullets had accurate names; they certainly came in fast and steep, the flare-out was quick, and the craft didn’t hang in the air like commercial jets did. He watched the shuttle flare with the usual blue smoke showing as the tires kissed the tarmac. The parachutes blew out of the back, extending only a second after the front wheel spurted out its own cloud of blue smoke.

Even with the chutes aiding its braking, the long sleek shuttle silently ripped passed him several hundred feet away as it went behind the large hangars on the other side of the apron.

“Tractor, I want her coupled up fast and returned to the apron ASAP. It is hot on that blacktop and the cabin will heat up quickly.”

The tractor driver acknowledged the command from Ryan. It would take one of his two assistants a couple seconds to plug in an air conditioner lead from a small unit behind the tractor to a small slot the co-pilot would open in the side of the craft just below her window. This would keep the cockpit at a reasonable temperature, not that it really mattered to the crew aboard. Their suits would repel any heat buildup, as they did the cold of space. At the same time the driver coupled the pole to the shuttle’s front wheel leg while the second assistant untied the flatten parachutes from the rear.

All this took less than thirty seconds before the shuttle was turned around on the wide runway and towed back to the apron.

Two minutes later the sound reached Ryan’s ears. It was the sound of a rotor blade in the distance, south of the field, and that gave him hope for who would arrive first. The shuttle reached the cooler white surface as the first helicopter came into view; a couple of other helicopters could be heard behind it, and two F-16s suddenly flew low overhead asking for permission to land.

Ryan gave ground control permission for the two extremely low jets to land. The helicopter was now a mile to the south as
Sierra Bravo II came to a halt outside the still-closed door of Hangar Six.

“Sierra Bravo II, I want the pilot-in-command and Ms. Pringle to stay seated in the craft. I want the co-pilot and Mr. Noble out of there and immediately taken to the confinement center to get out of their suits. We have incoming, Mr. Jones, your good friends; and, Ms. Pringle, I want you to act as the co-pilot.”

“Roger that,”
stated Jonesy as the cockpit side hatch was opened from inside. Ryan watched as the two other full-suited figures were horizontally pulled out and helped stumbling into a small door that had just opened in the large hangar’s sliding door.

Ryan looked up to see the first helicopter pilot come in over the top of the hangar asking permission to land. Ryan gave the OK and two more helicopters appeared over the hangar roof a few seconds later. Two of the helicopters were news teams, CBS and NBC out of Las Vegas; the third was a military helicopter out of Nellis Air Force Base.

Ryan’s ground personnel were already out with batons showing the helicopters where to land when a C-130 flew overhead, the pilot stating that they were also out of Nellis, and asking for permission to land. Ryan looked over to the western end of the runway to see the second F-16 wheels touch down, the first one already about to taxi onto the apron.

“Park the jets on the other side of the apron facing me, mind jet-blasts on the hangar walls,” Ryan ordered his team. “We have at least several more incoming, so we need the room.”

The three helicopters were down as a white jet swooped low overhead unannounced.

“I’ve been told to request priority landing position,”
stated the jet’s pilot.

“Negative,” replied Ryan. “There is a Charlie 130 on finals; you are number two to land.”

“Charlie 130 bank away and circle, we will have priority,”
ordered the jet pilot.

“Charlie 130, continue with your final approach. This is my airfield and I give the orders around here,” responded Ryan into his radio.

“I confirm, you have number one on finals, Charlie 130,”
added a voice on a second radio; General Saunders.

The C-130, only 300 yards out, came in as ordered. It taxied up to the apron and immediately was parked a couple of hundred feet away, its rear door opened and suddenly Ryan could hear music playing.

He couldn’t believe his eyes as a twenty-man military marching band with twenty or so other armed air force personnel carrying American flags marched out of the back of the aircraft and towards the shuttle.

He also saw the news crews running up to the shuttle with video equipment already recording. Both cameras panned over to the marching band as the small white jet was halted by a man with batons stopping it from nearly running them over.

Then, two more C-130s flew over unannounced, close to a third helicopter taking footage from the air.

“Ground control, make sure our security cameras are recording all this, especially from the tower!” directed Ryan as a smiling General Saunders walked up to him and shook his hand. “Well timed, General!” Ryan stated, smiling back. Now he felt the achievement he had felt when his mother had forced the principal to apologize to her son for accusing him of starting a fight.

“I couldn’t bring much; the fighters were returning from our training area, and might need a top up to get back to Nellis. We were in the middle of a small passing out ceremony for a couple of C-130 crews and had her moving into position for the ceremony,” he stated pointing to the silent aircraft, now empty of troops. ”So I just ordered the men inside, marching band and all, to come here. I assumed that you would like to be congratulated on something here today.”

“Yes. Excellent timing General. Our friend Colonel Jones has just returned with a load of pure platinum collected from the moon. It’s not every day that you and your men have the opportunity to see real space treasure, I think!”

General Saunders looked at Ryan in total shock, his mouth hanging open. Ryan turned him around so his shock wouldn’t be noticed by the men about to exit the white jet a hundred yards away.

“Ground control, order those other two C-130s into a holding pattern. They do not have permission to land,” Ryan ordered. “General Saunders, with the media crews here, and your band, it looks like this was all preplanned. Please ask your men and the band to form up around the shuttle, and I will get our friend Colonel Jones to say a few eloquent words as he always does.”

Saunders smiled, winked, and walked over to his men while Ryan gave the order for his shuttle crew to evacuate the shuttle, but remain outside. He turned his radio to the shuttle’s intercom band to tell Jonesy and Kathy what to say just before a television camera was thrust in front of him.

“Mr. Richmond, Joe Downs, NBC news. Can you tell us about the ceremony about to take place here today?” The other news crews seeing the interview about to start ran over as a second and third small white jet flew overhead. Ryan looked at a security camera and gave the thumbs up to his ground control to allow the jets to land.

“Thanks for coming, Joe. Yes it is a grand occasion for Astermine today and a great achievement by my whole team here in Nevada. The world has no suspicion of what I’m about to tell you. You journalists have real ‘breaking news’ out of Nevada for a change,” began Ryan as two more mikes were placed in front of him. “Our shuttle, aptly named
The Silver Bullet, has just arrived back with four tons of rock mined from the moon two hundred thousand miles away from earth.”

“Two hundred thousand miles! That’s the same distance the furthest man has ever flown in space!” exclaimed one announcer.

“One of our unmanned space mining craft has just travelled half a million miles in space?

“Surely that is better than winning the Space Race,” interjected Joe Downs, taking control of the interview.

“Correct on all questions,” smiled Ryan, “except that it was an unmanned spacecraft sent out two months ago, which mined the moon under remote control, and then returned meeting up with our shuttle in orbit. Our two brave astronauts then moved the aluminum canisters full of rock inside the shuttle’s empty hold for re-entry. It took them several hours but they did it, and once they have their helmets off they will be happy to talk to you.”

“Do you know what is in the rock?” asked two of the interviewers.

“Yes, every piece of rock collected first passed through a Magnetic Metal Analyzer, a metal sorter we invented here at the airfield. The MMA, or rock analyzer, in the unmanned craft had every rock pass through it before it was either tossed, or stowed. So far our MMA has found amounts of native platinum, iridium, rhodium and palladium, all metal types commonly found together here on earth where asteroids have hit the ground.”

While Ryan was talking, he noticed that his fully-armed security guards were now standing at attention by every door of every hangar. Also, he had about twenty seconds before he was about to be attacked by the bullies, as Bishop, Ward, Mortimer, and a fourth man in a suit were walking angrily towards his interview.

“How much have you returned to earth?” asked one woman holding out a mike.

“Why all the security around your hangars, Ryan?” asked a man.

“What is Congressman Dickens doing here? Has he come to congratulate you?” asked Joe Downs.

“We have returned four tons of rock to earth. The reason for all the security is that this is a private, legal research institution, and the cargo has a value of over 100 million dollars on the open market.” There were a lot of whistles at that statement. “As far as the congressman arriving unannounced, I would assume he has either arrived to congratulate Astermine, or to collect the import duties on the cargo’s value. Do any of you guys know what the current import duty on extraterrestrial imports is?” Everybody shook their heads. “There isn’t any, but maybe you can ask the congressman why he is here yourselves. And, you have my authority to continue filming. Our interview with the astronauts will be in a few………” He was rudely interrupted by Joe Bishop.

“You guys with cameras, get in your helicopters and get out of here!” shouted Joe Bishop looking sternly at the news crews as they all turned to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before we were rudely interrupted, I was saying that the interview with our astronauts….”

“All interviews are over, this is now restricted government property and, as I said, get in your helicopters and vamoose, now!”

“Guards!” Ryan called into his radio loudly. “Bishop, who the hell do you think you are? This is a grand occasion, and you are on private property, my property. Guards, take this unwelcome and uninvited guest back to his aircraft and don’t allow him out. The National Security Agency has worn out its welcome on my land!”

Lieutenant Walls and the second guard turned the overweight, sweating agent around, and marched him back to the awaiting jet. “Congressman Dickens, General Mortimer, Mr. Ward I hope you three have better manners than Mr. Bishop from the National Security Agency. Please tell me who invited you to our celebration, and what you are doing here.”

“First, Mr. Richmond, I need all these cameras turned off; they will be confiscated for security reasons. Turn off your cameras and hand them over,” demanded Tom Ward.

“Are you for real, bud?” asked one reporter shoving his mike into Ward’s face. “This is a free country and who the hell do you think you are? This is Mr. Richmond’s airfield, not yours.”

Suddenly the Congressman’s face evolved into an election campaign smile, and he held out his hand to congratulate Ryan.

“Yes, Mr. Richmond, I had heard from the Federal Reserve that you had the first mining expedition returning today. I don’t know why the NSA and CIA are so unhappy about your success. Congratulations on your great endeavor for the Unites States of America.”

“Thank you, Congressman. Do you know by chance what taxes are to be paid on imported metals from space? Am I right that Congress currently has no laws on either importing treasure from space or on import duties?”

“Only the usual import duties into the United States,” smiled the congressman. I’m sure new laws will be put into place now that you have achieved this new importation of goods, and the authorities will be in touch. Again, well done, Mr. Richmond!” The congressman shook Ryan’s hand again, smiled facing the cameras and went back to the jet followed by General Mortimer and Tom Ward.

The band still hadn’t stopped playing by the side of the shuttle and Ryan suggested to the news crews they could now interview the astronauts.

“Colonel Jones, what is it like to fly this silver spacecraft?” asked the female interviewer once Jonesy was helped off with his helmet; but, before he could answer, she was quickly sidetracked seeing the pretty face of Kathy Pringle appear out of the second helmet. “Wow! A real female astronaut,” continued the interviewer and the other two microphones hit on Kathy. “And you are?”

“Kathy Pringle, United States Air Force, retired, and co-pilot of the
Silver Bullet.” Kathy responded. “Co-pilot to the best test pilot the United States Air Force ever put on retirement, Colonel John Jones here.” The mikes went back to Jonesy.

“Are we allowed to see the spoils of space, Colonel Jones?” asked Joe Downs. Jonesy looked over at Ryan who nodded, already on his radio asking for a mobile crane in Hangar Six.

“Yes, I believe my commander, Mr. Richmond, will allow you to see what we have brought back.” One half of the large hangar door opened on Hangar Six and the TV crews gasped upon seeing a half finished second shuttle sitting in its sterile area. An electrically powered mobile crane silently moved out of the open hangar door. The crane had four large tractor tires, about the size of a Ford 150, with two scientists walking next to it carrying ropes. The hangar door quickly closed behind them. The mikes held by excited news crew returned to Ryan.

“You have a second shuttle nearly ready for launch?” asked one.

“Yes, she will replace the one we unfortunately lost on its maiden flight; it will be ready in a month for atmospheric tests and then orbital tests two weeks after that.” Ryan saw the Administrator of NASA and the head of the Federal Reserve Bank walking towards him out of the two civilian jets that had just landed. He was sure that the passengers in the departing jet were shocked at who they saw getting out of the recently arrived aircraft. The two unwelcomed C-130s were still circling a mile or so the east of the airfield. “Ladies and gentlemen, one more question for the astronauts; they are hot in those suits and need to be helped into the hangar. They have just arrived back from space and are extremely dehydrated.”

The news crew asked a couple more questions before they allowed the astronauts to be aided inside a small hangar door its large door already closed.

By this time General Saunders and several of his pilots and crews in flight gear had reached the group. Jonesy turned and waved to the crowd and to General Saunders as he entered the door.

“General Saunders, you are in-command at Nellis Air Force Base, correct?” asked one interviewer.

“Yes, that is correct. Mr. Richmond uses one of our C-5 Galaxy aircraft for liftoff. The air force is proud to be helping in this space mission, as is NASA whose administrator has just arrived over there,” the General said, pointing to the two men walking over. The crews saw Ryan’s friend Bill Withers and the head of the Federal Reserve and headed over.

“Thanks, General. It seems this is turning into far more ‘breaking news’ than I actually hoped for,” said Ryan, watching the TV crew attack the two men like a bunch of vultures.

“I can see that there are going to be big ripples in Washington. The four who just left certainly didn’t know that film crews would be here, and I think going public like this was better than keeping it secret. Have you noticed that all three stations haven’t had a commercial break for over five minutes now? I bet this is going live nationwide, or will do at news time tonight.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” replied Ryan.

“It is probably all over Twitter worldwide. This is a momentous occasion, bringing treasure back from space, far more interesting than the space race. Are we going to see any rocks, or is all of this a stunt to get the vultures off your back?”

Ryan looked up at the shuttle, whose roof doors were now open. The two men were being lifted inside. “General, after a few checks we will be happy to show everybody what space treasure looks like. I just suggest that nobody handle it. Radioactive checks still need to be done.”

The first canister was lifted out of the hold and placed on the ground in front of the shuttle. While the second was being attached Ryan noticed that the two newcomers had joined him with the news crews. A Geiger counter was turned on by one of Ryan’s white coats. It immediately emitted low dosage radioactivity noises around the canister, and its sudden emissions made the news crews retreat somewhat.

“Is that a dangerous signal, Ryan?” asked the female reporter.

“Not yet, but we won’t know for certain until we open it. There is a vacuum inside the container which is tightly sealed, so expect a loud bang when it is opened; then we must check the contents with the Geiger counter again. Bill Withers, the Administrator of NASA is here. Bill, would you like to join me and tell us whether the contents are dangerous? We can get closer to the Geiger counter.” The Administrator of NASA joined him.

Ryan gave the nod and the mobile crane lowered the second canister, moved away, turned around and reversed back above the first one. The bright silver canister was loaded onto the back of the crane and the lower half bolted down onto the crane’s rear bed with chains. Then the crane was connected to the two bolts on the top half of the canister VIN had loaded back on DX2014, one of the heavier ones weighing 500 pounds, and the pulley system took the strain.

Nobody in the world had done this before and even Ryan didn’t know what would happen.

Suddenly, there was an extremely loud pop that vibrated everybody’s eardrums like a massive light bulb breaking, and the top opened. All three film crews were following every move of the canister with their cameras. This was prime television.

Nothing happened, and the main group on the apron, over a hundred people, waited for something to crawl out of the silver canister. Nothing did. The Geiger counter was raised up and the clicks grew rapidly.

The readings were discussed by Bill, Ryan, and the scientist holding the Geiger counter. The man in the white suit had on a pair of thick gloves and dipped his hand into the canister.

“These rocks have the same radiation as we usually find in meteors here on earth. They are not dangerous if you don’t touch them, and stay at least several feet away. I’d say they will be safe to touch after a few weeks of radiation decay,” the Administrator of NASA explained to the television cameras. “We have brought rocks back from the moon with the same amounts of radiation, and they are safe to touch a few weeks after reaching earth.”

The scientist picked up a couple of heavy rocks the size of tennis balls and put them on the ground so that the cameras could focus on them.

“These are mostly native platinum mixed with iridium,” the scientist explained.

The second canister was opened with the same loud pop and this time the Geiger counter emitted slightly faster sounds. The scientist picked up a handful of stones the size of marbles while grabbing a mat off the back of the crane. He placed it on the ground then carefully placed the shinier silver rocks on the mat’s black surface. He also lifted the two bigger rocks from the first canister and deposited them onto the same mat.

“These smaller rocks are high in rhodium with, I believe, traces of platinum, iridium, and I’m sure there is some palladium in there somewhere,” lectured the American scientist. “Rhodium is known to be more radioactive, but the rocks in these canisters are still safe as long as human skin does not come into contact with them.”

“Rhodium is in extremely short supply on earth,” added Ryan and this load will help alleviate the worldwide shortage.”

The cameras kept on at the stones.

“How much are the larger and smaller stones worth?” asked Joe Downs.

“Hard to say,” replied the scientist scratching his head. “I would guess that each of the large stones is worth in the range of six to ten thousand dollars, and the smaller silver rhodium marbles, about twenty-five hundred dollars each. This isn’t the ‘Antiques Roadshow,’ guys!”

Several more questions were shouted out and then the crews began to sign off as the stations got their all-important advertisements back on air. They all came up to Ryan and thanked him for the best scoop ever had in Nevada.

Joe Downs wanted a private interview about the National Security Agency guy flying off the handle at Ryan. He told a happy Ryan that his feed had gone nationwide a minute after he began filming to beat the other television stations. His producer had already spoken to Downs stating that the station had been asked to leave the NSA out of the broadcast for future airs, but the station had refused. This was prime television, the first treasure from space, and interesting reactions from certain members of government agencies.

Chapter 2

The Repercussions

They were swift and fast in coming. Ryan did complete a short interview with Joe Downs, trying to explain the reasons certain people were against his space program.

This interview lasted only a few minutes while General Saunders’ band and men marched around the apron, being filmed by the other two crews. Ryan explained that he was somewhat shocked at the manners and tenacity of certain government representatives who seemed to be against his going to space. Joe Downs asked if it was due to his hiring the NASA scientists. Ryan replied that the president himself had recently phoned him politely asking for them back, and he had gladly offered to release them to NASA as soon as their contract with Astermine ended. Ryan then went on to say that he and Bill had lengthy discussions about a number of services Astermine could provide to the government including disposing of the radioactive stockpiles in the country, and preventing the derelict space station from hitting earth. In addition, he and the Director of the Federal Reserve Bank had discussed the possibility of bringing precious metals from space. There was no need to hide the motives for his program.

Both Directors had since said their goodbyes and their aircraft were taxiing down the runway for takeoff.

Joe Downs finally asked if the FBI had visited him, surely they were the bureau to investigate any wrong doings inside the country. Ryan replied that he hadn’t heard from them.

The first two television crew helicopters lifted off, but did not leave until they flew low over the still open doors of the shuttle to film the closed canisters still inside the hold.

General Saunders was still walking around the shuttle and asked Ryan if he could have a look inside the cockpit. At the same time, a refreshed and showered Jonesy came out and Ryan asked his pilot to show the general the flight deck.

The C-130 returned to Nellis and the jets were supplemented with a splash and dash of jet fuel to get them home.

While the three men sat in the cockpit, the airfield became quiet, a lone air force helicopter and pilot on the apron. The tractor tied up to the front wheel of the shuttle, and it was pulled into line and then reversed into the coolness of Hangar Six.

“So, General, the handling of the shuttle is much like flying a brick with small wings,” said Jonesy as the shadow of the hangar enveloped them. Ryan asked a security guard to allow the general’s pilot to enter the hangar and grab a cold soda. He must have been hot sitting in the chopper in the sun.

Ryan listened as the two pilots talked flying for several minutes. He was also a pilot, and understood everything they were discussing. Jonesy knew what to say and what not to say, especially about the Cloaking Device, operated by a small unimportant switch in the middle of many. Its dial and switch label were in Russian though, and the general did finally notice it.

“It’s an interesting little device made in Russia,” explained Ryan. It’s a transponder of sorts that gives us a more direct readout of where the shuttle is in relation to the ground below. We read out its radar impulses down here at ground control.” That seemed to answer the general’s question, to a certain extent.

“Do you need any more pilots, Ryan?” asked the air force general.

Yes, we could do with one or two more experienced test pilots, once our second shuttle goes into operation, why?”

“I don’t know yet, but I have this gut feeling that General Mortimer wasn’t happy about what happened here today. He stuck his nose into something he had no reason to, but he could inquire why Nellis Air Force Base was attending the celebration here at your air field, and why two jets, one C-130 and a helicopter were in attendance. Normally, as base commander, I have the authority to give these sorts of orders, but he might countermand them out of anger and insult.”

“You were invited to inspect the shuttle’s return, and to check up on the Dead Chicken,” suggested Jonesy. “There is nothing he can say to the fact that you weren’t doing your job.”

“True, but he can twist anything from a positive into a negative and I’ve seen him do it a couple of times.”

“I want to phone the Chief of Staff and find out where he stands on this invasion of privacy and individual rights his adjutant walked into,” Ryan commented. As he said this his phone rang. It was Bill.

“Hi Ryan, Bill Withers here. I just wanted to let you know that the president asked me to retire as Administrator of NASA, as of one hour ago. It seems that he is not happy about today’s celebrations.”

“Sorry to hear that, Bill. I recommend that you take your story to the media.”

“Unfortunately, it seems that I have to sign a contract pertaining to my early retirement, or lose my government pension,” Bill replied.

“Can you fly a jet, Bill?” Ryan asked

“No, but I was one of the best aerospace engineers of my day. I helped design the first space shuttles after being an apprentice on the Apollo design team in the 60s.”

“Let me know what happens, Bill. We always need new talent here at Astermine. Just bow out gracefully. The new guys in Washington will get what’s coming to them.”

“See what I mean?” added General Saunders. “There is going to be a witch hunt after today’s fiasco with Congressman Dickens. It was General Mortimer who invited him.”

“Let’s go to lunch; I’ll get your pilot fed and looked after. This shuttle needs to be emptied and readied for her next trip. I’m working on ten-day turnarounds from now on.”

Maggie was asked to stay hidden while the general was on the airfield. With so much going on, Ryan needed to be a little more worried about security than usual. The lunch hour newscast featured the arrival of the treasure on televisions all across the country. The TV feed showing Bishop being made to look like a fool in front of the cameras was being carefully studied.

Ryan’s phone rang again. This time it was the director of the National Security Agency, Peter Dodd. He apologized for Bishop interrupting the ceremony, acknowledged that he had made himself and the NSA look stupid, and that it wouldn’t happen again. Ryan told the NSA to stay off his property, and leave him alone, or he was going to take the agency to court on First Amendment rights. Peter Dodd laughed at the tenacity of the civilian; he told Ryan that he was free to do so, suggesting that Ryan wasn’t rich enough to take the NSA to task, and hung up.

Now he was getting mad, so he made another phone call. Jonesy was pretty surprised to learn who was on the speed dial list of Ryan’s cell phone.

Ryan was put through to the director of the CIA. Much the same happened as did in the conversation to the administrator of the NSA. He made a complaint of harassment by Tom Ward, received an apology, warned the CIA about his First Amendment rights, was apologized to again, and was hung up on.

The next call was to the Pentagon. The Chief of Staff was rather surprised that his adjutant was running around in Nevada and would look into it. This time Ryan was not hung up on.

He knew it would be a waste of time to phone the president, but he did call the former president to thank him for his help. The man was happy to see his success on the news and find out that it had all been a successful outcome. He told Ryan that it would be a while before anybody would harass him, and to keep the Nevada news teams close by. The media always worked both ways in a free country.

The last call was from The Department of Homeland Security. The department had heard about the importation of precious metal from outer space, and explained to Ryan that the product needed to be checked for any other hazards, besides radioactivity. Ryan explained that his team was checking the contents now, they would get a copy of the findings, or the department could send out agents to check it at any time. The Federal Reserve Bank was about to get involved in the movement of the precious metal futures, and the Department of Homeland Security could check it at their offices as well if they wanted.

The final newscast reported that Congress was to hold an emergency session to discuss the laws, licenses, and duties to be levied on products imported from outer space, now that it had been accomplished. The only way the government could get its hands on some of the profits was to tax Astermine’s profits. Ryan smiled while Congress was debating the new situation. Since he was already in the hole for three billion dollars in costs to get the precious metals onto terra firma, he would not have to pay taxes on the profits for the foreseeable future, and his three flights to DX2014 could be tax free.

Ryan Richmond had survived another round with his enemy. Unfortunately, General Saunders was not as lucky; he called the next day to inform Ryan that he also had been asked to take early retirement from the air force, and asked if he could get a job in about thirty days.

Chapter 3

DX2014, Second Visit

It was a mystery why the government agencies were so anxious about four tons of asteroid rock. They were acting as if somebody had cheated during a game of poker.

The House of Representatives did something very unusual; it passed a bill within ten days announcing a 65 percent import duty on all precious metals arriving into the country from space.

The news teams asked Ryan for a response to this new bill. He calmly told him that the bill still had to be passed by the Senate and signed into law by the president.

Ryan knew final passage of the bill would take time, and he already had two more shipments scheduled to arrive in Nevada before any bill was finalized. He was happy to hear from his friend in the Senate that the House bill would take another sixty days to be voted on by the Senate, as they didn’t like being ordered to hurry anything through. Until the law was passed by the Senate, and finally signed by president, which Ryan was sure would only take a matter of hours; he had better mine and import as much rock as possible.

Ten days after the fiasco at the airfield, the next flight took off into space. It was piloted by Jonesy and Maggie, with Ryan and VIN as passengers, Ryan allowed the Nevada news crews to patch into the shuttle during its first orbit.

“Mr. Richmond, Joe Downs here. How is the weightlessness in space today?”

“We are just floating about as usual,” joked Ryan.

“Ryan, Martha Howard, NBC. What are your feelings about the Administrator of NASA suddenly taking early retirement a week after coming to congratulate you?”

“I can’t really comment on that question Martha. Bill Wither’s private life is his own. Maybe it was something he wanted. I doubt that it was due to visiting my airfield, but if it was, then somebody in Washington is playing a bad game of chess, or shall I say playing a game of chess badly. Bill is a good man in the field of space travel, one of the best. NASA will certainly not be as good an agency without him.”

“Bill Mather here Ryan, ABC Las Vegas. Will you be employing Bill Withers?”

“Hey! Mr. Mather, that’s below the belt. You’ve seen how certain government departments react to my employing people who previously worked for the feds. They get pretty mad. But I will tell you one thing, if Bill Withers wants a job with me, he knows where I am and I will write a contract with him right there and then. He is that good! He is certainly in the same class as the other brilliant federal employees who had their contracts terminated and who work for me now.”

“Mr. Richmond, Joe Downs again. What about Congress suddenly passing this “Imports on Metals from Outer Space Bill” currently going through the Senate? Isn’t 65 percent a little steep, even for someone like you?”

“Of course it is, Joe! Company profits will be federally taxed at a minimum of 30 percent. To that, add on federal Import duties of another 65 percent, for a total of 95 percent! How much is 5 percent of a billion dollars before other taxes are levied, Joe? I’m lucky I’m in Nevada, but I really feel sorry for the Earth-Exit team in California, who will also have to pay state taxes. The government has just stopped them from ever thinking about going to space to mine the precious metals the country desperately needs. Earth-Exit is the president’s pet project, and his government has squashed any opportunity to mine in space.”

“Why do you state Earth-Exit is the president’s pet project?”
asked Martha Howard.

“You ask the president why he favors Earth-Exit, Martha,” Ryan replied.

“So is asteroid mining finished before it is started?”
asked Bill Mather.

“Not yet. Russia has offered to purchase everything I bring back at current market prices plus 5 percent. China offered the same. Even India is about to make an offer. The precious metals won’t be taxed if they don’t land in the United States.”

“Are you willing to deal with foreign countries?” asked Martha.

“If I have to,” replied Ryan.

“What do you think Congress will do to prevent your dealing with foreign countries?” asked Joe Downs.

“They will close down my operation, stop me from flying out of the United States and ban anybody else from starting up a private space company. That is why I will bring in everything I can until the law is passed. I will let the Federal Reserve Bank and the United States Government act as my selling agents so they can make commission on all sales. I intend to keep within the law of our great nation until the day it is changed. Thank you all for the interview.”

“Some interesting words,” commented Jonesy. The shuttle was on autopilot and about to meet up with the descending shuttle a hundred miles in front.

“I think that will give us a few more months of peace. The Senate, I’ve heard, will take at least two months to pass or fail the bill. Until then they can’t touch me, or be seen or heard invading my air field. I’ve heard that they are about to begin highway checkpoints in Nevada to check all my incoming trucks. I still have three loads of panels to go, and yesterday asked the company to ship them immediately. That is all the top secret cargos I have coming in. After that it is only food and provisions on a weekly basis. I think the guys who don’t like me can only go so far before they begin to get into trouble with their own laws.”

The shuttles met up. Penny and Michael had
Astermine One in their shuttle’s hold to be refitted with her new engines and an extra living cabin.
Astermine One would be coming straight back up on the next launch.

“Ryan, I’m sure you could get the third shuttle up faster than six weeks,”
suggested VIN through the internal intercom.

“How’s that if it’s not complete?” asked Ryan looking at his helmeted miner questioningly.

“Can you fly a shuttle all the way to ground with its Cloaking Device on? All the way to the airfield?”
Vin asked.
“I have an idea. You are waiting ten days for each launch, right?”
VIN added.
Ryan nodded.
“So bring this shuttle in early, cloak it, and have the Dead Chicken flying around at 50,000 feet to make it look like an atmospheric test flight for the new shuttle in the hangar. Make a statement that testing has started early, say fourteen days from now. By that time you will have both the shuttles on the ground. You will also have Astermine One down, and you need ten days to change its motors. So, when we head out to DX2014 in seven days with both mining craft, you will be able to double your shuttle flights by the time we get back by using two shuttles instead of one. Also if the shuttles only went into low space orbit, you could use Asterspace Three to transfer the cargo from the shuttles to Ivan. It will save you so much delivery time. Get my drift?”

“I’m sure it is possible for the incoming shuttle to fly in most of the way undetected,” Ryan replied. “I don’t think it would be a problem until it got down to the 70,000 foot level. Then I believe the device would become inactive due to the increasing air density around the shuttle surface, and it could show up on radar screens.”

Ryan thought about it for several minutes as they watched Penny and Suzi wave at them from a couple of hundred feet away. They switched over the Cloaking Devices.

“Yes, I see your plan, Mr. Noble, and you have just doubled your annual income,” laughed Ryan impressed.

“Please explain it?”
asked Jonesy.

“Sometimes, Mr. Jones, I think you are not with the program,”
laughed Maggie.

“Thank you, Ms. Sinclair,” smiled Ryan. “What would we all do without Mr. Jones here? I’m just thinking about pilots for all five craft, Mr. Noble,”
added Ryan.

“If you get General Saunders as an extra pilot, and a few more crew up at Ivan to do all the loading and unloading, that should help,”
suggested VIN.

“Yes, but we have three pilots in Astermine One and Two to consider over the next six months as well,”
added Ryan.

“I can fly solo in one,” volunteered Maggie. “You want to send both
Astermines out on the same mission? Jonesy can fly one, I can fly the other and VIN can be our backup dude for your rock collecting exercises. He has the legs to do it. That saves one pilot. There isn’t much to do on these flights except monitor, land, load and takeoff.” Maggie added.

“One pilot can do that easily,”
confirmed Jonesy.
“I think it far more important to get our rock collections down there so that we can all get paid one day, and then you can get all your panels up here faster. Now, tell me what I missed, somebody has to monitor the flying of this vehicle.”

“The news teams viewed and took footage of our third shuttle under production,” continued Ryan deep in thought. “Nobody could really see how complete it was. It is actually six weeks away from being lifted aboard the C-5 for her first 50,000-foot test flight. Mr. Noble suggested that we use both our current shuttles, the second acting as if our new production shuttle is ready earlier, so that we could get some more flights in.”

“But what about cloaking?”
asked Jonesy.

“We can launch
Asterspace Three; she is ready and waiting, but is fitted with the older hydrogen thrusters, which don’t matter for simple cargo transfer runs.
Asterspace Three could be loaded with the panels, or other cargos from both shuttles while in a low-earth orbit. All our craft have been fitted with the Cloaking Device. Yes, Mr. Noble, I’ve got it. Suzi could fly
Asterspace Three with Mr. Pitt. The shuttle teams could transfer the loads during orbit to
Asterspace Three. The smaller craft heads back to
Ivan to unload and refuel, while the shuttle goes back down looking like just another test flight. It will take the small craft twenty-four hours to get up to
Ivan, a day to unload, and two days to rest and for Michael Pitt set up the eight panels for the spiders. Mr. Pitt has the spiders pretty much perfected and he will begin the second cube with the eight panels we have on this flight.

So, let’s say
Asterspace Three needs one more day to descend back into low-earth orbit. With the pilots wearing full suits, keeping the Cloaking Device on extended use will not harm the pilots of
Asterspace Three. Now we can use both shuttles for departures on five-day intervals to get our equipment up there. What we need is a lifting arm in each shuttle, like the Canadian arm in the old NASA shuttles, and I have two half completed.”

Ryan immediately called ground control over the radio. “Gentlemen, remember the crane arm we shelved last year for the shuttles?” They confirmed they still had them in storage. “I want our shuttles to have them installed during their next rotations. We can have a spacewalker operating it from a console in the cargo bay. Get them ready, and get one arm on the production floor for the new shuttle.”

“OK!” added Jonesy. “I get it. Instead of our long distance flight up to the Beer Can, the third little guy is loaded while we are still in our first or second orbit. It has its Cloaking Device permanently on, and heads up while the shuttle returns. In theory you can double the flights if there are no hitches?”

“Correct, Mr. Jones. Also, by stating that our new shuttle needs to go through the same test-flight procedure, we buy even more launches; and, as long as they don’t look in the direction of our new space station for another few months, we should be clear. Hopefully, the new government will be squabbling over the goodies you guys bring home, and once DX2014 is out of range, we could have a shuttle going up every third day with
Astermine One and
Two helping to take the loads up. Mr. Noble, you are now on the same income as your partner here.”

“About time with all that Sinatra I have to put up with!” exclaimed VIN. “It’s time for a little danger pay!”

Six days later, with Ryan now experienced at living in space including the use of the horrible bath-bags, he returned to Earth; on this flight Michael Pitt was Astronaut-in-Command for the first time and Ryan was his co-pilot. Michael had the spiders working on the most recently delivered panels and with the next flight arriving with
Astermine One; he had time for a little earth time.

Because with each touchdown the computers more accurately positioned the shuttle in the correct path for reentry, both Michael and Ryan, as backup co-pilot, could fly the shuttles as well as the more-experienced pilots. They would meet Penny and Kathy Pringle on their outward flight with the
Astermine One mining craft refitted with the new hydrogen thrusters and sleeping cabin with two real beds.

A week later the two shuttles,
Astermine One with Jonesy and VIN, and
Astermine Two with a lonely Maggie in command, took off for the two million miles to meet up with their rock quarry buddy, DX2014.

Jonesy was impressed with the new thrusters. They certainly worked fast and with little effort. Over the seven-day journey to the asteroid, they discussed their mining tactics for their much shorter 21-day stay on the revolving asteroid.

They would need to work hard to fill the sixty canisters, this time with the more valuable silver rhodium rocks instead of the heavier platinum rocks. They hoped nothing had happened to their equipment; Jonesy even suggested that the Chinese could already be there using it. It was possible.

By the time the friendly piece of metallic rock appeared off their starboard portal, floating twenty miles away at its steady 3,000 miles an hour, VIN looked back at earth, now in the left-hand side of the front cockpit portal. It was twice the size he had seen it when they had left it a couple of weeks earlier. It was again the size of a soccer ball, and the moon could be seen, a little larger than a marble on the far side of the blue planet. This was going to be a pretty vista for the next three weeks; even the sun looked a little bigger and brighter.

Jonesy went in closer first. He wanted to buzz the rock and see if it all looked the same as before. It did and he stayed a half a mile away while Maggie went in to land at her landing zone, still visible with bits of cargo they had left near the crater.

“Get your roll right Maggie,”
Jonesy stated into the intercom. VIN was co-pilot and didn’t have really much to do, but listen.

“Yes, Mr. Jones, watch my butt! I know,”
she replied. VIN watched as she went in slowly and carefully from the rear of the asteroid.
“I’m over the crater, 300 yards to go….200….100 yards at 200 feet, using 15 percent thrust. I could feel a slight pull from the crater as I went over, Jonesy.”

“Roger that, at 200 feet I would think it starts to pull you in.”

“Straightening up, thrust 18 percent, she’s light, legs down….touching down….I’m down.”

“Roger, Maggie. As planned we will go into the crater and empty our canisters. I think we could have an hour to fill two of them once we have checked everything down there and then we will come and join you for our sleep period,”
said Jonesy.
“Pity I couldn’t find that remaining bottle of vodka in the Beer Can. It would have sure been a luxury on this trip. I must ask our friend Michael Pitt if he drank it, the sod!”

“He didn’t,”
replied Maggie.

“How do you know that, girl?”
Jonesy asked trimming the shuttle thrusters to bring them over the crater.

“I’ll tell you when you get back up here. Now, go mining, Mr. Jones, and earn your pay!”

“Descending through 200 feet, thrusters at 18 percent, 20 percent….150 feet…25 percent, far different than our last landing. Thrusters at 35 percent, 50 feet……touchdown with 40 percent thrust. Wow! That was easy. VIN did you press the easy button?”

“Five thousand comedians out of work in Vegas, partner, and now you want to be a comedian? At least it shows you do have a sense of humor, about the size of those tiny rhodium rocks down there.”

VIN looked at their stash of equipment outside on the barren, gray crater. It looked like part of their pile had toppled over, but most of it looked the same as they left it.

Jonesy helped VIN on with his helmet, and then Jonesy was helped on with his. After nearly a week cooped up in their larger and more pleasurable apartment, now the same size as the inside of two minivans, they got ready for a walk in the “fresh air” outside.

****

Three days after Ryan successfully reached the airfield, and the two spacecraft were halfway to DX2014, a small military helicopter asked for landing permission. It was General Saunders and Ryan gave permission to land on the empty apron.

It was a hot day. The temperature was already well over a hundred as the chopper came in, landing in front of where Ryan was standing outside of Hangar One.

“Good to see you, General,” Ryan shouted shaking the general’s hand and leading him over to the bar for a chocolate milkshake. He was alone.

“I will be taking early retirement next week,” stated General Saunders. “It seems that the air force at the Pentagon did not appreciate me making a fool out of General Mortimer.”

“How did you make a fool out of him?” Ryan asked. “He wasn’t invited.”

“Unfortunately, he didn’t see it that way and hadn’t been told of the celebratory return of the shuttle by air force personnel. The commander of Dover Air Force Base called me and told me to pack my bags as Mortimer had told him that he was now the new Commanding Officer at Nellis. I’m three years out from thirty years and they have no choice but to adhere to my retirement package. I was told yesterday that General Mortimer got involved and tried to stop me from getting any retirement at all. He was told that was not practically possible without being convicted of a crime through a court martial. Then he wanted to start court martial proceedings to try me for some crime they couldn’t come up with.

The JAG told him he couldn’t continue proceedings without any evidence that a crime had been committed. He actually called you an enemy of the state, a terrorist, and air force high command actually laughed at him. Finally he got me on early retirement with a court martial pending. This all came out from colleagues in high command at Andrews. They couldn’t understand what he was going on about, since all they had seen were Nellis troops and our marching band showing the colors on the arrival of your shuttle. Many of the pilots actually wanted to come over and congratulate you. They can’t understand Washington’s opposition to good old adventure and space flight.”

“So, are you ready to join my company as a space pilot, Mr. Saunders?”

“Looks like it. How do you know I might not be an inside plant for the government?”

“Mr. Jones said that was impossible. He regards you highly; a first, I believe, for Mr. Jones,” responded Ryan smiling. “Are you as qualified as Mr. Jones or Ms. Sinclair?”

“I would say as qualified as Colonel Sinclair was when she was alive,” replied the general honestly.

“Good when can you start? I will get you signed up today and pick you up as usual from Creech when you are available. Travel light, General, my car is small.”

“I can start in forty-eight hours. Is Colonel Jones around? I would like to thank him for the recommendation.”

“No, he is currently about to land on an extraterrestrial rock, Mr. Saunders. Welcome to the group. I just hope Mr. Jones is right about your honesty towards our project.”

General Saunders’ mouth hung open at the thought Ryan had put in his head: Jonesy landing on the moon or Mars. Now he really wanted to get going as he had dreamed about being an astronaut longer than Ryan had.

They spent another few minutes enjoying their milkshakes before the helicopter left for Nellis.

Forty-eight hours later, Ryan picked up Allen Saunders, in civilian clothes, and carrying one small suitcase at Creech Air Force Base. Ryan, in his Audi, was not as savvy as VIN about the black and whites. He saw blue flashing lights in his rearview mirror a mile or so past where the two carriageways joined. He checked his speed and found it to be only five or maybe ten miles over the limit. Ryan wasn’t a fast driver, especially when he was being told that he had just picked up a spy for the United States government.

****

Within an hour of being back on the heavy gravity inside the crater, VIN had the sides of
Astermine One open and both men were getting the first canisters out. The top canisters had their supplies in them, the supplies that would have been in the supply area, which was now a bedroom.

VIN was excited to find a three-legged aluminum cargo lifting crane in the hold. It had a thick steel body, eighteen feet tall, and an arm that could stretch out twenty feet on a corded pulley system to pick up the canisters, or lower them from the roof doors of the cargo hold. This made moving the canisters faster. Maggie had one in her craft as well, but it wouldn’t really be needed.

Jonesy was to work the crane next to the craft while VIN was in the hold connecting the full and empty canisters one by one. Now they could lift a full canister which could weigh as much as 1,200 pounds into any of the cargo holds. On the surface by Maggie’s craft, the same cargo would only weigh a fifth of that.

Jonesy grabbed the handle on the wheel and maneuvered up and out of the hold easily. The full canister of a hydrogen gas cylinder moved up and he swiveled it away from the hold and, unwinding the wheel, placed it on the ground in the pile of full canisters. This operation was quick and easy compared to last time. Loading the heavy containers into the hold would be fast.

Once they had the first cargo area cleared of its ten canisters, of which six held supplies, they had four to fill. They had also left half a dozen half-full canisters on the asteroid because there was not enough thruster power to take them out of the crater.

VIN got both sweepers hooked up with a cord to power their cold batteries. The storage battery was powered up by the hydrogen thrusters, and there was a set of moveable small batteries stored inside the cargo hold of the craft. Both sweepers were dead. The cold had done a number on the battery, so Jonesy and VIN took an empty container and two shovels to begin collecting rocks.

They reached the bright glittery area where the rhodium rocks were and began shoveling like they would have done on earth.

It was hard work inside a 250-pound space suit and both men turned down their inside temperatures. This was also dangerous work, as the suits could suffer tears or breaks, but Jonesy had an image of a bottle of that Russian vodka on his mind; he was sure Maggie had stowed the missing bottle in her gear. A cold screw driver would taste pretty good right now.

They filled one canister to its usual 400-pound level, when VIN had one of his brain storms.

“It will be far easier with the two sweepers once they are powered up, partner. We have all the rhodium back there in the canisters we couldn’t take. Instead of working up a sweat and having to use those crappy bath-bags, why don’t we let the sweepers power up for twenty-four hours, and just fill two canisters from the others?”

Jonesy rolled his eyes at earth slowly passing overhead. Why hadn’t he thought about that? He patted VIN on his suit, smacked the back of his partner’s helmet, and they carried the half-full canister back to the others several hundred feet away.

For the next twenty minutes they lifted up the half full canisters and, with the help of gravity on an asteroid over two million miles from earth, they filled two of the canisters to the brim.

Lifting the canisters was pretty easy compared to shoveling the stones. Once full, Jonesy came up with his idea of the day.

“Why are we doing this down here? We could take all these canisters up to Maggie and lift one fifth of the weight up there. The stones will still drop, even though the gravity is low.”

“Now, that’s good thinking, partner,” replied VIN. They had forty minutes left of spacewalk time, and they could get the two full canisters and the three other half empty ones into the hold before heading back up.

Using the crane, they sent in the lighter ones first, and then the two full units. They would be placed into the
Astermine Two’s hold first and would not be removed until they returned to
Ivan.

“Thrusters on,”
stated Jonesy an hour later. They had moved the crane away, closed down the hatches and climbed back over the ladder across the top of the spacecraft and into the docking port.
“Power at 20 percent…..40 percent…..65 percent, 70 percent…we have lift off. Coming up to meet you, Maggie.”

“If you haven’t found a diamond, Mr. Jones, a big fat one, don’t bother trying to get in here later,”
replied Maggie.

“I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Ms. Sinclair. I thought flashy things didn’t interest you. How about a beautiful, one-hundred carat radioactive blue rhodium uncut rock instead? I might throw it at your portal if you won’t let us in, and I’m getting thirsty flying this thing….200 feet….lowering thrust to 40 percent….coming in.”

Astermine One put down on her regular landing pad position and the two men called it a day. They were still on the first day and had at least three canisters out of the sixty full. They could get Maggie’s crane out and transfer the first forty-odd million dollar load the next shift.

Maggie was pleased to see them when they bounced over to say hi. Getting through the docking hatches was becoming easier given the number of times they had done it and, with only 15 to 20 percent gravity, climbing up into the docking hatch was five times easier.

Once she helped the men off with their helmets, she brought out an extremely large bag of jerky that Ryan had given her, as well as something that made Jonesy’s mouth hang open, two real, cold bottles of earth water, and a six-pack of beers.

“What the hell!” Where did you get all this stuff?” Jonesy asked looking inside her refrigerator in her bedroom. “It’s stocked full of beer, vodka, and wine!” There were also bags of jerky and cookies under the low beds. “How come we didn’t get any?”

“You are. This is all yours, apart for my six-pack of champagne and red wine bottles, and my cookies. I was ordered to keep them under lock and key until we got here. There are a few more goodies in one of the supply canisters in the hold, so be careful opening them out there.”

“At last!” added VIN smiling and getting a cold beer handed to him. “Ryan thinks we are now worth looking after. I was getting sick of scrambled eggs and chicken soup packs.”

Since one other person was needed to undo a space helmet, both men stayed in
Astermine Two that night. VIN stayed in front on the co-pilot’s captain’s chair which had been extended to lie flat, while the two older lovers closed the interconnecting door, pulled the two beds together on their rails and had their moment of space privacy.

In total silence—and without Frank Sinatra—VIN watched the vista pass by. Once the sun, and then the earth headed over the craft twice before he was fast asleep and dreaming of driving his silver Audi.

****

“Can I help you officer?” Ryan asked as the highway patrolman walked up to the window. “I don’t believe I was very much over the speed limit.”

“Seven miles an hour, Mr. Richmond,” replied the older cop. “I have orders to check any vehicle that I believe belongs to Astermine up north. Since you are the CEO, I would like to check your vehicle.”

“Do you have a search warrant, officer?” Ryan asked.

“No, Mr. Richmond, but you did break the law by seven miles an hour, which gives me the right in Nevada to search your vehicle. Also, this looks like the type of vehicle a drug dealer might drive around in.”

“And a casino boss officer,” Ryan replied.

“You are General Saunders, Commander of Nellis. Am I right, General?”

“Correct, and you are?”

“Former Lieutenant Dave Myer, U.S. Air Force Military Police, sir. I retired two years ago and wanted to add to my retirement benefits. The Highway Patrol was recruiting and I got this dead-end job sitting out here five days a week. I’ve seen this fancy car come and go several times between Creech and Tonopah, where you are stationed, Mr. Richmond. I have orders to search any vehicles going to Astermine, but since this is your private vehicle, I assume you are correct about the need for a search warrant. I don’t think seven miles over the limit is really breaking the law.”

“Why are you searching our trucks?” asked Ryan.

“We got orders from high up about searching all your vehicles. Why, I don’t know, I’m the bottom of the food chain, but it came from very high up. Some officers even said the order came from the president himself. It was nice you meet you, Mr. Richmond. I’ve watched you on television. I don’t like the way the government is harassing you, but they seem to have the power these days to do what they want. I wonder whatever happened to the Bill of Rights in this country. All the Nevada police units are stopping everybody, we are being told to harass normal citizens, and everybody seems to be guilty before trial. I just don’t know.”

“I’m sure Congress might enact a bill to halt all amendment rights very soon, Officer Myer. I believe that our new government is using everything possible to add more power to Washington. But we will see.”

They were allowed to leave and Ryan got back to the question he had wanted to ask Allen Saunders when the blue light had appeared in his rear view mirror.

“Why are you now a spy for the U.S. Government?”

“I signed your contract of employment two days ago as a normal retiring air force pilot. Yesterday, General Mortimer called me himself ordering me to get a job with you and become the umpteenth spy they have tried to get into your facility. Why these guys are so paranoid about your space project, I just don’t know. You can tell me what you want me to tell them and I will pass the message on. I would like to keep the respect given to me by Colonel Jones. I saw what the system did to him. One man with an attitude, Joe Bishop, with a blind greed for power, manages to get control over others; just like a bully in school. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

Ryan nodded. He knew full well what bullies were like at school. “What about your family?”

“My kids are all grown and have their own lives. My wife works with a government relief organization and is currently in Eastern Europe somewhere, the Ukraine I think, and will be for another couple of years. She comes back twice a year and that’s about all the time we have together. She has been doing this for over a decade now, and I think we are as far apart as any married couple can get. My son is in Virginia. He is a surgeon at one of the hospitals in Richmond, and my daughter is with her mother.”

It didn’t sound like General Saunders would be missed, apart from his friends at Nellis.

“I have a pilot friend who used to be at Nellis, she was one of Colonel Sinclair’s crew. Lieutenant Colonel Jamie Watkins decided to leave the military three months ago after twenty-five years of flying, and she is as good a pilot as Colonel Sinclair was and Captain Sullivan is. I think she was devastated about Colonel Sinclair’s death. Is there room for her?”

“Would you two make a good pilot crew?” Ryan asked.

“As good as anybody you’ve got. I think you have some of the best pilots the Academy ever graduated,” replied the general.

“Then get her to drive up. I’m sure she has a car and since she is civilian, I don’t need to drive to Creech again. Where is your friend now?”

“On her way back to Las Vegas from Creech,” the colonel replied simply.

Ryan told him to tell her to turn around and gave him directions to give her to get to the airfield. She arrived an hour after they did.

While they were filling out the paperwork, he looked at his two new pilots. From his paperwork, he knew Allen Saunders was 58. Jamie Watkins was the same age as Ryan, 44. The retired general was a good-looking man, like an older version of Ben Affleck, the actor. In fact, he could pass as the actor’s older brother. His hair was going slightly grey, his eyes brown and hair nearly black. At six feet two inches he was close to Ryan’s height.

Then he asked himself why all these tall, sexy women became air force pilots. Jamie Watkins was tall, slim, a smidgen less than six feet, with raven black hair and dark brown eyes, exactly like Saunders. They could actually be taken as twins. Ryan smiled; they must have liked what each saw in the other.

Now, with Maggie, Penny, Kathy, and Jamie, his pilot crew looked even more out of a Hollywood film. And to boot, these women were extremely intelligent, and could fly aircraft as well as anybody. Ryan suddenly thought that he should have joined the air force to get married. That was where all the pretty long-legged girls were hiding. He wondered when he should break the news to the two that Colonel Sinclair was not dead. She was probably asleep with Mr. Jones millions of miles away.

He was absolutely correct and he thought about increasing the maternity ward on
America One, his new space ship being built 22,500 miles above them.

Chapter 4

DX2014 has a problem

Jonesy stretched and felt the warm body next to him. Glancing at the alarm clock’s LED screen, he knew he still had an hour, so he turned over and went back to sleep. These twelve hour nights took a bit of getting used to.

VIN was already getting up in the forward area. He turned on his laptop and searched for “Simply Red” before deciding what to eat for breakfast. He decided on a scrambled egg pouch and orange juice pouch instead of his usual choice of an egg and sausage pouch and apple juice. He had a little of the jerky in a bag and decided to chew on that while sucking the eggs out of the self-heating pouch.

The temperature was 67 degrees, air pressure was good inside the craft, and the slight humming of the control monitors made him relax and think about the day’s work. Sipping his orange juice he checked on the morning mail from Nevada. There was just one message from Ryan; he wanted to know if both Jonesy and Maggie trusted Allen Saunders, and a new pilot, Jamie Watkins. They were the new pilot team, and about to start twelve-hour days on the shuttle simulator grind, the same one he and Suzi had done together. In the same message Ryan shared that the price of rhodium had dropped due to their bringing in a ton of it, but the platinum rocks were now more valuable. Ryan also indicated they should focus on collecting iridium on this trip. It was as if Ryan was deciding what they should collect for the day according to the market. Unfortunately, he and Jonesy had already found a large pile of rhodium and that was what they were going to collect. Anyway, who knew? Rhodium could be the most valuable metal tomorrow, or when they got back.

He still had an hour and decided to page through a book he was thinking about getting into.

That day, their first full day in the crater, the two men loaded three more canisters of the smaller rhodium rocks before returning to Maggie in
Astermine Two. As long as there was one other person in each spacecraft, everybody could be helped on and off with their helmets.

They discussed the two new pilots.

“VIN, I think Allen Saunders is a good guy. He is one of the best pilots I know of in the air force right now, and I’m sure could fly as well as anybody. I don’t know the lady. Maggie what do you think?”

“I think that your impression of Allen Saunders is on the button, Jonesy. I just don’t know why Ryan is so paranoid about the U.S. government. I’m sure he knows something we don’t, and he is our boss and pay packet. As for Jamie, she was my best friend in our Nellis crew. She was at Nellis far longer than I was and, I think she had an eye on the general, just like we all did. He is rather good-looking. As far as her abilities are concerned, although she is a year younger than me, and certainly not as experienced as General Saunders, I‘d bet she could out fly Penny and me if given the chance. I’m really looking forward to seeing her again.”

Maggie then declared that she wasn’t going to be cooped up at home while the men went out to work. She had not been cleared by Ryan to leave the craft but after a week of being cooped up with nothing to do, she demanded that VIN ask Ryan in the daily message to get permission for her to go on a spacewalk.

The gravity in the crater made it pretty easy to walk around and, over a dinner of jerky and chicken soup, she bribed the men with one swig of vodka if they would take her on the next day’s mining excursion; naturally, they both relented. The next morning Ryan gave her the needed permission to exit under the guidance of the two men.

Maggie was delighted to finally get out of the small craft’s interior. Jonesy and VIN helped her over the top and side of the craft on the ladder, and she found that walking around in the metal crater was just like back home.

While the two men used the sweepers to collect stones she decided to walk around the whole crater and see what was there. VIN and Jonesy had reconnoitered less than half of the massive crater. They suggested that Maggie visit the rear of the crater, VIN pointing over to an area about 600 or 700 hundred feet away that neither man had bothered to check yet. He warned her that the surface was rougher in that area with small cracks and fissures, and ordered her not to go too far. VIN handed Maggie a mining hammer, sharp on one end and blunt on the other, to chip at rocks. He then made sure her helmet light was on full power and working properly.

Maggie carefully walked over rocks that got larger and larger. They were the darker platinum rocks. After a couple of hundred feet, she was passing between boulders three to four feet high. She was happy to leave the guys to earn their pay.

Behind a three-foot high dark shelf across the crater she found a large hole where it looked like another asteroid had hit DX2014 pretty hard. There were chips of shattered black rock everywhere, and the impact looked like the smaller asteroid had either disintegrated on impact, or had broken apart and bounced back into space. This whole area of the crater appeared dark and sinister; it was certainly not the same rock as the rest of the larger crater they were in. It was too dark to see much, until the asteroid’s roll allowed the sun to lighten the area, giving an even more eerie and sinister appearance to the smaller crater a few feet in front of, and below where she stood. Maggie moved closer inch by inch.

Here she noticed the rocks were more like chips, black and sharp; they resembled the lead in a pencil, or the carbon graphite Michael’s spider were using to weld the panels together. The millions of small chips looked as if a huge, black, glass window had shattered into millions of pieces.

The vibration started again; she could just feel it far below her feet, and the very small chips, now in slight sunlight, could be seen vibrating, as though an earthquake was occurring. This was the second time she had felt the vibrations in an hour, and she was sure they were getting more rapid.

Jonesy and VIN had warned her about this. Jonesy suspected that the asteroid was under some sort of inner stress, maybe still vibrating from an impact that could be a year old, or a thousand years old. He was worried that the asteroid might break apart sometime.

Although Maggie expressed her concern about the vibrations, VIN continued to assure her that it couldn’t happen during the short time they were visiting. Or could it? They were occurring more frequently than during their last visit a month earlier, and they weren’t noticeable when they were standing outside the crater.

As she turned around to go back, Maggie used her helmet light to survey the floor of the smaller crater.

Maggie saw that there was another hole on one side of the floor of the second crater; a third small crater that was about six feet across. The larger crater was about twenty feet across and ten feet deep, and this third one six feet across and a few feet deep. Both craters were nearly perfectly round.

In the middle of the third crater she saw a deep fissure running across its floor. Something had hit this area really hard. Maggie could see the same black chips that were around her as her light slowly checked the little crater. Suddenly little balls of fire glistened back at her as her helmet light shined over the fissure; it was beautiful. She had seen that type of sparkle before, and her heart started pounding.

She walked around the second crater, trying to find a way to get to the third crater. There was a rubble pile and a narrow path of broken black chips gave her the opportunity to slowly work her way into the second crater.

“Are you OK over there, Maggie,”
came Jonesy’s voice over the intercom. She had heard the two men speaking while she was surveying the darker area, and this gave her the courage to continue her inspection. The vibrations had stopped, and the rock below her feet felt still.

“Yes, I’m fine. I’ve found a crater within a crater, within the big crater. The smaller second crater is about 500 feet from you guys, about eight to ten feet deep. I’m working my way in. There is something sparkling down in a wide crack in the middle of the third little crater, and I want to see what it is,” she replied. ”There is a ledge of rubble chips I can get down….I’m halfway down.”

“VIN, I think we need to go and see if our explorer needs help. Grab a cord back at the ship, just in case.”

“Mind the rocks getting over here. You could fall over them, and it’s pretty dark on this side,” added Maggie.

“Maggie, the sun’s out, we can see pretty clearly up here. We already have a canister full, and 120 minutes of time left,”
replied Jonesy.

Maggie reached the floor of the second crater and carefully inched her way to where the third hole was. Here the ground under her space boots was slippery with shards of the black rock. In the second crater there wasn’t one stone larger than a shard of glass.

Maggie peered down the couple of feet into the third crater and saw the fissure. Again her lamp illuminated sparkles of white and blue light. Now she could see something sticking out in the middle of the crack. It was right in the middle of the crater and what looked like a cube of glass, like a bubble of water. Her heart pounded even more and she gripped the hammer in her right hand hard.

The ground was loose and with her foot she scraped the chards into the hole making a slope to get down the last couple of feet into the little crater.

Maggie noticed that the gravitational pull on her body, seemed to get stronger and stronger as she got closer to the fissure, now only a dozen or so feet away. It was hard to move her foot to scrape the slope she was building.

“Where are you, Maggie?”
She heard Jonesy ask over the intercom.
“Point your light upwards so that I can see the beam.”
She did.
“OK! I saw it; you are further away than we anticipated.”

As she did on the first slope, she inched her way down her newly built slope keeping her light on the chards of black rock in front of her feet.

“Finally, guys, I’ve reached rock bottom. I’m inside the third crater. Here is my light again….do you see it?”

“Affirmative, about 200 feet in front of us, we are getting closer. Don’t go falling down a crevice or anything!”
warned VIN.

“You are taking up valuable mining time,” added Jonesy.

“I don’t think so,” Maggie stated slowly, her helmet light now on the rock she had come to collect.

It was big and rough. The clear glass looked like a big shard of rock, just like the tiny shards around it. The clear shard was sticking half out of a dense, black shelf with the fissure running away from it in all directions. She kneeled down on one knee and touched the glistening rock. A small part of the clear sparkling rock was sticking out of a larger rock about the size of a dog house; she tapped sharply on the top of the black rock with her hammer.

Suddenly it cracked into tiny shards, enabling the large piece of fire to roll out; she just managed to stop it from rolling towards the closest crack, which was wide enough to swallow it up.

It was heavy, and Maggie had to use all of her strength and balance to keep from falling forward into the crevice. She had the tennis ball sized stone cupped in her left hand and quickly used the hammer in her right hand to hit the rock hard to stop her fall. The hammer blow again splintered the black rock showering black chips everywhere.

What met her gaze was just too fantastic to behold. She had laid bare a second stone, far bigger than the one she had in her hand, and the hammer had only broken its surface. She put the first stone down and, now on two knees, began chipping away at the larger stone which starting to sparkle back at her. In her suit she didn’t hear the two men inch up behind her.

“Maggie, that looks like a diamond, a massive darn diamond,”
said Jonesy, picking up the first one she had found.

“Guys, mind the cracks. VIN, kneel on my right side, Jonesy on my left. This bigger one might have a hollow space below it; I think the fissure goes right below this rock I’m chipping away at. Hold the thing, quickly its getting loose!”

The last blow splintered the remains of the rock and the ground opened up underneath the diamond. It didn’t drop into the two-foot wide opening fissure only because the men held onto it.

“Maggie get out of the way, VIN and I can throw it out. Damn, its heavy!”

Maggie moved backwards as they heaved and the large basketball sized rock was propelled towards her; she stopped its rolling by leaning over onto it.

“Oh God! That thing is big!”
exclaimed VIN.
“It looks like a diamond, a damn diamond! It’s the bloody size of a basketball, and nearly as round.”

“Look at this little one!”
added Jonesy.
“It’s so clear, I can nearly see through it. It looks like I’m looking through thick glasses!”

For several minutes all three kneeled in their space suits and looked at the two stones on the ground in front of them. Maggie was totally speechless. She had never seen two such beautiful rocks of fire in her life. It took her a while to say something.

“I think I will call the larger one the “Sinclair Diamond”, that is if it is a diamond.”

“How did they get here?”
VIN asked not taking his eyes off the beautiful stones.

“I assume that this black stuff is pure carbon,” replied Maggie. It could have been an asteroid of pure carbon. I read that they can be formed in massive volcanoes, and they are shot out into space at high speeds. It must have hit DX2014 pretty hard judging from the size of all these millions of tiny pieces around here. The impact might have been at hundreds of thousands of miles an hour. The rock hit so hard that it fractured DX2014 and that could be the vibrations we’re feeling. This thing is slowly breaking up.”

As she said it, the ground began to vibrate again.

“The vibrations are getting faster and faster. I think we should prepare for evacuation, this asteroid could break up soon,”
said Jonesy.

“Look!” stated Maggie. “The crack has grown bigger and there is a third rock I can see just under the surface of the fissure. See, on the other side!” she stated excitedly, pointing to the rock now glistening back at them. “Let’s get it and we can have one each. That one looks even bigger.”

VIN grabbed his hammer and with his powerful metal legs jumped over the crack, he landed, bent down and hit the rock as hard as he could directly above the clear rock a few inches below the surface.

Maggie could feel hundreds of shards hit her suit as they went everywhere.

“Jonesy, I need your help. This one is going to be heavy,”
said VIN. He leaned forward and down to stop his clear rock from rolling into the crack a foot in front of him. Jonesy moved to the side of the crater, and jumped over where the fissure was only a few inches thick.
“Quick Jonesy, I’m going to lose it! It’s about to tumble in!”

“Got it!”
responded Jonesy as he waddled up and knelt down next to VIN. Slowly and carefully they rolled the clear rock backwards, up and away from the ever-widening crack.

“Wow! That one is even bigger than these two put together. “Oh my God!” stated Maggie the shards are clearing and there is another one directly below you guys. It’s twice the size of the one you have.”

“No way we can carry it. These are heavy enough. VIN can you carry this one?”
VIN stood up and Jonesy helped him lift it and carry it over the crack on the side of the crater. He was sure the fissure had grown.
“I think we need to get out of here. This whole asteroid is breaking up!”

“I can carry this one!”
stated VIN straining. “Get the other one. Maggie, take the smallest one. Let’s get back to the ship now.”

VIN heavily inched his way out of the small crater and then up the slope of the second one with Jonesy and Maggie right behind him.
“This rock must weigh at least a hundred pounds,”
he thought as the light around them disappeared. He looked up and saw the sun dip over the wall of the large crater as they carefully stumbled back to the ship.

They were halfway before the next vibration hit, all three kept going until VIN finally made it to the side of the spacecraft where he rolled his diamond into an empty canister. Jonesy rolled his in and Maggie threw in her “tennis ball.” Jonesy noticed that Maggie was carrying two stones, she had found a forth diamond, much smaller about the size of his thumbnail, and she was keeping this one.

“VIN, Maggie, grab all the empty canisters and throw any equipment you can into them and get them into the cargo hatches,”
ordered Jonesy as he went to the site where they had been working. It took a couple of minutes before he reached the site, grabbed an empty canister and his sweeper. He couldn’t take VIN’s so left it.

He returned to see VIN and Maggie throwing equipment into canisters and placing them in the hold. There were just too many canisters lying around and the two, working quickly, had filled about a dozen before Jonesy got back, he helped load them into
Astermine One as the ground rumbled beneath them yet again.

“VIN, I’ll help Maggie into the docking port, you close the side hatches.”

By the time VIN had closed the hatches—Jonesy sealing them from inside—and he had climbed into the docking hatch folding in the ladder behind him, he could see the hydrogen thrusters already beginning to burn brightly. As he closed the hatch above his head, he felt the gravity pull on him as Jonesy increased power and the still-light craft pulled itself out of the crater. Vin felt himself being squashed up as the floor wanted to push him up like an elevator and Jonesy told him to hold tight as he rapidly landed the spacecraft as close as he dared to
Astermine Two.

There were a dozen or so empty canisters on the ground around their landing areas and VIN quickly opened the outer hatch as
Astermine One touched down. They needed as many canisters as possible. Luckily, they had already loaded the half dozen full canisters in
Astermine Two.

He extended the ladder and went down, the much lower gravity here allowing him to jump half the distance. Maggie was a few minutes behind when Jonesy shouted out to him.

“VIN! There are rocks spraying out and away from the crater behind us. Hurry up! Help Maggie into
Astermine Two and get in. I’ll close down the hatch and ladder on this one. You do the same on the other while Maggie fires her up. We need to hurry!” Forget everything else. Hurry!”

VIN was looking to where they had just been and saw a boulder about the size of a car suddenly fly out from the crater and head away into space.

He helped Maggie over the other ladder and watched the crater while she went through the docking port.

It took a long minute before he would be able to enter, and he looked around at what they were leaving on the asteroid. Apart from the empty canisters, he saw that they were leaving the rock detector behind. He panicked for a second until he realized that it wasn’t so important any more. They knew all the colors of the rocks they were collecting, and they hadn’t had even used it on this trip.

A new vibration, the first one he had ever felt at the landing site, nearly made him lose his footing as he climbed the ladder. He slipped into the hatch as he saw Jonesy leave the ground. He closed the hatch and waited. The lights turned green and he entered the cockpit as he felt the craft vibrate. He didn’t know if it was the thrusters or the asteroid, but continued closing the hatch.

“Maggie, get her going, that whole piece behind the crater, the whole rear part of the asteroid, is breaking off. It must be the crack we saw.”

“I’m two thirds through my checks. Be my eyes, Jonesy; I can’t work any faster,”
VIN heard Maggie reply.

“There are cracks appearing towards your craft, about a hundred feet away. There are rocks heading out in all directions, lift off and fly forward, like you are flying a chopper. The crack is getting closer. You have about a second. Get her off. Now!” VIN felt the thrusters power up. They went straight to full power and he threw himself in his seat as the craft literally took off from the asteroid, the crack heading right towards them.

“Head forward fast, Maggie, you have a massive rock coming towards you. It’s about ten times your size. Bank left, hard. Get out of its way!”

Maggie turned the thrusters to the right. VIN saw that they were only about a hundred feet above the asteroid as a massive rock went past his portal inches away from the craft.

“Maggie head out fast, there are hundreds of rocks about to overtake you!”

VIN felt a gentle bump as something hit
Astermine Two, and he saw a rock pass his portal and follow the much bigger one.

Maggie also felt the bump, but couldn’t do much about it. She already had the thrusters on maximum power as she headed away from the asteroid.

A minute later, she reduced thruster power and turned the craft to run parallel from the asteroid, its front main part was still in one piece about five miles away. VIN watched as Jonesy, in
Astermine One, glided into formation a little ahead of them about a mile away and he suddenly began to realize that the whole rear area of the asteroid was slowly floating away from the main body in all directions.

“Wow! That was close,”
exclaimed Jonesy as they watched DX2014, now less than half the size of what it was an hour earlier, continue its flight towards earth.

Jonesy decided that they had better stay at least twenty miles away from the hundreds of rocks, mostly heading in the same direction the asteroid was going. Several, which had headed off in other directions, were long gone and would never be seen again.

VIN coded a message to Ryan asking what they should do, while Maggie searched their radars for any rocks heading towards them. Jonesy had a problem. He wouldn’t be able to take his helmet off and VIN would need to spacewalk over to him to help him get out of his suit.

He helped Maggie to get her helmet off and Jonesy suggested that VIN wait an hour until they knew that there were no more rocks in their vicinity.

It took another hour for their hearts to beat normally again, and VIN got his message off to Nevada.

It seemed that the breakup had subsided as the radar screen around DX2014 didn’t change much.

“I wonder if we were responsible for that breakup?” asked Maggie looking at VIN, still fully suited up.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. The vibrations were there on our first visit. I think we might have helped by hitting the rock, but I don’t think so. Are you going to keep the diamond for your wedding day?” asked VIN.

“I think so,” answered Maggie. “Since I risked my life to give Mr. Richmond the biggest diamonds the world has ever seen, I think it could be my commission.” She had her suit off but still held the diamond in a gloved hand. She had it in-between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it while looking through the clear stone. “It could be radioactive, and I will put it in the refrigerator until we get back. That should keep me safe from it, but I think twenty-five carats of pure white diamond is far more than a girl could ever ask for on her wedding day,” she said, smiling at VIN. “This made my trip out here totally worthwhile.”

“I should say so,” added VIN.

An hour later he was back in the docking port. Jonesy had
Astermine One twenty feet off his craft’s starboard bow, and the ever-closer sun gave him good light as he kicked away from Maggie like a swimmer starting a race.

He floated away from
Astermine Two towards a cord Jonesy had strung outside the docking port. Slowly he floated over and Jonesy expertly maneuvered
Astermine One so that he could grab onto the cord and pull himself up and into the docking hatch.

Chapter 5

Return to
Ivan

They rested for twenty-four hours, one person staying awake to watch over both craft while the other two slept. Like normal military guard duty, they changed guards every four hours.

Finally a message arrived from Ryan with the anticipated questions: Did they need to return? Can they go back? Do they have any cargo? Is the asteroid totally destroyed?

VIN responded that part of the asteroid was in pieces floating around space. He felt that they could go back if the debris dissipated, but they should give it another day before going in closer. He also explained that they had seven canisters full of rocks—about a third of what they had brought back on the first trip—and, their treasure included two stones that looked like diamonds the size of basketballs.

It wasn’t long before Ryan asked him to confirm the information in his first message. He did.

An hour later Ryan sent congratulations, asking VIN to describe the two diamonds. He did as best he could to describe the black slivers of rock they had seen everywhere; Maggie had described them as pure carbon and had a handful in one of the canisters.

The return message showed Ryan’s excitement about the diamonds. He suggested that they try to land one more time; if they could not, they should return to
Ivan.

“Maggie, you must fly your craft as if it is full of eggs,” Jonesy explained a day later as they got ready to return. “Remember, we both have loose canisters floating around in our holds, so until we can get them tied down, we must fly like trucks carrying eggs.”

Ryan had also asked where the larger parts of the asteroid were. Were they staying together? Since the asteroid was going to pass by pretty close to earth, could any pieces be a danger? He wanted as accurate a report as possible.

Jonesy carefully closed in on what was left of the three-mile long and one-mile wide asteroid. As he flew to within five miles, pieces of rock began showing up on his radar screen; pieces the size of small cars began getting in his way. He maneuvered
Astermine One around a few pieces and faintly heard small pieces gently connecting with the outer skin of the craft.

For an hour he slowly got closer and closer. Maggie was a couple of miles away and only entering the field of debris. Jonesy could see the largest rock a couple of miles away. Three other blocks of rock, about the size of a tall building, were in a sort of formation with the largest piece in the middle; one of the three pieces had several objects floating around it that reflected silver.

When he got to within a few hundred yards, he realized that the reflecting objects were their own empty canisters they had left in the crater.

“I think I’ve found our crater, or at least the stuff we left in the crater,”
said Jonesy over the Intercom.
“I’m going in closer to see this rock. It is about half a mile long and about 300 yards in circumference. It looks like a square rock that’s been rounded off. Actually the front and back are now 90 degree walls. This middle piece looks like it was broken off on both sides, like someone had literally chopped off the front and back parts. Hold on! I see part of our old crater. VIN, yes, I’m low enough to see the American flag you planted on our first trip. It is flat on the ground. The crater we were in, or a small part of the front half is still there. All the equipment we left in the crater is floating around the rock. If it still has its powerful gravitational pull, I think our equipment might all be pulled back to it. This group is heading off at a slightly different angle to the forward part of the asteroid, already a mile or so away. I would say that these blocks of rock might pass closer to earth than the original track. When was it due? Two or three months from now? I can see the front half of the crater about fifty feet from the front part of the rock. The whole rock is rolling very slowly and I can only see a sideward rotation; also, it is traveling slower than the forward piece I believe it was connected to. I’m going to try and go around the rock.”

Jonesy was quiet for several minutes, and Maggie decided that five miles was close enough. There were millions of pieces floating around hindering her forward movement, so she backed out of the floating clouds of stones and dust.

“I’m backing off, Jonesy; the debris up here is just too dangerous. I’ll wait for you.”

“Roger that,”
came the reply from the other craft.
“I’m also having trouble with the smaller pieces. I’m going to back away and I think we should wait a day or two to allow this stuff to either settle, or float further away.
I’m floating off about 500 yards from the rear wall of this rock. I believe the crater we were in broke off from the rear of the asteroid around where we found those diamonds. I want to go and see the larger front part of DX2014, but from here it looks like it is in a cloud of dust and debris. I have you on radar; I should be back with you in about an hour.”

****

Ryan was ecstatic about the three diamonds that VIN had described. VIN had given him rough dimensions of all three, a tennis ball, a football and a basketball, or bigger.

Just the small one alone could be as much as two-thirds the size of the Cullinan Diamond found in South Africa around 1905. It still is the biggest diamond ever found on earth. One of the scientists had spent a few hours doing research on the Cullinan Diamond.

“So,” stated Ryan to the scientist over coffee and chocolate cake, “the Cullinan Diamond is worth approximately 400 million dollars. At 3,100 carats, that is more than $100,000 per carat. I must assume that half of the value is due to its originality, not a realistic diamond value. A one-carat perfect, rare, white diamond could be worth about $20,000. A five-carat diamond of the same quality could be worth $100,000. If we just take this value and estimate the tennis ball-size diamond is about 2,000 carats and of comparable quality, the value could be $40 million, or two flights into space. That diamond has just paid for both of our trips to DX2014. How many carats would you say the soccer ball–size diamond could have?”

“I worked it out to be ten times, between 15,000 and 25,000 carats. That is a lot of carats, Ryan!” the scientists returned.

“So it could have a value of $400 million?” The scientist nodded. “And, let us assume that the biggest one of the three is double the carats of the middle one. That means we are bringing back a ton of rhodium and platinum, say $100 million, and three diamonds worth about $1.25 billion?” Again the scientist nodded.

“I think your team has been a good investment, especially due to the fact they didn’t run like scared rabbits when the asteroid broke up,” the scientist responded. “Unfortunately, this asteroid breakup could be problematic for us down here on earth.”

“I agree,” replied Ryan. “Mr. Noble wrote that there are billions of tiny fragments and as of today, they have recorded pieces bigger than a large building. One piece, the crater they were mining, seems to be on a closer trajectory to earth. DX2014 was supposed to pass by at 600,000 miles. Could this piece of rock come 600,000 miles closer to earth in ten weeks?”

“I would suggest you get your Hubble friend to start following it,” advised the man in the white coat. Ryan’s phone rang. It was the CEO of Earth-Exit, Martin Brusk, a man whom he admired, and had only met once before.

“Ryan, Martin Brusk, Earth-Exit. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course, Martin. Congratulations on your achievement in getting to the ISS. I’m sure the government is falling over itself to get you contracted into working with NASA.”

“Yes, a little too ‘falling over itself.’ They are becoming pretty demanding on what the president wants. I honestly believe he thinks he owns the company. That was one of the reasons I wanted to talk.”

“Go ahead, Martin, I’m listening,” replied Ryan shaking the scientist’s hand and waiting for him to leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Your remark about the president’s interest in Earth-Exit didn’t go down well with him, and he wanted to know where this information was leaked from.”

“Simple. From the normal Securities and Exchange Commission open reports for general public viewing. Maybe you should remind him that any sizeable sums invested into companies are usually open for the general public. I went through the list of your major investors and surprisingly found his name three times totaling $50 million. I don’t know why the last government didn’t bring up the president’s investments before he was elected. Still he has done nothing wrong or illegal, or made investments subject for scrutiny.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” replied Martin. “He seems to think Earth-Exit and he are at loggerheads over his investments in my company. His major problem now is the payment the government is offering to purchase Earth-Exit, to make it dissolve into the new NASA program.”

“I’m sure his profit will now cause him further embarrassment with many middle class Americans who are broke and struggling to make ends meet. So, what did you call me about? How can I help Earth-Exit Martin?”

“Simply by selling NASA your company, Ryan. Not only will it take the president off my back, but it will allow you to purchase my company, Earth-Exit, and have me as a colleague. We could work together, and the president will not only have less scrutiny of his profits in the sale, but you will get me, my company and all our ideas for future space travel.”

“I think that is a just reward for handing over my company to the government. May I assume the president put you up to this?” asked Ryan smiling.

“No, this is the only way I’ve figured out to be bullied less by the president’s men. I don’t know much about your successes, Ryan. You keep everything hidden away in that airfield of yours. I must congratulate you on your mining expedition. It seems that you had the most profitable, most forward thinking ideas of the space race.”

“Joe Bishop, Gary Mortimer, Tom Ward, Les Dickens. Those names ring a bell? Ryan asked.

“Yes, you can include Hal McNealy to that list, the new Director of NASA. They axed Bill
Withers for no apparent reason. He was the smartest administrator NASA had, and many will vouch for that. Yes, they have all been sniffing around here. These guys seem to be the president’s new goon squad. Even though he is number two, Gary Mortimer seems to be in charge of the Pentagon. I think his boss, the Chief of Staff, is just waiting to retire. I saw on television that they have also visited you in Nevada.”

“Yes, Bill is starting work here next week. Maybe you can tell me why there is all this fuss over our companies going to space.”

“Maybe, you need to be filled in on some new stuff,” replied Martin. “I’m in Silicon Valley right now and taking off for New Mexico in a few minutes. If you let me, I could swing by.”

Ryan suggested that was a good idea, especially if the CEO of Earth-Exit had something private to say. In this new day and age, you never knew who might be listening in.

Two hours later a modern Gulfstream came in from the west and Ryan had it parked out of the sun in Hangar Three, under the Galaxy’s wing.

“Welcome. Earth-Exit is keeping you fit and healthy I see,” greeted Ryan, shaking the younger man’s hand.

“Not as good as the Nevada desert is doing for you, Ryan,” replied Martin smiling. Both men had great respect for each other’s knowledge of their trade.

Martin Brusk was a few years younger than Ryan, a thick-set man of South African descent. His blond hair was cropped short, and his brown eyes shone out of his dark, suntanned face. Martin looked like the Californian he was, raised just outside of San Diego as a teenager. He wore khaki Bermuda shorts, brown boaters and a T-shirt showing the ISS being docked by his own spacecraft. The lightest part of his brown arm was the solid gold Rolex glistening in the sun. He was casually dressed compared to Ryan’s usual attire of open necked polo shirt and well-pressed khaki Dockers.

His headquarters were in New Mexico, a place Ryan had wanted to locate his company, but two space companies so close together wouldn’t have been a good idea.

As usual, Ryan showed Martin over to the bar where he knew a cold milkshake on a hot desert day was always the best medicine for the heat. The temperature in the middle of July was 112 degrees. Thank god it was a dry heat.

“So, you say Bill is about to start work with you?” asked Martin.

“Yes, he’s arriving next week, Tuesday I think, driving up from Huntsville, Alabama, in an RV.”

“I could have flown him in if he wanted me to,” added Martin. “I owe him enough favors.”

“Me too, but as you see I don’t have Gulfstream Jets, just an old Dead Chicken that the government might want back pretty soon, if I cause any more trouble.”

“But hasn’t your whole deployment into space been designed around that C-5 in your hangar?” asked Martin.

“Yes, my weakest link. I even offered Mortimer 50 million dollars for the ‘Dead Chicken’, as my pilots call it, and he countered with 500 million, ten times what it cost to build. Why is this greed suddenly emanating from Washington? A 65 percent tariff on importing rock from space, and they offer me 21 million dollars per load of radioactive waste, knowing that my profit will be zero. What is wrong with this new government?”

“Remember when the president ran for office promising the reduction of costs and a decrease of the growing debt?” Ryan nodded. “He told me himself that this would be his major plan for his first few years in office. There are no costs he can obliterate in the government, the military cuts has got them down to minimums, so the only other way he can reduce government spending is to take over private business. He has set up a plan to rid the country of private businesses he thinks the U.S. doesn’t need, like our space companies.

To get elected he made huge commitments to very powerful people, and they are holding him to his promises. He is already thinking about his reelection chances four years from now, and he doesn’t care how many people he puts out of work to make sure he stays in the Oval Office. Ryan, between you and me, I believe he is going to monopolize every large profitable business in the country, turn them into government controlled units, and assume the success of these takeovers as his own.”

“He or his government is buying your business?” asked Ryan.

“Was; until you spoke up on national television about his personal interests in my company,” replied Martin. “Now I have been ordered to persuade you to sell your business to NASA, and he will fold Earth-Exit into your business. He wants his 100 million dollar profit payout and I’ll be rewarded with thanks from a loyal government for stealing my company.”

“Being Commander-in-Chief, he has the Pentagon behind him,” Ryan added.

“Correct, this guy is pure greed. I think he has a kind spot somewhere in his heart, but no bigger than one of those tiny rhodium stones you brought back from your mining expedition.”

“Just greed?” Ryan asked.

“No, personal greed is his main motivation, but presiding as president and running a country to increase his own success and that of his supporters, is his second motivation. I’ve spoken to two CEOs in the steel industry who have come up against the strong-arm tactics of Tom Ward and Joe Bishop. They were forced to sell for fifty cents on the dollar a month ago and have yet to receive any deposit or payment for their businesses, both worth over 100 million dollars. Also, the IRS is going through their corporate tax returns searching for any unpaid taxes. By the way, Ward and Bishop’s superiors have been warned by the Oval Office to stay out of the secret presidential affairs Ward and Bishop are undertaking. They have open hunting licenses on private American business, and the hunting season has just begun.”

“That tells me why they all arrived on my airfield twenty minutes after my first load of precious metals arrived.”

“Not to mention the fastest bill ever to be passed by Congress; a 65 percent import tax on space metals,” added Martin. “I’ve heard that the Congress and the president are pressuring the Senate to pass this bill, but the media in Washington is taking an interest, purely because it was drawn up and passed the House so fast; and, it’s purely a law against your company, Astermine. So, if you have any more cargoes of treasure from space, I would guess you have less than a couple of weeks to get them down here before the government slaps on enough taxes to not make it worth your while.”

“The former president told me to get into bed with the media. He believes it’s my only blanket of protection against being robbed by this new government,” Ryan replied.

“Yes, he told me that after you had the media event here in Nevada last month. He also told me which media guys to trust, as many trashed him during the last election, and he believes that they were on the other side.”

“I have the media twenty minutes away if I need them,” Ryan stated.

“I have two news teams out of Santa Fe who are ready at a moment’s notice,” added Martin. “They certainly hate that Joe Bishop and are after him. There are several guys digging up as much dirt as they can on this NSA guy.”

“Send them over here,” smiled Ryan. “I have a few juicy stories from some of my pilots.” As he said that there was a knock on the bar’s door, and Allen Saunders walked in. He looked shocked at who was sitting with Ryan.

“Allen, good to see you again,” said Martin getting up to shake the former general’s hand. “Retired Air Force General, I hear?”

“As of yesterday, Martin,” Allen replied. “I’ve been here a week, and as soon as they heard I had contracted to work here, they expedited the paperwork to get me out.”

“Usual government policy these days,” Martin replied.

“You know a lot about Joe Bishop?” Ryan asked Allen. “Come sit down. I believe Mr. Brusk here is an ally, and not the enemy.”

“If you need more dirt on the dirt bag, I know a major in Dover Air Force Base in the fuel supply section who knows a lot more,” replied Saunders. “He was terminated early because he ratted on then Lieutenant Colonel Bishop stealing fuel. Also John Jones, one of the pilots in Ryan’s flight crew, could enlighten you on Bishop.”

“Is he around?” Martin asked. Allen didn’t answer, he let Ryan do that.

“Unfortunately, he is, shall we say, currently on a high altitude mission,” replied Ryan.

“May I assume that he is around that ancient Russian Space Station you so cleverly saved from reentry?” smiled Martin.

“I thought you might be one of the few who would understand my interest in saving that space platform from destruction,” returned Ryan, also grinning. Martin would certain know the value of having one’s own space station, and Ryan was the only person in the world to have his own bit of real estate in space.

“That was to be my third mission, after supplying the ISS. It was going to be either Earth-Exit or Astermine which would deter that sucker from destroying itself. It just wasn’t worth it for the Russians to do anything. Only Bill realized what its value was and there you were, with far better shuttles than any of us; I assumed you took it to a mid-level orbit. And, then at the same time, you return with enough jewels to get the British Royal Family excited!”

“No, the next reentry will make them drool,” laughed Ryan. How about a second Cullinan Diamond on earth, and another stone twice the size? That should make every royal family sit up and take notice, as well as the new King of America.”

“Do you have any reentry craft needing to land in Russia any time soon?” asked Ryan.

“Keep treasure out of the U.S.? Now that’s an idea, Ryan. I could fake an emergency reentry landing in Russia due to mechanical failure on my next mission. For a little bounty, I could handle an extra 1,000 pounds of weight on a reentry, no more.”

“Good, then if I need to have a ride out into space, and as many reentries into Russia as I need in the future, can I rely on you, Martin, for let’s say, half a billion dollars U.S.?”

“For that amount, Ryan, which is double the current value the government has estimated my one and a half billion dollar operation is worth to them, you have my word as a friend of space.”

Ryan was shocked at the lousy valuation Earth-Exit had received to be taken over, and realized that his own value, without the C-5 to fly his shuttles into space could be far less than Earth-Exit had been offered. They had their own space rockets launching his payloads into space, although only half a ton at a time.

He would be lucky to be offered a hundred million dollars! The exact figure a certain group had discussed somewhere in Washington just a day or two earlier.

Martin left shortly afterwards and Ryan seemed happy and unhappy at the same time. Watching the Gulfstream rise into the air he explained to Allen that it was good to have a potential ally who could get into orbit and back, but too many people were getting too close to him, knowing about his missions. Ryan always kept the secret of his real mission to himself and his inner circle.

It was time to see if any messages had arrived from space.

****

VIN was coding a message in
Astermine Two. Jonesy was in a foul mood in
Astermine One. They had decided to give the asteroids another forty-eight hours to either attract the dust around them, or for the particles to head off in their new directions. Jonesy was unhappy due to his girl being in the other craft, and having none of the alcohol stocks in
Astermine One. He was not happy, until VIN told him that he needed a walk and that he and Maggie had seen an interesting stone pass across their windshield.

“That’s it!” shouted Jonesy. “We don’t need to waste two days. VIN, I can tether you like a dog on a leash and you can collect the jewels floating around out there; they’re more the size of Maggie’s new wedding ring. What do you say partner? Once we are done, we can swap craft and you won’t have to listen to old Frank.”

Both members of the other crew thought the idea had merit. VIN just enjoyed floating around. “Great idea, Jonesy. Do you have any water skis in your boat? I’ve always wanted to try water skiing. Throw me a line and I’ll buzz around like Darth Vader and collect all the diamonds I can. I haven’t used my walking time today. Let’s do it right now, the stone that passed us was about the size of a golf ball.”

Within an hour, and with Maggie following the golf ball-size stone slightly faster than they were keeping pace with the asteroid, VIN climbed into the docking port and waited for Jonesy to ready his line.

With the easy maneuverability of the spacecraft thrusters, and also because they were getting closer and closer to earth, VIN could easily be picked up if he floated off; also, they needed less and less fuel to return to
Ivan, now just under two million miles away.

On Jonesy’s command VIN let go and, with his jet pack on for the first time this mission, he drifted towards
Astermine One. He was aiming for the docking bay and was only three inches off when Jonesy touched the switch to open the roof doors.

“Opening cargo hold roof doors now,”
Jonesy communicated as he allowed the craft’s roof doors to open wide enough to allow VIN into the third compartment inside the cargo hold. Once in, he closed the door while VIN, using his helmet light, tied down the one or two loose canisters.

VIN exited, reentered and did the same inside the fourth compartment; two canisters in there needed securing. He took a third canister with him as he left while grabbing onto the long cord Jonesy had allowed float over the roof. Everything was now tied down in the holds and Jonesy could leave the roof doors open so that the cord connected to his partner would stay within the vertical doors if he directed
Astermine One slowly and carefully. It would also help VIN keep the Kevlar cord away from the thrusters on either side as VIN secured it along the roof.

Slowly Jonesy used the thrusters to get closer to
Astermine Two, about half a mile away on his starboard bow.

“How’s the skiing?” Jonesy asked him.

“Just remember I can’t slow down very quickly. This jet pack doesn’t have the same size thrusters you have, so be gentle and warn me. The skiing is very picturesque. Also I’m about fifty feet out from the rear of the craft, so stay slow and glide to the left or right when you see a stone. Or even better, go underneath it and I can rise up like a space shark you warned me about at the Beer Can, and put it in my silver canister’s mouth.”

“I still have the bigger one in view,”
interrupted Maggie.
“The diamond is about fifty yards ahead of me and there are two smaller ones close to it. I’m slowing slightly and I suggest you swing in front of me. I will keep the nose pointing in the general direction.”

VIN now felt like he was in traffic. He had a spacecraft in front of him turning in front of the other one and he was in the middle.

“I don’t think your style is much like waterskiing,”
laughed Maggie as VIN slowly moved in front, and several feet below her using his tiny thrusters to follow Jonesy.
“You look more like a drunk staggering home from the bar.”

“Then why don’t you try and ski around in zero gravity, Ms. Sinclair? I see it! Jonesy, slow down slightly or we’ll pass it.” VIN used his two thrusters to glide up a few feet and, concentrating on the golf balled sized stone, he gently caught it in his hand.

“Got it!” shouted VIN excitedly. “This is fun!”

For the next several minutes, Maggie directed her colleagues to where the two smaller stones were. These two looked about the same size Maggie was keeping for herself and VIN managed to get them into the canister. Maggie then went in search closer to the magnetic rock part of the asteroid which all three crew realized was getting further and further away from the front part of the asteroid. She found two more, larger than the first one, and a large piece of the black rock in which they had found the diamonds. VIN struggled but finally managed to just get the large rock into the canister. At three feet wide it was far bigger than any rock they had fitted in on the surface. He retrieved the two diamonds, both about the size of the original tennis ball-sized one they had first found and Jonesy, noting the time VIN had been out, called his fun enough for one day.

The dirt and debris around DX2014 was clearing; much of it was being pulled back to larger rocks and the rest was spreading out in all directions.

The next day both spacecraft attempted to get close to the magnetic rock Maggie had now named “Diamond One”. The area around it was clear and Jonesy attempted a landing although the entire surface was covered in rocks. The remains of the front half of the crater was hardly visible, and he could just see the flag.

Jonesy managed to land within a hundred feet of the flag and the legs of the spacecraft creaked as they displaced rocks when they touched the ground. This time, there was a crater wall on only one side, and the gravitational pull was far less, about two thirds of what it had been.

Maggie came in twenty minutes later with VIN on board. She found an area close to
Astermine One and crunched on stone and pebbles as she touched the surface.

Jonesy suggested that they do nothing for an hour. VIN sent a message to earth while it was above him telling Ryan that they were back on what they thought would be the best rock to mine. He also explained that the rest of the asteroid was now about three miles away, several miles in front of them, and about to pass out of sight.

Ryan replied several minutes later, telling VIN to place a second directional beacon on the new rock. VIN replied that he would, and that the first beacon on the other rock several miles away was still working. VIN had placed the beacon on the forward piece just before they had rushed to leave. Nevada should still be picking up that one. Nevada replied a couple of hours later that they had both beacons now registering.

The two battery-powered beacons transmitted twice each hour, informing ground control in Nevada, as well as the dozens of computers aboard the spacecraft and shuttles, the exact whereabouts of the asteroids.

On the first trip, they had arrived next to DX2014 with just mathematical data on its direction and speed. Now they had these beacons to help their computers navigate.

VIN exited through the docking chamber after letting the ladder out over the roof and down the side of the spacecraft. Without the MMA, or Magnetic Metal Analyzer, which was floating around the universe somewhere, he couldn’t tell what the rocks were this time. On Jonesy’s orders he strapped himself with the cords from Maggie’s craft and strapped on his jet pack in case this rock wanted to break apart again.

VIN tied down the canister in which he had collected the diamonds floating around space. Then, while both pilots remained at the ready to evacuate the asteroid, VIN took an empty canister and floated around for two hours looking for more stones.

VIN wanted to go back to the edge of the crater that had broken apart. Attached to 300 feet of cord, he went to the site where Maggie discovered the diamonds. It was far easier work looking for soccer ball sized diamonds that collecting hundreds of the rhodium rocks, and Ryan had messaged him that rhodium wasn’t as valuable as before. VIN was sure that the diamonds would keep their value.

The empty canister was far lighter than before and he felt his steps on his comfortable new metal legs far springier. He slowly allowed the line to play out. There were rocks and stones everywhere and he couldn’t help but stand on them.

“Jonesy, remind them to pack a plain old earth flathead shovel on our next trip. There are so many stones that we need to make paths by using a shovel to clear them out of the way. Oh! I haven’t felt any of those vibrations since we’ve been back. Maybe the pressure has gone, like a dentist knocking out a tooth?”

“I haven’t either, but I hate things that sound too quiet,”
Jonesy replied.

“See any more diamonds yet?”
Maggie asked.

“Not yet, but I’m halfway to the cliff where your diamonds were. I hope I have enough rope to allow me to get that far. Oh! There is one, about the size of a finger nail, and another one, a little smaller.”

Within the first hour VIN found several of the black rocks, the ones with platinum in them. He decided to put his canister down and walk around in circles slowing trailing the cord out behind him and making larger and larger circles.

By the time he reached the end of the rope, he was still several feet from the edge of the cliff, and he made three small piles of rocks the right size to fit easily into the canister. He also found another golf ball-size diamond. He was beginning to feel like this was a useless escapade. It would take him months to fill all the canisters, and he decided to ask Ryan if they could return and get better equipment. This was getting boring.

Several hours later, aboard
Astermine One, he received a reply from Nevada. Ryan suggested that Jonesy fly closer to the cliff which would allow him to see the edge and what was over the side. If there wasn’t anything to see, they could return.

The next day, VIN went out and cleared a landing zone for the two craft with the sweeper. It took him two hours and he filled one canister with any rocks the sweeper picked up.

Once done, he got out of the way while Maggie hovered off the surface and, with VIN guiding her, put down in the new clearing. He then released the cord on the other craft and headed towards the cliff. He was excited to see what was around the corner, as it dropped away to nothing. He slowly edged his way towards the lip with another empty canister under one arm.

VIN found a small diamond glistening at him a few feet from the side and realized that he was now standing on the black graphite-looking shards again. He returned for the sweeper and easily filled the canister with the tiny black sharp rocks. This was far easier and he hoped that it might be of some value to Ryan and his team. If they were going back, he might as well take something.

Among the shards were other rocks, so he decided to use his second hour to fill two more canisters. When they were as full as he thought he could lift them, he returned to Maggie’s hold and tied them down in. He felt better that they now had eleven canisters filled with about the same amounts of rocks as the first time.

He also realized that the sweeper probably worked as well as any shovel.

Once it was filled with the goods he had just collected, he closed the second cargo hold, opened the third to make sure everything was tied down and ready for an emergency take off. He had done this the day before to
Astermine One’s entire cargo hold, which held most of the cargo up to now.

Then he went out again with another empty canister under his arm. In normal gravity he would have struggled to do this but now that there was less pull, he managed it without ever letting go of the cord in his other hand even though it was tied on to his suit.

He edged towards the cliff and got down on his knees and slowly peered over. He couldn’t see anything for a hundred feet. It was all black dull rock.

“Jonesy, you got gas? I’m tied to Maggie. Why don’t you takeoff and see if you can see anything flashy on this black cliff. This cliff is totally sheared off; it looks like it was cut by a knife. Maybe if the sun shone on it I could see something, but there is no contrast or color to see anything from here.”

“Roger, back away from the cliff and give me five minutes to get off,”
Jonesy replied.

“The space behind the cliff looks clear. I can’t see anything floating around,” VIN added.

He watched as twenty minutes later
Astermine One floated into view. It was the first time he had seen one of the spacecraft floating around space.
Astermine One looked so small against the universe around them. She was certainly pretty; long and sleek. Jonesy was about half a mile away as he worked his way over to face the cliff VIN was trying to look at and slowly moved in closer.

“I can just see you partner. You look like a fly on top of a mountain. Wave to make sure I’m not looking at an alien.”
VIN did so and Jonesy acknowledged that it was in fact a human being he was looking at.

Jonesy edged his way closer, having to roll the craft. He was about a hundred feet off the rear of the asteroid, and about twenty feet lower than VIN. VIN wasn’t on the top anymore, the asteroid had moved and VIN now looked like a fly on a vertical wall.

“Jonesy you forgot that I’m moving and you aren’t. You are looking vertical and looking at you not moving makes me want to puke.”

“Sorry partner,”
Jonesy replied. “I’m turning on the searchlight.”

A bright shaft of light lit up the space in front of the spacecraft and VIN moved towards the edge and looked over. Now there were dozens of twinkling lights bouncing off the cliff wall below him.

“VIN, you do realize that you are in space, in a vacuum, and you are not going to fall over that cliff!”

“I was trying to get that in my brain,” replied VIN. “I just couldn’t get my brain to realize that I wasn’t going to fall anywhere. I suppose we are just too used to thinking about falling over cliffs on earth. Here goes.”

Carefully VIN swung his legs over the side. Nothing happened. It was so weird! Then he allowed the rope to play out and he let the rest of his body move over the lip. Still he didn’t fall.

“Jonesy, this is blowing my mind! Now I’m looking back at Maggie. Now she looks like a fly on a vertical wall.”

“But I’m sitting upright,”
replied Maggie.
“I can’t see you, but your cord is still tied.”

With his mind trying to prevail over its rational perception that it is not possible to stand horizontally, he backed away from the side of the cliff where Maggie was, closed his eyes and did what Suzi had told him to do back when he was trying on his legs. He concentrated on standing up. Nothing had changed. He stood up and felt like he was standing upright.

“Jonesy, do I look weird or what?” VIN asked.

“You sure do, partner. It looks like your feet are glued to the rock with your body at a ninety degree angle. You really look like a circus freak. There is a glinting rock about a dozen or so yards behind you. Your time is running out. I suggest you hammer at that one and see what it is.”

VIN trying to forget that he was now as good as a fly on the wall turned and let the rope play out to the stone he could see sparkling in front of him. It was big.

As he neared to within a couple of feet he saw that it was not stuck in the ground, but looked like it had reconnected with the magnetic asteroid.

His cord just made it as he tried to pick it up.

“Damn, I left the canister over the other side. It’s loose, round enough to roll it, and about three feet high. It’s about the same size as the biggest one we got. This is the best catch of the day so far. It is really beautiful, blue and red fire going out in all directions.”

“I think that all these stones are coming out of one hole. About fifty or so yards from you to your left; it looks like there is a vein or something, like a river of glittering fire coming from there. Looking at you, and you are six feet tall, the river of fire is about three times as long as you, about six feet wide at one end, and about a quarter of that at the lower end. I think that is where all these rocks are coming from. Maybe we can look in that area tomorrow. VIN, you need to get back to….”

“Jonesy there is that vibration again,” stated VIN, the ground shaking beneath his feet. I’m going to roll this diamond over the edge and get back to Maggie.”

“I confirm the vibration,”
added Maggie.
“I’m starting checks, VIN get back here.”

“I’m already over the cliff edge and reached the canister. I won’t be able to get this canister back to the ship very quickly, it’s too cumbersome. Jonesy I have an idea, I’m going to run back to the cliff edge and push it out into space with the diamond in it. It weighs about 50 or 60 pounds with this lower gravity, and I think it might float away from the rock. Oh crap! This rock is vibrating worse than a damn earthquake!”

Without Jonesy replying he closed the canister and used his powerful mechanical legs to run to the lip he had just climbed over. As he reached the lip he jumped as hard as he could and leaped into the air. As he jumped he pushed the canister way out in front of him.

The heavy silver canister shot away from him and he looked down to see that he was at least thirty feet off the rock, the rope jerking him back. Turning to face Maggie’s ship he hit the ground running.

“I’ve got your canister in sight,”
Jonesy confirmed.
“It is still heading upwards. I’m going to get underneath it and move it away from the rock. Get aboard with Maggie fast!”

“The vibrations are worse this time around,”
added Maggie.
“VIN get back here!”

VIN ran as fast as he could in such circumstances, coiling up the rope as he went. Within thirty seconds and still running at full mechanical-leg power he nearly smacked into the side of the spacecraft. He just had time to lift the sweeper into the hold and make sure the doors were shut so that Maggie could seal them from inside when the ground below his feet shook again, this time so violently that he could hardly stand. He looked behind him and suddenly saw a large fissure open several yards away. He jumped onto the ladder, nearly missing his step and his legs pushed him up and onto the roof. He clambered into the docking port bringing in the rope and the ladder, and closed the outer hatch behind him.

“Go, Maggie, go! I’m in the docking hatch!” shouted VIN.

“Maggie, get off now!”
shouted Jonesy.
“There is a massive fissure heading towards you from that river of fire. Lift off now!”

Suddenly VIN felt dizzy as the port dropped away around him, making his helmet float up and bump up against the outer hatch. The craft stopped for a split second and then shot up like an express elevator, pushing his feet towards the lower hatch.

“We are off!”
shouted Maggie.
“That was close! We were falling into the crack there for a second. Jonesy what’s happening? I’m showing forty feet altitude and climbing rapidly.”

“Keep coming, I’m still bumping this canister away. The whole area you were on has opened into a crack 100 feet wide. I’m sure the place where I saw that vein of diamonds is where these cracks are coming from. I bet it was the impact point of another asteroid hitting DX2014 before we got here on the first trip, and the pressure of impact must have formed the diamonds and weakened the whole asteroid at the same time. It’s staying together, but it seems to be heading towards the earth now. I reckon we have a problem here. Are you OK, VIN?”

“I’m fine partner.”

“How full is this canister I’m bouncing around?”

“About a quarter full, I could get a lot more diamonds in there. This is like our gambling in Vegas, Jonesy. Why leave when we are ahead?”

That’s what I’m thinking partner. Maggie, head to the rear of the rock. I bet this diamond river is breaking up and spilling out diamonds. VIN still has his cord and if we don’t get them now, I’m sure they will be gone in a few hours, floating around in space.”

VIN still had thirty minutes of walk time. Maggie maneuvered over to where
Astermine One was and VIN released the outer hatch of the docking port and let the rope play out. He pushed himself out as the canister floated above his head, caught the now weightless object he had thrown into space, and hung onto it working his jet pack as best he could.

Jonesy showed Maggie where he had seen the river of fire. VIN floated behind in his water-ski pose as the two craft neared the rear of the breaking rock.

“Oh my god! It’s like a shower of a million lights everywhere. So beautiful!”
declared Maggie almost reverently as they literally floated into thousands of flashing diamonds. The front searchlights of the two crafts lit up millions of rays of light in every direction.

VIN couldn’t open the canister quickly enough. There were diamonds all around him. It was like he was scuba diving in clear dark water with millions of small fish swimming around him. When he got the canister open, diamonds of all sizes immediately flew into it faster than he could collect them. One big clear rock, the size of a brick, nearly hit him on the helmet as he moved the canister up to allow it to float in.

Many of these clear rocks were not round, but every shape, oval and some even square or rectangular.

“Maggie, reverse thrust very gently,”
VIN heard Jonesy tell Maggie.
“One second thrusts only, you don’t want to get any stones into the thrusters. I’m reversing to keep floating with these things. A jewelry store never looked like this!”

“I need a new canister, this one is full already. I’m closing it. I’m also running out of jet pack fuel, my gauges are showing close to empty. Maggie, open the roof door. I will put this one in and get a second canister. I think I just have enough time to fill another one.”

“Roger, VIN, roof door opening. Make sure your cord is secure in case you run out of gas.”

“Actually, Maggie, Jonesy, I just got a fantastic idea. We can use the spacecraft as collection bins. Get the spacecraft nose down like a helicopter taking off. Open your cargo roof doors then act like whales feeding through these diamonds. There are thousands and thousands of them. Just let the diamonds enter the cargo holds. It will give us more than I could ever collect and we can go home early!”

Both
Astermine spacecraft tilted forward steeply, and gently pushed into the dense clouds of floating stones, like feeding whales. They were only several hundred feet off from the rear of the asteroid managing a twenty second sweep before Jonesy ordered Maggie to turn about face and at the same altitude head back into the cloud and away from the asteroid.

By the time both craft had reached the edge of the cloud, and their second run, VIN told them that it was like a snowstorm; the whole of the interior of the cargo hold in
Astermine Two glittered like it had just snowed.

He placed the canister inside, Maggie closed the doors and Jonesy did the same. VIN’s time was done, his fuel was spent, and he pulled himself towards the docking port, his strong arms drawing him along the cord.

As he entered, he looked towards the asteroid. There were far fewer stones than before; they had caught at least half of everything floating in the area and now the stones themselves were beginning to be pulled back to the massive fissured rock still the size of the Empire State Building.

“Jonesy, I’m exhausted,” admitted VIN an hour later, and after he had entered Maggie’s craft and she had helped him off with his helmet. “My heart nearly stopped back there. I reckon we have more diamonds than South Africa and De Beers all put together. Maggie’s cargo hold has a couple of thousand and so must yours.”

“I’m looking back and I’m sure many of the stones will fall back to the asteroid,”
replied Jonesy.
“The rock hasn’t broken up; it’s just looking all ripped up and has large cracks everywhere. The whole rock could just break up into billions of pieces. I saw the beacon we left. It’s in a crack and still beeping. Let’s go home. Maggie, follow me; I’m programming my computers to map our way home. A great idea kid! Maggie once again we have loose items in our cargo holds, so fly carefully. No hard breaking if we meet any traffic lights out here.”

Chapter 6

Meanwhile, back on Earth

A few days before the asteroid spat out its diamonds, Ryan watched as the shuttle could be seen for the first time in the afternoon’s summer sun glinting over the western horizon.

This incoming flight carried his third cargo of space treasure. The shuttles were still on a ten-day schedule and this shuttle’s next launch would be the maiden flight of
Asterspace Three into orbit. Once his third spacecraft turned on its Cloaking Device and headed towards the sanctuary of
Ivan, he could begin VIN’s idea of using both shuttles to start a faster cycle of five-day turnarounds.

The day before, Bill Withers, the former Director of NASA, had arrived at his airfield in his RV with his dog, and they spent the first day discussing tactics for the radioactive waste mission. Bill suggested that Ryan develop his own containers to carry the radioactive material into space; under its new management NASA would take much longer. As Bill was leaving, the president had let him know that disposing of the waste was now a low priority; they were much more interested in initiating their own space mission to mine the riches that would make the president and the government rich.

NASA’s change of direction was all due to Ryan’s first load of treasure, which he had turned over to government agents who would legally disperse the metals. He said that he wouldn’t give them one rock without some sort of pre-payment and asked for $200 million—his fuel bill for the next ten launches into space. NASA gave him a bank deposit of $100 million for the iridium and rhodium. The Federal Reserve deposited another $100 million into his account for the platinum.

Ryan invited a dozen metal analysts from universities in Nevada and California, as well as two government departments, to record and study each rock before a federal armored vehicle arrived from Las Vegas to cart the treasure away. The first cargo of rock Jonesy and Maggie brought from space on the day his shuttle landing went viral on YouTube and hundreds of television channels around the world, was weighed just over 3.5 tons. The treasure, comprised of thousands of small rocks, stones and pebbles, needed to be weighed, analyzed and packed into steel cases. The ground crew had a second Magnetic Metal Analyzer, the same as the one VIN lost on the asteroid, and its findings were accurate enough for the survey team to not have to actually touch the rocks, just monitor them on conveyor belts going through the much larger and more accurate machine set up in a special building for this task.

The space rocks were taking a week to become safe to touch. Off-loaded outside in the sun and wind, and under guard, the radioactivity was quickly dissipating thanks to the earth’s tough atmosphere. The first 3.5 ton load of platinum, iridium and rhodium was valued by the team at a few thousand over $173 million.

Ryan had allowed a “60 Minutes” team of cameras and reporters to spend two days completing a news story on the first treasure. It would air that Sunday night.

He told the TV crew that the rocks came from a tiny three-mile square area on the moon which they found by a lucky mistake. In response to questions about how they found this treasure trove, Ryan explained that they found what seemed to be a new crater on the far side of the moon and decided to investigate. This story kept the telescopes focused on the moon and far away from his traveling craft, and the actual place his treasures had been found.

The second load arrived ten days later. All three television crews again were invited to the landing and arrived early to watch Michael and Suzi glide onto the hot runway.

Joe Downs asked Ryan how much each load weighed, how much had actually been mined, and how it had been done so quickly.

Ryan explained that he had robotic spiders that worked through a transmitting computer program from inside the unmanned spacecraft. He told live television that they swept up all loose rocks with a system about the size of a large house vacuum cleaner. The debris moved up on internal conveyor belts and ejected into the silver canisters being held by other robots. They had literally swept the area clean of lose rock.

He told the crews that his robots had picked up about thirty tons of rock which were taken to a holding site on the other side of the moon. He had an unmanned robotic spacecraft which entered earth’s orbit and transferred about three to four tons of treasure into the shuttle’s hold so that the shuttles on a test flight could reenter with the goods.

This live transmission caused the futures price of platinum to immediately drop by 17 percent, rhodium by 40 percent and iridium by 11 percent. Ryan understood this, and also knew that the markets would rebound because the government would want to halt future deliveries which would weaken the market even more.

The president and his men were now working on a plan to control this influx into the markets. The world knew that thirty tons was about to arrive, but nobody knew about the diamonds yet. Any large quantity of diamonds could devalue the world’s diamond market and destroy companies, not that Ryan worried much about De Beers or other diamond dealers. But, even Ryan did not yet know that 70 percent of his crew’s second journey to DX2014 would be pure white diamonds, of a hardness and quality rarely seen in earth diamonds.

For the second time, the MMA analyzed each rock from the second cargo and arrived at a lesser value of $143 million due to the devalued metal prices. His scientists had accurately predicted that after a few days in the sun and wind the metal lost much of its radioactivity and was safe to transport. The same federal armored vehicle arrived to transport the cargo to Las Vegas.

Now Ryan was waiting on the apron for the third shuttle to arrive. It was a typically hot, dry summer day in Nevada, and the sun glinted on the silver body of the incoming shuttle a dozen miles away. This time there was no film crew to watch its arrival. The media’s attention had shifted to a large invasion of Syria by Turkey and other more important stories—a welcome break for Ryan who was able to escape receiving the world’s attention for a time; it kept the vultures away.

He honestly believed that humans could live together peacefully. To prove this point, he wanted to leave earth with a group of men, women, and children and live in peace within the close confinement of a space ship for an extended period of time. He had discussed this theory and others with several professors around the world; many had agreed that his life’s dream could be a real test to see if many of their theories were also correct. Ryan only had a couple of mentors, and Professor Stephan Hawking was one of them. He needed to remind himself to send his mentor the promised invitation. Then his thoughts brought him back to the present.

He had watched the same shuttle,
Sierra Bravo 1 go up into space ten hours earlier loaded with eight more aluminum panels; it was flown by Michael with Kathy, who was now ready for space flight. Suzi was a passenger this time, returning to her experiments in space. She loved it in space, her unresponsive legs were no longer a hindrance to her in
Ivan, as she could float everywhere in the Beer Can, never wanting to clamp on the magnetic shoes. Her new metal lower body “legs” could be worn when necessary, but now she loved the freedom of floating.

Suzi was also a few weeks away from finding out that she was pregnant.

The shuttle, as planned, met up with incoming
Sierra Bravo II completing its second orbit; the Cloaking Devices were switched over and the shuttle used its hydrogen thrusters to blast out of orbit and towards
Ivan. The incoming shuttle completed its third orbit and then reentered over the Chinese coast.

The new space ship was growing. Michael, who had to fly as well as control the robotic spiders that were welding the panels, had been joined by one of the scientists to help him. He needed more men, but the Beer Can had only enough sleeping capacity for six. As soon as the first area of
America One was habitable, the crew up there would be increased.

Michael’s new assistant, Fritz, had just completed the spacewalk drill back in Nevada. Fritz Warner was from the European Space Authority and joined Ryan’s team with the first group of Europeans he had employed. Fritz was in Ryan’s main group of thirty-six, then a young and brilliant robotics engineer in charge of designing the robotic spiders. He had always wanted to travel into space; he was part of the mining and welding programs and now was trained in spacewalking to help Michael run the space ship’s welding operations.

The second cube was nearly done. Two more loads would complete it and get the third cube started. Included in the next load was the second of the two docking ports to be installed on the first cube, which would seal two of five open holes in the panels. The other three holes were thick sliding silicone see-through doors to be sealed inside the three projecting cylinder corridors.

The first load of oval cylinders were to be flown up in three launches; these cylinders—the walkways to the rest of the spaceship—would be welded into place around the three door holes to finally seal the cubes from outer space.

These first three oval cylinders were forty feet long, nine to ten feet high and fourteen to fifteen feet wide. After they were welded directly onto the cube’s outer walls, Michael and Fritz would fill them with sealed canisters from
Ivan and cargo from the holds of the spacecraft: large equipment, machinery, trees, plants, soil and hydroponic necessities for the first cube. Finally, the three cylinders would be sealed off from space to enable the introduction of air pressure, the necessary gases, and ceramic heaters; all necessary to keep the trees and crops alive until they were ready to move through the sliding door to the completed cube at the cylinder’s other end.

When the first cube was ready, dozens of cylinders of pure oxygen, nitrogen and the other gases needed to sustain life would be floated into the cube and opened. Then the lighting system and artificial gravity running through the center of the cube would be turned on. The power systems were already connected to the nuclear reactor’s control system which was on the cube’s outer wall. The reactor had been placed on the underside of the cube, in-between the three-foot thick aluminum landing legs.

“Boss, you have a message from
Astermine One. I think you might want to read it,” said a smiling scientist who walked up to him as the shuttle flared and touched down on the runway. He was extremely proud of the pilots flying his fleet. They were the best.

Ryan returned to the coolness of Hangar One as the tractor hitched up the Silver Bullet at the end of the runway. Everything was going according to plan.

“Just give me a minute,” asked Ryan, his eyes not yet accustomed to the inside darkness after the bright sunlight outside.

Ground control, located outside of his office in Hangar One, consisted of five rows of six computer terminals per row, each terminal manned by one person. Like any space control center, each of the terminals monitored the six most important life supports of each craft in space. Row five was empty, as
Asterspace Three was still on the ground. In front of the computers and his office, was a large screen which displayed a large map of space surrounding earth.

The farthest corners on the large screen on the wall showed Mars and Venus. There were many white lights on the 60 by 40-foot screen, mostly showing the thousand or more pieces of space junk the computers needed to steer all Ryan’s craft through. From low to middle space orbit was the worst and the computers used the hydrogen thrusters of each craft two or three times to angle the craft away from dangerous objects in their paths.

All the shuttles had the same entry and exit points into orbit, and this meant that the same paths were now followed within a three to five mile window all the way to
Ivan. Unfortunately, much of the junk was moving in varying orbits; these were the dangerous pieces.

Every few minutes red lights lit up where incoming signals were received from the two beacons now on the most forward parts of DX2014, as well as two blue lights showing the two mining craft. Ryan noticed that he could now see a tiny space between the two red lights, and an even larger space between the monitors and the blue lights of his two craft. They were already returning to earth; the mining mission must be over.

Ryan sat down in his seat, higher than the thirty computers in front of him and studied the map. One green light showed the shuttle climbing out of earth’s orbit at an altitude of 4,000 miles and at 23,000 miles an hour. An orange light showed the beacon on
Ivan far higher than the exiting shuttle. The shuttle was still moving in a lengthening orbit as it had one more orbit to go before heading directly to
Ivan, which was stationary on the screen in its geostationary orbit.

“They have left DX2014?” Ryan asked.

“Da, I gave them permission to return twenty minutes ago,” Igor the control officer replied. “A message was sent from DX2014 that the new rock they call “Diamond One” is breaking up again. Mr. Noble said that they were seconds away from being swallowed up by a new fissure opening up on the surface. Their hydrogen fuel usage has been high and they are already on the reserves we added to this flight, so I’m bringing them home.”

“Sounds good. They will reach
Ivan in what, five days?”

“Five days seven hours; fifteen days ahead of schedule,” replied the scientist. “The latest message from Mr. Nobel states, ‘Diamond One exploded, a fissure of diamonds erupted from part of the rock. Mr. Jones, flying
Astermine One, saw the diamond river on the broken rear side of rock. Diamonds blew out of the crevice like a cloud, so we opened the roof doors to catch the cloud and carefully moved through for two collection runs. We captured a good amount of the floating stones. I looked inside one cargo hold; it looks like fresh snow. We have a lot of diamonds, so we are coming home. Suggestions needed on how to clear them out of the holds. There are many loose stones, thousands in each cargo hold.’ End of Mr. Noble’s message.”

Ryan sat there silent for a second. “They have a ton of diamonds aboard each vessel?” he asked the man in the white coat.

“Plus those big ones and all those others in the canisters. I’m sure this cargo will make the first load look like chump change,” the scientist replied.

“Igor, get somebody to find me Bill Withers. He should be in Hangar Three. I need to figure out what to do with all this stuff.”

“One more thing,” the scientist stated after getting off the phone. “This Diamond One rock is going to pass pretty close to earth because of the change in direction caused by the explosion. Its new direction looks like it could pass in between earth and the moon in about five weeks.”

“Give me its coordinates; I need to get the
Astermine craft well away from it so that Hubble won’t pick them up looking in that area of space. I will pass its position to Hubble and they can start tracking it. This might be bad. Joe,” he stated to his other control team leader “could we be the reason DX2014 broke up?”

“No way, Boss, that rock is big. I don’t think two flies on a wall of a house could push it down. The report from Mr. Jones a week ago stated that smaller asteroids hitting DX2014 are probably the cause. It could have happened a month or so before we first arrived, or a million years ago. But trying to understand the minute vibrations they were detecting on the first trip, I would say that something hit that rock within the last several years, and it must have been a meteor, or asteroid from a volcano on another planet. I bet the black rock they told us about is pure carbon and some of the diamonds could be from the insides of a gigantic volcano out there somewhere. My understanding is that a diamond deposit this large must be from two massive rocks hitting each other and causing unbelievable pressure in the region of impact. Mr. Noble also stated that they saw a third crater within the second crater, which means that the impact area had been hit again by a smaller rock, maybe dislodging the surface area and allowing our team to see the diamonds. I would guess that it is a trillion to one possibility that three rocks could impact in the same place, but the team believes that the strong gravitational pull in this one area caused the third rock to hit inside the second crater. Mr. Noble told us that the gravity had decreased by 30 to 40 percent on their last landing. These circumstances lead me to believe there is no way that we could have had anything to do with this breakup.”

Bill Withers entered Ryan’s office. “Great set up in Hangars Two and Three, Ryan. How long have you been working on this project and what are all those panels for? There must be fifty to sixty outer-wall panel skins in here.”

“My answers depend on how much you want to know, Bill,” Ryan replied. “This is your first visit to Hangar One, the control of the entire mission. How much can I trust you?” Ryan added as he watched Bill look over the large screen on the wall. It looked like the one NASA would use for all its space flights, except that Ryan’s covered a thousand times more area. “I’m planning to go and live in space. Do you want to come?”

The former head of NASA’s face went white, and he looked at Ryan in shock. “How can you have set up such a large operation in so short a time?” he asked.”

“Bill, I started this mission at seventeen years old, nearly three decades ago. I have spent well over five billion dollars and twenty-four years of my life planning what I’m going to achieve in the next twelve months: build a space ship to leave earth.”

“A spaceship?”

“The panels you asked about are the outer skin of the spaceship. The hundreds of cylinders over there, nearly filling up this hanger, are corridors and living areas for our crew to survive in normal earth gravity. We will grow our own food, mine our own water and minerals, and survive for at least a generation before my ship returns to earth. I, and all the crew, will probably be dead by the time we return. Where we are going nobody knows. Even I don’t, but it will be far away from anyone who might want to follow us from earth. Maybe we never come back, find a new place to live, or perish out there. Nobody knows.”

“Well, I have lost the only job I truly loved, heading up NASA. I have never thought about living in space for longer than our missions to the ISS. My wife left me several years ago, the kids all have their own families. Apart from my dog, Shep, there isn’t much to stay here for. What can I add to your mission Ryan to be of service to your journey? I’m just an old space guy.”

“Bill, there are few on earth who know as much as you about space, our solar system, our planets, and the engineering of space. You and Shep might be the last passengers I invite on this trip. I wanted 36 travelers, and I already have 47 including me and my new pilots. Our space ship infrastructure has been designed to handle 100 humans and a dozen animals, dogs, cats, pet fish, etc. The balance of our inhabitants will be born in space.

Because our children will take our places, we must teach the new generation everything we know so they can survive, as well as return to earth one day. Every piece of information we have stored in our collective human memory has already been assembled in several formats and will be our library of knowledge. Even with this knowledge, we still need teachers to instruct our crew, and then our young on the practical means of survival, not just the theory; your knowledge will be a valuable tool to make sure that everything you have learned in your 60 years is passed on, generation to generation.”

“How will you keep the number of people aboard to 100?” asked Bill.

“Easy, fifty plus passengers, aged 13 to 71, will leave with me, and fifty babies will be born at some time. After we reach a total of 100 passengers, we rely on proven birth control techniques so that we wait for one person to die before we allow a new baby to be conceived. When I die, a new baby will be born to replace me. We wouldn’t suffer many problems on earth if we controlled the population explosion around the world a little better. I’m sure my way of thinking doesn’t make many conservatives happy, but I believe that humans are far cleverer than we make them out to be, and we can change to suit any new necessary patterns of survival. If we ever find a new place to live, outside the panels of the spaceship, then we will do what we do best: populate them!”

“If Shep can come with me, then I’m willing to sign up and scrub the decks,” replied Bill.

“Shep is welcome as long as your dog enjoys rabbit or chicken. There will not be dog food, beef or pork on board. Three other dogs are already on the manifest and they will have to live with the two cats and one Guinea Pig already booked.”

“Shep can handle that; so can I for that matter.”

“Good. Now I have a problem. I have loose cargo in the holds of my mining craft. How can I get the cargo, hundreds of rocks, collected so that I can transfer them into the shuttles bound for earth.

Chapter 7

Back to Earth

It was good to rest. The last two days of non-stop work had exhausted VIN. It wasn’t easy getting a full space suit on in cramped conditions; he hadn’t actually taken off his lower suit for four days now; and, for the first time the bath-bag didn’t sound so bad.

VIN was out of his suit and fully in control of
Astermine One. After he set the spacecraft on auto-pilot and on a computer-controlled flight to
Ivan five days ahead, he had helped Jonesy into his space suit. Jonesy exited the docking port on the 300-foot cord; he had set the automatic release in the port so that on instruction VIN could release the cord from inside the cockpit.

Maggie had maneuvered
Astermine Two close behind and as Jonesy floated away from the craft Maggie hovered nearby allowing him to slowly get closer to her docking port. When he grabbed on, Maggie checked the two-hatch system and then opened the outer hatch. Jonesy slipped inside, VIN released the cord, and Jonesy pulled it in and closed the outer hatch. Now he and Maggie had five days to enjoy space travel in private.

VIN had a quarter bottle of vodka to enjoy, two bags of jerky and a packet of cookies transferred while on DX2014. He also didn’t need to hear Jonesy’s music; life in space wasn’t that much different from life with Jonesy on the road.

An incoming message woke him several hours later. It was from Ryan giving VIN instructions on what he and Bill Withers had discussed after looking at the spacecraft blueprints.

First, they had decided that there was no rush to return to the remains of the asteroid, and since part of it was going to miss earth by about 100,000 miles, they might as well wait for the rock to be as close as possible for the next mission. Ryan also said that if they indeed had the quality and quantity of pure diamonds they reported, there wasn’t much need to return. There could be enough money to finish the whole
America One mission and pay the remaining $1 billion fuel bill to get all the equipment into space.

Both men also decided that the only way to collect the loose stones was through the smaller side cargo area and their side doors one compartment at a time. In each cargo hold was a nylon canister cover. It was much like a very strong mosquito net which covered the ten canisters in each cargo bay once they were individually secured.
Asterspace Three was heading into space in ten days with more of these nets. Ryan had organized a team to make six more of these nets which were just big enough to fit around a side cargo bay door, eight feet long and three feet wide. Since each bay was separate and could be pumped full of air, the plan was to seal the net to the side of the craft, and pump air from the cockpit into the cargo bay area. The rush of air through the bay and out the side door into a vacuum would carry all the stones with it. The net would capture the escaping stones, the net would be closed with a drawstring capturing the stones in a bag, and the bag removed from the side of the craft and placed into a shuttle hold.

VIN thought the plan was both simple and excellent. He agreed it would work well and would take only one spacewalk to empty each of the craft. He recommended to Ryan that
Astermine One be done first as it had ten of the seventeen canisters filled with a variety of rocks, including many of the larger diamonds; the bags of stones could be tied down under the shuttle’s nets. He estimated that the entire load out of
Astermine One would be less than four tons.

VIN smiled thinking how each situation was thought out by the team. It also meant that he had little to do for the next four days, so he checked his Surface to see which movies needed his attention while U2 played loudly through the cockpit’s loudspeakers.

He did not hear from Jonesy for two of the four days. Both craft were heading towards
Ivan at 28,000 miles an hour, the computers had them locked in formation, and the thrusters began to slow them down at the correct distance from
Ivan.

“Are your thrusters doing what they are supposed to, partner?”
Jonesy’s voice broke through the “Apocalypse Now” movie he was watching for the second time this trip.

“Yep,” VIN responded. “Are you coming over? Is your hibernation over? It was pretty short for an American grizzly bear, especially an old one like you.”

“Mind your manners, kid. Remember to have respect for your elders,”
Jonesy responded.
“You can fly that diamond bucket as well as I can. Why don’t you take her in? She will be on auto pilot the whole way if you think you can’t handle her. Remember, I’ve seen your driving; much to be desired sometimes.”

After several insulting, but friendly comments to each other, VIN agreed to be his ship’s captain. After all, it wasn’t like flying, more like directing five computers.

VIN had completed more than fifty hours on spacecraft flight in the simulator in Hangar One. He certainly wouldn’t be as good as Jonesy or Maggie landing the craft, but in three dimensional spaceflight, anybody with the help of five computers could keep
Astermine One straight and level, unless something happened.

The computers continued to fly both craft only a mile apart. The occupants, a little tired of being cooped up discussed how they would spend the first few days swimming in beautiful clear swimming pool water, and have the sun actually shine hot on their white bodies. It was surprising how much a human could get to miss the pleasures of earth in less than a month.

Jonesy even admitted that he was really looking forward to the next run, and even a chocolate milkshake, which made VIN think that the liquor cabinet in
Astermine Two had been dry for some time.

Space travel was getting easier for the pilots. Every piece of data from all of Ryan’s spacecraft was being relayed back to the computers in Hangar One; the information enabled the flights to become faster and more direct.

The two craft saw
Ivan come into sight three hours before they were due to arrive. Six hours out, the Cloaking Devices were activated as a precaution and the whereabouts of the two craft were seen only on Ryan’s large screen.

It would be five more days before the next shuttle would arrive with the nets. VIN spoke to Suzi fifty miles out. Suzi was helping unload the panels from the shuttle which had arrived twenty-four hours earlier. Suzi had been a passenger aboard and, two hours later as they slowed and then floated in formation next to
Ivan, she waved; she was helping Michael fit the second docking port onto Cube One.

The second large cube was one side away from completion. They looked like two silver warehouses joined together.

“Suzi, I’m exhausted. I think you need to float over here, give me a kiss, and dock
Astermine One. I don’t think I’m able to do it without a kiss,” said VIN over the intercom while waving at Suzi a few hundred feet away.

“VIN, get ready to catch me! I will jetpack over to dock your ship for you,”
she replied. She pushed away from Michael on the side of the cube and she moved quickly, her strong new legs propelling her away from the silver panels fast. Within seconds she was telling VIN to open the outer hatch. VIN realized that they all were slowly becoming attuned to living in space.

“A good jump, Suzi,”
commented Maggie, watching her reach the other ship.

“Ja, I’m getting good at this floating stuff, Fraulein Maggie. Now, lover boy, open up the hatch, I want to come in.”

“You won’t get much done dressed like that, Superfraűlein,”
added Jonesy.

“You stick to your woman, Herr Jones; I will stick to my man. I’m sure he doesn’t care what I’m wearing,”
returned Suzi slipping feet first into the docking port.

Two hours later both mining craft were docked on
Ivan with the shuttle in-between them. Out of their suites and all but one wearing magnetic shoes, the returning crew hugged, glad to see each other. Michael and Fritz, who had returned from working the spiders, were also happy to see everybody and told the crew that it would take two more days of work to get the fifth needed docking bay, the second on Cube One, operational. He told them that
Asterspace Three was arriving with the next flight, so they needed five docking ports to park their vehicles. Outer space was on the verge of a traffic jam.

VIN and Suzi were happy to find that there were three jars of caviar left. Other than that, their secret supplies were gone.

****

Ryan was studying the new rock Diamond One, which was now well away from the rest of the forward remains of DX2014. The beacon, if it was still on the rock had changed direction by a tenth of a degree and was several miles away from the other beacon which, hopefully, was still on the front piece which remained close to its original course and holding its 3,000 mile an hour forward speed.

“Hi Bud, Ryan here,” he stated after calling his friend at Hubble on his cell phone.

“Hey! Ryan, we have new directives not to talk to members of the public anymore. I don’t know if they can follow our conversation on our cell phones, but Skype me, it’s safer.”

Ryan agreed stating that it was quite possible and hung up. He moved to his computer and Skyped his friend.

“Much better,” stated his contact. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything. I want to let you know about the breakup of DX2014. I’ve been told by reliable sources that it has broken into three or four large pieces and one piece, about the size of the Empire State Building, is heading our way.” Ryan gave him the latest coordinates and his friend told him that he would get back to him.

Three hours later Bud confirmed that his next scheduled time on the telescope was in twelve hours; it had been moved up due to his urgent request to study the possibility of a new meteor coming close to earth.

It took his friend at Hubble twenty-four hours to get back to Ryan.

“First question Ryan, you told me that this is the second, rear part of DX2014. Is that correct?”

“Yes, the middle section of DX2014.”

“I have alerted the asteroid search stations around the world. Your piece of rock is about three times the size of 2013DA14. 2013DA14 is a newly discovered 150-foot-wide asteroid astronomers at the LaSagra Observatory in Spain found a year or so ago. This new asteroid came pretty close to the Earth a few weeks ago. It passed within 67,000 miles of our atmosphere. We were told by NASA not to make a public statement and very few astronomers knew enough to go public. I think that was the reason Bill Withers was removed. He wanted to tell the U.S. population, but the government acted faster and let him go to shut him up. There was only a 0.021 percent chance that 2013DX14 would have hit earth, but there is higher probability on its next pass in six years. Your piece of rock is three times the size of 2013DX14. If 2013DX14 hits earth on its next flyby, it would hit with the force of approximately, a 2.4 megaton explosion. This force is similar to the mysterious Tunguska event of 1908 which leveled hundreds of square miles of Siberian forest. Your rock looks pretty fissured and could break up and disappear during entry, or at worst it could hit with the force of a 3 to 4 megaton explosion. In other words, it could take out half of Australia if it hit anywhere on that continent. For your information Ryan, your new piece of rock has been given a complete trajectory analysis by our computers here at the observatory.”

“Do I need to hurry up my mission?” Ryan asked.

“Not yet,” replied his friend. “The good news is that it has a slight chance of hitting earth in two months’ time. Your new rock, now named DX2014B is speeding up; we believe it is being pulled in by our own moon. When it does pass by the moon in six weeks, its speed will increase to a velocity of 7,000 miles an hour faster than earth’s movement through space. This is a very, very slow rock compared to 2013DX14, many times slower. It looks like it will bypass earth inside the 60,000-mile orbit of geosynchronous satellites, or the ring plane we call this area around earth. That means that it could take out geostationary and even military and GPS satellites operating as low as 12,000 mile altitudes. That is the problem.”

“It could swing into an orbit close to earth?” Ryan suggested.

“Correct. Our calculations show that after its first pass, it will go into a two-year orbit, or less, around our planet and on each pass it will be pulled closer to earth. Now, if we return to 2013DX14’s pass in 2020, this asteroid has a 79.997 percent chance of hitting earth on February 15th
2020. Your rock already has an 87.779 percent change of hitting earth on February 24th, 2020. This could be a double whammy.”

“So in two months’ time, this rock could pass through the ring plane and hit any satellite in its path?” asked Ryan.

“Correct, or hit the moon directly. Plus there is always debris around a breakup. You said this one has a magnetic pull around it, so hopefully any close rocks have already been pulled back to it. There are three more dangerous pieces we recorded around it, all about seven to twenty miles away from the center piece and we will keep an eye on this group from an observatory in Spain.”

For the next several hours, Ryan met with his inner team about the possible ways to speed up completing the flights to
Ivan. He and his team needed to get new ideas thought out on getting his necessary cargos off earth as fast as possible, and it looked like asteroid mining was over for at least six weeks. Why go all the way out to the diamond mine when it was coming to them?

Over the next day he spoke to his mining crew and decided that he needed to get his duty-free treasures into earth’s atmosphere and out of the country.

He still had several hundred pounds of native platinum in supply and he asked his Earth-Exit friend, Martin Brusk, for the loan of his jet for the transfer of the platinum to Amsterdam in the Netherlands. Amsterdam also had the best diamond cutters and they could be interested in the incoming fancy stones, if they were real diamonds.

Forty-eight hours later, the Earth-Exit jet arrived, the same Gulfstream V, this time with only three crew members on board. He gave the chief pilot a small, fifty-pound wooden crate to give Martin for the loan of the aircraft. Ryan’s men loaded another twenty small wooden crates aboard, each weighing 50 pounds, and placed them evenly along the floor of the Gulfstream. Two of Ryan’s scientists, one of the older Russian employees and a European scientist boarded the jet to travel with the load to Amsterdam.

Heavier than when the jet arrived, it took off bound for Bermuda, where it would be refueled for its flight into Amsterdam, and throw anybody watching off the scent.

Ryan waited and seven hours later, his cell phone rang. It was his second “best friend,” Tom Ward.

“Ryan, Tom Ward, Central Intelligence Agency. We noticed that an aircraft left your airfield and has just landed in Bermuda. Can you enlighten us as to its flight schedule?”

“Of course, Tom. If you can keep this to yourself, I will let you know about a special surprise Astermine has for the White House.”

“I’m all ears, Ryan.”

“We had a large diamond arrive in the last consignment.”

“Diamonds! I thought you guys were mining the platinum metals?” Ward responded.

“Yes, but you never know what your robots will find up there. Our computers have recorded that an MMA in our unmanned craft showed pure carbon and what we think a volcanic diamond passing through the detection system up there. It is about one quarter the size of Cullinan I, or you might know it as ‘The Star of Africa’. It is on the British Royal Scepter.”

Tom Ward acknowledged that he knew about the diamond.

“I thought this diamond would be a great gift to the White House. The first diamond ever found in space. So I’ve sent one of my team to check out the companies in Amsterdam who could cut and polish it.”

“Why would you want to donate a diamond to the White House?” Tom Ward asked.

“Donation, Tom, first word; second word, taxes. Ready for the first phrase Tom? Something of real value for future American history, and for the American people. The first ever space diamond.”

The call ended.

“Well that got our 1,000 pounds of platinum, or $20 million out of the country for one more launch,” Ryan reported to his team. “I’m glad we didn’t allow all our imports to be checked by the government agents. They still owe me $130 million and they don’t seem very interested in paying at the moment. Plus, I think we may get an actual visit from Air Force One pretty soon.

****

Kathy Pringle and Allen Saunders flew the next shuttle into low orbit three days later, Allen on his maiden space flight. He was totally shocked by how precisely and accurately these small shuttles flew into space.

After completing two orbits they met up with the incoming shuttle, the Cloaking Device was switched on, and they flew upwards towards
Ivan’s orbit.

Kathy was pretty sad leaving ground that morning. Ryan had invited her to have dinner in his bungalow two nights earlier. Over a gorgeous meal of Wahoo steaks and champagne, something had awakened inside both of them. The loneliness of their past decades boiled up inside them, and Kathy didn’t leave the bungalow for thirty-six hours; nor did Ryan, for the first time since the airfield started operations. It made many scientists nervous as they waited for the boss to arrive and give orders for the day.

A relaxed and smiling Ryan entered Hangar One late the second afternoon and sat in a dream world while everybody worked around him.

He was also sad as he watched the C-5 takeoff with the new interest in his life, the co-pilot of the shuttle inside her cargo bay.

Seventy two hours after he watched the takeoff, the shuttle reached
Ivan; an hour earlier his man arrived back in the Gulfstream from Amsterdam.

****

Astermine Three was connected to the new docking bay on the cube. Over the last several weeks, the new space station had moved slightly, pulling
Ivan several feet away from the exact orbit behind the communications satellite; it had to return to its original position and the new spacecraft’s thrusters and extra fuel did just that.

Michael, VIN, Suzi and Fritz had worked as a team for the last three days, completing the cube’s docking port.
Ivan could now be attached to the second newly operational docking port once the shuttle returning to earth freed up
Ivan’s center port. From then on both stations were to be connected permanently and soon access to a far larger livable hole in space would be available to everyone.

Bill Wither’s idea worked. The third cargo bay on
Astermine One was opened, air filled the cargo bay from the shuttle’s air reserves, and the large floating net was filled with hundreds of diamonds. The second cargo bay had even more diamonds, and three more nets were filled collecting the diamonds from the third hold.

Afterwards, the twelve canisters with cargo in
Astermine One were moved into
Sierra Bravo I’s hold and three of the four nets were placed inside to keep within the four-ton reentry load limit. The second Silver Bullet,
Sierra Bravo II, would return to earth three days later. Hiding with its Cloaking Device, it would carry the cargo from
Astermine Two.

There were still sixteen of the full aluminum canisters tied around the cube from the first mining venture to DX2014, and would return with the first upcoming shuttle; Ryan wanted all the treasure down before the Senate voted on taxing his imports.

Chapter 8

Diamonds by the thousands

Ryan was anxious to get as much cargo as possible safely down on his airfield before the Senate decided on the bill to tax imports of space metals. The bill passed by Congress was the “Space Precious Cargos Bill.”

His first shuttle entered as usual, from the west and during the early afternoon. This one had a few of the large diamonds in the one canister VIN had found on the asteroid before the breakup.

The sunny afternoon, hot and dry, enveloped the astronauts as they were helped out of the side of the cockpit.

Jonesy was the weakest. This trip, with far less gravity, had sapped his strength. Having spent most of his time in low gravity, he needed help to walk towards the operations center. Maggie was in a slightly better shape and, VIN using his metal legs, seemed the fittest of the three.

Three hours later they held a briefing in Hangar One.

“It seems that your rock, Ms. Sinclair, the one you call Diamond One is going to come pretty close to earth in about eight weeks,” said Ryan.

“I hope we had nothing to do with its breakup,” Maggie replied looking pale and thin.

Ryan explained that there was absolutely nothing they could have done to cause the asteroid to break apart. He and his chief scientists had discussed the facts, and he explained to his crew much of what they already knew. ”I have the scientists going through the diamonds while we speak. I need to somehow buy some more time, so I have decided to give the president a diamond, the first one to ever come out of space. I’m renting a jet out of San Diego to take the diamonds to Europe to get them graded and valued. One of the diamonds will be given to the U.S. government as a gift; the first ever diamond mined in space.”

“The first one VIN found was one of the prettiest,” suggested Maggie.

“No, that soccer ball-sized one, the third one I think, was the clearest and had more fire than all the others I found,” asserted VIN.

“That size stone must be at least 1,000 carats,” Ryan suggested.

As he said that several scientists knocked and entered with what they thought was the best of the returned cargo.

“The extremely large one, the one Mr. Noble must have found just before the breakup, is not in this load. I’m sure it will be on the next flight. Mr. Richmond, this one we believe is the right one to give to Washington; the largest and best one of the two dozen tennis ball size diamonds. It is unbelievably clear and looks flawless. I don’t even think a master cutter could find a place to cut it.”

“How many carats do you estimate it has?” Ryan asked.

“The Cullinan I, the Star of Africa is colorless, much like this one,” the European scientists explained in the same accent Suzi had, German. “The Star of Africa has a pear-shaped cut and, weighing 530.20 carats, it is the largest of the Cullinan diamonds. I believe this one is between 600 to 650 carats. If this brilliant stone doesn’t need to been cut in parts, just polished, I believe that it is the diamond you are looking for.”

“Good. The jet is arriving in an hour; keep this diamond separate. I want every other diamond put into the crates, and I want them at the cutters in Holland before the government wants to see what we brought back to earth. Also, crate up all of the rhodium or platinum rocks we have in storage. I want this airfield clear of treasure. I want everything on this flight and out of here.”

“Are all these diamonds going to be cut and polished?” asked Maggie.

“Yes, this company in Holland has several experts ready to receive our stones and, hopefully, we will have a diamond to present to the president within a month. Why?”

“I have this little one here I fell in love with, and I’m hoping Mr. Jones here might want to offer it to me one day.” She pulled the small, pure white rough diamond out of her pocket and put it on the table.

Ryan smiled. “Ms. Sinclair, since you all did risk your lives to return with more bounty than I could ever wish for, I’m sure that I can arrange that for you.”

“Great,” added VIN. “I just happen to have this one that found its way into my pocket,” he added, taking out a small diamond about the same size as Maggie’s. It was the second one I caught in space with my hand, and I would like it polished and made into a ring for Suzi.”

“I should get out more, instead of being the pilot the whole time,” remarked Jonesy. “I’m the only guy here with pockets empty of treasure. Side-gunner position seems a lot more lucrative business than pilot these days.”

“It seems that diamond rings are the order of the day,” added Ryan. I think I will get a few made into rings. It looks like we all might need them.” Ryan handed over the two stones to be packed separately for travel. Also, his crew didn’t know about his own new relationship. “To get back to business, it has taken our whole team of 100 personnel, here in Hangars One and Two, three hours to photograph and pack each diamond just from this load alone; each of the 987 stones is packed in a separate pouch. We still have more to come in two days when Ms. Pringle and Mr. Saunders return to earth.” Maggie and Jonesy looked at Ryan inquisitively.

“Mr. Noble, we are enacting your plan. Beginning next week, and once we are ready to show the world a small part of our diamonds, I will make public that we now have our second shuttle on test flights. Our Silver Bullet III is still four weeks away from its maiden flight. I have also decided to arm it with the first laser gun.”

“May I assume that
SB-III will be able to fire at any unwanted here in Nevada at the airfield, once she in orbit?” asked Jonesy. “I want to be around when you burn a hole in Bishop’s little white jet.”

“Yes, it means that we can defend ourselves. I would hate to ever use them apart from the initial job the lasers are meant for, to burn into rock to make caverns for future underground bases. Our main thoughts on permanent space habitation are they will be underground. My original idea was to use lasers as a mining instrument to burn deep into a planet, or asteroid, up to several miles deep; if we begin an entrance our mining spiders can burrow out a new underground home. Our team is manufacturing three more, smaller laser units that can be placed onto our mining spiders so that they can go into an asteroid, or a planet, and build us a new home, like an ant or an underground insect here on earth. I think it would also be wise to have them ready to defend ourselves from any attack. I wish I would have built my base outside the United States. I just didn’t think far enough ahead.”

“So, the lasers are purely for homebuilding?” asked VIN.

“Correct, Mr. Noble. I’m sure you have figured out by now that I am not a violent person. I never have been.” The crew nodded.

The rental jet arrived on time; a slightly smaller Gulfstream IV, it could reach Bermuda and then Amsterdam. A dozen crates of diamonds were loaded aboard with the same amount of noble metals bound for other customers. Jamie Watkins, Allen’s girlfriend, and Bob Mathews were going to fly the jet with two scientists and three security guards. The white jet left for the east, without Jamie seeing that her deceased friend was still alive, and had returned from space. It wasn’t three hours before Tom Ward phoned again.

“May we assume that your gift for the White House is aboard the aircraft which has just left U.S. airspace?”

“Good evening, Mr. Ward. You are correct. The first space diamond is on its way to Amsterdam to be cut and polished. Once it reaches there, they will take a photograph of it and send it to the White House for viewing. I will invite the president, you, any personnel the president wishes to bring, and the media, to show the world what we brought back. As I stated, I would like to donate the first diamond from space to the United States of America, and there will be a smaller gift for the president to present to his wife.”

“It sounds like a lot of hooey, but the president seemed to smile at the idea,” replied the CIA man.

“Also, Astermine is increasing its fleet and our test flights in orbit, beginning next week,” continued Ryan. “Our new shuttle is ready for tests and will be joining our current one on orbital flight tests. Once it is ready to return with cargo, it will help return future loads of mined rock.”

“I’m sure the Senate is about to pass our bill, so you had better hurry up, Mr. Richmond; we will slap your current spoils with new import duties. Giving a gift to the country is certainly not going to help you pay your importation taxes. And I will be asking the IRS to carefully examine your Federal Tax Return next year.”

The temperature was well over a hundred as the three astronauts blissfully relaxed by the pool in the heat; the swimming pool was quiet and empty except for the three pilots. They pasted on SPF 30 and lay on loungers underneath grass-thatched shade roofs, enjoying an unlimited supply of drinks and food; the three felt as pampered as at any five-star Las Vegas hotel. They had two days off before their next briefing.

On their second morning home, VIN wanted to take his car for a spin. Ryan agreed that his needed a good run as well and suggested they go to Las Vegas and have lunch. With Suzi still up in space, there wasn’t much VIN really wanted to do, and he knew that he would see her again in two to three days. Suzi was planning to bring VIN up to help Michael Pitt work with the panels in space. Michael had helped VIN net the diamonds, and Suzi and Michael were working to fill the second shuttle’s cargo bay for Kathy Pringle and Allen Saunders to secretly return to earth.

Jonesy and Maggie would be the next shift to fly more panels into space. Penny Sullivan also stayed in Ivan, happy to float around with Michael during his down time. She would return soon, once the more senior crews were needed to fly three shuttles.

VIN noticed that his car had been cleaned and looked spotless. Ryan drove out with the second Audi right behind him. They headed south and towards the city. When they passed the lone police car, both men waved and the same policeman waved back, thinking he was seeing double.

Over lunch of a massive T-bone steak for VIN and a chicken Caesar salad for Ryan on the outside terrace of the Mandalay Bay, the news broke.

“Astermine Inc. the company owned by Ryan Richmond, who is currently moon mining in space, has returned to earth with a bag full of diamonds,”
stated the news reporter on the big screen television behind the bar. Conversation around them went silent as the several diners around them turned to look at the closest television screen.

A picture of Ryan’s large tennis ball size diamond, now in Amsterdam, showed up on the screen, and there were gasps from the diners around them as a man in a white coat picked it up. The beautiful diamond was larger than the fist he made while holding the stone in his other hand.

“This new diamond is bigger than the largest diamond on earth, and is to be donated to the White House as the first ever diamond mined in space.

There was still silence around Ryan and VIN.

“A federal government spokesman stated that Ryan Richmond, the space travelling billionaire who owns Astermine Inc., is giving the diamond to the people of the United States of America. The appraisal company in the Netherlands where the diamond is being polished for the ceremony to give the diamond to the U.S. president said that it is the best, most pure D-color flawless diamond they have ever seen in their 300-year cutting history. Much like the biggest diamond in the world, The Star of Africa atop the Queen of England’s official scepter, this stone will be cut and polished. The Star of Africa is about 550 carats and worth nearly half a billion dollars. This new diamond is 699 carats, and could be worth as much as one billion dollars. Certainly a nice gift for our country….Gold rose today….”

“A nice piece of propaganda,” said Ryan.

“I’m glad your face didn’t end up on television,” added VIN. “We would have been mobbed.”

“Imagine if the public saw the real big one you say is in the next load?” smiled Ryan, enjoying his chicken salad. “I don’t think anybody would believe it.”

“What are you going to do with the really large ones?” VIN asked.

“I don’t know. I think I might keep them as a savings account. I’m sure any larger diamonds than the Cullinan Diamonds are far too big to sell, and it seems that we already have more money than we will ever need. If one diamond is worth nearly one billion, then this whole cargo could be worth well over a hundred times that. All I want right now is to get the next two shuttles home before the Senate passes the new Bill. I was told late last night that there was a lot of pressure from members in Washington to get the Senate to speed its passage, and I had a week at the most. Bill Withers suggested that the government wanted my duties to finance NASA to do exactly what we are doing, mining treasure, but on a much larger scale.”

“So you don’t think they are taking you over?” asked VIN.

“They will certainly arrive at the airfield one day and declare it government property. They already tried it once, and since our story went global, they had to back off for the time being. It cost me a billion just to get five minutes of news footage and peace for the next month. A billion dollar gift for the government is pocket change. They will have forgotten about the value of the gift within an hour of receiving it. Once the Senate passes this import bill, we won’t have much time after that. They will want to close us down to make sure we don’t bring down the precious metals’ values of their own mining expeditions.”

“How can they just take you over? What right do they have? Have you actually broken any laws?” VIN asked.

“I have studied all the laws related to what we are doing. No I haven’t broken one important law yet. Strangely enough there are very few laws pertaining to private companies flying into space, exporting precious metals overseas, or even transferring plutonium out the country. They certainly didn’t mind me sending the crap they gave me out into space. Up to the last president, the government was actually fully behind private space advancement. Unfortunately, our new leader needs to decrease the national debt, and taking over successful private companies is the only way he believes he can achieve that before his reelection bid in three years. All this turmoil is because the president, during his election speeches, promised to end all spending to get the country in a better position during his first four-year term. During the election he said anything the people wanted to hear to win their votes.”

“What about ending the tax cuts?” VIN asked.

“He has ended all the tax cuts he can. There is now a 50 percent deduction on home mortgage interest, not 100 percent, which is the hardest new law he has implemented so far for the middle class. All of his cuts will hurt those earning under $250,000 a year. Yes, he increased investment tax from 14 percent to 18 percent, but a poor family paying off a mortgage will be hurt far more than a 4 percent tax increase on the investments of the wealthiest. Unbeknown to the U.S. population, he has called in government loans on several companies, and has taken over those businesses and thrown out the owners. Now he wants NASA to go out and mine what we have, unlimited supplies of precious metals and jewels and has given Hal McNeely, the new Administrator of NASA, twelve months to do it.”

“You have their best scientists?” VIN asked, as a large piece of strawberry cheesecake was put in front of him. He had lost ten pounds over the last couple of weeks and was hungry to eat all the favorites he had dreamed about in space.

“Only for another month or so. We are already winding down several parts of our operation. A couple of the NASA scientists worked in the computer labs, and on the shuttle and spacecraft production projects. Once
Sierra Bravo III is airborne these two departments are complete. I will allow those men to return to NASA, with a small gift to keep their mouths shut to give us time to transfer our product into space.”

“We are going to increase our flights though, aren’t we?” asked VIN.

“Yes, as of next week I need another sixty-nine launches into space. As the hangars become redundant, those departments will be broken up; the machinery trucked away out of the airfield, and sold and delivered to other companies around the country. Once we get to a flight every three days, our fastest turnaround window, we could be up in space by early next year.”

“Asterspace Three can’t work that fast, can it?” asked VIN.

“No, but two or three spacecraft working with the three shuttles can. Your mining missions are on hold for now. There is no reason to gather more treasure if the government is going to take all the profits in taxes. As usual they are making sure that the metal prices are not reduced by our mining successes before they get in the act. If we get all our current cargo back to earth before this new importation tax is imposed, they can’t backdate it. All they can do is send the Bill to the president for his signature. Then our mining days are over.”

Luckily, nobody in the restaurant recognized Ryan having lunch. A predator drone in the sky, controlled from Creech, had noticed the two Audis leave the airfield, and somebody at the CIA monitored and recorded the journey.

Three hours later they returned to the first gate of the airfield. Both cars had to wait for a large enclosed tractor-trailer to be allowed into the gate in front of them, and then the silver cars headed to their respective parking bays. The meal had been superb and VIN was happy that there were no more visits to DX2014, or its remains for the near future.

VIN noticed that the tractor trailer was going into empty Hangar Seven, where the three spacecraft had been built. The door closed behind the truck.

The next day, the second shuttle came in as usual from the west. Several seconds later the white Gulfstream arrived from Amsterdam, flown in by Jamie Watkins and Bob Mathews. The jet had turned onto finals a second after the much faster shuttle with its Cloaking Device still on, screamed by two miles out from the runway. An hour later, Ryan’s phone rang.

“Mr. Richmond, Hal McNealy here, new Administrator of NASA. We saw some sort of shadow arrival at your airfield just now. Can you tell me what it was?”

“Not really Mr. McNealy. I don’t see what aircraft landing at my field have anything to do with you, or NASA, and I would appreciate it if you stayed away from looking at my field. You are infringing on my privacy and beginning to get on my nerves.”

“I suggest you be very careful of what you say, Mr. Richmond. As Administrator of NASA, I can cause you much unpleasantness.”

“Mr. McNealy, even the president doesn’t have the right to interfere with my business. I don’t see how the Administrator of NASA has anything to do with civilian jets flying into my airfield. If you wish, I will get Bill Withers, your ex-boss on the phone to tell you what you can and can’t do. You seem to be thinking above your station. And, for your information, it was a Gulfstream jet which came in, the one returning from Amsterdam. You should try to keep up with daily news.”

This time Ryan broke off the connection and phoned the president himself. As usual he was politely asked not to call, the president was a busy man, there was a war in the Middle East, and he would not entertain complaints against his personnel.

Ryan then called his senator friend. He was told that the Senate would be voting on the new bill by the end of the week, and there was no way he could delay it. The senator did have a couple of friends who could take a day off, maybe on Friday when the vote was to take place, and that could delay it until Monday. Ryan asked his senator friend to take his friends fishing or something. He desperately needed the extra seventy-two hours.

Chapter 9

The Last of the Treasure.

Six hours later the next flight briefing was scheduled. Ryan’s ground control had already sent a message to
Ivan to get all remaining treasure into
Asterspace Three and ready it to meet
Sierra Bravo
I, scheduled to go into orbit in eighteen hours. It was Wednesday evening, and he had less than five days to land the rest of the cargo from DX2014 on terra firma, without having the possible import taxes come into force the next Tuesday, the earliest the president could sign the Bill into law. Ryan still needed U.S. dollars for gas money, but doubted that he would see another penny from the U.S. government.

Within hours of the shuttle landing, he had long tables set up with all available scientists going over the newly arrived cargo.

Jonesy and Maggie, now rested, together with VIN as passenger, went to Hangar One. The ground turnaround time was now two days shorter than the old five-day schedule and Ryan hoped that the number crunchers weren’t checking his timetable of launches. Also, Hangar Six was again full of shuttles with all three hogging the interior space.

To most people around the world the last launches by
Astermine hadn’t even been worth mentioning as news; they were only interested in reports of returning treasure.

Walking across to Hanger One for the flight briefing, VIN noticed truck upon truck of solid rocket fuel heading through the second gate and towards the covered depot where Ryan stored the pallets of black fuel. The trucks were entering the large underground bunker between the apron and the runway. Nobody had missed the cement trucks heading into the new bunker a couple of months ago during the morning runs. It was right behind Hangar Six where the shuttles were refueled. An underground hoist system moved the solid fuel from storage to the shuttles, which allowed the short refueling window.

Five of the seven shuttle pilots were there. Jonesy and Maggie were the last to walk in with VIN. Ryan, Kathy, Jamie, and Allen Saunders were waiting for the meeting to start. Ryan had forgotten that Jamie was one of Maggie’s best friends, and still thought her dead.

Jamie had screamed when Jonesy walked in holding Maggie’s hand. She put her hand to her mouth and ran up to hug her friend, Jonesy quickly getting out of the mad girl’s way. Both new pilots were extremely happy to see Maggie alive. Allen had been told about the ploy by Kathy on their last flight, but Jamie was not so informed, and had just returned from Europe.

Both Kathy and Allen raved about their flight and how the shuttles flew so well up and down. Allen stated that the reentry was a blast, and he could do one every day for the rest of his life.

“I have leased the Gulfstream and a long-range Boeing 737-400 for the next week from a company in California. Allen, the cargo you brought back yesterday is to be flown by you, and Bob Mathews as co-pilot, in the Gulfstream into Amsterdam and Tel Aviv, via Bermuda on Sunday morning after our maiden flight. Kathy, you and Jamie will fly the 737 to Bermuda, Amsterdam and then Istanbul. Bermuda and then Amsterdam are our refueling points for all flights in and out of Europe.

Since Astermine is still free to do what we want with the metals and diamonds, I’ve set up European and Russian contacts to sell our treasure to them for a faster payment than I will get from our government. Our U.S. government still owes me 170 million dollars, and they are hedging about transferring the funds. Some holdup from Capitol Hill I’m continuously told, and they are expecting me to happily call them to let them know that our most recent flight has four more tons of goodies for them to come and collect. I am not breaking any U.S. or international laws by exporting U.S. product out of the United States, so we are flying one more cargo of stones into Amsterdam, Antwerp, and Tel Aviv, moving the diamonds from your flight as well as the next incoming shuttle load. The precious metals are going to Turkey for other European customers.

Both aircraft will only need one flight. I’m anticipating that the air force will be directed to turn back our outbound flights from then on. The 737 can take the metals, over eight tons, to Turkey. Mr. Jones, Ms. Sinclair, Mr. Noble, you are going back to space to get the last full load.
Astermine One is already returning from
Ivan to low orbit with a cargo of the last two diamond nets and twenty-seven mixed canisters, a four-ton load. I believe we still have four canisters of platinum remaining at the cube for the following reentry. That amount I’m willing to entrust to our friendly government.

Mr. Jones, you will meet up with
Asterspace Three and
Astermine One.
One will be flown by Mr. Pitt and the other by Ms. Sullivan. Mr. Noble you will find that the extending cargo-lift arm you trained on in the shuttle simulator last year has finally been attached to the shuttle. With the arm, you will lift out the eight panels in one secure load and place them into
Asterspace Three’s cargo hold flown by Ms. Sullivan and Suzi. Once that is done, Michael Pitt will bring
Astermine One inverted over the top of the shuttle, and you will load the cargo for its reentry. This whole operation can only take three hours, one spacewalk schedule. Once the cargo is aboard, Mr. Jones and Ms. Sinclair, you return to earth.

Mr. Noble, you will go with Mr. Pitt and Mr. Warner to help them get the panels ready for welding for the start of the third cube. We also go into our five-day shuttle rotation beginning with the next flight. Mr. Jones, I would like Mr. Mathews to fly you and Ms. Sinclair in an empty
Sierra Bravo I in the C-5 to 50,000 feet on Saturday in the late afternoon, the day after you return. I will tell the media that it is our maiden flight of
Sierra Bravo III. Once we have told the world we have two shuttles operating,
Sierra Bravo II will head off into space three days after that. Mr. Jones, Ms. Sinclair, you have a busy week ahead of you so stay fit and healthy. You know what I mean,” Ryan stated winking at Jonesy.

The week went according to plan. The only interesting phone call Ryan received was from his friend from Hubble. There were slight changes in direction of the new asteroid, and a report was being sent through NASA to Washington next week. The rock that the diamonds had come from seemed to have a slight curve in its forward trajectory, so small that it was hardly noticeable. Ryan was told that the meteor could now pass even closer to earth than previously thought, 500 miles closer. What was really interesting was that the speed was increasing more than estimated. There was a strong possibility that the moon could now be in the direct path of the rock, which could protect earth from most chances on a direct hit. Or it could glance off the edge of the moon and head directly for earth.

Ryan thanked his contact at Hubble for the information, telling his friend that the next week was going to be a very busy week. He was not wrong.

On Friday, voting on several issues in the Senate was halted for the day due to several Senators not being in attendance. There was some bug going around Washington.

Meanwhile, in space, the loading and unloading of three craft flying in formation in a low earth orbit, and as far away from the International Space Station as possible was underway. Two were cloaked and one was visible making its usual three orbits of earth.

At exactly the same time that the C-5 took off with the shuttle for launch, in Russia a rocket lifted off with an Earth-Exit payload for the ISS. Since much of the United States was asleep, and many in the space community had their eyes on the Russian liftoff, very few, if any were interested in another boring test flight by Astermine.

Reentry was mid-afternoon on Friday, with Jonesy bringing in the shuttle with the last full load of cargo. Once the parachute deployed, he just had time to see two civilian aircraft sitting on the apron as they sped past.

Since this flight was not an extended flight, and the usual three orbits were completed, no phone calls were received by Ryan that day. The news was focused on the new war in the Middle East, and the payload docking at the ISS. Astermine was old news, even when he sent out a press release to the media in Las Vegas telling them about the new shuttle’s maiden flight up to 50,000 feet the next day. There was absolutely no response, and that made him happy.

For thirty hours, the treasure team of over 100 personnel photographed, weighed and measured thousands of diamonds, small rocks of rhodium, and larger rocks of the platinum metals. Each canister was full of hundreds of rocks. Jonesy had come in faster than usual and he found out that the entire load, including canisters, weighed 4.45 tons, nearly half a ton more than any load before.

Three hundred small wooden crates, each two feet cubed, were slowly filled as each piece of treasure went through ten long tables of a dozen scientists, one person studying each diamond before passing it onto the next down the length of the dozen tables.

Books on diamond colors were also studied for clarity.

The larger diamonds, bigger than the one sent over to Amsterdam for Washington, were kept to one side. The largest diamond, one that VIN had rolled to get back to the spacecraft, finally showed up in the cargo hold, in one of the last canisters, and was kept away from any viewing eyes.

Three of the most recent canisters had produced fifteen larger than tennis ball-size diamonds, all the same color, white, and the books showed them all to be a D-color. The clarity of each diamond seemed to be flawless. The much larger ones did have flaws, but the smaller diamonds up to this tennis ball size all looked totally clear.

The first aircraft, with Jamie flying, had returned from Amsterdam on its first flight with dozens of diamond instruments on loan to measure, size and grade the diamonds.

Each diamond was recorded and added to a computer Excel program sent from Amsterdam.

On four of the tables the other precious metals went through the same procedures. Here the scientists wore protective gloves and each rock headed through the MMA.

Four tons of small rocks were certainly a lot of cargo to minutely detail, and two shifts were started as the first team began to tire.

Saturday went off without a hitch. The shuttle was taken up empty and released by Bob Mathews, with Jonesy returning it to the ground as co-pilot. He wanted to see how well Allen Saunders could fly. He was very impressed.

By 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning, the last crates were full. There had been a lot of diamonds, far more than the first reentry load.

Ryan had already heard from Amsterdam and Antwerp in Belgium, from a second company that had valued the first load; they had received 291 pounds of diamonds, all within the D to G range of color with several of the bigger ones needing to be cut due to flaws. At 5 carats per gram, or 2,268 carats per one pound weight of diamonds, the first shipment was just a little over 657,700 carats.

This second load was counted out at 378 pounds of diamonds, 857,304 carats, and Ryan still had at least 100,000 carats of the biggest, clearest and best diamonds in reserve.

Amsterdam also explained to Ryan that the first load of diamonds hitting the market at one time could reduce the world’s diamond values by up to 20 percent. Ryan estimated that his entire load could devalue diamond prices by as much as 50 percent.

The first company in Amsterdam offered him a lump sum of $15 billion for their first load, ten percent up front and the rest over 5 years. He had naturally agreed as this was for half of the diamonds he had already delivered to Europe. Compared to diamond estimates, the company was only offering 10 percent of what the finished diamonds could be worth on the open market before the possible decreases in future valuation.

The second company, the largest diamond company in Antwerp, Belgium, offered him the same for the other half, on the same terms. He accepted and payments were made into a New York bank account. He would have to declare the payments on his tax return, but he wanted to see how much the government still owed him when it came time to pay. On the first load he figured he could still deduct the money owed to him on his taxes. Also, he now had more than enough gas money, and money to pay his team their promised bonuses.

The 737’s cargo holds were loaded with a third of its maximum load, 80 crates of rocks, weighing in at 7.5 tons from the last two flights.

He felt good watching both aircraft takeoff to the east, fully fuelled and aiming for Bermuda. He knew that he would never receive all the money due to him. Maybe the diamonds from Europe would be paid one day, but he was only interested in completing the necessary flights into space. From then on money would be one of the least important issues in his life.

Sunday’s second flight was also another milestone for Ryan. The largest group of workers to date, a mix of forty-one European and American scientists and their families were returning home, their jobs completed. The 737, a passenger aircraft, had twenty-eight scientists aboard, two Russian and twenty-six European; many were accompanied by their families and the promised pay and bonus checks drawn from his New York bank.

The white Gulfstream with the crates of diamonds, two scientists, three security guards and the loaned equipment being returned to Amsterdam, departed first, twenty minutes before the larger 737.

Being a Sunday, the expected call took four hours to interrupt the thoughts of Ryan Richmond.

“Mr. Richmond, Mortimer here, at the Pentagon. You have two aircraft about to leave U.S. airspace. Can you tell me why?”

“Good afternoon general. It seems you are taking a real interest in my affairs. The Gulfstream IV has a few of my team aboard heading into Amsterdam to keep an eye on my diamond over there. The Boeing 737 is a passenger aircraft. With the successful launch of my third space vehicle, several of my projects are winding down, and the aircraft has scientists and their families returning to Europe. You can tell your colleague at NASA, Hal McNealy, that four of his shuttle designers and builders have been released from contracts with Astermine and are also returning home.”

“I will send on the information, Mr. Richmond. When are you expecting your next cargo from space?”

“On my next reentry in five days,” Ryan replied.

“Congress has given me the authority to fly you into Washington for a hearing with the National Budget Committee, a new committee, next week. We have orders to place a team of customs and excise agents on your field to take stock of any importations of foreign metals, or diamonds from space. As you are well aware, the Senate will pass the new Bill tomorrow, which will allow the United States government to collect taxes on imported goods from space. That means that every one of your flights, from space or from international borders, entering U.S. airspace will need to be searched on arrival.”

“And if the Bill does not pass the Senate, General Mortimer?” Ryan asked.

“Oh, it will, Mr. Richmond. Don’t underestimate us here in Washington. Tomorrow or Tuesday the president will sign the bill and we expect our personnel to be given accommodations on your airfield. Don’t even try to appeal this ruling. The ink on this presidential order is already dry. Your hearing with the Congressional National Budget Committee hearing is Thursday, 11:00 a.m. Eastern Time.” The call was ended.

Both aircraft arrived safely in Bermuda, were refueled and continued on their way towards Europe. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief. All the European and Israeli companies buying his diamonds had agreed not to publicize any information on these new diamonds on the market for a minimum of 90 days. It was in the companies’ own interests to keep diamond prices high. They would have to leak these perfect diamonds into the markets slowly, even over years, and Ryan would be happy if the diamonds were never made public.

He smiled at the orders barked out from Washington. What should he actually tell them? He decided to fly to Washington to show them photos of the new radioactive shielded container several of his team were working on.

Even with only 10 percent of his total workforce gone, the town he had built looked emptier than usual. He walked around aimlessly thinking about the next week. He nodded to several employees who said hello to him and he decided to go to the heavily guarded Hangar Seven, which was now empty of all space vehicles. He found his golf cart and first drove to the eastern edge of the runway. Here he surveyed the construction of the new single-story building a team of two dozen air force personnel from Nellis Air Force Base were working on; it was to accommodate the new government officials he knew would arrive before he received Mortimer’s call.

It was ready-made, 24-hour military housing brought in from Allen Saunders’ supplies contact at Nellis. The outside fence perimeter of the buildings was about to be complete and he was told that several trucks were on the way from Nellis with a couple of septic tanks, a diesel generator, and furniture and military utensils for the bedrooms, kitchen and communal area. It should be complete by Monday afternoon apart from the septic tanks, which would take a week. The new occupants would have to use the delivered outside toilets until then. He returned to Hangar Seven.

Trucks had arrived in the last week with the last three sets of the cylinders bound for space, the last aluminum items to be brought into the airfield. The trucks had returned to California in the direction of Silicon Valley with the last loads of Hangar Seven’s spacecraft production equipment.

Each spacecraft had taken $250 million to produce, using over $100 million of purchased and leased equipment to build them. Most of the leased equipment had already been returned, and the last loads were going to several companies that had purchased the nearly new equipment for forty cents on the dollar.

Much of the equipment consisted of large metal molders and shapers, ovens, vacuum presses and powerful metal panel cutters. All the spacecraft had been built out of the same panels that were already transported up to build the mother ship,
AMERICA ONE; even the three shuttles costing $350 million each, and built in Hangar Six.

Hangar Seven was now a total mess. The enclosed truck that VIN had seen enter had emptied three medium-sized digging machines on loan from a Caterpillar rental firm in Sacramento, California. The hole in the middle of the hangar, where the concrete floor had been was now a muddy mess; water had been used to dampen any dust. The forty-foot wide hole was well over twenty feet deep, and the machines hauling out the underground dirt were transporting it into three dump trucks.

Very few had noticed the dump trucks that left the hangar twice a night to dump the dirt into a hole near the fuel tanks a hundred yards away. For some unknown reason, there was an open hole between the external tanks. It looked quite natural and now it was being filled in. The dirt had actually been used to make the solid base of the massive apron before the cement was laid.

Ryan walked over to a man in charge.

“How long to go Vitalily?” Ryan asked.

“We should be underneath the apron by tomorrow night,” the man replied. We’ve reached a depth of thirty feet and have had to begin our underground channel to allow the machines to climb out with the loads of dirt.”

“Good. The first bags of cement, the mixer and the steel frame for the walls, roof and floor should be here by tomorrow afternoon. You will be able to use some of the dirt for the mix, won’t you?” Ryan asked.

“About a quarter of what we haul out of here,” the man replied.

“The hole out there is already filling up,” Ryan commented.

“I’m sure that a small pile of desert dirt will go unnoticed,” replied the Russian. “We will level it out as the trucks dump it there.”

Satisfied, Ryan left the Hangar by the back door nodded at the guard walking around the hangars and went back to his office. Tomorrow was the Monday run, and he wondered how his astronauts would do in their weakened states.

They didn’t do too badly. Maggie and Jonesy ran together with Allen and Kathy. Thanks to the high gravity levels on the asteroid Jonesy and Maggie were still pretty fit, running in the middle of the pack. Suzi and VIN were up in
Ivan, so Ryan ran alone, Allen Saunders and Kathy trying hard to catch him.

The morning news after dawn wasn’t very good. The war in the Middle East had escalated to where Syria had launched a couple of missiles towards Israel. That country had immediately retaliated by launching two missiles in return, straight into the center of the government buildings in Damascus. Turkey sent in its first Brigade of tanks into Syria and an army of Syrian rebels, excited to see the tanks, was forming around the slow moving tanks.

“They would make great targets for the remains of the Syrian Air Force,”
Ryan thought over breakfast.

Then the news moved to something that surprised him.
“Reports from a Spanish space observatory are showing a large meteor, about the size of a large building, was sighted heading towards earth still over one million miles away,”
the television announcer stated. A small pinprick of the rock, no larger than a distant star appeared on screen, and then a graph showed its trajectory;
“This small meteor, the Spanish space authorities have stated, is slowly curving into a close path with earth’s orbit around the sun. As of midnight last night, a probable hit has climbed from 27.88 percent to 31.45 percent, a drastic change in the thirty-six hours they have been following this meteor. If this meteor entered our atmosphere, there is little chance of it hitting the ground. At worst it could explode high up in the atmosphere causing little damage. It could be close to earth in two months, during the last week of November.

“Ryan Richmond, the head of Astermine INC. has been ordered to attend a hearing of the newly formed Congressional National Budget Committee by Congressman Charles Dickens who heads this new Committee. If you remember Congressman Dickens was the only member of Congress who was invited to Astermine’s company headquarters in the Nevada desert to welcome home the first mined rocks from space.

“It seems that the Senate is once again whole. Several senators on Friday didn’t get into Capitol Hill. There were suggestions made of possible food poisoning from a meal they had in a Washington restaurant Thursday night. On further inspection, the restaurant was cleared by the Washington Health Department and, like the Senate, has reopened for business.”

To Ryan enjoying freshly made Danish, the news seemed to be about him more and more. The national debt was in the many trillions. His meager little empire was in the billions, yet the soothsayers in Washington wanted his skin. He wondered if there were many other Americans worried about their businesses being taken over by the government. He still couldn’t understand the pettiness of Washington. Even a hundred businesses his size didn’t add up to a trillion dollars.

By midday the first bill in the Senate was passed. The third bill, the bill that affected Ryan, was passed just before the Senate closed for the day’s business and, the next morning, Tuesday, the president had it signed at exactly nine thirteen a.m. and the first incoming aircraft was heard ten minutes after that.

Washington wasn’t that quick. It was the returning Boeing 737 with Ryan’s crew who had purchased delicacies from a couple of European airport duty free shops.

Twenty minutes later the real cowboys arrived in two large military helicopters. Once they landed Ryan found out that one was full of Army Military Police commanded by a captain; several Customs and Excise inspectors got out of the second one. Baggage was unloaded and the helicopters disappeared in the direction they had come.

“Mr. Richmond, Captain Mike Burns, U.S. Army Military Police. I’m here to provide protection for this group of Customs and Excise personnel from New York Harbor. Captain Joseph Drin is their commander. As of 9:13 a.m. Eastern time they have the authority to inspect any incoming flights into this airfield. This 737, did it arrive after 9:13 a.m. Eastern time today?”

Ryan acknowledged that it did.

“Can you tell me its cargo Mr. Richmond?” asked the Customs Officer.

Yes, one case of Turkish delights, one of my favorites, ten cases of Cadbury’s English Fruit and Nut chocolate, ten cases of duty-free Russian vodka and the same amounts of scotch and gin from Amsterdam’s Schiphol airport. These are all orders from my 300 personnel here on base, and one bottle of Single Malt Whiskey for me; an 18-year old bottle of Springbank, if that is of interest to you.

The captain looked at the team of five Customs and Excise men.

“Mr. Richmond, your airfield is now designated as an International Airport. Any international flights in or out of the country need to be inspected by my team here,” stated the lead man smiling and shaking Ryan’s hand. He seemed a kind man and Ryan felt guilty about housing them in temporary accommodations at the end of the noisy runway. “I would like to see inside the aircraft and talk to the pilots who brought her in, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, they are heading our way right now,” Ryan replied kindly seeing Allen Saunders, Bob Mathews and Kathy Pringle approach from freshening up.

The Gulfstream had flown straight back to San Diego from Amsterdam to pick up a pilot to fly the 737 back. He heard the Gulfstream approaching and on his handheld gave it permission to land.

“General Saunders, Colonels Pringle and Mathews, United States Air Force. Colonel Pringle was pilot in command for the 737’s return flight,” Ryan said to the new visitors.

Immediately the army captain saluted. Mr. Drin wasn’t so excited about the high ranks of the pilots, and took Kathy to one side to inspect the aircraft. Its cargo was still on two pallets in the shade underneath the aircraft, which was being refueled.

Within minutes the man in charge was happy with the small cargo. It was meant for over 300 American citizens after all. “Mr. Richmond, your next incoming space flight, when is that?”

“On Thursday, Mr. Drin,” Ryan replied. “May I assume that launches into space are not your concern?”

“No, they don’t come under the rules of international flights yet. I think Washington is working on that one though. No passports are required in space, the craft is not landing in another country on earth, and so departing flights are not under our jurisdiction. Could you show us to our accommodations please?”

Ryan spoke into the handheld; a security detail approached the group by the 737.

“Mr. Drin, Captain Burns, you are not entitled to enter any of the buildings on my airfield without a search warrant. You are not allowed to speak or communicate with my white-coated scientists. You are not allowed off base, except with my permission. You are to stay in and around your quarters, unless there is an arrival. Any breaches of protocol here on base and you will be thrown out of the front gate. It’s a long walk to Las Vegas. I don’t care what the government thinks; this is still private property, my property. It is paid for and you will be treated as guests here. Please remember you are not my employees, nor am I, or any of my personnel your staff. Since both you men understand the rule of law, this is my rule of law. I will allow you to do the job you have to do, under law, but my laws here are as strict as the law our government imposed on my business. My security detail will make sure that you do not end up where you are not supposed to be.”

The tractor with a trailer arrived to take them to the end of the runway.

“You should have everything you need in your accommodations. If you need anything, please tell Sergeant Myers here. He is now in charge of you, not you of him. There is cable television, radio and you will find your stay with us the best the United States Air Force can provide. One last thing, Mr. Drin, no aircraft may enter my airfield without my authority, and I don’t like visitors, especially from Washington. They are starting to piss me off.”

On that note Ryan turned and allowed Sergeant Myers to take the visitors to their new home, about as comfortable as forward base military personnel were used to in Iraq. All the housing equipment now within thirty yards of the end of the runway had come from there.

He didn’t see or hear the new visitors until Thursday afternoon, when the shuttle returned that had been lifted off inside the screaming C-5, which flew over the newcomers little town at less than a hundred feet before dawn. Ryan had just returned from Washington late that afternoon in the rented Gulfstream.

The tractor pulled the shuttle back to the apron, and then while the crew was being helped out of the small side entrance, the tractor picked up the trailer and went to collect the Customs personnel.

By nightfall the rocks were graded and sorted by the scientists while the five customs men looked on. By midnight the work was finished. They had 2,000 pounds, one ton of rocks, in ten crates ready for shipment. A twin-rotor Sikorsky helicopter came in and landed. Ryan made Mr. Drin sign a memorandum that the government was receiving the documented consignment and then it disappeared into the night sky.

Ryan needed a drink, and he went back to his bungalow to relax and think about what had happened that day on Capitol Hill.

Chapter 10

Capitol Hill

Ryan left in the Gulfstream IV dressed in his best suit two hours earlier than the C-5 took off, just before dawn. He had still a week left on its rental agreement and Allen Saunders flew him to Washington with Colonel Pringle as co-pilot.

He certainly didn’t know what to expect at this hearing, but he was sure it wasn’t going to be nice. He called ahead to his friend, the former president, who organized a CBS and NBC news team to be there to interview him as he flew into the private Arrivals building at Reagan International.

He was met by the media while he was getting into a black government Chevy Suburban waiting to drive him to Capitol Hill.

“Mr. Richmond, why this call for a Congressional Hearing?”

“Ryan Richmond, are you being accused of something by Congress?”

“Are you still on schedule to lift our radioactive waste into space?”

Then came the question he wasn’t expecting. “Mr. Richmond, what do you know about a meteor hurtling towards earth?” That question shut up the TV crews and they waited microphones at the ready.

“I will answer your questions in order, and then I must leave for this hearing. I do not know why I have been called to Washington. I have not broken any laws up to Monday, when the new Space Importation Bill was passed by the president. Astermine will be testing a shuttle exit every few days from now on to perfect the protection of radioactive cargo into space. Yes, I have been told of this approaching rock. All I know is that many don’t think it large enough to hit the ground. Other than that, it is up to the new Administrator of NASA, and the U.S. government to give you more information on the approaching meteor. Thank you all.”

He entered the Suburban waving at the cameras.

“Mr. Richmond, thank you for coming to Washington today,” began Congressman Charles Dickens, when his hearing commenced twenty minutes late.

Ryan had arrived ten minutes early and was shown to a seat outside the Hearing room and offered nothing to eat or drink. He had asked for an attorney to be there for the hearing, but had been told that this meeting was behind closed doors, with no other personnel allowed to be present, nor any recording equipment.

Ryan noticed that his wasn’t the only hearing that morning. As he arrived, a well-known older gentleman who owned a television cable company exited. The man’s face was pale and he looked like he hadn’t enjoyed being in the room.

As he entered the Hearing room he was reminded of long-ago feelings when, as a young boy, he was about to go into the principal’s office. He swallowed, and then followed the military guard into the room.

There were five members of Congress present whom he had met at one time or another. His three good friends, Bishop, Ward and Mortimer, sat in seats behind the lone empty chair, with Hal McNealy and a couple of other government agents in civilian attire. There were two generals in the room in addition to General Mortimer.

“Good morning, Congressman,” Ryan greeted the Chair of the Committee.

“As you know we have a new president, a new working group in Washington, and from the beginning of this year, certain people have been delegated by the Oval Office to get this country operating and profitable again. Thanks to the last administration, nearly three trillion dollars were wasted on misguided expenditures. Now, it is up to Congress to refocus the country’s direction and return the United States of America to a progressive disciplined country.” Dickens looked at Ryan, who showed no emotion, and took a drink of water.

“The reason you are here today is to discuss the purchase of your company, Astermine Inc. by the United States government. We know of your successful business history since you were in high school. We understand your abilities in running large corporations, and every person in this room wishes we had hundreds of people like you, successful clever businessmen who can make billions before they turn thirty years old. Unfortunately, clever people like you are declining here in the U.S. so the government has to work with what we have. China is about to go into an economic meltdown. Russia is looking in the same business directions we are going, copying us by looking at space travel again. Europe is about to lose the Euro, and maybe even break up into separate units. Many in this room believe, as our president does, that now is the time to take the lead and become the most powerful economic nation on earth again.

“The reason we needed to speak with you behind closed doors is that a new task group is being formed. This task group needs a leader and we want that person to be you. The main reason the government wants to take over your business is to free you from running your company so you can lead this new governmental department, the Department of Business Management and Advancement.” Again Congressman Dickens took a sip of water and looked directly at Ryan, unblinking.

Ryan looked straight back showing absolutely no emotion. The Congressman, Ryan noticed, looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes, and the other four men on the table above him looked the same. Ryan decided to stay quiet.

“I will allow you time to let the idea I have just proposed sink in, so I would like to discuss your current Astermine business. We understand that you have a new program in the design phase, to aid our country by taking our radioactive materials into space and send them toward the sun for cremation. I think it is a great idea and commend you on your advanced thinking. May I ask how your tests are coming along for this project?”

“Very well, Congressman,” Ryan replied after helping himself to the glass of water in front of him. “Once we get the promised radioactive protection transporters that NASA is currently designing, I think that within two months we will be ready to do a first test with a dummy cargo.”

“Mr. McNealy, how are these transporters coming along?” asked the Congressman.

“Due to the new projects the president has set as priorities, Congressman, I believe six months will be needed before we can give Astermine our first transporter for testing purposes.”

“What quantities do you think Astermine Inc. can lift out of our atmosphere in say, twelve months?” the Congressman asked Ryan.

“We are about to revamp our exit flights for faster turnaround schedules,” continued Ryan calmly. “With the launch of our new shuttle last week, we can increase our flights from ten-day turnarounds to six days or, a new flight into space every three days. This will increase the speed of our testing and we intend to increase our flights beginning this week. We have a third shuttle under development to replace the one we lost. I could launch a flight a day if we had enough shuttles; six would be the correct number to achieve one flight per day with three-ton cargoes of radioactive waste materials.”

“A response please, Mr. McNealy,” asked the Congressman.

“We have designed one transporter on paper. Unfortunately, the president has put the design of this transporter back due to his new programs for NASA.”

“May I add something here, Congressman?” Ryan asked. The room stayed silent.

“NASA promised this transporter was to be ready this month. We have geared up for this date. I personally have spent over $350 million to produce our second shuttle designed especially for this purpose. Now Mr. McNealy is telling us he has only one transporter designed on paper.

“I think we are flogging a dead horse here. Let us get onto the next subject, space mining. When are you expecting your next shipment of space cargo to arrive?”

“Our whole mining project has been put on hold as of Monday, 9:13 a.m.,” Ryan replied simply.

“And, why is that?” asked Congressman Dickens.

“As of Monday, 9:13 a.m., it will cost me too much in new import tariffs to mine for precious metals and diamonds. There is no reason to continue mining with the new tax that the government has imposed.”

“Can you elaborate please, Mr. Richmond?”

“My company will pay 35 to 40 percent in federal taxes on any profits made by Astermine from mining in space. With the addition of a 65 percent importation tax, it could cost me 5 percent of my earnings just to mine, or if I’m lucky, I could end up a non-profit and make absolutely zero for the risk of sending my unmanned spacecraft into the unknown. Congressman Dickens, I have no more interest in space mining, nor has anybody else for that matter, and if they do, they certainly won’t return any cargo back to this country. I believe Russia, China, Brazil, India, Iran and Pakistan will pay well for precious metals like iridium and rhodium.”

The room was silent for a few minutes. Then a second Congressman asked a question.

“Mr. Richmond, the president had given explicit orders for NASA to take over from where it seems you have left off; going to the moon to collect the treasures you have returned with. Can you tell us exactly where on the moon you got these metals please, and second, will you be willing to mine in space on behalf of the government until NASA is ready to take over? Or we could just buy you out and hand you your new position here in Washington and go on from there.”

“First of all, Congressman Mullins, my company is not for sale. Second, the president should retreat from the idea that he is the only person in this country smart enough to save or build corporations. Since the election, he has not added to private business advancement and, I for one, don’t believe in the bully tactics certain people in this room believe they have the right to use on private institutions.”

“And who are you to state what the president should or shouldn’t do, Mr. Richmond?” asked Mullins.

“As a citizen of this country and a business owner, I believe you, Congressman Mullins, work for me, not the other way around. Further, the laws of this country haven’t changed. If you would like to discard freedom in this country, discard the right of citizens to act independently of the government, discard the Amendments drawn up by our country’s forefathers to protect its citizens, only then do you, or anybody here in this room have the right to enter my private property, uninvited, and order me to do anything. As long as I haven’t broken any laws, and my corporate and personal taxes are up to date, you actually have no jurisdiction over me whatsoever. I’m here purely to listen and learn. As Congressman Dickens earlier stated, the world is in trouble. Our government cannot create jobs. That is the job of the private sector. For decades now governmental systems, federal, state, county and city governments, have slowly imposed more costs on small companies so that growth is reduced, which means fewer jobs are being created. Until you free up private business and keep your political ideas out of the private sector, this country will not prosper.” There was absolute silence in the room.

“I thank you for that speech, Mr. Richmond,” continued Congressman Dickens. “Let us get back to the purchase of your company. I agree that you currently have the freedom to accept or reject our offer. This country is still free, but I believe there could be changes in the future. We have a directive straight from the president to offer you $500 million, that includes what we owe you, for the purchase of your company and all its assets, including the Russian Space Station you so cleverly salvaged in space. You will be given the position of Director of our new Business Management Division and work directly under the president to help restructure our country.”

Again the room was silent. It took Ryan a few seconds to regain his internal composure.

“Congressman Dickens, I appreciate the offer. Please tell the president that since the first time he tried to bully me into doing business with him when he was governor, I haven’t changed my mind. I still have zero interest in working with him. As you so stated, I still have my freedoms as a private citizen of this great country, so I reject your offer to purchase my company. I would rather close it up before being pressured into selling. You will never own me or my company, Congressman. You will have to change too many laws protecting the citizens of this country to shanghai my company from me. I will continue my program to take radioactive material into space as a private contractor to the U.S. government. I will charge $25 million per flight into space. The amount of the load is dependent on Mr. McNealy developing a light transporter or, in six months’ time, I will charge you the $600,000 it will cost me to send out one of my own. As far as taxes are concerned, I owe the IRS 40 percent of whatever I have brought in from space. You cannot say that I hid these cargoes from you.

“You, the government, actually still owe me $265 million for the balance of the product you have taken, so therefore you owe me more than I currently owe you. I will reject any unwelcome visits to my airfield in Nevada. If you or those goons sitting behind me do so much as harass me, I will move my organization out of the country, and I don’t believe you can stop me. I will be ready for your first transporter, Mr. McNealy. Also, Congressman Dickens, everything I do in the future, you will be able to read about in the newspapers, or see on television. I will hide nothing I am doing inside this country from the citizens of this country. What I do up in space is my business, until, Congressman Mullins, you decide to tell every other country on this planet that certain members of this Congress of the United States of America now control every area of space above them. I doubt they will agree with you on that new ruling.” Angrily Ryan got up and walked out of the room. He wasn’t stopped.

He was livid. He stormed down the hallway and out of the building. There was no black Suburban waiting for him, and he headed to the nearest gate to catch a cab. There was still one lone reporter waiting for him as the guard took his pass and he exited Capitol Hill.

“What can you tell our viewers about your discussions on Capitol Hill, Mr. Richmond?” asked the older CBS reporter he had often seen doing Washington interviews.

“It was short and very productive,” smiled Ryan “We discussed the time lines of finally ridding this country of its toxic and deadly radioactive waste. Capitol Hill wants me to get fully up to speed to be ready for the first liftoff in six months. NASA has kindly offered to supply me with safe radioactive material transporters to keep my crews safe while they fly the loads to be sent towards the sun for destruction.”

“How long is it going to take you to rid this country of all its old toxic waste?” the reporter asked.

“If the government gives me the freedom to complete the mission, it will be eleven to fifteen years before the most dangerous materials are out of our atmosphere. Congress is so excited that they offered me whatever I need to help with this extremely important task. Compared to dumping toxic waste in protected deep holes in the ground in certain states, including my state of Nevada, the price they are paying me is about a tenth of the cost of the long-term protections needed.”

“So you are happy with today’s outcome on Capitol Hill?”

“Yes, extremely happy. All the government agencies have agreed to leave my airfield alone, as long as I keep the American public involved. So I want to have a few of our local news crews permanently stationed on our airfield; in fact, one or two of them could actually be passengers on one of our test flights and film the systems we are going to use to get rid of the major waste problem this country has. Yes, I’m extremely happy and look forward to offering this service to our great country.”

The live performance was over, the CBS cameraman lowered his camera and Ryan gave the reporter a card, saying that he was serious about taking the media up into space, and a “60 Minutes” team would be the first he would like to do a documentary with in space.

The taxi arrived and he rode back to Reagan, his anger still boiling over inside.

Chapter 11

All quiet on the Western Front

For the next several weeks, Ryan heard nothing from the government. Except for several news crews and documentary companies vying for space travel, it seemed friend and foe alike were keeping a wide berth.

Word had certainly got out, and he had a “60 Minutes” team ready to report on space travel.

During this time, a lot of product was flown into space. For the first month, the month of October, Astermine was logged by the CIA and NSA sending six flights into space. Each one was timed and recorded. Both Bishop and Ward noticed that each flight lasted three orbits and reentered at around the same time. Each time the Customs men, still on Ryan’s property, were allowed to see the empty cargo holds.

Six weeks after his hearing on Capitol Hill, he called the Administrator of NASA to ask about the production of the protective transporters. Hal McNealy responded, thanking him for the return of four of the scientists now working on the project. With information gained from Ryan’s team they had the transporter down to 3,000 pounds and, the first one could be ready for flight within two months.

A day earlier, the first load of cylinders to make the corridors for the cubes had left earth. All of the panels were now in space. Two of the cubes had docking ports and were now complete; the next three cargo loads would be biological products out of Suzi’s hangar. She had returned on one of the flights, weak and thin, to help her team get all the trees and shrubs that were to be planted in the first and second cubes, which would soon have light, warmth, air and 18 percent gravity for future growth. Jonesy and Maggie were flying one shuttle, Penny and Kathy the second one.

The time had come to increase flights, as
SB III was ready for its maiden flight. All six of his shuttle pilots were now on earth. Michael Pitt, extremely weak after three months working on the cubes, needed a break; VIN took his place, giving him a week off to get fit and strong again while he was put back to work on the shuttle simulator testing his flight abilities.

“Good morning astronauts,” said Ryan Richmond to the six pilots in attendance at the next day’s flight briefing. “We have a lot to get through. Suzi and Ms. Watkins have joined us today.

“Mr. Jones, Ms. Sinclair, I would like you to test our new shuttle; take off is in three hours. With the launch of the third Silver Bullet, we will rename our shuttles,
SB-I,
II, and
III. It is just plain easier.
SB-III is slightly different from
SB-I and
SB-II; she is carrying an extra 1,500 pounds of weight due to the laser gun, Laser Beam Energy Producer, and an added 500-pound liquid-hydrogen tank and refueling system. As you all already know, she is four feet longer than the two earlier shuttles, and her wings and tail are 12 percent larger. Half of the extra length is her added liquid hydrogen refueling system and fuel, including her computerized pressure delivery arm. The other two feet are for the extra ton of solid rocket fuel to get her additional weight into orbit. Her cargo bay is the same size and she can still lift a 4.1-ton cargo load into space. Only Bob Mathews in the C-5 should feel her added 3,500 pound gross weight. Mr. Mathews has also worked with Mr. Jones studying the changes that could affect launch. Mr. Jones, Ms. Sinclair, I need my most senior pilots to fly
SB-III. Mr. Saunders and Ms. Pringle will take over
SB-I until Ms. Watkins is ready to fly as Mr. Saunders’ co-astronaut, and Mr. Pitt and Ms. Sullivan, I’m sure you are happy to fly together.” They eagerly nodded.

“Once our test pilots confirm that
SB-III is safe for duty, she will be loaded with Suzi’s tests.

SB-I launches tomorrow before the new shuttle’s test flight from 50,000 feet later in the day.
SB II will be ready for flight in three days after that, and
SB-III will be fueled up and ready this time next week for her maiden flight into space. From now, all three shuttles will be based here until our final flights of equipment.

“We have a ‘60 Minutes’ CBS team of a reporter and cameraman arriving in ten days to go up with a flight and complete three orbits. This doesn’t mean that we don’t carry cargo on this flight. We just cannot let them see the unloading behind the cockpit. The three smaller spacecraft which will transfer cargo to
America One, are being flown by Suzi, Mr. Noble, and two new co-pilots as soon as there are more beds up there. New crew members for
Ivan will also begin going up as passengers on your next flights.

“We will be juggling the three spacecraft. Since there are three spacecraft up there, one empty craft will return, passing the loaded spacecraft going up. The third one will be helping move crew and equipment around
America One by the new personnel. The low-orbital transfers of cargo will take longer when
SB-III goes up because her liquid hydrogen tank will need to be pumped out into the spacecraft while the cargoes are being lifted over. The computers have been programmed on each craft to deliver, or receive, fuel from new storage tanks to be placed in
America One, and from
SB-III.
SB-III can deliver or receive fuel from
America One, and
SB-III’s extra-large hydrogen fuel tank can be used for extended journeys into space. Due to this higher fuel capacity
SB-III’s new cruising speeds are estimated to be as high as 280,000 miles an hour after 40 percent of her extra hydrogen fuel tank is used for forward propulsion. This speed is compared to
SB-I’s estimated high-cruise speed of 190,000 miles an hour without the extra tank. These speeds are not fast in space. In comparison,
America One, with her three new hydrogen and ion thrusters, still under manufacture, will be able to reach speeds well in excess of 600,000 miles an hour after a two-month period of full thrust. Of course slowing and maneuverability are also important.

“We need two more spacecraft pilots to help up there, and we have trained two of our aerospace engineers, Peter Smith and Yuri Gellagov, to be additional spacecraft pilots. Two other men, both American aerospace pilots and engineers, are about to complete spacewalk training to be in charge of unloading the spacecraft and building the three extending arms of the new ship. They will join Fritz Warner as the building team in charge of the new spiders. Two newly designed spiders are going up on the next flights. You pilots now need to get your shuttles up to a higher 400,000-foot altitude orbit; the unloading will be taken care of by the spacecraft crews, and you head back to earth after three orbits. The change of altitude for our higher orbit is necessary to achieve a 106-hour round transfer trip from low orbit to
Ivan and back. The reason for a 106-hour window, instead of our usual 103-hour window, is to allow time for the craft to be refueled and, only
SB-III has refueling capabilities for the three craft up there. This means that cargo transfer will still be completed 30 miles below the orbital height of the ISS.

“Two hundred pounds of liquid hydrogen fuel is enough for one spacecraft to journey to and from
Ivan three times. So,
Astermine I and II, as well as
Asterspace III, will be juggled to be fuelled by
SB III. As you know, all hydrogen fuel tanks in the smaller spacecraft are also the same size 500-pound fuel tanks. All unneeded reserves of liquid hydrogen will be pumped into
America One.
Three fuel tanks are scheduled to go into space in a week. These tanks will be launched already half full of liquid fuel, so pilots fly safe, you will be sitting on a lot of gas. Each one of our liquid gas storage tanks has been designed to fit only into
Asterspace III’s hold. Each aluminum carbon-based nanotube-walled tank can hold 20,000 pounds of liquid gas and are meant for outside storage. These tanks will be welded to the outside, underneath area of the cubes. This means that each time
SB-III refuels one of the spacecraft with 500 pounds of liquid fuel, 300 pounds will be transferred into our new storage tanks. Our hydrogen fuel needs are tenfold to the other gases. All the gases apart from xenon fuel—argon, nitrogen, oxygen and helium—can be filtered and returned to storage. As you know, the last cube walls were not to be part of our ship, but to float in a geostationary orbit around earth to become our future gas station in space. We have shelved the gas station idea, and now the walls will house extra fuel tanks for our latest more powerful Hydrogen Pulse Engines on the rear of America One. These engines are still top secret. This new section will house one docking port for our newest shuttle.

“The section will also house four fuel tanks for the more powerful thrusters, and will be linked to the cylinder tanks below the craft.”

“Was this gas station idea able to sell hot dogs and cokes?” joked Jonesy, evoking smiles from the other pilots.

“Mr. Jones, it was to be a credit card self-serve, and no, there were not any other products planned for sale. The idea was ten years ahead of its time, and I don’t believe the government would have ever used it, if they don’t like me once we are up there,” smiled Ryan.

“OK, so the 64,000 dollar question, Ryan: Where do we get new supplies of these gases for our use, and to supply our more powerful thrusters?” Maggie asked.

“Simple, Ms. Sinclair, and I was coming to this with an explanation of flights of the smaller tanks and gas production machinery into space. To reply to your excellent question,
America One will go into the void of space and find these gases, most likely in frozen form on asteroids and other planets, just like you found the diamond mine on DX2014.

“Let us return to my numbers. Four 4,000 pound storage tanks for the other liquid gases are to be placed in the rear section in front of her engines and
America One will carry more fuel reserves for future space travel. Two of the tanks weighing exactly 4.1 tons can be taken up in one launch. There are hundreds of reasons why we need more flights into space. Sometimes I think I should have thought smaller. Three years ago we calculated that sixty flights would be needed to build
America One; but with the mining idea and other cargoes we have added over time, eighty-one flights are our latest number, and we will have to increase them if we have to test these transports NASA is building for us. Please understand,
America One will always have enough of everything for 100 humans to survive in space for enough time to find ways to replenish our value stocks.

“That is all for this briefing. Look at the bright side, pilots. For the next several months, you have a nine-to-five life; an early morning flight into space, and then home for dinner. I will now allow the rest of our team to enter for the next part of the meeting. I have something important to say.”

Ryan sat down and took a sip of water while the white coats filed in. This was Ryan’s core team, which included the four new space crew members he had just mentioned. The older pilots got up to congratulate the new guys, all already good friends, and welcomed them to the flight team.

“Thank you. First I have exciting news. Our Superfraűlein, Suzi, is pregnant and I believe her baby will be one of our first babies ever born in space.” There was much applause and for once Suzi had nothing to say. She just blushed, the first time many saw her turn red.

“And you are the father?” quipped Jonesy smiling.

“No, Mr. Jones, that praise must go to your partner, Mr. Noble,” Ryan smiled. “Ms. Sinclair, you have something to tell us I believe?” Ryan asked and suddenly Maggie blushed bright red; she looked at Ryan, her eyes asking how he knew. He gave her the floor and smiling made her come to the front and face the team.

“Mr. Jones, you are going to be a father. The doctor on base told me just yesterday.” She looked at Jonesy, tears beginning to form in her eyes. Again there was applause, many scientists patting the stunned, speechless pilot on the back.

“I’m going to be a father?” he asked in shock.

Even Ryan was surprised at how shocked his chief pilot was. Nobody had ever seen Jonesy in such a state, and he wished VIN was here to see it for himself.

“Does my partner know about his new baby?” Jonesy asked.

“Ja, Herr Jones,” I told him a couple of days ago,” smiled Suzi.

Everybody looked up at Ryan, waiting for a comment about half his crew producing babies before they had even left for life in space. He was surprisingly happy, far happier than he usually was, and that quieted them down.

“Ms. Pringle, you have something to say?” this prompted everybody to look at Allen Saunders who suddenly looked baffled, and raised his shoulders not understanding what was going on. Kathy proudly walked up to Maggie and Ryan, put her arm around Ryan’s waist, and stated that she could also be pregnant with Ryan’s child.

This time you could hear a pin drop before Penny and Suzi rushed up to Kathy and Maggie, all screaming and hugging their friends.

“All I can say is, cigars,” mumbled Jonesy still in shock.

It took ten minutes for the noise to die down before the meeting could continue. Ryan was happy. “Ms. Sullivan, did you guys split up or something?” It was Penny’s turn to blush, but she stood her ground.

“Michael and I didn’t know that making babies was allowed on this base. Remember we are both ex-air force. Now that every female pilot but me is pregnant, I’m sure we won’t be far behind.” Everybody stood up and applauded her while Michael was the last one to blush, just sitting there saying nothing. He had taken every precaution so his future wife would not become pregnant.

“OK, team, a job well done. We now have a flight list of 52 people, plus five babies on the way. Our surgeon, doctor and our nurse here in this room better prepare their hospital cylinder for several births as soon as they get into space. I also want to let you know that Surgeon Pete and Nurse Martha Rogers are now recently married and are also expecting a baby.” Ryan put his hand up for silence. “Also, our chief aerospace engineer Doctor Hans Jorgen and his new wife Doctor Martha Jorgen, nee Williams, are also expecting, but their baby could be born on earth unless we change our cargoes and get the hospital and living accommodations up there earlier than planned.” There was a resounding reply that the plan needed changing.

“I thought so. So, several loads have been brought forward by two months to begin to prepare for several of our team to live in space earlier than planned. I have changed the flight-load schedule so that we will have a more diverse living environment up there sooner than we had planned.

The next three flights are to carry crops, trees, plants and all of Suzi’s biological plant growth. Next will be ten flights of the accommodation and corridor sets of six oval cylinders per set, half of our necessary cylinders.

We have scheduled three flights, each with a single, large hospital cylinder including all necessary equipment and medical supplies. One cylinder is a separate, fully equipped operating room which goes up with its insides complete; a second cylinder houses a four-bed ICU unit in one half, and an eight-bed hospital ward in the other; the third cylinder is a three-family living unit for our medical staff and families. The cargo supplies inside the cylinders include a library of every bit of medical knowledge the world has ever produced. Each cylinder will be packed with equipment and supplies to make a 4.1-ton load and our whole medical warehouse will include 19.7 tons of everything from aspirin to thousands of units of every important drug or vaccination you have ever heard of.

“The next three flights will be animals, rabbits and chickens, reproduction and feed supplies. As you all know,
America One has nine vertical corridor arms heading out 400 feet into space on three sides of the space ship. On top of these three arms are horizontal accommodation units running 260 feet along the entire length of
America One. Part of the middle arm, or the arm opposite the underside of the craft where the reactor and legs will be positioned, holds Suzi’s animal storage area. Our animals need the same gravity as we humans.

“Once the animals are up, a 4.1-ton load of interior accommodation equipment will be sent up, enough to fit out four, four-person family accommodation units and twelve, two-person units with bedding, towels, furniture and basic home electronics. Meals, apart from snacks, coffee, and tea, will be communal in our dining area.

“So, the last earlier-scheduled flight will be
America One’s two-cylinder dining cylinder and kitchen/refrigerator/freezer cylinder, again pre-constructed here in Hangar One. Inside the cylinders will be all the equipment needed to push out meals for our crew three times a day.

“Then, the next five flights take up gas supplies. The last ten flights of six-pack cylinders are next. After that we will take up the two-ton
America One hydrogen and ion thrusters still being built in Hangar Two. Once these engines are up, the plan is to get three loads of pure distilled water, and a final load of top soil.”

“What tanks store the water?” asked Allen Saunders.

“One cube has a tank inside it which is to be our main pressurized water supply for our travels.
America One needs a minimum of twenty-five tons of water, which can be recycled for humans, plants and animals for fifty people for twenty-five years before there is no water left. If we have time at the end, every extra flight will take up growing plants, seeds, luxuries, and extra supplies of water until our flights are stopped. Our two water tanks can each hold thirty tons of water. Water can easily be found by mining several planets, or asteroids out there.

“Back to gases; there are five gas production units, which can accept solid frozen matter in space, or on an asteroid or planet, and distill the gases into separate storage cylinders. The machines then turn the gas into liquid form for storage. Each one of these gas production units weighs two tons; then, a flight each of plants and animals and feed. This includes the bee hives for pollination and honey production. Finally, three flights of the stocks of liquid fuels already produced down here and are in storage in Hangars Eleven and Twelve. That gives us eighteen flights of liquid gas, soil, and water that can be sent up from anywhere, so I’m looking at other opportunities to get these loads up, to decrease our flights and time needed.

“As soon as trouble brews its ugly head, one of the last flights will be the remainder of our space crew. That makes fifty-six flights remaining for anybody who is counting. Multiply that by one flight every three days, and we could be done by March next year if we find other routes up there.

“As I said, the number could grow if our shuttles have to test the radioactive transporters NASA is trying to build for us. I’m praying that they are late with producing them for test, but we can escape earth any time after the motors and the fuel and gas production plants are up there. To live in space we need oxygen, water and food, and fuel to enable us to search for more supplies. Once we get the next fifty cargoes into orbit, we can survive in space. Every flight after that is to carry extra supplies to make our lives more comfortable.”

Chapter 12

Sierra Bravo III and “60 Minutes”

Jonesy enjoyed the launch in the quiet belly of the C-5.
Sierra Bravo III was an interesting craft with a more modern cockpit interior. Ryan wasn’t afraid to add any new device he thought might help his pilots. What was interesting was the new ceiling above his head. In-between the two pilots the ceiling angled in on
SB-III, surrounding the laser gun that had been placed in the roof of the craft in front of the docking port. A couple of months earlier Ryan had decided to place the first of two lasers in the shuttle instead of
America One, to provide greater mobility.

On the dash in front of him were the laser gun’s new controls and computerized aiming system. It would be powered from the nuclear battery
SB-III was to collect from
Ivan.

It used the same system a military jet would use to lock onto a target even if the target was still or moving at great speeds. This locking device was built to lock onto a meteor, an asteroid, or even the surface of a planet to open a hole up to three feet wide. The laser’s main control system was a radar-type screen, which could be focused and locked onto a target. Jonesy had learned to use this new device in the advanced Shuttle-III simulator that had become operational a month earlier in Hangar One.

A powerful invisible beam was projected out from the laser gun at the speed of light for up to seven seconds in one burst, burning anything in its path. Jonesy had seen it being tested on the airfield, the day after his second return to earth from DX2014. In a night test several pieces of solid steel a foot thick, placed at one end of the runway, had holes burned right through them from a two-second burst from the laser tube 10,000 feet away firing at low strength.

The scientists had explained to the flight crews that the laser had been produced to burn holes in rock. The idea was that an entrance could be made into some object which could one day become a new home for the space travelers. The laser could open a hole three feet wide in the rock of a planet or an asteroid; then specially made spiders would excavate a cavern which could become a new place to live. The spiders could also be used to mine for frozen water, methane, or anything else the crew of
America One needed. In addition, the second laser, which would be underneath the command center of the mother ship and powered by the more powerful five-pound plutonium reactor, could be separated from the craft so spacewalkers could carry it into a newly made hole to excavate a cavern.

Ryan had also explained to the flight crews that the laser on the mother ship could be used for several other purposes including protection, deflection, and defense. It was designed to be fired at full power, a seven-second burst once every 27 seconds; at half power, a three-second burst once every 12 seconds; and, a one-second burst every 3 seconds, like a machine gun, mainly to open the holes up to three feet in diameter through any solid rock. In its fastest mining mode it could open a three-foot shaft at a rate of twelve inches every twenty-four hours.

Even the lower-powered laser was dangerous; Ryan explained it would only take a two-second blast to burn a hole in any of the aluminum panels.

Of course, these ideas for mining and meteor protection through deflection hadn’t been proven yet, but Ryan’s long deceased Russian mentor, Professor Ivan Yarkovsky, had studied the possibilities of meteor deflection several decades ago. The small nuclear battery VIN and Jonesy had carried up to
Ivan would soon no longer be needed for the Russian space station because it would be getting direct power from the mother ship’s larger five-pound plutonium reactor. Rather, this two-pound piece of platinium-238 could give the second laser good strength. With the transfer of the nuclear battery from
Ivan to
SB III, the crew could test the laser in space.

The five-pound plutonium reactor now bolted to the outside of
America One could treble the laser’s output and power, so the main laser would be placed close to the reactor for drilling.

“I’m sure this thing we have above our heads is pretty accurate,” Jonesy told Maggie, who was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, as Bob Mathews pulled the stick back and lifted the C-5 with the empty shuttle off the tarmac.

“Ryan said that he got its aiming and target locking device from the company that produces them for the F-35,”
Maggie replied.
“If I remember from my days in F-16s, we could lock onto a stationery target at a much further distance than a moving target. The faster the target the closer you had to be to lock on.”

“Well, Ryan stated that the two systems he purchased, I assume for large amounts of money, have been analyzed and redesigned by his team in Hangar Two,” said Jonesy, while looking through his final checks list, “and now the laser must have phenomenal accuracy. He told me that the locking screen has two aiming devices. The first consists of three long-range military cameras that can pick up a small target at 1,000 miles, like a car or an aircraft; it has normal, heat, and infrared search modes. The second aiming device is directly fed in from this radar screen. We know that the military satellites can pick up people walking on the ground from 4,000 to 12,000 miles in space. Nobody ever tells us how high the satellites are, but the drones can pick up the same human body at 40,000 to 50,000 feet. They say you can see the color of the person’s eyes if their face is looking directly towards the drone. This system Ryan has must be as good. Those two Russian software guys, the German computer specialist Hans, and the three American weapons specialists from Lockheed Martin he had dissecting the aiming systems, must be as good as anybody out there. Ryan placed that minute blue dot with his ballpoint pen on the metal plates, and then from 10,000 feet the laser hit it spot on. We didn’t see anything apart from the metal begin to glow orange and then vivid white.”

“Eerie,”
responded Maggie.
“Let’s get back to our test checks–we must be in the 60 minute window to launch.”

An hour later and at 52,000 feet the
Dead Chicken released
SB-III. For Jonesy and Maggie, who had piloted these launches sixteen times, it was just another walk in the park. They still had the most launches out of all the flight crews. Second were Penny and Michael with twelve and, catching up fast were Allen and Kathy with ten. It had taken twenty-five launches just to get all the panels into space, once the test flights of each shuttle were completed.

The C-5 was going through JP-8 at a fast rate. Three tankers had arrived the previous day with the jet fuel needed for the next couple of launches. Jonesy figured that forty tankers a month were passing through the gates—fuel for the shuttles and another five or six per month for the C-5. He knew Ryan had more supplies than he wanted people to view going into the airfield. The boss thought out everything long before anybody else.

The larger wings and tail on
SB-III took the same amount of time, four seconds, to fully extend and, without a load, or power, Jonesy felt the lightness of the craft compared to the two older shuttles as he allowed the nose to dip and they headed towards earth.

Ryan was outside with hundreds of personnel to watch
SB-III come in as she arrived exactly as planned. She even flared out a little longer before gently touching down on the beginning of the runway. The parachutes were larger than in the earlier shuttles and load less, she quickly came to a halt exactly where the apron was connected to the runway.

The success of this flight meant that another dozen scientists and their families would soon be heading home, back to their normal lives with money in their pockets. Their jobs were done.

Hangars One and Two were half empty. Much of the equipment in Hangars Four and Five had already been transported into space or was loaded in canisters about to go into space. Hangar Six was dedicated only to the main mechanics group, a team of forty who restocked, checked, and refueled the incoming shuttles.

Hangar Seven had a big secret hole. Hangars Eight and Nine which housed the biology, plant and animal projects were mostly packed up and ready to move. Ryan began to realize that with his new three-day launch window, all his remaining equipment would soon be in space.

Ryan felt more relaxed. He had received a bank deposit from the first company in Russia that had purchased a substantial part of the rhodium and iridium he had flown over to Turkey. The deposits from the second flight of diamonds had been paid from Amsterdam, Antwerp and Tel Aviv, and for the first time in his life he had more than enough money to complete his project.

Any members and their families leaving the airfield were happy with their bonuses, and had signed new non-disclosure agreements to not divulge any information to anybody outside the airfield for two years. They had all received half of their pay and half of their bonuses; the other half would be released to them after the non-disclosure period. Nobody leaving the airfield in small buses for Las Vegas had any desire to reveal anything, even the four scientists already working at NASA, and who were about to be joined by two more.

Ryan watched as the tractor towed the shuttle back to the hangar and wondered what the powers-that-be were thinking about this 50,000-foot test flight—the first one in several weeks.

The weather was getting cold. The mornings were beginning to get brisk and frosty for the morning runs and Ryan really looked forward to a busy airfield with fewer people. The airfield’s fuel stocks were at maximum, all the bills paid and only intervention by the government could now slow him down or halt his project. He was gambling on Scott and his “60 Minutes” team to buy him more time. He would be co-pilot on that flight to explain everything to the TV crew.

Five days later the team from CBS arrived. It had been suggested that they arrive early to watch one shuttle arrive during the afternoon. Two of the team of five would be going into space the next morning.

The television crew was introduced to Jonesy as they toured through the computer desks in ground control. The cameramen began recording footage for the twenty-minute segment to air in ten days, the first ever film crew to get so far into Ryan’s establishment. The huge screen above their heads was only showing the spacecraft Ryan wanted them to see; the shuttle was the only blip, about to reenter, and was lit up so that the cameras could film its reentry route. All Astermine’s other craft in space had been made to disappear on the display for the hour they were to be filming in the hangar.

Scott, the famous anchorman was excited, chatting to Ryan off air. He had never had an invitation to blast off into space; his wife had hugged and kissed him several times more than usual before he left for the project. CBS was even advertising the upcoming segment on its news programs several days earlier than usual.

“Colonel John Jones, you were a test pilot with the United States Air Force for most of your military career, were you not?” was Scott’s first question put to Jonesy while he sat in his flight overalls in Ryan’s office where any interviews were to take place.

“That is correct. I started flying at a very early age,” he replied trying hard to be polite. He knew his father and mother would be watching.

“When was the first time you actually touched the controls of an aircraft?” the interviewer asked.

“I was fourteen,” he replied in his best manner, smiling at the white-haired anchor person.

“That must have been in the early seventies. You certainly were very lucky to have parents who allowed you flying lessons at fourteen. What was the first aircraft you flew, Colonel?”

“Actually, to tell you the truth, they didn’t know about my flying lessons, and the first aircraft I flew was a Boeing B-52 Stratofortress; I remember very well that this B-52 was an H model,” said Jonesy calmly with his eyes skywards in thinking mode. The interviewer coughed and the cameraman could see the surprise in the man’s face.

“And where did you fly this B-52 to, Colonel Jones?” asked the interviewer trying to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, several hundred miles across the Atlantic, once I took her off auto-pilot,” he replied sincerely.

“Can you explain a little more how a fourteen-year old American kid is flying a $50 million bomber over the Atlantic, Colonel Jones? I’m all ears.”

“Very simple, really. As a kid I always wanted to fly; my father was an air force officer, so we always lived on bases around the world. In those days it was pretty easy to stow away on aircraft; the security was sometimes nonexistent on the base aprons. The B-52 was the hardest to get aboard due to its confined space and number of crew, five. But it was my goal to get aboard one. There is a small area in-between the upper deck where the pilots, the gunner and the ECM operator sat and the lower deck where the two navigators sat. It was the old “Battle Station” concept. In this area was where the coffee was brewed, and it had two narrow bunk beds for flight crew to take a nap. In the B-52 I hid in the two-foot space under the lower bunk.”

“Go on, Colonel Jones, I’m finding your story fascinating,” said the interviewer.

“All I had to do was to wait until the two beds above me were occupied, and the sleeping crew started to snore. Usually the pilot-in-command went to the area to grab some sleep about two hours into the flight. The sound of two people snoring gave me the all clear. On this flight, I slowly edged out of my hole, checked around the area for a cupcake or Danish, and then looked into the flight deck. On my first successful attempt, the co-pilot was nodding half asleep in the right chair, so I put on the colonel’s flight jacket, his flight hat and the headphones that he had left on the back of the seat and sat down.”

“Didn’t the co-pilot ask you what you were doing there?”

“Yes, I was expecting that at any minute, but he sort of looked at me dressed up in his superior’s flight gear. I assumed then that he thought I was the chief pilot, and he turned to face the other way and began snoring.”

“What about the autopilot? How did you know how it worked?” asked the announcer. A pin drop could have been heard in the office. Even Ryan was transfixed by Jonesy’s story.

“Easy,” Jonesy replied smiling. “For about a year before my first flight, I had searched around the base for any manuals or material about flying B-52s that was left lying around. By the time I actually hid on this flight to Ramstein in Germany I had read every operating manual and all the training material for pilots on this actual aircraft, the H model. It had all of the latest equipment aboard in those days including a complicated auto-pilot system. It took me a minute to go through procedures before I could switch off the auto pilot and suddenly there I was fulfilling my dream.”

“You were flying a $50 million dollar bomber with a full bomb load?”

“No, actually, this was a milk run. That’s why the crew slept. The bomb bay I found out at Ramstein was full of medical supplies, and not much else.”

“Go on about your first flight,” prompted the interviewer.

“Well, I turned left and right using the stick and peddles I read about in the manual. The aircraft was really stable. Then I went into a descent, and then ascended a few thousand feet. I was enjoying myself. I was banking full circle about thirty minutes later when the radios woke up; ground control somewhere was asking the aircraft what the hell was going on. I returned the aircraft to auto-pilot which returned the aircraft back to its original altitude, speed and track and I returned to hide underneath the colonel’s bunk where he was still sleeping.”

“You weren’t caught?”

“Not on that flight,” Jonesy replied. I was, though, on our return flight two days later. I was caught flying the aircraft on the return flight, this time it did have bombs aboard.”

“Cut!” shouted someone and they all looked at Colonel John Jones in disbelief.

“And you have been flying ever since?” asked the white-haired interviewer shaking his head.

“Ever since,” replied Jonesy.

I think I feel much safer going up with you tomorrow, what do you think Mike?” Scott asked the cameraman.

“I think we are pretty safe in the hands of Colonel Jones here, the youngest pilot to fly a B52,” Mike laughed.

“The youngest pilot to fly a dozen different air force aircraft,” smiled Jonesy.

“Are you going to add this segment?” asked Ryan.

“The public will love this story, and it could be a great segment entrance,” replied the producer. “A great teenage tale. Thank you, Colonel.”

A couple of hours later Allen Saunders and Kathy Pringle came in to land in the incoming shuttle. Their cargo had been the second load of plant life in thirty airtight aluminum canisters placed in
Astermine Two’s three aft cargo bays. Each canister had a powerful battery-powered ceramic heater inside to keep the plants from freezing in the cold conditions of the mining craft’s rear holds.

The landing was captured by the film crew and, then it was time for pre-launch checks and lectures for the two potential astronauts to acquaint them with what they needed to know before liftoff early the next morning. Again snippets of real life getting ready for a flight into space were captured by a backup cameraman while the two men were told what to do, and what to expect.

“You will only be allowed to float inside the cabin for a short period, once Colonel Jones here allows you to unbuckle your safety harnesses. I will keep myself harnessed in the co-pilot seat to help you get back into your rear seats,” lectured Ryan.

SB-III was well hidden in empty Hangar Five for the visit and had four armed security guards around the hangar.
SB-II had just returned and
SB-I was ready for launch, full of the third set of thirty plant canisters which had the battery powered heaters keeping them warm in the shuttle’s hold. The “60 Minutes”
crew had been told that the returning shuttle was the newest one.

Hours before dawn and, dressed in full space suits with helmets, the four men with one film camera were helped into the small side door of the shuttle’s cockpit. This was Ryan’s fourth flight and the television crew asked him if he could actually pilot the shuttle. Ryan explained that he had done well over 200 hours on the simulators they had filmed in Hangar One. With five computers aiding the pilot, he could leave the auto-pilot on during descent until 50,000 feet, when manual flight was needed, and he had trained to do that part on the simulator more than any other part of flight. The simulator was far more exciting that driving his Audi at breakneck speed, he told the crew, and he was addicted to the simulator.

The film crew had actually filmed the final part of the landing with Ryan flying in the simulator, and it would be an exciting part of the segment for computer gamers. Ryan suggested that he was thinking of designing a game simulator for sale. On being asked how much it would cost, he had stated $50,000 to $75,000 per home unit and when the piece was aired ten days later, there were dozens of calls into the CBS offices wanting information on how to purchase these home simulators.

The doors closed and the shuttle was rolled into the body of the C-5. Through the intercom, Jonesy narrated everything that was going on to the news crew.

“We will be released at 50,000 feet or higher, depending on the weather out there. Colonel Mathews, who you met yesterday, will try and reach as high as he can. The air temperature is the biggest factor. The colder it is, the more concentrated the oxygen is up there, which gives the C-5’s four engines more power to burn.”

A second camera had been fixed onto a corner of the shuttle cockpit and would be turned on or off by Jonesy once the shuttle was released by the Galaxy.

“When was the first time you flew a Galaxy, Colonel Jones?” asked Scott while the cameraman filmed and taped the conversation as Jonesy tightened up his seat harness. The space was tight and he had a wide-angle lens on the camera. Jonesy looked like he had a fishbowl on his head. So did all four of the men.

“I think I was 17,” he replied. “It was the first C-5 I had ever seen at the base, an A model. I remember we then lived at Misawa Air Force Base in Japan. It was a beauty and I got in some flight time in the outward bound flight before being caught by the navigator. I hid wearing extra flight clothing I had scavenged from past attempts. The co-pilot noticed me; he told me I looked thinner than the pilot-in-command who he had just seen asleep in the sleeping area. I did get my first hour in before I was found flying the jet without the autopilot. These birds fly themselves they are so good. Mr. Richmond, ready for pre-flight checks?”

During their first hour in the belly of the aircraft the TV crew felt very comfortable as they listened to Jonesy go over the checks with Ryan. Ryan seemed adept at confirming what Jonesy needed to do or receive.

“OK, gentlemen,”
said Jonesy as they heard Bob Mathews state over the intercom that they were passing through 45,000 feet and it was five minutes to release.
“You guys in the back can talk between yourselves. You will hear me and Mr. Richmond at certain times, but we will not hear you until I turn the communication controls from two-way to four-way. Every flight needs concentration. Once we are in space, I will communicate with you every now and again, so will Mr. Richmond, but at certain times I need to concentrate so I will switch myself out of the system. You won’t be able to hear me, or talk to me, understood?”

The men taping everything stated that they understood.

“We will complete our usual three-orbit test flight preparing for taking the radioactive waste out into space,” added Ryan while Jonesy got himself ready switching off the intercom to send and not receive from the rear two headsets. “You will be able to tape the entire communications between pilots, the C-5 and ground control. On these future flights we will go higher, higher than the International Space Station, but we have not yet reached the higher altitude for testing. We hope to next month, when NASA gives us their first transporter to test.”

“Beginning our descent,” stated
Bob Mathews over the intercom, and the inside of the cockpit became quiet. Nobody talked. Only the camera was silently running.

“49,000…..47,000………..41,0000 feet, 505 knots, pulling her up….520 knots level….beginning the climb…..43,000…..46,000…….51,000 releasing shuttle….52,000. Good flying, Colonel Jones….you are out at 53,200 feet, 405 knots…..banking to starboard now….fly safe ‘60 Minutes’…you are in good hands!”

“Ignition, co-pilot…I have wings and tail extended……we have first stage ignition….55,000 feet, 450 knots……61,000 feet, 570 knots…..72,000 feet, 660 knots….turning her over… I have the sun behind me…. 81,000, 910 knots. Ground control we look perfect.”

“Roger that, you are half a degree out, lean her to port half a degree, altitude good, speed good,” replied ground control over the intercom.

“Wow! The push in your back is really something!” remarked Scott into the recorder as they rose into the upper atmosphere. “It hurts the pressure is so great. Compared to the bumping around we all saw on film in the Apollo days, this ride is as smooth as silk. The painful push on my back is steady and continuous. I’m sure there will be a difference once we change onto the second-stage hydrogen rockets. I’m attempting to look out of my portal, but to raise my head is the hardest thing I have ever tried to do. It is stuck firmly to the head section of my soft seat. What I can see, and I hope the camera is getting it, is the changing of the blue outside to dark blue, and now it looks grey out there.”

For half a minute there was silence in the cockpit.

“109,000 feet…..112,000 feet…..twenty seconds to second stage,”
stated Jonesy over the intercom.

“‘60 Minutes’ is about to go into space,” stated the interviewer.

“Second-stage ignition, 142,000 feet. Gentlemen welcome to the boundaries of space. Now you are higher than that Austrian dude who jumped out of the balloon…actually 30,000 feet higher….152,000 feet.”

“The pain in my back has reduced somewhat,” stated Scott. “I’ve turned my head, and I can see the cameraman lifting his camera to view outside the portal. The pressure is now virtually gone.”

“Altitude 70 miles. Gentlemen, we are now beginning our first orbit. We are over the Atlantic and Europe will show up in about 90 seconds. I assume that all your back pain has gone. Mr. Richmond, our passengers are now free to float around the cabin for the next three minutes. Let them enjoy themselves. Guys, just don’t kick me in the head.”

It is surprising how fast grown men turn back into little boys. Jonesy smiled as the shouts of excitement came over the intercom. He was sure that this footage would be gluing the program watchers to their screens once it aired. He wouldn’t see the program as he would be in space again. Jonesy made sure that he had a private intercom before talking to the space shuttle.

“Sierra Bravo I to incoming spacecraft can you hear me? Over.”

“Roger that, Herr Sierra Bravo I,”
he heard the always happy voice of Suzi.
“We are reading you and have you on radar. We are 100 miles above your altitude and 3,100 miles behind you. We are slowing rapidly on full forward thrusters. Tell your co-pilot that the second cargo of plants has all survived the move into Ivan and we will be placing this cargo into the first cylinder for transfer into the cube in a few days. Estimated connect time with you is thirty-five minutes. Your partner has a question, Herr Shuttle Pilot.”
Jonesy knew that Ryan would be listening to the communication while helping the excited passengers to stop bumping against each other. Jonesy then heard his partner’s voice

“We are getting thirsty up here, partner.”

“Kid, top canister, second set of ten, top canister, third set of ten. First target Russian, second target Tennessee,”
replied Jonesy.

“Mr. Jones, are you secretly sending up illegal bottles of hooch to my team in space?”
asked Ryan making sure that the two behind couldn’t hear them.

“They are not illegal up here, and don’t tell the boss, it was his best bottle of bourbon,” smiled Jonesy into the intercom.

“Crap! Now I have to get some more. This isn’t the first bottle that has disappeared.”

“It is the last,” smiled Jonesy. “The only bottle left is in the left hand desk draw of Igor’s desk in Ground Control, and we thought you might need that one. Second stage complete, 99 mile altitude at Mach 21.”

“Roger that, Herr Shuttle Pilot,”
laughed Suzi.
“Astermine II, 80 miles above you 2,190 miles behind, slowing through Mach 24. Just think, all three of you men are going to be fathers soon. By the way, Herr Ryan, I like the layout in the bedroom here in Astermine II. Herr Noble and I were thinking of taking it very easy on the way back.”

“Boss, I think you had better get the guys back down in their seats. You don’t want them to puke with excitement. Do an interview or something while we transfer the cargo.”

As the two craft drew closer, Ryan helped the two men strap themselves back into their rear seats. Jonesy opened the cargo roof doors and continued to check his equipment. He turned on the four-way comm. “How is my flying so far, guys?” he asked.

“Wonderful, I never felt so light in all my life!”
replied the cameraman, excited and trying to film Scott while he was being strapped in by Ryan who had turned his pilot chair around.
“These shuttle craft are sure high tech!”

“We are passing over the west coast of China. If you point your camera out of the port side, Mike, sorry your left side portal, you should catch the two Koreas. There isn’t a cloud down there over them. Dawn is just allowing them to appear. I need to do some tests, so our current height is 100 miles above earth, and our speed is close to Mach 22, or 16,000 miles an hour. We will complete our three orbits. Each orbit will take around 90 minutes and I must do the checks I flew up to do on this flight.” Jonesy turned off his connection allowing the guy to film the earth below and then Ryan would give them an interview.

Suzi caught up to the shuttle and slowly she moved her craft to within twenty feet to the rear of the opposite side wing to where the cameraman was sitting, in case he pointed his wide-angle camera lens in the rear direction.
Astermine II was several feet to the rear of the shuttle’s cockpit and there was no way that the two passengers could see out far enough to the rear to see her floating right next to them.

VIN exited the docking port and jet-packed over to get the shuttle’s arm up and ready. He connected the arm onto the first load of ten canisters, and Jonesy fired the connectors releasing the tightly strapped bundle from the floor of the cargo bay. VIN slowly allowed them to float out and then moved them, extending the arm at the same time to deposit the pyramid of canisters into the third cargo bay of the spacecraft. He did that twice more with the arm, extending it fully twenty-four feet out from the shuttle and into the spacecraft hold Suzi gently brought closer, with VIN’s directions. VIN made sure that the arm would push them gently into each hold. They fitted well enough into the hold not to have to tie them down and immediately the three pyramids of canisters were in Suzi closed the long roof doors.

VIN then refolded the arm back into the shuttle’s cargo bay and, still tied to
Astermine II with his usual cord, jet-packed back to the docking bay waiting for him.

“Cargo transferred, partner, you can close your cargo bay doors, I’m clear,”
reported VIN as he floated away from the shuttle.

“Pretty fast partner, 73 minutes; now get out of here and let me get these visitors back to earth.” He turned his radio back to the four-way and heard the end of Ryan telling the “60 Minutes” team why he had to do so many flights into space.

“…and due to having these shuttles so precise and technical, it takes hours of testing, our systems, our pilots, and our computers so that when we are carrying deadly waste cargo, we don’t have problems during the flight. The transporters NASA is building for us will allow our crew only a certain amount of time before it has to be ejected into space. Our shuttles must reach an altitude of 390 miles, far above the ISS and much of the lower space junk, and at a speed of Mach 41 or above. We need to eject the transporters at more than 30,530 miles an hour directly towards the sun. Any speed or altitude below that could allow the cargo to be pulled back into a possible orbit of earth, and damage military GPS satellites, or even the geostationary communication satellites above them.”

“Thank you Ryan. Now we at ‘60 Minutes,’ CBS, and the rest of the country understand why you have to be so precise in testing your equipment for this very important task ahead of you. Thank you Ryan, this has been a trip of a lifetime for Mike and me.”

“Sierra Bravo to ground, we are ready to start checks for reentry. We have completed Orbit Two. Over.” The two men in the back heard Jonesy for the first time for quite a while.

“Have you completed your tests, Colonel Jones?” asked the interviewer, curious.

“Yes. Computer programming, mostly. This specific flight was to align the computers to auto-pilot the craft directly to where we want to eject the radioactive transporters, right above us. Of course that ejection point is far higher than we currently are at this low altitude, but space is three dimensional and we have calculated the time, fuel usage and necessary thrust to get us up there and back to a point 10,000 miles in front of our position, a point we pilots call top of ‘D’, or ‘top of descent’. There is always a position where any pilot flying an aircraft reaches a point where it is correct to begin a descent to his destination. Our top of ‘D’ is now 8,100 miles in front of us and the computers are ready to begin our own procedure in several minutes.”

This seemed to satisfy the passengers. They relaxed, looking out of the portals not knowing that a second spacecraft was climbing away from them a couple of miles behind, its Cloaking Device reactivated. Suzi was helping VIN off with his helmet. She wasn’t wearing her helmet and she kissed him as she placed the helmet in its holder and returned to maneuver the craft.

Two hours later, they broke the reentry silence, the passengers recording everything that was happening. They saw the Californian coast come up below their portals and were amazed at the speed they were flying.

Ryan was expecting visitors on landing and as they silently passed the apron, the chutes slowing them down, he saw three news helicopters on the apron and all three local Las Vegas news teams recording their arrival.

Thank you and applause erupted from the two men sitting behind as they came to a halt. The tractor, with the Customs officials walking down the runway connected up and everybody headed back to the apron.

The two passengers were helped out first, as usual being pulled out sideways onto the ramp outside the shuttle. Jonesy switched everything off, and opened the cargo doors for inspection.

“Guys, how was it?” asked the producer as the passengers’ spacesuit helmets were removed first.

“I can now die happy and content that I’ve seen our beautiful planet from space,” replied Scott excitedly being filmed by several cameras. “I’m going to try and get a retirement job here at Astermine. That flight is totally indescribable. I now understand the human desire to go to space.”

“Well, we have several people dying to get a copy of our footage,” smiled the producer as Ryan and finally Jonesy had their helmets removed.

“You won’t believe how many government departments want an early viewing of our segment. You have really excited many people; so far the CIA, NSA, USAF, NASA, Congress and even the president have asked for an early viewing as soon as we put the segment together.”

“Very surprising,” smiled Ryan. “Just make sure it goes out next Sunday night. I would hate the government to ban your broadcasting it, and they will try, believe me.”

The “60 Minutes” crew looked at Ryan Richmond.

“This is a free country, why would the government want to stop our broadcast,” Scott asked?

Chapter 13

Double Trouble: In space and from Washington

The day after the “60 Minutes” team left, Ryan received a call from his friend at Hubble. There were big problems in space.

“Ryan, you told me that the mid-section of the rock from DX2014 your crew observed is about the size of the Empire State Building, correct?”

“That is about the size my astronauts said it was. My flight crew was right next to DX2014 when it broke up. Why?”

“We have viewed this rock through several telescopes in Arizona and New Mexico, but if we can verify its exact size we can determine the sizes of the other pieces of DX2014. The Empire State Building-sized piece is now only six weeks away from passing earth. The front piece of DX2014 is still in one piece, although it has also changed direction, probably because of the initial break up. We calculated it would pass our planet at a safe distance of 587,000 miles. As of midnight last night that safe distance has decreased to 415,000 miles. Its speed has also increased from the 3,000 miles an hour to 3,700 miles an hour probably due to being magnetically attracted to the mid-section just over 200 miles in front of it.”

“That sounds a little scary,” replied Ryan. “We know that the mid-section is extremely magnetic. We had problems getting our craft off the surface. As I said before, the mid-section of DX2014 had been zinged by a couple of meteors, or smaller asteroids, before we got there. Our scientists here at ground control in Nevada believe that DX2014 must have been hit within a year or two of our landing on it. Our astronauts described minute earthquake-type vibrations on their first visit with more intense vibrations on their second visit, and then, of course, the actual breakup when we nearly lost one of our craft.”

“Well, those two forward pieces of DX2014 are the smallest of four parts we are now following.”

“You found the rear part of the asteroid?” Ryan asked raising his eyebrows and putting the phone on speaker so that his whole ground control crew could listen in.

“Yes, two new meteors, the third and fourth parts of DX2014, were found by the Spacewatch team at Kitt Peak Observatory in Arizona three days ago. We asked them to scan the massive area of space where DX2014 had broken up. They sent the pictures of their scan through to the
LINEAR program, which you know is located at the Lincoln Laboratory's site on the
White Sands Missile Range in
Socorro, New Mexico. These two new meteors shocked the observers. It seems that the rear of DX2014 broke up into two main parts and both of these meteors are also being drawn towards the mid-section which, as you stated, is strongly magnetic. The observers at Kitt described it as looking like magnets being pulled together out there. Ryan, this morning Kitt Peak renamed the four parts; the mid-section is DX2014B, the old front section is DX2014A, the third section now 1,000 miles behind the most forward rock is DX2014C and the fourth, about 200 miles behind the third piece, is called DX2014D.”

“How could the mid-section, the ‘B’ section, attract the other rocks from such a distance?” Ryan asked.

“These parts of DX2014 seem to be powerfully attracted to each other just like two magnets, and much more than usual asteroids or meteors of this size. We can only assume that the other pieces have the same pull. We have never seen anything like this before in space. Most asteroids or meteors move on their own orbits around a planet or the sun, at distance and without having much effect on other rocks passing close by. These four rocks are still very close to each other and are doing their best to reconnect.”

“What are the sizes and directions of the ‘C’ and ‘D’ pieces?” asked Ryan.

“Size is the main issue. DX2014C is five times the size of DX2014B and the fourth piece is about 85 percent of the third piece. It looks like more than two-thirds of the mass of the original DX2014 is in the two rear pieces. Their speed is stable, and we hope they might all collide together before arriving in our area of space, in fifty days’ time. Both Kitt Peak and LINEAR are sending warnings to Washington through NASA and the USAF as we speak. The directions these asteroids are beginning to turn are not very positive,”
replied his friend.
“They are all getting nearer and nearer to earth’s orbit, and definitely will be pulled in closer by earth’s gravity. First, the moon could pull them in, which the LINEAR computers show could be in the exact path of all four asteroids, and then they could be pulled by earth’s gravity itself. What is interesting is that our moon could be in the direct path of these rocks at about the right time, and if the four parts are within 2,000 miles of each other, the moon could take all the hits. Asteroids of this size will not cause any problems to the moon’s surface, they are minute in size, but one could glance off and head towards earth, or miss the moon altogether.”

“What are the chances of that, and of an object actually hitting earth?” asked Ryan.

“An impact occurs when two pieces of rock reach the same point in space at the same time,”
replied his friend.
“Or, more correctly, when some point on Earth's orbit intersects the asteroid's orbit simultaneously. Since the Earth is just less than 8,000 miles in diameter and moves at approximately 18 miles per second through its orbit, it travels a distance of one planetary diameter in about 425 seconds, or slightly over seven minutes. Delaying, or advancing the asteroid’s arrival by times of this magnitude can, depending on the exact geometry of the impact, cause it to miss the Earth. By the same token, the arrival time of the rock must be known to this accuracy in order to forecast the impact, if there is one, and to determine how to affect its velocity.”

“At what speed do your computers suggest these four rocks will be traveling by the time they reach the pull of the moon?” Ryan asked.

“That is the good news,”
Ryan’s friend replied.
“Currently DX2014B has a stable speed of 3,690 miles an hour faster than Earth, and will be coming directly from behind Earth, the others behind it are slightly faster. The pull of our moon could increase that, but not more than 20 percent over the three-week period the asteroids will be in the moon’s most powerful attraction area. Unfortunately, at this slower speed, they will certainly be turned into some type of orbit around Earth or the moon. If that happens, the results can be either very good or very bad; going into orbit could protect us, or they could go into an orbit which will guarantee a hit sometime in our future. None of these asteroids are large enough to cause a worldwide catastrophe individually; it would require a six-mile wide asteroid to do to us what the dinosaur asteroid did to our planet millions of years ago. The largest piece, DX2014C, has been measured at 1.4 miles wide. However, if all four hit Earth one after the other, then they have the mass to cause a major catastrophe.”

“And will they be closer to Earth than our geostationary satellites, if they miss us and fly past?” Ryan asked.

“That is our next concern. Like the opening break in a game of a pool, when the first ball hits the others, they spread out in many directions. At worst, the asteroids could cause pandemonium with our satellites in space, by hitting one with their slow speeds and not evaporating it, but breaking the satellite up and sending the pieces slicing into others. The thousands of pieces of space junk up there could magnify the disaster especially with low-orbital satellites. I believe that the geostationary satellites at 22,500 miles will be OK, other than from a direct hit, but the military satellites and the ISS could be in trouble.”

Ryan thanked his friend and scheduled a meeting with his team. There wasn’t much he could do except carry on with his plan. At least he could still get more flights into space before trouble was due.

Within two weeks word began to distribute through to the media about a possible disaster from space. Ryan heard about it when Joe Downs called him from Las Vegas to find out if Ryan knew any more than NASA was telling them about asteroids projected to hit Earth.

He said that he didn’t know anything more than what NASA had told the media about the possible close fly-past of a couple of asteroids. Ryan was due to fly up to
Ivan the next morning and certainly didn’t want word to get out that he was on a six-day flight to check up on his new space station,
America One.

This flight would be his last until he left Earth for space, and he was excited because he would be taking his first three-hour spacewalk with VIN.

Jonesy and Maggie were the astronauts for the fourth flight of 40-foot accommodation and corridor cylinders. One of the new space pilots and one spacewalk-qualified technician had gone on the last two flights; the pilot was needed to help with the transfers and the technician to begin work on connecting the mass of cylinders and corridors to form housing units.

On Ryan’s flight in
SB III, a third man would join them, now that several cylinders had been bonded to the completed cubes. Three of the corridor cylinders on
Cube One were warm, full of plants and had temporary accommodations ready, with vertical beds, food and water, and a space toilet for four astronauts in each cylinder. Up to this point, there had been only enough room in
Ivan for six humans to live and work comfortably.

Suzi, Mr. Rose, VIN, Fritz Warner,
Peter Smith and Yuri Gellagov were now together as a team, living it up in
Ivan.
The two spider controllers who had gone up a week earlier had moved into one of the new, small but cozy, cylinders with a temporary docking port to allow them to work outside.

Extending from the center area of
America One, three of the seven cubes would have corridors reaching out vertically from three sides of the cubes to the line of cylinders designed for two horizontal living accommodations—the mid-section at 200 feet out, and the outer-section at 400 feet. The fourth side was the underside where spacecraft could be positioned on docking ports. Forty-foot long thick, aluminum landing legs would be welded to the end cube unit joints, then automated and retracted, on each side of where the nuclear reactor was securely tethered to the craft.

Ryan was a little worried about being away for a whole week, not that he could stop any government agency from entering his airfield if they really wanted to, unless he once again used the airfield’s secret “Choking Device.” The takeover of his company by NASA, and the U.S. government had been put on hold since he had the Las Vegas media ready to arrive at his airfield within thirty minutes. Joe Downs had promised Ryan that his team would be out there as soon as they were called, 24/7.

With this new information from his friend at Hubble, he was sure that the likes of Hal McNealy at NASA, Tom Ward, Joe Bishop and even the President would prioritize the threat of incoming asteroids over harassing Astermine. He also realized that the findings of his late mentor Ivan Yarkovsky, which described how to move bodies of destruction away from hitting Earth, could actually come into fruition in a few weeks’ time (the
“Yarkovsky Effects of
Meteoroids or
Asteroids”).

The second laser would be ready for launch in three weeks; Ryan was moving forward its transfer to space along with the special large oval cylinder being built for the ship’s forward command module. If he could fit the second laser onto
America One and make it operational after connecting it to the nuclear reactor, he could use its power, which was three times stronger than the first laser, with the smaller nuclear battery in
SB III.

It was time to get his team up there building accommodations for more people who could help build
America One. He felt time was getting short. He was concerned he might not have as much time as he needed and was deep in thought when his cell phone rang.

“Richmond,” he answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Mr. Ryan Richmond, the White House operator here, please hold for the President of the United States.”
Ryan perked up in his chair. Now he was really worried. It took a minute, but finally he heard the President’s voice.

“Ryan, long time no hear, how are you doing?”

“Not bad, Mr. President,” Ryan replied.

“I’m calling today about your recent meeting on Capitol Hill and the merger of your company into NASA. The government of the United States of America wants to incorporate your company into NASA’s new space mining project. Our aim is to launch one flight a month to the moon or Mars. The government needs to mine $500 billion a year of precious metals to begin reducing our many trillions in foreign debt. I know that Congress didn’t offer you what you wanted, so I’m calling you today to see how I can bridge a deal so that both sides are happy. Ryan, what do I need to do to make you happy enough that you will relinquish your company to NASA?”

“As I have stated, Mr. President, my company is a private, legal, American company with all taxes paid up to date. It is not for sale at this precise moment, but could be sometime in the future.”

“How long in the future, Ryan?”

“I would say that with my current project having the freedom to run its course, six to twelve months from now.”

“We are not prepared to wait a year, Ryan. We need your expertise and your scientists to begin working for us as soon as possible. Thank you for sending those six scientists back to Hal McNealy. Unfortunately they are not much good to NASA with you holding a non-disclosure agreement over their heads about the work they did for you at Astermine.”

“So all you need from me is my scientists, my plans and the projects they did for me?”

“Sort of, Ryan. None of your team will be of any use to NASA if they cannot divulge what they learned, or the projects they worked on. We also need everything you are working on with your space mining project, including plans of your unmanned computer-controlled spacecraft, so we can produce more to go out into space to mine for the U.S. government. We want to have a spacecraft like yours lift off once a month to gather precious metals to pay down the country’s deficit. I promised the people that I would bring down the national debt, and nobody will stop me. If we don’t get moving on this then Russia, Europe, China or another country could overtake the United States and make claim to any mineable planets out there.”

“I doubt that Russia or Europe will get there before you,” suggested Ryan. “Remember I have their best scientists here as well. China is another matter though, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they send mining craft up in space next year.”

“Here is my final offer before we get desperate, Ryan; I offer you two billion dollars for your company and a third billion if you lift all the non-disclosure agreements your scientists.”

“And if I refuse, Mr. President?” Ryan asked.

“Then things are going to get tough for Astermine. We know of your sale of diamonds to Europe, more than one billion dollars’ worth, and untold amounts of rhodium, iridium and platinum to Russia. We are looking for your bank accounts as we speak. Congress has a new committee examining these illegal exports out of the United States, and many believe that we have enough on you to put you away for the rest of your life, and throw away the key.”

“There weren’t any laws pertaining to import duty from outer space when those precious metals arrived here in transit for delivery to their external destinations overseas, Mr. President. I could have flown the cargoes directly into Europe and Russia, but was worried about getting my space shuttles back.”

“Unfortunately, that is incorrect Ryan. The importation laws are being made retro-active to July 1st of this year; this means that once the new amendment to the law is enacted, all of the product you brought from space will be subject to a flat 65 percent import duty.”

“That is illegal, Mr. President.” Ryan responded.

“Not while I’m president, Ryan, and it will help bring down the budget deficit,”
was the smiling response.

“Then I had better remind you of a past president, Richard Nixon, and that he also thought he was above the law of the United States of America. I suggest you bite on that bit of information, Mr. President.” There was silence at the other end.

“Mr. Richmond, I suggest that you take advantage of my friendship to you today. If you take the offer, all the potential import duties will be dropped, you walk away with your money; and we don’t mention to the U.S. public that you sold plutonium to the Russians, not platinum. The two words can be easily confused and information can be subject to inadvertently misspeaking a word. The public will be very angry when they find out that you sold radioactive material to a recent Cold War enemy that is anything but an ally of ours. Our plan is airtight, we might have this country wanting to lynch you, and guess what? I just might let them do that.”

“May I have time to think about your proposal, Mr. President?” Ryan asked letting the alpha-male win his round. “Currently my answer is no. In a few months, I might relent and say yes, but I need time, at least ninety days to figure out my future.”

“I will allow you forty-five days, until January 14th
Ryan. On January 15th our armed forces will arrive with enough strength our military satellites will not be able to see the dirt your airfield sits on. Forty-five days from tomorrow, the beginning of December, and no more.”
And, as usual, the phone clicked in his hand.

Ryan was always careful; he had planned for these types of phone conversations with his Russian scientists for the last three decades. He had purchased the best KGB gadgetry a decade ago to record phone calls. Ryan happily sent a copy of the conversation through his Internet account to the former president twenty minutes later, not really caring whether the government had enough brains to search for and read his email.

Within an hour his friend called him back. He had found the conversation extremely interesting and asked Ryan how he had beaten the White House scrambling system. Ryan smiled and asked the former president to remember where his first scientists had come from. The man quickly understood.

After a twenty-minute discussion concerning the amendment to the importation law, the former president said that he would put out word of illegal maneuverings to his friends in both houses and to watch what happens.

Chapter 14

Ryan meets the skeleton of
America One

The threat from the president badly disturbed Ryan’s sleep; he had figured out that he could only get in sixteen more flights before the president’s “D-Day”. He was down to forty-five flights, of which forty were necessary. How could he buy more time for more flights, the 100 tons of equipment to be flown into space? Ironically, the potential danger of the four asteroids might have a silver lining; they could buy more time for him. The only alternative he could think of was to get out of harm’s way; leave the country and set up operations somewhere else.

He was wide awake and wanting desperately to find a solution when he went out for a late night walk, which he thought might help him sleep. He met Allen Saunders doing the same thing and they walked around the airfield together, discussing the Dead Chicken.

Ryan had never believed that he would spend the rest of his life in space, even though he told the team coming with him that was his plan. They all thought they were leaving Earth for the rest of their lives. Unfortunately, living forever in space was not yet feasible with the limited knowledge humans had about life in space. Expansion of this knowledge was what he was hoping for; what else was needed to enable mankind to permanently live away from Earth?

Earth was a mother to humanity; she was a planet that had selfishly formed humans in her own balanced cocoon of life, on her beautiful shores, and she had not intended that these two-legged beasts would live life elsewhere.

During their early days together when, decades ago they were planning their future, the Russian scientists had laughed at his high expectations of sailing off into space never to be seen again. Only he and his initial band of scientists knew his more realistic plan for space travel. He needed to revisit the overall plan with them, and the men and women who were entrusting their lives with him, when he returned in a week.

Ryan dozed as Jonesy and Maggie took him into space. There wasn’t much else he could do strapped down in his seat with his back wanting to bond him permanently to the soft padding. To many of the crew, flying into space was now as usual as driving to the supermarket.

His new experience in space started when Maggie placed him in the shuttle’s docking port. He had a 100-foot nylon cord buckled to the mid-area of his suit and he was about to “walk” in space. This had been his dream for decades: to float in the nothingness of space and see Mother Earth a hundred miles beneath his feet.

Asterspace III caught up with
SB III, Suzi and VIN flying her down. As usual the lifting arm in
SB III’s hold would lift the single tightly-packed load out of the shuttle’s hold first, then the refueling hose would be connected to
Asterspace III and 500 pounds of liquid hydrogen fuel would be transferred from
SB III to the spacecraft, floating twenty feet off the shuttle’s port side. With only one load to float over to the spacecraft, it would take VIN twenty minutes to conclude the transfer of the six 40-foot cylinders with their cargo, silicone-sealed inside the inner most cylinder, and ten more minutes to complete the fuel transfer. One of the items in the cargo was the fifth computerized spider with its necessary welding material to help bond the ever-growing numbers of cylinders together.

The rest of the inner cargo included several queen-size beds, a dozen PC computers for the command module, a canister of water and another with food pouches, several aluminum storage lockers, a small elevator mechanism for one of the nine corridors, and the last of the beer and wine-making equipment for Suzi and Mr. Rose.

VIN was getting good at this. Ryan and the second crewmember, Pete Gregory, the new captain of
America One, would be floated over to the other craft with VIN’s help. VIN was in charge of the transfer mission and he allowed Ryan to leave the docking port, and to float outside within a few feet of the open hatch, out of the way of the arm.

Ryan was—literally and figuratively—in heaven. He allowed himself to float slowly out of the port, the already open roof doors of the shuttle only a couple of feet away from where he exited. VIN had made sure he was secure and that his boss wouldn’t float into the way of the cargo arm. With his jet pack he expertly used the pack’s thrusters to float towards the lift-arm controls inside the front area of the shuttle’s cargo hold below Ryan.

It looked so different to Ryan up here. He had spent hundreds of hours in the cargo bays of the shuttles and designing the cargoes. He knew every inch of the shuttle, and now, here he was, over 100 miles high in space, the hold’s interior lights brightly illuminating the tightly packed cylinders.

VIN looked like a Halloween ghost floating around inside the full cargo hold. There was no noise at all apart from his breathing, much like a scuba diver underwater. He held onto the rope with his left hand and tried to stop his legs from wanting to slowly float away. A minute later he soared like an eagle looking down around the nose of the shuttle where he could see the cockpit dash and the forward parts of his two astronauts’ helmets a couple of feet below him.

Then he gathered his strength and looked forward, away from the craft trying to see movement, and the direction they were heading. All he could see were the bright blues and whites of Earth below him, slowing moving past the front of the shuttle’s cockpit nose. It looked exactly like looking out of an aircraft window from a very high altitude. He saw the land mass of what looked like Africa a hundred miles below move past at a snail’s pace.

“Ms. Sinclair, is that Africa down there?” Ryan asked over his intercom.

“Correct, Ryan,”
replied Maggie looking up and seeing an orange helmeted white spacesuit floating a few feet above her, and she smiled and waved.
“You can just see the Sahara desert. As usual that is the area with no clouds. Above the clear area, the clouded area is the Mediterranean. Then you can see a long white streak further north, that is the Alps, just to the left of the cloudy area.”

“This is fantastic!” responded Ryan. “To hell with building a space ship, we should all just fly up here and float around all day.”

“Believe me, Ryan, its gets boring after a while,”
interjected VIN, moving the load out of the shuttle’s cargo bay behind his floating body.
“You should have seen the views on DX2014. Earth looked smaller than the moon, and the moon just looked like another star. Those vistas were worth every atom of danger going out there.”

“What is your most memorable view?” Ryan asked through the intercom.

“Easy,”
replied VIN
“seeing thousands of beautiful diamonds glistening in the sun’s rays all around me while I was trying to catch them. It was like one of those discos I used to go to as a teenager, with thousands of lights bouncing around the dance floor. Partner, I have transferred the load to Asterspace III.”

“Roger that,”
replied Jonesy.

“Mr. Jones, what is your best memory?”

Jonesy laughed and replied,
“After our first journey to DX2014 it was when I saw Mr. Noble come across to Astermine I with a canister I knew had a freshly sealed bottle of vodka in it. I could see the iced bottle through the aluminum canister wall with my x-ray eyes.”

“Jonesy, really!”
chided Maggie.

“Ms. Sinclair; your best view?”

“On DX2014, the first time Jonesy allowed me to go out on a spacewalk. He and VIN helped me out of Astermine II. It was on the higher surface where we could see space in its entirety. A complete 180 degree view of space! I believe it is impossible to describe it to someone who wasn’t there. It was as exactly as VIN always describes it; millions of stars so clear that you could just jump up and touch them. It was so romantic!”

Isn’t this the same vista?” Ryan asked.

“Sort of,” answered Maggie, “but you have the light from Earth, the moon and the sun, much closer than when we were millions of miles away on DX2014. There, it was dark, very dark; here it is like looking into space from Earth with city lights around you. Out there, there was no added light, which made the stars so much more bright and beautiful. Some shone like diamonds, having different colors. We saw Mars, which actually had a reddish color. We found Saturn through the telescope we took on the second mission and we could see the white band around a bluish looking planet. I think that the worst thing for anybody who comes up here is to not spacewalk, to view the universe around them.”

“Suzi, close the cargo doors. Fueling is complete, I’m detaching the hose. Jonesy reel it in. I will now float the two passengers over to Asterspace,”
stated VIN.

Ryan watched as VIN floated towards him.

“I assume I should take Captain Pete Gregory before you, Ryan? Pete can you hear me?”
VIN asked. Ryan nodded.

“Sure Buddy, I’m in the port, Maggie is opening the hatch. Since I will be out here every day for the next couple of weeks before I take over command of America One, I will leave Mr. Richmond to get his jollies walking around out here. I will be happy just to see Suzi’s smiling face. I would assume she doesn’t have her helmet on as usual?”

“You’ve got that right, Herr Captain Pete,”
replied Suzi.
“I’m not wearing a helmet if I’m not going out there.”

VIN grabbed hold of
America One’s new commander who floated quickly out of the shuttle’s outer hatch. He knew that this quick exit would happen every time a newbie spacewalker came out of the hatch; accustomed to the gravity on Earth, they thought they had to propel themselves out of the hatch. He buckled Pete to him and then unceremoniously thrust himself towards
Asterspace III. Pete, who couldn’t do anything, just floated away with VIN enjoying the view.

Ryan asked if he could allow his rope to extend and VIN said that once Jonesy closed the cargo bay doors, he could. The doors began to close and Ryan began to allow his rope to play out, just managing to push himself forward, and away from the docking port’s outer hatch one of his feet was near.

Immediately he began floating away, forward of the shuttle traveling at over 14,000 miles an hour. There was no movement and he could see both pilots, seated with their helmets on, through the forward portal. They looked like they were looking directly at him.

It was so peaceful and everything was stationary as he floated further and further away, his cord slowly reeling out. He watched as VIN got Pete to the other craft and feet first Pete entered the
Asterspace docking port. The hatch closed and VIN looked directly at Ryan.

“Better watch out for the space shark. Experienced astronauts say that there is a big white space shark out here, and he might just swim up and take you with him,”
VIN joked.

“Well, let him come and get me,” Ryan laughed. “As people say, bow out while you’re at the top. Well, I’m at my top and I wouldn’t really care,” replied Ryan totally relaxed and trying hard not to look around for that space shark sneaking up on him.

Suddenly, everything went dark around Ryan and the millions of stars were only inches from his eyes. They were much brighter, and he suddenly understood what Maggie had meant.

“The sun has gone behind the Earth, a normal occurrence a couple of times a day up here,”
explained Jonesy.
“It scared the bejeezus out of me when it happened for the first time. Partner, we have twenty-three minutes before we must align Sierra Bravo III to get to our Top of D (Descent).

VIN allowed Ryan to get a full 100 feet in front of the craft and enjoy peace with the universe for a full ten minutes, before he maneuvered over to latch onto his boss. There wasn’t a word spoken for the duration; Ryan’s crew allowed him solitude in the middle of heaven.

Ryan felt VIN’s hand attach a second rope onto him, and they returned to the shuttle’s opening docking port. VIN released the first rope attached to the shuttle’s port and Maggie pressed a button to wind the cord in. The outer hatch of the port closed as VIN floated him away from the shuttle.

They had just reached the other docking port when Ryan saw the directional thrusters on each side of the shuttle begin glowing, and it began to sink away from them heading down towards Earth ever so slowly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty of the long, slim shuttle moving around in space like a large shark. It actually did look like a space shark, as it dropped more and more quickly on its descent. First twenty-five feet, then fifty, then one hundred feet below the direction both spacecraft were heading.

“Mr. Noble, how much time do we have before we need to leave?” Ryan asked.

“We have about an hour or more before we begin to head up. The flights back to Ivan are slow and easy in order to save fuel. You want to stay out here a little longer?”

“You bet,” replied Ryan. “I want to watch the shuttle until it disappears.”

“Well, you have about seven minutes before the sun comes out from behind Earth. Then you won’t see the shuttle so easily. We can stay, and I will propel us out further so that you can have a clear view.”

It was a beautiful sight to see the shuttle slowly sink away from them.

A minute later Ryan could just see the shuttle’s rear thruster begin to glow several hundred feet away, and gently, like a boat leaving the quay,
SB III began to pick up speed and not only head down, but further out in front of them.

These few minutes were what Ryan had dreamed about for most of his life; to be a part of the universe and a spectator watching things happen around him.

The shuttle began to descend rapidly, moving away faster and faster towards Earth. It was about a mile below and ahead of them when the bright light of the sun returned, the glare destroying most of his view of Earth and turning it into a giant silhouette.

“Time to go, boss,”
said VIN simply.

An hour later he was sitting on one of the rear beds of
Asterspace III. The cockpit was much smaller than the shuttles’ cockpits, about two-thirds the size.
Asterspace III had the second crew compartment and he was happy to see that the tight submarine-size bunks were ready for use. He was also quite surprised at the gravitational pull from the electromagnetic unit beneath his feet. Nothing floated in the cockpit. He let go of his helmet, and like a leaf it slowly floated to the floor.

Suzi was happy to see him and hugged him as soon as he and Pete helped him remove his helmet.

“I see you are a natural spacewalker, Herr Boss,” Suzi smiled. She was still monitoring the spacecraft while VIN had his helmet removed.

There wasn’t much room with four in the cockpit area, so both men sat in the rear compartment while Suzi helped VIN get off his helmet and the top half of his space suit.

“This is my first time in one of these cockpits in space,” Ryan stated. “They are so small!”

“I prefer to call them cozy,” responded Suzi. “With four in here it is tight. Not for somebody who suffers from the thing…that disease…. That disease of people who don’t like small tight places..?”

“Claustrophobia,” responded Pete from the rear.

“Ja, that is the correct word,” continued Suzi. “I’m powering up the thrusters to full power for ten minutes to begin the climb out of our low-Earth orbit. Ryan, the Cloaking Device makes me grind my teeth, but I think you will get used to the whine after several trips.”

“How did you survive for a whole month in one of these cockpits, Mr. Noble?” Ryan asked.

“The first trip we only had this small front area. With two people on board, one sits while the other moves about. I can do several exercises; push-ups and other exercises in the central aisle between the seats, but thinking about the bath-bag, I preferred to get outside and walk around. Walking around on the asteroid was a life saver.”

“I look forward to walking on an asteroid very soon, Mr. Noble. We might be going back to the broken pieces of DX2014 in a few weeks. There is a possibility that they could hit Earth.” Ryan then explained to the
Asterspace crew the problem facing Earth, which could start a major catastrophe in a few weeks.

Pete and VIN took the first leg back to
Ivan on the rear bunks, while Ryan was happy to watch Suzi monitor the craft. She didn’t have much to do. The thrusters had increased their speed to 19,000 miles an hour and slowly their altitude rose by a mile a minute. They were still in a growing orbit and ground control down in Nevada plotted
Asterspace III’s whereabouts on the large screen, even though the Cloaking Device was on. They adjusted the craft’s speed and climb rate to make sure it stayed away from the International Space Station.

“Why do you think nobody ever sees our craft going around in orbit?” Suzi asked Ryan.

“It is beyond me,” Ryan replied sitting back and enjoying a pouch of cold orange juice. “I’m sure several amateur telescopes have picked us up over the last few weeks. I’m also sure that observatories have seen our craft orbiting Earth at low altitude, but I think our presence up here is diminished by several factors. First, junk is everywhere, so many might see our craft and consider it a piece of silver space junk; everything is white, silver or gold up here. Second, many believe that radar visual is everything. They might visibly see our craft through telescopes, but if it doesn’t show up on their radar screen, they might imagine they are seeing things. Third, our craft are small, very small, and do not stay in low orbit for more than four to six hours at a time, a small window to get a lock on such a small object in the vastness of the space around Earth. But I’m sure somebody will let the cat out of the bag sometime soon.”

For the next several hours, the four occupants dozed or slept. It was a two-day flight back up to
Ivan, completing seven long orbits before leveling out of the final orbit at 12,500 miles, the craft’s nose pointing directly at
Ivan
10,000 miles higher than
Asterspace III. Since
Ivan was not stationary, the craft would have to cover 160,000 miles before reaching the space station using as little hydrogen fuel as possible.

In space it took many hours, or even days to increase, or decrease forward speed by large amounts. All of Ryan’s spacecraft and shuttles could half the time it took to get to
Ivan, but they were now choreographed with the three-day launch windows from Earth.

One of the new pilots, Max Burgos, was in command of the approaching craft going down, with Fritz Warner as co-pilot and cargo master. They flew in formation together for the second half of Suzi’s last 12,500 mile orbit above Earth. Again Ryan suited up and exited through the docking port with VIN to spend ninety minutes this time, and with the longest possible cord. As usual, VIN had the cord attached to the spacecraft and they watched a smaller Earth, the size of a basketball on this spacewalk, spin ever so slowly 12,500 miles below them.

Astermine II looked beautiful thirty feet away on the starboard side of their craft, and VIN used his jet pack to float Ryan over and look at the helmetless crew waving back through the small forward cockpit portal.

Over the ship’s intercom system, which was also connected to ground control, the crews could talk to each other within a 1,000 mile range; very little else was done by the pilots in this phase of flight, apart from chat. The computers did all the work, even communicating to each other in the different craft once they were given changes to their usual flight plans from the two spacecraft pilots wanting their craft to fly only thirty feet apart in perfect formation.

Ryan enjoyed the peace and quiet of his longer walk in space. As VIN often did, they both played out their 300-foot cords and just floated there looking out in all directions. For a while they floated 300 feet in front and in-between both craft, then the same distance over the top of the craft, watching them with Earth’s brightness lighting them up.

Then VIN guided Ryan to the rear of the two spacecraft, allowing both craft to get in front of them. From 300 feet behind the craft, they looked so small and unimportant in the vastness of space around them.

For the last twenty minutes Ryan stared in the direction of the moon. As VIN told him, if Ryan stared long enough, he would actually see both planets move a few degrees in their orbits. The moon looked exactly like a crescent moon from Earth, just a little smaller as it was on the other side of Earth and would pass out of view in an hour or so.

Thirty hours later,
Ivan came into sight in front of the first cube of
America One. An hour before the crew in
Asterspace III could visibly see
Ivan, the wall of Cube One facing them could be seen, the sun’s rays shining off the aluminum side facing the sun. All seven cubes were now complete and extended out into space and away from Earth behind the first cube. At first they could only see one cube, the most forward one, which looked three times bigger than
Ivan fifty feet away and floating next to it. There had been a problem with the docking port on
America One which was going to bond Ivan with the cube and the scientists had separated the craft to repair the problem.

Asterspace III had three needed parts for the port in her hold; once fitted,
Ivan would be docked to one of the rear cubes. Both space stations were still twenty miles behind the communications satellite they were hiding behind. At twenty miles distance,
America One looked small behind the satellite which kept it hidden from much of Earth.

Ryan was on his third spacewalk as he and VIN watched the communications satellite float past a couple of miles away. It was small, about a quarter the size of
Ivan. It had its solar wings fully extended, soaking up the sun’s rays. Ryan studied the communications satellite carefully. Somebody was probably watching a television program, or receiving an email from it as he studied it. This was the first time he felt the sensation of movement while spacewalking, seeing something else glide by.

Earth had again decreased slightly in size, as had the moon. The sun looked the same, but earth was slightly smaller, now 22,500 miles away.

Hiding
Ivan behind the communications satellite had been a good idea. With the satellite in its direct line of view, not much could be seen of
Ivan, and now
America One, from much of Earth.

Ryan turned to look at
America One less than twenty miles away. He could easily see the line of seven cubes, and that six of the nine cylinder corridors were sticking vertically out of the sides of the cubes at different lengths, and growing by the day. Each of the corridors was bonded around a sliding door into the cubes.

At five miles, Ryan could see two minute white floating shapes. Two scientists with jet packs were spacewalking and controlling a forty-foot cylinder they were floating out to the end of one of the corridors. It would take ten cylinders before the outer-accommodation cylinders would be fitted horizontally, 400 feet out from the cubes.

“First, the two men take an hour to check the welds completed by the robotic spiders on the two new cylinders during their daily three-hour spacewalk,”
explained Suzi over the intercom, watching Ryan through her forward cockpit portal.
“Then, as we all practiced on earth, they float out the next cylinder and spot weld it to the outer end of the last cylinder. After that they return to get the second cylinder and the first robot to place on the first spot weld to complete the bond. VIN and I haven’t really been needed up to now, but we soon will be. Pete will join the third man waiting for him and they will be able to increase the welding speed to four cylinders per day.”

“Since we can only bring up six corridor cylinders every three days, once they have caught up connecting the half dozen cylinders already up here, Pete will then be in charge of setting up the insides of the larger accommodation cylinders for habitation,” added Ryan.

“In the next week great and exciting things are going to happen up here,”
smiled Suzi.

“That is why I’m here,” Ryan smiled back.

The next few days would see plant life being transferred into the first cube of
America One. Cube Two would be fully operational for plant transfer forty-eight hours later. It took time to allow the compressed air to be pumped into the enclosed and sealed cubes from aluminum air tanks, fourteen of them for each cube. Each aluminum air tank weighed nothing in space, but held 250 pounds of fresh Nevada air per square inch. It has taken several flights to get fourteen of these air tanks, packed inside the cylinders and to begin filling the first cube.

Before plants and humans could enter the cube to breathe the air, enough air pressure, equal to 7,000 feet above sea level needed to be released. Once this stage was completed with ten tanks, the last four of the aluminum air tanks would be opened to allow the pressure to increase to equal 2,000 feet above sea level.

Then, the inside temperature had to be above freezing. Large permanent heaters internally welded into the one-piece, forty-foot long, square middle walkway had arrived inside one flight of the cylinders. The heaters would take twelve hours to warm the cube. First, they had to be connected to the space station’s reactor power grid.

In-between the heaters, and throughout the walkway, were the magnetic batteries. The final task would be to position the powerful bright lights along the four corners of the walkway to fill the cube with simulated sunlight.

The magnetic batteries would instill 15 percent gravity inside the entire cube, and a more powerful 20 percent gravity on the actual walkway to allow people with metal plates in their shoes to walk along it.

All the batteries could be switched on and off, and would only operate for ten hours out of every twenty-four to make it easier for Suzi’s team of five to check and harvest plants while floating in zero gravity. The ten hours of gravity per day was to allow the plants to grow correctly.

With the last two of Cube Two’s air tanks arriving on Ryan’s flight, there were now enough air tanks to fill the first two cubes.

Ryan was staying for a week on this trip. He wanted to see every inch of his new spaceship. Once VIN helped him into
Ivan, he removed his spacesuit and set about trying the exercise bike.

Ivan had certainly helped Astermine to keep its crew safe while the new ship was being built. It had been in the overall plan for a couple of years, but nobody had realized that the rapid change in government would be so negative for their work. The whole spaceship-building project had started off being a five-year build plan. The former president and his administration had been behind the private space race from the get-go. Once the election was over, already a year earlier, Ryan realized that the new president might be a person who could hinder the project due to his own personal philosophy. Due to this possibility, Ryan had compressed the schedule to thirty-six months.

After the new president was sworn in, the cargo delivery schedule had been speeded up to thirty months, and now stood at an unbelievable twenty-four months from the airfield’s completion. It was still going to take Ryan at least a year, maybe two, from the arrival of the final cargo, before
America One would be ready for space travel.

Over dinner he chatted to the growing crew of nine, which could only gather together in the communal room of
Ivan.

“The president has given me until mid-January to sell Astermine to the U.S. government.”

“There is no way we can get everything up here,” replied Suzi. Ryan had brought a small cooler of fresh food up with him for the crew. They munched on warmed steaks, pork chops, mashed potatoes, vegetables and chocolate cake for desert. He had even managed to squeeze two bottles of wine and a bottle of JD into the cooler, just enough to feed the crew one fresh meal with liquid accompaniment.

“What are your alternatives?” asked VIN.

“Well, we have a couple of different scenarios we could put into action,” replied Ryan. “As you all know, we have 75 percent of all the material we need already up here to build
America One. Apart from a few of the ground control computers being sent up with our latest information, electrical control boxes, ventilation shafts for the accommodations, engines and fuel, much of the craft is ready for habitation as a permanent geostationary satellite, like
Ivan. The engines, gas, soil and water shipments will take a lot of time to transfer, and there is no way we can get cargo up here any faster.”

“What about Herr Brusk at Earth-Exit, or the Russians bringing up a load for us?” asked Suzi.

“Yes, I have already had discussions with Earth-Exit, the Europeans and the Russians. Earth-Exit’s freighter can bring up half a ton at a time and the Russian’s Soyuz Progress cargo freighters have only a two-ton cargo potential. The European authority freighters are bigger, eight tons, and I think we have a good chance to purchase their remaining launches. I have already sent deposits to the Europeans from Switzerland. The U.S. government certainly won’t allow me to fly cargo out of the country, but they can pressurize gases and haul up our water, soil and liquid fuels for us. We also worked on a Cuban, or a Canadian scenario; take the remaining 170 tons of completed equipment out of the country in one C-5 flight and begin flights from somewhere else. We gave up on those ideas a month ago. The C-5 Galaxy, even though she makes this project affordable and possible, is our weakest link. I have a legal and binding contract with the USAF for another eighteen months, but it seems that the new government can cancel these contracts any time it feels like. Nobody in Washington will allow me to purchase another C-5. Everything today is called a ‘security threat’ to the country.

“Since 9/11, the government seems to have the power to make any contract or agreement immediately null, or cause havoc and turmoil in the country’s private sector, all under the term ‘National Security’. This is why the likes of Bishop, Ward and Mortimer seem to have unlimited powers to do whatever they want. I used to think the media in this country was the worst in the world. Now it is the only institution keeping our program running.”

“And the Russians can help bring up the basics into low orbit for us,” suggested VIN.

“Yes, but let me bring you up to date. And since I think many of you won’t see Earth again, I can tell you the ‘end game’ agreed upon by my team when I was in my early twenties. Only my initial team of Russian scientists and I know what we need to achieve life up here. Even Suzi doesn’t know the end game.” She looked at him questioningly.

“Do you want some more wine, Ryan?” offered Suzi. “I had better oil your mouth so that you tell me the whole story this time.”

“Yes, please, I think I need another glass, or even a little slug of the whiskey I brought, like our Mr. Jones here. His ideas of drinking oneself to death are starting to rub off on me.” Jonesy looked at him dryly. “OK, here we go; the whole truth and nothing but the truth. My childhood dream was to live in space for the rest of my life, to search our solar system on a life-long journey. My future generations would tour the universe, never coming back to Earth, unless they wanted to. The Russians laughed at my plans, so I told them to prove to me that I couldn’t go and live in space forever. For five years we studied what was needed for life in space: life supports, gravity, fuel, possible resupplies on other planets, you name it, we studied it.”

“And?” asked Suzi.

“The conclusion at that time was that it was impossible. This was in the 80s, and what we know about living in space a quarter of a century later hasn’t changed much.”

“So we are not going forever?” asked Suzi.

“Understand that at the present time it is impossible for humans to live in space forever. We are too suited to one planet, and until our bodies adapt with evolution to a new home, it will be painful for us to live out here forever. Also, our minds, our brains, our souls, our hearts, whatever you call what controls us, is not ready for such a large leap. The scientists figured out that our minds would go first. Living without the hope or knowledge that we would one day go home could destroy the attitudes, the daily thoughts and dreams of other valuable members of the crew. A few could get over the idea of ‘nothing’ in the future. Mr. Jones could be one of those, but we normal humans need something to hang on to; simple things like, the next weekend, Christmas, marriage, wealth.

“As you know, one of the first scientists who joined me at the very beginning, Igor, the head of ground control, has a PhD from the University of St. Petersburg in Space Flight Technology. What many of you don’t know is that he also has a PhD in Human Psychology from the same university. Igor has always been the flight director of our project, and he seems well versed in what would happen if I lived my dream. After years of his explaining this one problem, to try and get it through my thick skull, I began to see that my dream might be my dream, but it might never be the dream of my whole crew. They would not enjoy living my dream as I hoped they would. He brought up the psychological negatives the crew would face over time–losing everything they had lived so hard for here on Earth.”

“So we are not going to space forever?” asked three of the crew together.

“No, we are heading out for fifteen to twenty years. We will travel in space until 75 percent of the crew wish to return to earth.”

Ryan immediately saw how right Igor had been decades ago. Suddenly many of the faces relaxed a little. As Igor had told Ryan, the men and women around him suddenly had an “end of the journey” in their minds, which as humans, was enough to get them through this long and dangerous adventure.

“Igor compared the mental situations his crew would face to a prison sentence. A man serving twenty years would survive his term better than a man who was there for life. The first could envision the end-station, leaving jail one day for normality; the other had no such thoughts, only death in jail.”

“We are going into space for twenty years only?” asked Suzi, also looking pretty relieved.

“For as long as 75 percent of the crew want to stay out in space. Once we get to that stage, we head back to earth,” replied Ryan. I have hidden nothing from my crew, the men and women who are traveling my dream with me. All I have hidden from you is what was explained to me would happen.”

“So we come back and find a different Earth?” asked VIN. “What happens then?”

“We will have a secret supply of materials to replenish all our supplies if we ever want to leave again. Anybody who wants to stay on Earth can, anybody who wants to go to space for a longer time, can do that. We only need a dozen crew to run
America One under Captain Gregory once it is a stable environment in space, a doctor, pilots, a couple people who can repair software, hardware, and mechanical equipment, and several biologists.

“I will also tell you the latest news received a few days before I left; something we were already discussing. Several important Russians and Europeans want to purchase some of the diamonds in Amsterdam and Antwerp. As I said, I have already discussed contracts with their space agencies to supply much of the liquid fuel gases and water needed to be brought up here. This means that our Nevada storage facility can store some of the supplies we have already manufactured there for the day when we return.”

“How can we ever return without the Dead Chicken?” asked VIN.

“Easy,” smiled Ryan. “Do you all know that the three large hydrogen rear thruster engines are arriving up here for
America One, in the same loads as the ship’s long distance three ion drives?” Everybody nodded. “There are actually six large hydrogen motors being built. Three of these new more powerful motors are to accelerate
America One into faster cruising speeds before the three ion drives take over for long distance travel. The other three are backups. These new hydrogen motors, or ‘pulsers’, are twenty times more powerful than the new thrusters on
Astermines I and II, and use far less hydrogen than our current configuration. Three of these larger thrusters will be modified as both ‘thrusters’ and/or ‘pulsers’. Their fuel cells will be placed in the old first-stage hybrid rocket fuel compartments of all of our shuttles.

“Our future shuttles will work with a single rear hydrogen-pulse engine added to lift the shuttles back into orbit. From our experience on DX2014, and the difficulty of
Astermine I getting off that asteroid, it gave the team ideas on how to one day take the C-5 Galaxy out of the picture. In a nutshell, we attach the new thruster to say,
SB III, we take out the old solid-stage fuel systems and add two small 5,000 pound liquid hydrogen tanks and two 1,000 pound xenon tanks inside her solid rocket fuel departments. We keep the second-stage hydrogen system. There would be enough thrust from new thrusters for liftoff to an altitude of 25,000 feet. At this altitude, they will turn and face the shuttle towards her trajectory. Then, the shuttle’s rear ‘pulser’ would be ignited and omit one sonic pulse every 20 seconds. With the side thrusters still on full power, they will begin using fuel from the second-stage tanks.

“The three motors will get her to the 160,000 foot level, the lowest level at which the ion drives can be ignited, and then the second-stage hydrogen thrusters will aid the ion drives in getting the shuttle the rest of the way. We have hardly used the shuttle’s ion drives on launches and space flight up to now, but they were designed for space travel, and using them as early as possible in the launch will get our shuttles back into orbit, much slower than we achieve at the moment, and with a smaller 3-ton cargo, not 4.1 tons.

“Given a few more years of testing, we would have reached this hydrogen power learning curve anyway. The pressure from Washington just forced us to develop this system faster, and actually, we had these totally new hydrogen-pulse motors on the design board years ago. We are going to modify them during our journey. You all have your laptops, go and do your own research. These new hydrogen-pulse motors will use one-fourth of the fuel for three times the thrust of both the new hydrogen thrust engines, but cannot be used at low altitudes. Below 30,000 feet they can damage houses and buildings, and we expect the desert to still be there when we return.”

“Are we going to test this new method before we leave?” VIN asked.

“No, the replacement parts are already made, but the engines are still in pieces. Back to getting our cargo up here; if we get all the other space companies outside the country to aid us in lifting our equipment up here, it will only shave eight loads, or twenty-five days off our project at best. The Russian
Progress spacecraft are single-flight, expendable freighter craft currently used to resupply the
International Space Station. Three of their expendable space craft are available, and I have offered to purchase all three and the cost of their rockets to launch them into space. Each flight could bring 5,200 pounds of liquid fuels, or water, and a few bottles of vodka. Mr. Jones and Mr. Noble, I haven’t forgotten you. The Russians will save us two flights.

“For a much higher price, a quarter of the diamonds I shipped over to Europe, I have offered to purchase the three remaining European ATV flights into space. That is all they have programmed in their mission. The ATV flights are also unmanned expendable Automated Transfer Vehicles which carry eight tons of cargo at a time, twice what one of our flights carries and five times the cargo of the Russian freighter. Unfortunately, the Europeans can only launch once a month so we have choreographed both craft to launch at the same time. The first set of craft will launch in a week and we have set up a system to transport both craft up to
Ivan. The European ATV has a higher orbital potential than the smaller Russian craft. Of course they both have the same docking ports we have on all our craft. At 100 miles, they will attach themselves to each other, the same way they would have been attached to the ISS. Then the ATVs thrusters will reignite and lift both craft to a 200-mile altitude. At this altitude, they will meet up with one of our transfer craft. Our crew will connect the craft to the internal cargo bolts with aluminum rods being made especially for this, and then using our spacecraft’s thrusters, the three ships will be propelled to
Ivan.”

“I will assume we are using the same internal explosion bolts to connect the craft?” VIN asked.

“It will be a simple matter of the pilot opening the doors. They will already have the ten-foot rods inside our craft’s cargo bay and connected to the craft. You float them out vertically and connect them to the bolts specially welded onto the Russian freighter. It will be as easy as your usual transfer, and these two expendable craft have an expected life of about ten years in space. I’ve been told that the three European ATVs have been built for a more permanent use, so we will hook them all up to
America One and take them as storage units.”

“So we leave earth in forty-three days, our time remaining, before we are attacked by our own government?” VIN asked.

“No, we will still have more than a dozen flights to launch when the deadline arrives, so our last chance to complete our mission is DX2014. If she poses a threat to Earth, we could buy ourselves time by offering to solve the problem in return for one more month of testing.”

“And how do we move this rock out of the way?” Suzi asked.

“With the first laser on
SB III, and the second laser on
American One working simultaneously, if we can get it up here, attached and ready for operation,” replied Ryan. “I have three teams working 24/7 to get the second laser completed and installed up here before the asteroids, or meteors as they are now calling them, arrive. We might need the full power of the nuclear reactor to move one of these incoming rocks away from our planet, if it is threatened. Even I want something to come back to one day. If he is not careful, the president could destroy the only hope Earth has to repel these rocks, if he decides to take us over early.”

Chapter 15

The first tour of
America One

The next day, after a twelve-hour sleep and breakfast, it was time to suit up; Ryan, Suzi, VIN and Captain Pete jet-packed over to
America One.

Before they retired, Ryan asked each of the crew he had spoken to in
Ivan to describe how they felt about their journey into space, now that they knew they were on a ten-to-twenty year mission, not a mission for the rest of their lives.

Igor had been 100 percent correct; everyone said that they felt relieved, even Mr. Jones. They all knew that it would be a long mission living in space, but now it had an end, an end that they could fathom. Ryan decided to tell the rest of the crew who were going to space when he returned. Even Suzi had said that she doubted that Ryan or the crew could travel in space forever.
America One still had its limitations.

Now it was time to see inside the first cube. The transfer of the atmosphere was complete and VIN would be the first person to break the seal on the sliding doors from the cube to the first of three storage cylinders. While these three cylinders held all the soil, hydroponic growing materials and the plants, they would still be living quarters for the growing crew for several more months.

They had use of both of the spacecraft for several more hours before one was due to descend to connect with the next shuttle. With eight of the nine crew squashed into the two cockpits, they floated over to
America One. There were only eight full spacesuits aboard
Ivan, and one of the crew always stayed behind to monitor the systems on
Ivan.

First, the two small craft, one following the other maneuvered to where Ryan could watch the spiders welding the fifth corridor cylinder on one of the arms coming off the first cube. They could easily see the little metal eight-legged robot going about its work oblivious to its audience. Ryan saw that the first cube had all three of its corridors now standing 200 feet out. The fourth cube had four cylinders attached to its three sides; the seventh cube had only two. There were still four unused corridor cylinders attached to the side wall of the fourth cube. Nine of the larger outer oval cylinders, the accommodation units that had been separated from the inner corridor units, were attached on the walls of the rear cubes, ready for Pete and one of the crew to start building their insides. All the supplies Pete needed had already been placed into the oval cylinders he was about to start work on. Another eight cylinders, two accommodation cylinders and six corridor cylinders would be arriving in two days, and the next set three days after that, when Ryan would already be back on earth.

Since the three storage cylinders—the first units connected directly to the walls of Cube One—were still sealed from both ends, the crew would enter
America One through Cube One’s docking port.

The atmospheric sensors in the first and second cubes showed the inner air quality, temperature, and gas mixes inside
Ivan and were also displayed on computer screens in the spacecraft cockpits. The delicate atmospheric sensors inside Cube One showed the inner space to have a safe atmospheric pressure. The heater had been on for fourteen hours and the temperature was 42 degrees Fahrenheit, ten degrees above freezing. There were also the necessary amounts of nitrogen, hydrogen, oxygen, and carbon dioxide.

Before the panels had left Earth, the liquid hydrogen and argon gasses were pumped into the carbon nanotube flat panels for the walls of the cubes, so that when the internal area was ready it would be protected from cosmic radiation and any loss of air or heat.

VIN and Suzi would be the first to enter the cube. Since many of the seven cubes’ main interior controls were inside the first cube, they were to enter through the cube’s inner hatch and float to the centrally located control panel to turn on the lights, and then check that everything was connected and working properly. Then they could take off their helmets and upper parts of their spacesuits. Once free of their cumbersome suits, they could activate the sealed sliding door to the storage cylinders for the first time, break the temporary silicon seal to the cylinder, and begin floating the supplies into the cube.

As soon as Suzi connected the outer hatches, VIN went through the spacecraft’s docking port; the lights stayed green and he moved through the cube’s brand new docking port. Checking that the lights stayed green, he opened the last hatch to the inside of the cube. He was still safe in his full suit and he floated into a vast chamber of complete blackness pierced only by his helmet light.

VIN waited for Suzi to come through. She was faster as the hatches between both craft were now open. Ryan and Pete would wait until the lights were on and all systems were checked.

Suzi grabbed hold of VIN’s arm. He had his jet pack on and could tow her to the operation panel. She held the map of the interior, and using her helmet light, told him which direction to take.

“The main operations panel is on the inner wall, directly next to the walkway below us,”
she told VIN.
“Aim for the wall connecting the two cubes.”
Slowly they floated down towards the center wall where, with his helmet light, he could see the walkway ten feet below them. Carefully they moved towards the double sliding door that would open and close when crew walked along the walkway to the next cube. Here were the main control units for all seven cubes; seven panels being fed information from inside its cube. Cube One was the front of the ship, directly behind the special revolving command center cylinder which had not yet been built against its front wall.

He and Suzi floated in front of the panels; each one displayed the quantities of each gas in its cube, the air temperature, air pressure and sunlight densities from several lights that they were about to turn on. The lights were computerized to use the full spectrum of sunlight normally found on Earth, at dawn, midday and evening times.

The other cube controls were still inactive. VIN checked that there was a power reading from the reactor to the main board and slowly moved the main light switch to the “on” position. Nothing happened.

“That only gives power to the independent light switches,”
Suzi told him. “First turn on the corner lights.”

VIN turned on the first switch and there was a faint glow from all four corners of the cube’s walkway below them. The lights started with a weak glow and grew in intensity. After several seconds they could see the empty insides of the massive cube stretching out in front of them.

“Turn on the wall lights,”
ordered Suzi, and VIN saw three different switches in the row, each identified underneath the dials. He switched them on and the intensity of the light grew inside the cube. Now it was bright with no shadows.

“Ryan, Captain Pete, float through the docking port, we have light,” Suzi relayed through her intercom. They waited until the first helmet was seen coming in through the hatch. With Suzi holding onto the wall and her metal legs trying to stay on the walkway, VIN went up to get Ryan. He brought Ryan down and he and Suzi held onto each other while VIN went back up to get Pete.

“It looks like the inside of a diving area of a large public swimming pool,” observed
Ryan as he tried to stand.
“The light certainly looks the same as the Nevada desert.”

“Ja, we still have to start the computer to change the light spectrums. What we are seeing here is normal daylight,”
Suzi replied as VIN returned with Pete.

“Everybody ready?” VIN asked. “I’m going to turn on the gravity batteries below our feet.” Everybody said that they were ready. A 20 percent gravitational pull wasn’t a big pull, but it was better to be ready to stand upright so as not lose their balance. They still could fall off the center two-foot wide walkway and float twenty feet to the wall of the cube below them.

VIN turned on the doubled-armed switch and suddenly he felt his feet being pulled towards the walkway. His feet connected, and he bent his knees to stop from bouncing off. Slowly all four got their footing, and their gloved hands left the body next to them to stand on their own.

“It certainly feels secure to walk on,”
suggested Ryan.
“It feels as if we were correct on our predictions.”

“I have the jet pack on, let me walk across the walkway to the other side and then I will jump off to see what happens,” VIN volunteered. He left the others. It didn’t matter if they were standing vertically or horizontally; in this cube it all looked the same except that the walkway was two feet square. VIN walked across the cube in the same upright attitude in which they were all standing; then, the other three couldn’t believe their eyes as he walked back to the middle not, vertically like they were, but horizontal to them. The sight of VIN walking normally at a ninety degree angle defied experience and logic.

“I had to get used to this idea when I was on DX2014,” he told them as they tried to absorb this new reality. “It was weird. On our second trip to the asteroid I came to the edge of a ledge. I had to go over to see this diamond vein Jonesy found. I looked over the ledge and he laughed at me, watching me from the spaceship. My mind couldn’t fathom that I could walk around at any angle. So I slid my legs over the edge, my brain telling me I was going to fall. Then I stood up. It blew my mind, I suppose just like yours are being blown right now.”

“Yes, this freedom to be a fly on the wall is certainly something interesting,”
replied Ryan.

VIN then bent his knees and jumped off the walkway. He easily sailed up to the wall of the cube above his head then he pushed himself away from the wall and ended up grabbing onto the walkway as he sailed past it towards the opposite wall.

“I see that walking around in these cubes is going to take a bit of getting used to,”
suggested Suzi.

“That is why my next job is to put the walking cords up on the walls, so when workers in here turn off the gravity, they can pull themselves along the walls to pick crops,”
Pete added.

“Won’t the magnetic shoes help?” VIN asked. “How come we haven’t got the magnetic shoes for people in here?”

“Simple,” replied Ryan. “Aluminum isn’t attracted by a magnet. You have to study Lenz’s Law on this problem, Mr. Noble. Extremely thin steel plates were connected across Ivan’s walkways so that the magnetic shoes could be used. We have our own more modern shoes, simple track shoes with small magnets in the soles. To make the most use out of our space up here, thin one-inch wide steel ribbons can be placed anywhere on the walls with a suction system to the inner covering. They can be moved at any time and these very thin strands of steel will become a magnetic walkway in-between crops and areas once Suzi’s team lays them down. One of the last flights is bringing up fifty pairs of these shoes still being made by Nike in California.”

For the next ten minutes all four astronauts removed their helmets to breathe in the cube’s air for the first time ever.

It tasted sweet and smelled like Earth. Then, except for VIN who needed his jet pack to get about, the others removed the tops of their suits and looked around with amazement.

It was mind boggling. There they were, 22,500 miles above Earth, walking around in an open, breathable, but chilly area the size of a cubed basketball court; the biggest room ever made in space.

The temperature showed 44 degrees Fahrenheit as VIN got the tools he needed to unseal the sliding door to the first cylinder. Without his helmet on, he heard the loud hissing of his jet pack for the first time since he was on Earth as he propelled himself towards the first door on the wall opposite to where the spacecraft was connected.

For ten minutes he peeled away a two-inch thick silicone covering to get to the metal sliding door and its control box. Once he had peeled off the soft malleable substance, he activated the control box and pressed the open button. Electronically, the double door, five feet wide and six feet high, slid opened. Now he had to break through the see-through silicone seal inside the cylinder.

Inside the cylinder he could see hundreds of individually wrapped plants and canisters that held soil, hydroponic plastic piping and water; the cylinder also contained a living habitat for four under the temporary docking port. This time the soft seal was a foot thick and he needed the small cutting torch Pete had brought with him through the docking port to melt a hole in it.

Twenty minutes later he had the first hole open connecting the two units. Without his helmet he felt the warm air from inside the cylinder rush across his face as he pulled out the first soft block of silicone. Suzi said that the 75 degree inner warmth of the first cylinder should warm the larger cube by a good ten degrees.

It was tough work trying to cut the hole in the silicon and not float across the cube. Once his fourth cut was done, the hole was large enough to enter the cylinder and now he could cut around the cylinder’s wall. The silicone was being collected by the three astronauts still on the walkway as the squares floated towards them in the middle. This specially made silicone could be melted and reused time and time again to seal anything they wanted. It would certainly become handy if a new home was ever found somewhere out on another asteroid or planet.

Once the silicone was cut away and collected, VIN grabbed each canister in the corridor and gently pushed them to float down to the group on the walk way. Space meant that much less force was needed for any manual tasks.

Two hundred objects later the corridor was empty except for the living essentials the crew would need while construction continued on the craft: four vertical beds, water and food packs, and an enclosed space toilet and bath-bag. Another six of Suzi’s crew and four of Captain Pete’s crew were due over the next few weeks and they needed two more cylinders for accommodations.

The outer edge of this first cylinder, in-between the outer connected cylinders was still sealed; the other cylinders were still open to space. VIN could see stars through the end of the fifth cylinder.

It took the rest of the day before all three cylinders were empty of their stores and tidied up to be livable once the new crews arrived, two-by-two with their furnishings, in the shuttles.

VIN looked down at the supplies now filling the cube. It would take a week for Suzi, together with Mr. Rose, who would be arriving on the next flight, and her crew of two, to set up the cube for growth. They had an intricate plan for each of the seven growing cubes and with the temperature now at 60 degrees, thanks to the warmer air that had escaped from the three corridors, they would have the temperature of Cube One ready in twelve hours. Suzi was about to realize her own dream, setting up the first farm and green house system in space.

Before the four left, VIN checked the control sensors in the second cube. The sliding door between the cubes was still sealed, but could be opened in about twenty-four hours; the air pressure was still rising, the temperature was only ten degrees below freezing, and on the intercom the crew told them that they had opened the last set of air tanks and finished connecting the controls to the board on the other side of the wall where VIN was standing. They were still fully helmeted and they had just turned on the lights, as it was warm enough to do so.

The four crew members floated back through the docking port and back into the spacecraft. Since both ends of their short journey were now safe; the exit from Cube One and the entrance back into
Ivan did not require that they wear helmets and upper suits, eliminating a laborious task.

With Suzi back in control of the spacecraft, they closed and disconnected the docking port to Cube One and Ryan was taken around the entire outer area of
America One before heading back to
Ivan. They could see that two new cylinders were now attached onto the fourth cube’s growing arms.

As with Cube One, the second and third cubes had all their supplies in the three temporary corridors affixed to the outside of one of their walls. These cubes would not have arms and there was only one sliding door for transportation of the cargo. Once the cargo was inside, the door would be detached from the wall and a permanent piece of aluminum wall welded into place.

VIN would repeat the same transfer of supplies into Cubes Two and Three once the atmosphere and temperatures were ready. Cube Two would be ready the next day and Cube Three in ten days; all of its air tanks would arrive in the next three shuttle loads. Now the light, empty cylinders could be returned to earth for refilling.

Ryan worried when the customs officers would find a dozen empty cylinders in some of the returning shuttles’ cargo holds. So far his team had decided to tell them that it was the fuel needed to reenter from higher altitudes, or that one of the crew was now spacewalking. It would look like a large team of scuba divers had been aboard, with all the empty tanks.

With only three hours allowed per spacewalk, the work around
America One went on day after day while Ryan was up there. The next shuttle arrived and with Fritz and VIN spacewalking, they separated the outer cylinder and fixed it on one of the cubes so Pete and his growing team could get them kitted out as accommodation areas. Two hundred feet out from the cubes would be the first line of accommodation corridors, running horizontal to the side of the craft, five cylinder-lengths out from the cubes.

This lower accommodation-level of large oval cylinders, having a 50 percent lower gravity than the second accommodation line 200 feet further out, would house a school, a church, the hospital operating and supply rooms, and the incubation area for the chickens and rabbits, whose living areas were higher on the outer level.

It was fine for the crew and animals to be in a lower gravity for part of the day, or their lives, but the humans would spend at least twelve hours out of every twenty-four in the full gravity conditions on the second level. Also each corridor had an elevator which would take crew up and down, as all directions in space, with a rotating ship, would become up and down!

By the time Ryan left three days later all the available corridor cylinders were being bonded to the cubes and
America One was beginning to take shape.

The customs officials checked the returning air tanks and wanted to know where they had returned from. They also didn’t know that Ryan had been in space, and not actually on the planet Earth.

Chapter 16

NASA has a big problem!

It was no surprise to the customs officials when they saw Ryan Richmond emerge from the shuttle that had just landed. They never saw who went up in which shuttle, but what surprised them was that he looked paler and thinner than when they had last seen him a couple of weeks earlier.

The officials wanted to ask him why air tanks were suddenly appearing in the holds of the returning shuttles. Ryan tiredly explained that the new tests were to do with spacewalking. They were training to open the shuttle roof doors to remove the radioactive containers if they somehow got stuck inside the hold; this used up a lot of air. If there were an ejection problem the crew would have to spacewalk to release the hazardous materials.

This explanation seemed to satisfy the bored customs officials who unhappily headed back to their lodgings at the end of the runway to report the new events to whoever was their supervisor.

Ryan was helped off with his upper suit while he stood outside. Even though it was late afternoon on December the 8th, the sun was pleasant on his face; the temperature felt cold, exactly like when he had taken off his helmet inside the first cube.

Suzi, Mr. Rose, and her team had months of work to complete and would not be back on Earth. Her hangars were empty and the biological side of his dream was complete in space except for one last small load of newly born chickens and rabbits; they would be included on a launch just after Christmas with the last member of Suzi’s team.

Ryan was interested in seeing how his plans for Hangar Seven were coming along. First he showered and then he enjoyed a steak: something he was certainly going to miss. His crew had four tons of deboned beef and another four tons of pork ready for launch in large freezers in Hangar Six, if there was time for them to be sent up. These two loads would be enough meat for a steak dinner and a pork dinner once every alternate week for the first five years. Over his meal, Ryan hoped that the incoming U.S. military wouldn’t get them first.

After dinner it was dark, so he walked over to Hangar Seven. The four security guards allowed him into the hangar; its interior had certainly changed since he had seen it last ten days earlier.

Inside the hangar a dirt slope led underground into a rectangular cavern longer and wider than all the space cubes built together. The ground loaders around the slope inside the enclosed hangar were silent, and he walked down the steep slope which ran under the apron of the airfield.

A group of six people were actively at work down there under lights. This group of men had supervised the larger construction teams Ryan originally contracted to build the airfield, the bungalows, and the hotel, and all were either Russian or European. This team had started the excavation under the apron with ten men, but they were also part of the larger group who built
America One. This was the crew being transferred up on every flight and this was the secret chamber he didn’t want anybody to know about; only men going on the long journey into space were working here.

“Vitalily, how many more days before my storage chamber is complete? Your team has only three more flights before you are all up there.”

“Da, Ryan, we have finished the cement work on the flat roof, walls, and floor of the cavern. Tomorrow we cut the hole in the cement inside the hangar for the elevator to move your stores down here. It will take us a day to set up the electrics and batteries down here to operate the hydraulic elevator. Then the last four of us work days three and four, bolting the two hydraulic opening arms onto the thick slab of concrete. Lastly, we activate the radio frequency responder to open the elevator. Five days, Ryan and you can fill her up.”

“How did you manage to get the slab to look the same as the sun drenched concrete outside the hangar?” Ryan asked.

“It took time, but we painted the Nano-silicone covering the right color. The slab will still collect radiant energy from the sun and we hope it blends into the same color as the others over time,” Vitalily replied.

“So, once you are finished, the slab will look the same as the others, and then we can dismantle this hangar?”

“Da, the opening will always be the first slab that is directly off the apron. This one, 10- by 30-foot concrete slab will become the floor of the vertical elevator into your underground chamber,” Vitalily explained pointing to the slab. “The heavy-duty elevator, even with the heavy weight of the concrete, can drop whatever weight you want stored in here, apart from your Dead Chicken.”

The cavern had been planned two years earlier by the team. It would be totally secure from detection from above ground, and large enough to house thousands of the different supplies
America One could need when she returned to Earth sometime in the future.

Laid less than two years earlier, the apron concrete was a foot thick, thick enough to have a fully loaded C-5 trundle over it, and thick enough to protect the storage depot from the weather for decades. The cavern’s roof was ten feet under the apron, and the cavern was comprised of ten of the apron’s hundreds of slabs. The cavern was 100 feet wide, 300 feet long and 20 feet high.

Vitalily’s team had painted the elevator slab with a very thin layer of the same unnoticeable Nano-silicone paint that surrounded the outer walls and cylinders of the space station, and the airfield’s whole concrete apron. The ten dozen concrete slabs would power up dozens of large lithium batteries in the cavern, which would store enough energy to keep the underground area in perfect condition for long-term storage, thermostatically controlled, and the electronic systems operating year round.

The hydraulic arms, when activated by a radio signal from the cockpit of
America One, or from a controller Ryan or somebody else would have with them, would lower the slab vertically down to the cavern’s floor.

Once the cavern was complete in a few days the hangar was to be dismantled, leaving the hangar’s concrete floor open to the weather.

In this perfect, dry, and temperature-controlled geothermal environment, the supplies should be in stable conditions for decades if anybody ever returned to need them. There was a long list of what was needed to be secretly transported into the cavern, and Ryan was going through them in his office when his cell phone rang.

“Mr. Richmond, Hal McNealy here, from Cape Canaveral. We have a problem. This is my third call to you; I was told you were away?”

“Yes, Hal, I had a week of vacation in a quiet spot to work on the president’s proposal and ideas. Why?”

“I’m glad to hear that you are coming to a compromise between Astermine and the government. I can’t wait to get into your company’s driver’s seat, so to speak.”

“No, it won’t be long now. Now, how can I help NASA?”

“As you are aware DX2014 broke up mysteriously a couple of months ago. The guys at Kitt told us that the possible approach of these four large meteors is becoming extremely dangerous. As of yesterday, earth has a 52.5 percent chance of being hit by the fourth rock, up from 49.1 percent a week ago. There are only three weeks left before these rocks get into our nuclear defense range, i.e., where the country can launch a strike against the rocks.”

“So what has that got to do with me?” Ryan asked.

“One of the guys that worked for you told us about a laser that you were working on, to do precisely what Ivan Yarkovsky wrote in his papers at the beginning of this century; to move meteors off a direct orbital course.”

“Yes, he has always been one of my mentors. We have been working on a laser that could divert small meteors out of our spacecraft’s path. I’m talking about meteors or asteroids no larger than a small car. What we have learned, Hal, is that we can disintegrate small particles of rock up to 1,000 miles in front our shuttlecraft in space. Unfortunately, we haven’t yet tried our only working laser on anything bigger than rocks the size of a tennis ball.”

“And where is this laser at the moment?” the head of NASA asked.

“Currently orbiting earth at 1,000 miles up, and on one of our unmanned mining craft made obsolete due to excessive import duties.”

“Is this unmanned spacecraft part of the deal the government gets when they buy you out?”

“I would assume so, but I haven’t made a decision on when I’m going to sell yet. Hal, as a scientist you know it is better to complete a project before handing it on. All I want right now is to complete my tests to make sure that when I do sell, nobody can come back to me and say that I gave them a lousy deal. We are halfway through testing all our flight craft. The mining craft could be sent out towards the asteroid if it becomes necessary, but I must send up liquid hydrogen tanks to refuel it and that again lengthens the time needed to complete my tests, plus I could lose a valuable craft in the process.”

“Well, the president did give you forty-five days. How much more time do you need?”

“I need ninety days, to the end of March, to complete my tests. If I have to hold my test flights to send up fuel to combat this asteroid, then additional days will be needed to complete my tests. After my tests are complete, at my cost may I add, you at NASA will receive everything still here in Nevada on this piece of dirt in perfect working order on April 15th, plus all the information I have on this project. I am figuring out how, or when, I should sign the craft in space over to you. My astronauts will need to train yours on flight management.”

“You stated that your laser is at a 1,000-mile altitude. Can you show us that you have such a weapon? If I gave you coordinates of say an old car, or a truck here at Cape Canaveral, could you show us what it could do? Then I could speak to the president about extending your time.”

“I suppose so. I will need a few days to get the craft powered up with its solar wings, and I could demonstrate our laser ability, as long as you buy me more time with the president.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I will get some old rusted vehicles out here somewhere so you can try and burn a hole in them. How much clear space do you need around the target?” asked the NASA administrator.

“I appreciate that, Hal, only about a couple hundred feet in case the aim is off slightly. We have never tested the full strength of it,” replied Ryan.

When the call was ended, Ryan checked to see when
SB III would be going up again. He wanted to buy as much time as possible, and they had about twenty-four days before this asteroid could become an imminent threat. Luckily the asteroids were travelling slowly; 4,100 miles an hour faster than Earth’s rotation around the sun wasn’t fast.
SB III was due up on the next flight within twenty-four hours, and he decided to set up the demonstration on its following flight in ten days.

Hal McNealy had been a little surprised that it would take so long, until Ryan asked him for some plutonium-238 to power the laser up. McNealy told him that he had no chance getting plutonium. Without nuclear power, he told the NASA administrator, it would take a week using solar power to give the laser enough strength to omit one long burst, and a couple of short, weaker bursts. Ryan didn’t want NASA to take this show of strength too seriously. The government would certainly act faster against him if they felt threatened by a dangerous weapon up there. He had been told they did have their own laser system, undergoing tests at Boeing, and inside a C-130.

SB III’s cargo that day was actually Ryan’s second laser, with a long list of equipment on the cargo manifest including two of the new hydrogen pulse motors, parts for the thrust motors already in space, tools, computers, frozen rabbit and chicken sperm, distilled water, cylinders of pure liquid oxygen, hydrogen, helium and argon for storage, and air tanks to complete the atmosphere for Cube Four.

This flight meant that the second laser could be connected to
America One’s nuclear reactor about the same time the asteroids came into range. For Ryan’s team, into range meant that the asteroids would have passed the position where they would either hit or miss the moon and then Earth had only about thirty-two hours before the remaining asteroids would enter the atmosphere.

For the next seven days, Nevada was quiet, and the next three flights went off as planned. Exactly a week later, on December 16th, his friend at Hubble phoned him.

The chances of a possible impact on earth from DX2014D was now 87.7 percent, Ryan was told, and they had fourteen days before the moon could get direct hits from DX2014A, B, and C, but D looked like it could miss their first line of defense, the moon. Ryan was told that he was getting the final readouts an hour before they were due to be sent to the president and NASA. The most likely impact zone DX2014D had to date was a thousand square-mile area of the Pacific; the closest, 100 miles off shore in-between Los Angeles and San Francisco.

Ryan already knew this. The two still-working beacons left by Jonesy and VIN were transmitting from the first two asteroids. Up to a couple of days ago his team knew the approximate whereabouts of the second two rocks from Hubble telling him how far away they were to the ones he could track. Now all four rocks had narrowed the distance from each other with only 1,800 miles between them.

In addition, Ryan’s ground control team had all their crafts’ positions, the position of the ISS, the moon’s position and the asteroids’ trajectory; it looked like the middle two parts of DX2014 would certainly impact the dark side of the moon. DX2014A had a 17.9 percent chance of impacting the moon, DX2014B a 72.1 percent chance, and DX2014C, the biggest of the four asteroids, had a 91.1 percent likelihood. The position of the fourth rock, DX2014D, showed only a 12.4 percent chance of hitting the moon, and an 87.6 percent chance of missing the moon and entering Earth’s atmosphere 230,000 miles behind the moon.

Ivan and
America One would be well out of the way of the incoming path of the asteroids which, if they entered Earth’s atmosphere, would enter steeply somewhere over Asia where they could break up and then hit earth in the Pacific 22,500 miles below the stations.

Several teams were working on possible tsunami figures from a water impact of this potential disaster.
According to the scenario prepared by Ryan’s ground control team, the one-mile wide asteroid, DX2014D could still be a 250-yard-wide piece of rock when it entered the ocean and generate a water crater over a mile in diameter. At a distance of ten miles from "ground zero" the resulting deep-water tsunami would be about 100 feet high, but by the time the wave travelled 100 miles it would be reduced to a height of about 40 feet; however, that size tsunami could still become a 30 to 40-foot deadly wave along the West Coast.

The surge from this impact could reach across the whole of Los Angeles, San Francisco, parts of San Diego and Seattle with lesser impacts on Hawaii and further afield.

Several hours later, McNealy called Ryan.

“Mr. Richmond, we have a problem.”

‘Yes, I’m also able to track the incoming four asteroids.”

“We want you to arm whatever you have up there and get ready to use your laser to knock the fourth rock off course if it misses impact on the moon.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Ryan.

“You don’t what!?” replied McNealy. “This will be a direct order from the President of the United States of America if necessary.”

“I understand, but what happens if I blast this incoming rock and it does more damage than if I hadn’t turned it out of its initial direction? I don’t believe I have the ability to change its course. I also believe that we should be thankful that the potential impact zone is in water. Also, it could breakup and, like many asteroids and meters, fizzle into nothing before it hits terra firma. Plus, DX2014D still has a good chance that it could just sail by leaving a few damaged satellites in its path.”

“Well, with my experience and knowledge of a laser-beam deviation versus a nuclear warhead impact,” replied Hal McNealy. “I know which one is better, and I also know that the military was looking forward to the opportunity to blast this asteroid into a million pieces, until I told them about the possible destruction of their entire GPS satellite and early warning systems. What does Bill Withers say?”

“He agrees with me, Hal,” Ryan stated. “Bill is standing right beside me.”

“Put him on the phone, Ryan.” Ryan handed the phone to the past Administrator of NASA.

For twenty minutes they argued about the use of force against this incoming asteroid. Listening to what Bill was arguing about, it seemed to Ryan that McNealy’s real interest was to reduce the destruction of the satellites in space. The space junk was the most deadly “predator” up there for all the operating systems in space. The ISS was already climbing a 100 miles higher to get out of the way of any possible hits from propelled junk. McNealy also made the suggestion, which Bill Withers agreed with, that with all the junk suddenly traveling in all directions, it would be harder for Ryan’s launches to complete low orbits without hitting something. They returned to the possible laser test in Florida, and Ryan reluctantly told him that the laser could be ready for a test within twenty-four hours. He was angry that one of his trusted scientists had violated his promise of secrecy to tell NASA about his laser.

Once the first laser aboard the shuttle was activated, it would take less than a second to arm itself, lock onto the coordinates given by NASA, and attempt to burn a hole in whatever they had as a target in Florida. The second laser, once attached to
America One, would be three times more powerful in moving this asteroid off course. Both lasers, with a computerized sequence, burning the asteroid in two different places could actually move an incoming object of this mammoth size.

Ryan was handed back the phone. “So, what do you guys think is best?” he asked Hal putting his cell phone on speaker so that they could have a continuing conversation.

“I would still like to see your test here in Florida, then my guys here could work out which set of strikes against this asteroid would be the best. Bill suggested a long-distance 100,000 mile nuclear strike followed by a laser strike on any pieces still large enough to get through our atmosphere.”

“Ryan, Hal,” stated Bill Withers, “a nuclear strike at 100,000 miles above earth is the maximum distance the military’s six newly-developed warheads could reach in the window of time given. If the asteroid has missed the moon, the missile’s aim will need to be recalculated to allow for any possible curves from the gravitational pulls from both planets. I believe this distance would be the best position for a direct hit, or even better a nuclear blast next to it to knock it off course. The minimum distance is 60,000 miles, no closer, to allow the particles to spread out before buzzing our stuff up there. The duration of flight by our new rockets with their one megaton load would take the warhead ten hours to reach that distance, once the rocket runs out of fuel at a 300-plus mile altitude. A blast next to it should divert the rock away from earth at an angle, or even a direct hit will turn the target into a billion small pieces that could scatter before putting our satellites in danger. From my calculations, any direct hit within 60,000 miles of earth will not give the shrapnel time to dissipate, putting our entire space arsenal into jeopardy. Once debris reaches to within 1,000 miles of earth, I believe that with the radar-locking equipment Ryan has on his laser, he will be close enough to get a blast onto any large pieces, hopefully splitting them apart even further.”

If the military has success with a near blast, or a direct hit,” added Ryan, “the chances of a tsunami or a direct hit on the Earth’s surface is virtually none. Trying to save Earth’s satellite systems will be the next most important problem.”

For another hour several other experts from Los Alamos Laboratories, LINEAR, Spacewatch and other experts from other observatories were invited into the conference call to give their views and ideas.

Finally, a nuclear blast at between 70,000 and 100,000 miles above earth was agreed on that would be safe, and then any other form of laser intervention a good back up. Bill Withers had been perfectly correct in his way of thinking all along.

The next day Jonesy flew up
SB III with Maggie as co-pilot and two more crew members to transfer the single fully equipped hospital surgery cylinder to the space station. Ryan also had a busy day ahead of him as the crew heading up was Vitalily and his partner Hans, the last two members of the Russian and European Space team. This meant that the underground cavern was now complete. The two Audis had a new place to park, next to three of the largest diamonds ever seen on Earth, and a million other items that would be stored on hundreds of heavy-duty shelves now installed in the cavern.

Three of the crew members working up at the spaceship had family still at the airfield; these were the younger scientists going into space; the others, older specialists like Mr. Rose, had no immediate family to consider. A much younger Hans was married with a young boy of nine, which meant that the three wives and five children of the crew already in space would join them once the passenger shuttle went up. The passenger shuttle would carry the remaining scientists, mostly working in ground control, the shuttle’s refueling team, family members and Ryan himself.

Fritz Warner was the loadmaster on
Asterspace III this time, and he transferred the single cylinder and all its necessary equipment, plus the second laser sealed inside. Again fuel was transferred from the shuttle.

An extra orbit was being completed by the shuttle on this flight to allow
Asterspace III to break away from
SB III to climb higher and away in case somebody figured out where the laser beam originated from. Bill had explained to Ryan that it would be impossible to figure out the point of fire of the laser.

Ryan called Hal McNealy. “Hal, we will be ready with our test shortly. Are you ready with your video feed to us here?”

“We are going live now,”
Hal replied.

“My team needs the exact coordinates of whatever you have there. OK, I have live feed, I can see the target, it looks like an old brown 1980s Ford 150 in the center of Cape Canaveral’s main runway,” Ryan described as he watched the view come up on the screens around ground control.”

“That’s right, we have placed the target on the runway,”
replied McNealy. He went on to give Ryan the exact latitude and longitude coordinates. Ryan told Hal that he would hang up and call him back just before the laser beam was initiated.

“Mr. Jones,” said Ryan, “here are the coordinates; you are currently 1,623 miles away from the target, you are over the Rockies, how long before you feel confident in hitting the target? The target is an old Ford truck on the main runway at Cape Canaveral. They want you to hit the vehicle, so you need to be very precise. What do your camera and radar show?”

“The camera shows a dark brown blob on the runway surface. My screen is too blurry to see what the target is, but I have the computer and targeting device set on the vehicle. Rather stupid to leave a target on the runway, the beam could go straight through and damage the surface. Ryan, we have a problem, there is now cloud cover in-between us and Florida; I’m switching over to infra-red and heat. Ask your buddy if the target’s engine still operates, we could pick it up with the heat screen.”

Ryan called Florida back, and they sent a person to go out and start the old Ford’s engine.

A few seconds later and now at 1,289 miles from target Jonesy confirmed that they were picking up the heat source, and they had a clear view of the minute orange glow on the runway. Ryan suggested that Jonesy use a two-second burst, one-third of the power of the lesser-powered laser gun.

“Hal, we are ready, we are aiming for the vehicle from 1,003 miles out. If we can hit the running engine, we should see an explosive reaction, instead of nothing.”

“I got that, just count us down; we have over 200 NASA personnel three hundred yards away.”

“I’m sure my friends Ward, Bishop and Mortimer are also in attendance,” suggested Ryan.

“And several other important dignitaries, Ryan. By the way if you have any power left in your laser, there are three other vehicles to the right of the runway on the grass. I now have their engines running as well if your unmanned craft up there wants to target them.”

Ryan covered his phone with his hand and told Jonesy about the other three targets. “Once you blast the main target, hit only one of the three hot vehicles on the side of the runway with a half-second burst. I want to see what difference the shorter beams have.”

“Roger that,”
replied Jonesy.
“Ready to begin trial in 10 seconds.”

Ryan got back onto his cell phone and counted down the seconds for Hal, with Jonesy listening in. “Hal, here we go; 10...9…8... 7... 6…5…4…3…2…1…blast!”

Everybody watched as for a spilt-second nothing happened. Then with a blinding explosion, the whole truck, with the gasoline around the engine igniting, literally lifted off the surface of the runway and flew twenty feet before landing just to the side of the tarmac, its gas tank ignited by the flames. Suddenly Ryan’s picture became more colorful as one of the three trucks on the side of the runway went up the exact same way.

“Wow! Ryan, how far did you say your laser is?”

“832 miles out, Hal. How accurate were we?”

“Gee! I would say you hit two engines, two out of four…”
the phone could be heard changing hands.

“Richmond, Mortimer here. I want that weapon brought down to Earth immediately. U.S. civilians will not be allowed to have weapons of that strength or capability; otherwise we have no choice but to blast your craft out of the sky!”

“I don’t think so, General. First, it is not a weapon, second, it is not able to be returned to Earth, third, if you shoot it down then we have no defense against the incoming asteroids.”

“I don’t give a crap about what you say or think Richmond, our nuclear missiles will take care of any asteroids out there. You and your project have just become a national threat to the United States, and need to be closed down. I want that laser gun down here, or I’m sending troops in to tear your airfield apart.”

“The president gave me until the middle of January to complete my project, General Mortimer. My laser up there has been designed purely to clear obstacles out of the path of my mining craft in space. It is not a weapon. Also three copies of this live feed NASA has so kindly transmitted to me will be sent to the media, including our current conversation if you so wish. You and the U.S. military have no right to attack my airfield. It is against U.S. law and everything you have just stated is completely illegal and against our U.S. Constitution, and it is about time the American public and the American press see the bully tactics you, and this new government are inflicting on private American business. General Mortimer, I am warning you once only, you set off a nuclear missile, or a military laser blast against my U.S. civilian space vehicle, and the president will have to explain to the rest of the world why he has the authority to launch nuclear missiles and blast civilian spacecraft out of orbit any time he wants. I’m sure the Chinese and Russians will be very interested in the president’s reasoning. General Mortimer, do not threaten me again!”

Ryan hung up the phone and called the media in Las Vegas that he had some interesting feed for them, and that they should come out and get it on disk. A copy of what had just happened, including the conversation, was immediately emailed to the former president, who Ryan thought as his only real backup.

Later that day, the news went viral, worldwide. Ryan had kept back his cell phone conversation from the media, but the world got their first view of trucks blowing up from a civilian-made laser beam from space.

Ryan’s interview excited television audiences around the world as he described how this weak laser device could be a last resort to prevent incoming meteors or asteroids from hitting Earth. He explained that it was purely in the design phase, but might need to be tested if NASA needed his help with the four asteroids approaching Earth’s orbit. When asked if it could be used as a weapon, Ryan smiled at the reporter and replied that the laser was to be handed over NASA in a couple of months anyway, along with control of his complete project.

For several minutes Ryan described on camera, the theories of long deceased Russian Professor Yarkovsky on how objects in space could be moved out of harm’s way by light, or even painting one side of a rock. Future spacecraft could land on an incoming asteroid months before it arrived, and with their thrusters push it out of harm’s way. If extended time was available, like years, then dangerous asteroids could be moved out of a certain orbit by painting the side of the asteroid closest to the sun and the sun’s radiant energy could deflect the rock over time.

The airfield in Nevada never got its promised visit, and within days of the test, there were heated arguments in Congress about Astermine being a threat to national security. The former president had passed on information to friends and party supporters.

Chapter 17

The last Christmas

Christmas at the airfield was going to be a much smaller affair than the previous year. A dozen people were celebrating their first Christmas in space. Kathy Pringle and Allen Saunders, the next pilots to launch into space three days before Christmas, were carrying 100 pounds of frozen Christmas food and presents to be enjoyed in
Ivan and
America One.

The team on the airfield had been reduced by more than two hundred scientists plus their family members. Only eight-five scientists and forty family members remained and many of them had only a month’s work left, mostly on the new hydrogen engines.

So far, two thirds of the eighty-one necessary loads into space were complete. With only seventeen flights still to launch, made possible by the Russian and European Space authorities taking cargo equal to eight flights, it was getting near to the time the whole project would come to an end. The airfield still had more cargo it could take up if there was time before the authorities arrived to take over the property. There was more than enough topsoil, water, and extra cargoes of luxuries like frozen meat that could be squeezed in to another twelve flights after the last necessary flight of crew and equipment headed up.

Since Ryan’s threat to General Mortimer a couple of weeks earlier, he had heard nothing from NASA or the government. The television broadcast must have deterred anybody from approaching his airfield.

The real reason that Mortimer and the rest of the world left him alone, was that a manned Chinese spacecraft was launched a week before Christmas. With heavy propaganda and publicity about starting their own space station, this move by China had interested all the people on earth who owned telescopes, and hundreds watched as this craft orbited Earth for its first three days, slowly climbing higher and higher above the ISS.

Also the second Russian launch of Ryan’s equipment went into space the next day after the Chinese launch, only hours before the European rocket, also carrying Ryan’s equipment, erupted out of its European launch station.

Suddenly the American government felt like they were far behind the rest of the world, and those in power in Washington suggested to each other that the Cold War was beginning all over again.

Ryan kept his orbits and transfers away from the path of the new satellite the Chinese government stated was purely the first part of its own space station with more launches to come. Two days later they launched a second satellite and twenty-four hours later a third one, a day before Christmas.

Ryan was busy making cargo transfer schedules with his own shuttles as well. One of his space craft was descending to connect to the two unmanned space-freighter modules and thrust them up to geostationary altitude before the asteroids got too close.

The four approaching asteroids, now less than 100,000 miles the other side of the moon, were not going to pass anywhere close to
America One,
Ivan, the first two freighter modules already secured to the ship, or
Astermine I and II; the mining fleet were expected to have enough time to be docked to
America One. Even though two of
America One’s three large hydrogen thrusters were now up in space, they were still being attached to the aft of the ship, and the thrusters of the two smaller craft would be needed to position Ryan’s whole investment in space out of the way of any incoming dangers.

SB III was due to be up there several hours before the asteroids were expected to hit the moon and Jonesy had orders to climb the shuttle up to 1,000 miles above Earth and prepare for battle.
Asterspace III would meet up with the shuttle to load the cargo before returning to a safer higher orbit.

The second laser had already been placed in its position on
America One, underneath the new command center, and power had been connected only hours before the start of Christmas Day. VIN had aimed the distant laser towards earth for the first time, 22,500 miles away. Much like the test done in Florida with
SB III’s laser, Ryan used as a target an old rusted military jeep body he found on the property when he had first arrived; this time the jeep was placed several feet off the runway on the opposite end to where the customs officials lived.

With the ship’s radar, computers and new laser on full power, VIN fired the unit aiming for the area where the computers determined the jeep was located. He couldn’t see the airfield through the powerful cameras, but the computers worked out the position of the jeep from the accurate coordinates given to them.

Large metal sheets from the walls of the partly dismantled Hangar Seven had been placed around the jeep to test if any laser strikes could be noticed. The first burst was not detected.

VIN was firing the laser from the new ship’s half built and sealed flight deck, now connected and welded to the front of the first cube. The ship’s new “Command Center”, or flight deck was a decent size, ten times the size of the of the shuttle’s flight cockpits, and was one of the large forty-foot accommodation oval cylinders specially made with large one-foot thick see-through windows six feet across.

The second one-second burst blew a hole in one of the panels, thirty feet south of the jeep, raising a small part of the metal panel an inch or two off the ground. Ryan told VIN his distance from target.

In five bursts he never hit the jeep, but got within ten feet of it, accurate enough at 22,500 miles, Ryan suggested to his team.

This was VIN’s first time in the future “Bridge”, the area where
America One would be controlled from. He and Jonesy had argued on several of their flights whether to call it “The Bridge” or the “Flight Command Center”, or simply the “Flight Deck”. Ryan had decided to call it “The Bridge” since his ship was a spaceship, not a spacecraft, like an aircraft.

The Bridge was set up against Cube One’s outer front wall, on a revolving circular unit welded to the wall, which would rotate the cylinder in the opposite direction to the rotating cubes, keeping the command center stationary while the craft revolved behind the Bridge.

A magnetic floor and an electromagnet had been placed underneath the metal, so magnetic shoes could be worn by the crew while in the Bridge. The sliding door to the cube was round so that it didn’t matter at what degree they were when it opened into the cube. The middle of the cube’s walkway now had a door to the sealed elevator unit connecting the walkway vertically to the two outer levels.

The entire Bridge was one-half see-through with one-foot thick silicon windows and three control stations, positioned like a naval ship’s bridge, in one line across the width of the cylinder. VIN was sitting at the laser control center, to one side of the three captain’s chairs.

Where he sat in a swivel chair looking out of the side of the cylinder, the ends of the bridge were three-foot thick silicone-graphite oval seals, the same see-through materials the first supply cylinders had used, with a far harder more permanent compound this time. Only the magnetic floor wasn’t see-through, and VIN felt all powerful in this large open Bridge, twice the size of
Ivan’s communal module.

The interior command chairs and stations, two dozen computers and furniture, were surrounded by a jumble of hundreds of feet of wires and connections being worked on by a crew of three. It would take months before it would be ready, but it was sure nice and roomy to sit in.

****

While millions enjoyed Christmas Day all over the world, Earth had only forty-one hours left before they would find out if any of the incoming asteroids missed the moon. The festivities at Ryan’s airfield were loud and happy.

Many knew that this would be their last Christmas on terra firma. Many knew that this was their last Christmas at the airfield in Nevada. All of the personnel who were not going to space didn’t know if the person next to them at Christmas dinner might be having their last Christmas on planet Earth. The non-space crew didn’t know anything more than when their contracts ended, how much money would be deposited into their bank accounts, and their earliest returns to their homes, if these pesky asteroids didn’t end life on earth before New Year’s Eve.

Around the world, there was little to no concern about the asteroids. The media systems had done well, not letting the public worry over Christmas. Also, the U.S. president had stated in a special Christmas address to his nation, and to others who had any interest in listening, that there was very little chance that the four asteroids would miss the moon. Hal McNealy and NASA were confident that they were spot on.

Unfortunately, many observers around the world worried that NASA wasn’t right, and it was possible that the fourth of the asteroids could miss the moon. Many others, including the Chinese Space Authority were worried about their brand new space station; within hours the first three of several modules had joined together and their six crewmen aboard were readying the station for new arrivals in January. The station was at full thrust, working to get out of low-earth orbit, the danger zone for any possible collisions.

The Russians didn’t have any craft to worry about, nor did the Europeans, but Martin Brusk did. He had a supply ship heading to the ISS the next day and his supply freighter needed to climb a hundred miles higher to reach the station. Martin Brusk had a quiet Christmas with family knowing that his unmanned supply vehicle would be reaching its uppermost fuel limits to reach the ISS.

The first and the fourth rocks, A and D, still had a small likelihood of bouncing off the moon’s surface, or narrowly missing the moon. If they missed, the more powerful pull of Earth’s gravity could change their direction to head straight towards the larger planet.

As usual the airfield partied. Only the government and NASA were not enjoying life, worrying what to do to protect the country.

For several hours, the president conducted meeting after meeting with his military advisors and research scientists from all over the country trying to determine the risk. The military wanted to nuke any asteroids passing the moon directly and not risk a near blast to throw them off course. Where was the fun in that? The president signed off on this. He then warned all the world’s countries of his country’s intentions and in the last meeting of the day, General Mortimer, Tom Ward, Hal McNealy, Joe Bishop and a few Congressmen met to discuss Astermine and Ryan Richmond.

****

Approximately 294,000 miles away, the four sections of DX2014 moved silently towards earth. The moon was slowing pulling them in, gently turning their paths to direct themselves onto its 2,100-mile wide open surface.

DX2014B still gleamed in the faint sunlight, just as it had done when Jonesy, VIN and Maggie were floating around it. If VIN could see the asteroid’s surface, he would see the rest of the glistening stones, thousands of them that he and the two spacecraft had missed. The diamonds had been attracted back to the asteroid’s surface. The vein Jonesy had seen was now much smaller, many of the bright stones had already been dislodged, but there was still a river of fire.

If an astronaut were on the surface of DX2014B, he would be able to see the other three parts of the asteroid. The front nose of the original rock was a couple of hundred miles to one side of DX2014B, a small speck the size of a large bright star. The other two were on the other side, also specks in the distance, a distance that over time had decreased to where all four were just visible to the human eye.

The four rocks moved silently towards the path of the moon, now only fifteen hours in front of them, and all four felt the pull of big brother.

Chapter 18

Air Force One.

Early the next morning, twelve hours after the Christmas party, things got back to normal on the airfield; the four C-5 engines were waking up the entire crew.

Ryan was pleased that the customs officials had been allowed to return to their families for Christmas, their accommodations empty and unlit as the C-5 rushed over them at 180 feet with
SB III inside.

Today’s load was close to four tons of topsoil in twenty-four silver canisters loaded together in pyramids of six for transfer into
Asterspace III.

Ryan really wanted to be in the shuttle, but its two passenger seats were empty and the extra available weight was used in the cargo bay with 400 pounds of pre-programmed computer equipment, electrical systems and instrumentation for
America One’s
Bridge.

He was extremely happy that he wasn’t aboard when, sitting in ground control enjoying a cup of coffee, the airfield’s civilian radios came to life. It wasn’t Bill Mathews or Jonesy on the radio.

“Astermine Airfield, this is Air Force One. We are 100 miles east of you and requesting landing instructions for your airfield. Over.”

Ryan immediately got on the phone to Joe Downs in Las Vegas informing him that he was about to receive important visitors. Joe, half-awake, told him that they would be there in thirty minutes and that it better be somebody of importance. He also thanked Ryan for the tip and said he would call the other stations as soon as they were airborne. Ryan told Joe and his crew to record the sky above them in a few minutes, as his shuttle was launching. Then Ryan replied to the radio call.

“Astermine Airfield to
Air Force One, Merry Christmas, wind still, temperature 28 degrees, recommend that you come straight in from the east on Runway 09.”

“Astermine Airfield, this is Air Force One, roger that, ETA twelve minutes. What is the traffic we see in your restricted area? Over?”

“Air Force One, we have one Charlie Five at 32,000 feet with our shuttle launch due out in seven minutes. You will be able to see the launch out of your port windows. We have your two aircraft on radar. Are there any other visitors expected? Charlie Five will be coming in thirty-three minutes after the launch. ”

“Roger that, we will delay our arrival to allow your launch to evacuate your restricted area. There are two incoming Foxtrot 16s, usual air cover procedure due into your airspace in six minutes. No other expected visitors. Over.”

“Request the number of visitors so that we can get breakfast and hot coffee ready, and the visitor’s length of stay.”

“Two aircraft, ten passengers, estimated time for departure, two hours after arrival. Out.”

Ryan hoped that was the total number of people on board both aircraft. He woke up his complete security personnel and told Lieutenant Walls that they needed to be dressed accordingly to receive
Air Force One. They scrambled to get ready.

Ryan gave orders for a breakfast for two dozen with coffee to be delivered to Hangar One and gave out an intercom warning to secure all necessary documents and equipment; they were going to have visitors. Then he picked up his handheld radio, threw on a warm jacket, picked up a hat and a pair of gloves, and went outside.

The sun still wasn’t up, but a sliver of light could be seen in the cloudless sky to the east.

“Altitude 49,000 feet…..leveling out……heading into dive, temperature minus 29 degrees, Jonesy.”
Ryan heard Bob Mathews in the Dead Chicken over their private channel.

“Roger that, you should get at least a hundred feet higher on this run, Bob; the temperature is 6 degrees cooler than last run.”
Ryan heard his chief pilot respond.

“I’ll work on it for you, Mr. Jones, heading down….47,000 …..45,000…”

Ryan was sure that the two incoming 747s had radio men aboard searching to find his private channel. His aircraft above had its second radio naturally tuned to the regular channel and would have heard the conversation between Ryan and the incoming visitors.

On schedule, the sky to the south of him far above lit up as
SB III’s first stage rockets ignited. Even at 50,000 feet the sudden white light lit up a large area of blackness. He could not see the C-5 or the shuttle at this high altitude, but Ryan and the incoming visitors would easily see the first-stage rockets when they ignited. Seconds later as the pre-dawn’s light illuminated the eastern horizon, two silent black shapes could be seen just over the mountains to the south as two air force jets approached the runway. They swooped over at less than 1,000 feet and nosily rose vertically to begin circling. Ryan looked over to the brightening horizon and saw the first large silhouette of a Boeing 747 several miles away on final approach.

As the minutes passed, the light from the rocket motors decreased in size as they headed eastwards and finally disappeared as the first 747 was about to touch down on the brightly lit runway. Ryan could now see the second 747 a couple of miles behind the first one.

Air Force One and its sister aircraft were beautiful. They weren’t larger than the C-5, so didn’t look any more magnificent as the first one trundled down the runway. The pilot braked hard and well enough to use half of the runway and Ryan watched as his apron controller walked out with lit batons to guide the first aircraft to its position.

The second one came in and performed the exact same procedure as his security personnel ran on to the apron, formed two lines, and stood at attention. He didn’t have a red carpet, never thinking that he would need it.

Jonesy came over the radio that they were about to go into orbit, and had the visitors arrived yet? Ryan stated that they had, and told Bob Mathews to land the C-5 as usual. The two 747s would take up half of the other side of the apron.

The second 747 was brought to a stop as the only set of aircraft steps Ryan had, for the C-5, was towed out by the tractor. They could be extended to reach the door of the 747, and the driver of the tractor waited until the rear door of the first aircraft opened and he was signaled to bring the steps over.

Ryan told the guards to stay where they were, he certainly didn’t want to scare the Secret Service, or any military protecting the President.

Allen Saunders caught up with him, and so did Bill Withers as he walked across the apron to welcome the president.

As soon as the steps reached the aircraft a dozen secret servicemen, rushed down, weapons drawn, and made a large perimeter around where the visitors would disembark.

Ryan wasn’t surprised when General Mortimer was the first out of the door, followed by Congressman Dickens, then Tom Ward and Joe Bishop. After them, came the new Administrator of NASA with Martin Brusk and finally, the president himself.

Astermine’s boss had banned Bishop from the airfield on his last visit, and was unhappy that the ill-mannered man had returned.

The men stood by the bottom of the aircraft to allow the president to walk in front of them to greet Ryan.

“Merry Christmas, Ryan,” smiled the black coated president shaking Ryan’s hand. “Since it is the day after Christmas and we have these asteroids about to hit the moon, I thought it a good time to accept your invitation and pay you a visit.” A uniformed military pilot came down the steps and whispered to General Mortimer, who whispered in the president’s ear. “We have a helicopter approaching your airspace. Are you expecting visitors?”

“Yes, our local Las Vegas CBS team who wanted to take footage of the Christmas launch; I had invited them in for breakfast before I knew you were coming. Do you mind if they join us, Mr. President?”

“No, I don’t think I mind. We are here to sort out this asteroid business, and I think it a good idea for the public to see that Hal McNealy and I are discussing the possible threats these asteroids might put us in.”

Before Ryan could complain to the president about Joe Bishop, the president asked Tom Ward and Joe Bishop to stay inside the aircraft. He, Congressman Dickens, General Mortimer and Hal McNealy could take it from there.

Ryan smiled at this move. The president didn’t want the media to find “all the kings men” in one place.

Ryan was introduced to the president’s men and they shook hands.

Mr. President, you know Bill Withers, and this is General Allen Saunders, retired USAF,” said Ryan introducing the two men in civilian dress next to him.

“Yes, Bill, good to see you again. No hard feelings about me moving you on?” the president smiled his election smile.

“Of course not, Mr. President,” smiled Bill back. “It is far more interesting working here at Astermine, a lot more going on.”

“General Saunders, you were in charge at Nellis if I remember correctly?” the president asked.

“Correct, Mr. President, for seven years. You passed through often while I was in command,” Allen replied shaking the president’s hand.

They proceeded over to Hangar One, three secret servicemen staying closely around the president. The two F-16s could be heard at altitude overhead, and Ryan was sure that he could hear the rotors of an approaching helicopter. He spoke into his handheld telling his crew to place the chopper on the opposite side of the apron to the two 747s and to leave the usual space for the C-5.

Before the group entered Hangar One, they paused as the president wanted to look around the apron and at all the large hangars around it.

“I see you are dismantling a hangar, Ryan. Any particular reason?”

“Due to our spacecraft being complete, we don’t need the construction hangars anymore. We have three hangars that have no further use, and I was going to dismantle them and get ready for their move to Florida.”

“Do you have one of your shuttle craft we can see? You have two don’t you, and one has just left for space?”

“Yes, Mr. President. One is being refueled at the moment. It is being loaded with solid rocket fuel, so I don’t know how close you want to get to it. I can always get the front door of the hangar open so you can see it.”

“That would be close enough, or the agents will go crazy. I’m looking forward to seeing your command center, where you control your flights into orbit.”

Ryan led the way into Hangar One. His ground control team stood up as the president entered.

“You guys do what you have to do,” said the president, acknowledging their standing up for him. “Merry Christmas, you have craft in space and I’m sure you need to track them. Ryan what are we seeing on the screen in front of the room?”

Ryan’s eyes checked the screen over. There weren’t as many dots lighting up the large screen as there usually were. Seven lights were not lit, hiding the craft Ryan didn’t want seen.

“The blue dot is the International Space Station,” began Ryan. “The second blue dot is Martin’s supply freighter heading up to the space station. The ISS is currently over Africa and Martin’s craft over the southern Atlantic, 1,000 miles behind and still 100 miles below the rising space station. Over the Pacific, the orange stationary light is
Ivan, our new space station salvaged from the Russian Space Authority. We finally got her up to a geostationary satellite orbit and she is doing nothing up there at 22,500 miles, a small target for the incoming asteroids. The red dot is the new Chinese satellite over the West Coast of the U.S. at 265 miles altitude and she is also climbing. Over Africa are both the Russian and European satellites launched into orbit a few days ago.”

“At 290 miles above earth, those craft can fly that high?” Hal noticed looking at the altitude of the two craft joined together on the large screen.

“They are presently connected up to our unmanned mining craft and are being taken up to our new space station by the mining craft’s liquid-hydrogen thrusters. All three craft are locked together,” Ryan replied. Hal looked at him puzzled.

“Is that the reason why they were both sent up so close together?” Hal asked. Ryan nodded.

“We have heard nothing from the Russians, but the Europeans stated that their freighter is for you. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Mr. President, so that I can speed up and get this project complete by January 15th. Each of the European freighters already sent have an eight-ton supply of liquid hydrogen rocket fuel I want to get based up next to
Ivan. The Russian modules each have a ton of distilled drinking water and a ton of liquid xenon gas, also going to
Ivan.

“Can they survive such a height locked onto your mining craft? Both were built to only reach the International Space Station, were they not?”

“Correct again, Mr. President. Our unmanned mining craft did lock onto them, like it did
Ivan and can haul them up there. It doesn’t matter what height they are in space; I’ve been told they can survive and remain in good condition for several years. Astermine doesn’t throw anything away. I want to use the old Russian Space Station as a refueling depot, once we have some sort of ion drives, or hydrogen thrusters built for her so that she can return to a lower altitude and resupply our shuttles if or when needed,” Ryan replied. “That is Bill Withers’ project at the moment; to build a gas station in space.”

“Hal, how would this project help NASA?’ the president asked.

“It would hold important reserves for supplying future craft with fuel and anything else they need up there, so our craft don’t have to reenter so often.”

“Is this how you keep your unmanned mining craft up there?”

“Correct, Mr. President,” replied Ryan. “I contracted with the Russians and Europeans to supply my craft for future missions to go mining.”

“How did you get the Russians to supply you with their small craft?” the president then asked Ryan.

“Simple, Martin and Earth-Exit are now supplying the ISS, and have the new contract with NASA. That leaves the other space authorities without cargos, apart from their own to the ISS, so they needed cargos; I made a deal with both agencies at a very reasonable price.”

“Sounds logical Ryan, it’s your money. Actually Earth-Exit, beginning January 1st is NASA, and Martin here will be working directly with Hal McNealy,” added the president looking back at the board. “And I assume that the green light is your shuttle we just saw launch into space?”

“Yes, Mr. President. She is currently over western China, 1,500 miles north of the ISS and climbing through 390,000 feet.”

“Can your shuttle go higher than the ISS? Can she orbit that high?”

“Yes, she has been designed go as high as the Russian space station, once her low orbital tests are complete.”

“So why are you playing around in these low altitude orbits flight after flight? It must be costing you a fortune in gas.”

“To get ready for taking radioactive waste into space,” Ryan replied. “We have our first model ready for testing on our next flight. It weighs one ton and can carry three tons of waste into space. Do you want to see it? I will have it transported out of its hangar and onto our apron if you are interested.”

“Sure, we can see it on the way out,” the president replied.

Ryan saw that breakfast and coffee was being carried into the hangar and suggested that they sit in the conference room. He led them to the windowed conference room, which had a boardroom table that could sit a dozen people.

The president entered with his three men behind him; the three secret service agents inspected the food. Ryan, Allen Saunders and Bill Withers entered. Ryan’s radio squawked.

“Mr. Richmond, we have Joe Downs and his camera crew outside Hangar One. Can I allow them in?”
Ryan looked at the president who nodded his head that Ryan could.

“Would you like to give CBS a few minutes to tell them why you are here?” Ryan asked the president.

“Sure, a few minutes before we get down to business. Let me say something, Ryan, then you can back me up afterwards,” suggested the president, smiling.

Joe and his team entered the hangar and were shown over to the conference room. The three CBS guys were first checked out by the secret service before shaking the president’s hand, and then Ryan’s. Permission was given by the president to get a short speech filmed for them, and then Ryan would say a few words.

“Mr. President, Merry Christmas,” started Joe Downs. “It was certainly a surprise to see
Air Force One on the tarmac in Nevada this morning. Has this got to do with the asteroids? How can Mr. Richmond help you if they become a threat?”

“Merry Christmas to you, Joe!” he said smiling at the camera. “Yes, as president I have to check out all possibilities we have if these four approaching asteroids become a danger to Earth. We should know in about three hours if the danger has been averted by all four impacting the moon. If not, the world knows that our armed forces and NASA are ready and capable to send up nuclear missiles to high altitude to destroy whatever misses the moon. Mr. Richmond and Astermine will actually become part of NASA next month, as Mr. Brusk and his company will become on January 1st. The United States government is keen to develop NASA into the world leader in space travel, and due to the recent launches by China, it looks like we had better get moving.”

“How can Astermine help you with the approaching asteroids?” Joe asked.

“Actually, they can’t. Astermine doesn’t have any technology to do anything to help us to repel these asteroids. That is not their mission. NASA is taking over Astermine in a couple of weeks to begin getting rid of the radioactive waste that is growing in our country. Congressman Dickens, several other members of Congress, General Mortimer, and I believe that once these asteroids are dealt with, then it is time bring Mr. Richmond’s company under NASA and a new division will be setup and run by Mr. Richmond and his crew in Florida to get this important project activated.”

“What about Mr. Richmond’s moon mining activities?” Joe asked.

“Spoils of the takeover, I believe,” stated the president smiling. “This is why we are here this morning Joe, like you, to watch the latest launch of the shuttle and to discuss the turnover of Astermine to NASA in Florida.”

“So Nevada is going to lose Astermine? What is going to happen to this airfield, Mr. President?”

“Unfortunately Joe, it is not practical to send up flights with radioactive material from Nevada. Future radioactive launches will be from Cape Canaveral in Florida to keep our citizens safe and if there is a malfunction after launch, then the cargo will splash into the Atlantic. A very simple reason Joe. As far as this airfield is concerned, General Mortimer is planning for it to help Creech Air Force Base with their Drone missions around the world. The U.S. population knows that Creech runs many of our worldwide Drone reconnaissance missions. This is the fastest growing spectrum of the United States Air Force, and Mr. Richmond has certainly given us a secure, well planned and developed new extension to our Air Force base network to work from. I’m here for a couple of hours and then will leave to control the situation with the asteroids, if I’m needed. That is all I have to say. Maybe Mr. Richmond has a few words to backup what I’ve just told you?” Joe and the camera turned to Ryan.

Ryan had already realized that the president was playing him the same way he himself had used the media to deter the government. Now the tables were turned on him, and he couldn’t admit that the president was wrong.

“The president is absolutely correct,” replied Ryan. “I have been offered a good package to join NASA with my team to help advance the United States into the new space race. The meeting today is to work out the transfer date,” he stated to Joe working out what he was going to say as he said it.

Bill Withers and Allen Saunders were watching him intently to see how he would react to the public’s learning about this takeover of his company. Only they knew on his side that the media was being used by the president to publicly railroad Ryan into giving up his life’s work, and what the president had stated was not the truth. How do you call the President of the United States a liar in front of the whole country? They were both sure that this feed could be already going out live to parts of the country.

“Unfortunately, we are not finished with our testing here in Nevada, so don’t expect us to leave so soon, Joe. My crew and I at Astermine have to complete our tests before we hand the company and all its assets over to NASA. I haven’t been offered a salary yet, so I’m eager for you guys to leave so that I can pin down the president on what I’m worth to the government, and it had better be a lot,” smiled Ryan. “Our testing, especially on our new shuttle, which has flown less than ten flights into orbit, will continue until the end of March. I’m not stopping our food orders from Las Vegas just yet.” The Vegas camera crew smiled at that statement. “NASA wants my company to move in January, I want ninety more days, until the end of March, to finish my tests so that I can hand over a fully tested system that will not put anybody around the world into danger with tons of radioactive waste falling on their heads. Thank you, Joe, now I need to explain to the president that he has to wait a little longer, and once the asteroid threat dissipates in a few days we can all get back to work and finish our missions. Thank you for coming, Joe.”

There was silence as the TV crew thanked everybody and left; the Danish and coffee was brought in and the meeting got down to business.

“A clever response, Ryan, but your time is over,” said the president not smiling anymore. “As I said, you have until January 15th before the Air Force arrives here to take over your airfield. You did not buy any time with your response to CBS. Once this asteroid threat is over and we are in the New Year, this airfield will have non-stop visitors beginning January 2nd. January 15th is takeover day, but you are out of here long before then.”

“I doubt it, Mr. President. I don’t think you have the right, or the authority to commandeer private property on a whim.”

“No, I don’t but Joe Bishop, Tom Ward, and General Mortimer here will have the authority once we go live in a few days and state that we found dangerous contamination here at your airfield, and it needs to be quarantined and locked down.”

“That is bull crap,” commented Allen Saunders angrily.

“General Saunders, I suggest you shut up, or you will lose your retirement package,” replied the president smiling. “You too, Bill; I promise you that you will both lose every penny the government owes you. And you will be charged as co-conspirators with Mr. Richmond. General Mortimer will you please continue, this is your plan is it not? By the way Secret Service, did you debug this room?”

“Yes sir, we found a wire under the table, our sensors show the room to be clean.”

“It better be Agent, or you will have a hard life,” stated General Mortimer also smiling. His time had finally come. “Mr. Richmond, we know that you have been up to something you are not telling us ever since you purchased this piece of property. What you are up to we haven’t found out yet, but we will. I have a weird feeling that you have something to do with the sudden Chinese interest in space advancement. Because of this we find ourselves in the same scenario Kennedy had with the Bay of Pigs. Those Chinese spacecraft up there could have the same laser power you showed us at Cape Canaveral a few days ago. We don’t like that. Have you been doing business with the Chinese Space Authority?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to anybody in China about space. I don’t even have any Chinese crewmembers here. Every Asian scientist here at the airfield, and I have three on site, were born in the United States and attended MIT. Two even worked for Bill Withers at NASA several years before I employed them. Mortimer, you are watching too many television dramas. Both men here, good Americans will tell you that our project in Nevada is safe, valuable and will one day be far better than anything Hal McNealy, or the Earth-Exit program and Martin, who is a friend of mine, could ever produce for this country. It will take both Hal and Martin two to three decades to design orbital spacecraft as good as my shuttles, which can actually reside in space permanently and, thanks to the supplies sent up by the other two freighters a few days ago, never need to return to earth. General, do you think I salvaged that Russian space station for nothing? That station, built as well as the ISS, can stay up there for longer than you, Mr. President, will ever be in power, and so can all my craft, once we have finished testing.”

“So we need to close you down immediately,” stated General Mortimer. “I believe you are a threat to our country, and if it wasn’t for these darn asteroids, I would be on the radio getting hundreds of troops into here within hours. Also, I expect the Galaxy to be returned to Nellis within twenty-four hours. I tore up your contract before I left. Mr. Richmond, we are not stupid; the military wants your company, and by God we are going to get it.”

“It is very weird that the FBI is not in on this robbery of yours, Mortimer, just small sections of the CIA and NASA, all your old air force buddies,” interjected Allen Saunders angrily. “You were always a crappy air force officer, and I believe that there is evidence out there, especially left by our old friend Joe Bishop, that will bury you and your illegal takeover bid here. Can you tell us why the FBI isn’t in on this national threat you are saying is here on American soil? We are also not that stupid. Wouldn’t this be their jurisdiction?”

“Mr. Richmond,” stated Congressman Dickens ignoring Allen, “We don’t have to go through all this fighting. The president told you last time you spoke. We want your company, we will take your company and believe me, the more you fight us, the less you will ever see from the sale of your company to the U.S. government.”

“Congressman Dickens, are you here on behalf of the U.S. House of Representatives, or as a private citizen?”

“What has it got to do with you, Mr. Richmond?”

“Your shares in Earth-Exit, along with the president’s shares, are what interest me, Dickens. What really interests me is that you and the president are going to get a hefty return on your investments once Earth-Exit’s shareholders are paid out, with a sales price finalized by you. Congressman, I believe you own 5 percent of Martin’s company and the president here 3 percent? Neither of you own shares in my company, so what is this desperation to take over Astermine?”

“I want your mining equipment. The cargos you brought back will be far more lucrative to us and the American people once we get hold of what you have,” he stated smiling at Ryan.

“So, where do we go from here?” asked the president, who interrupted Dickens. “What investments the Congressman and I made before we came to office were legal and so far, he might have, but I haven’t broken any laws under the rules of the SEC. If there was an inquiry into my investments, it would all be swept under the carpet. Ryan, there is no way you can harm me or my term in office. I promised the people that I would balance the deficit and bring down the country’s long term debt. The only way I can see doing it is by increasing and bringing back the cargos you did by a hundred times. We are trillions in debt, and I believe that by using your experience and system which will, in a couple of weeks be ours, I can reduce that debt by a quarter before the end of my first term in office. That should allow me to clear 50 percent of the country’s debt within eight years. That guarantees me a second term, and I go out as the best president ever to run this country.”

“And you become super rich in the process,” stated Bill Withers.

“Maybe Bill, you certainly won’t. Ryan, you are the only person standing in my way, and I expect you to be gone in two weeks, either locked up for a national security threat of some sort, or rich and out of my hair forever. Make your choice.”

“I believe that there is one part of this plan you haven’t thought out,” replied Ryan, calm and showing very little emotion. He was actually happy that the cards were now on the table. At least he could play his hand.

Nobody said a word. Everybody just waited for Ryan to continue. Hal McNealy was the first to open his mouth.

“I think he is planning to leave all his spacecraft up there. Even with Martin’s technology, and even if we commandeered the British operation here, we don’t have the technology to go and get his project. Plus he has that laser.”

Again everybody sat and looked at Ryan. The next move could prove costly. For a couple of minutes nobody said anything, until the president, in his authority as Chief Executive of the United States of America, a position he had held for only one year, decided to do what he did best, negotiate.

“So what do we have to do to get your company without all this unpleasantness? You have one chance Ryan, before I decide what is the best move for the country. Remember, the previous president’s major mistake was not to close our base in Cuba. If you don’t work with me, you and several members of your team, and all your Russian friends are going on a sightseeing visit there, and I’m going to throw away the key, once you are wearing an orange jumpsuit. Now tell me in one sentence what I need to do to get your business and that is that.” He waited for Ryan’s response.

“I need three months to finish my tests. Then you and your whack jobs can come into my airfield here in Nevada and take everything I own. And I promise, I will be here waiting for you to hand over the keys, as long as you have my promised check; and no, I will not be working for NASA, and I’m sure none of my team will work for NASA in the future, as long as you are President of the United States of America. Now your time is up. I suggest you take your fancy aircraft back to Washington and chew over my terms. Otherwise you will not win, and the longer you stay here, the less I want you and your goons to win. If you or any uninvited guests of yours enter my airfield again before March 30th, everything I have in space, including my lasers, and all of my technology will land in China, and not here on the soil you seem to think as your own. Just to piss you off even more, I’m sure they will offer me billions for all of my technology that isn’t here in Nevada. Mr. President, over half of these hangars are empty. Everything of value is up in space, a place where neither you nor Hal McNealy can get your hands on it. Do you think I’m stupid? And, I still have seven months remaining on my C-5 contract with the air force. I can always see if another country can help me out with an aircraft on their soil for my future launches. So, Mortimer, don’t threaten me and my project again.”

Without another word, the president got up and left the conference center. Ryan smiled when Allen Saunders saluted his ex-superior, General Mortimer, with a good-looking well-flown middle finger as he exited.

Twenty minutes later both blue and white aircraft and even the news crew, who had stayed behind to see if anything more developed, were gone.

It was now only thirty minutes before the first asteroid was to hit the moon.

Chapter 19

The interesting end of DX2014.

“Now I see what you have been up against,” said Bill Withers as they sat down to contemplate their futures.

“How long has this government been so against you?” asked Allen.

“Ever since the new president was elected,” Ryan replied. “Actually it was ever since I refused to help him years ago when, as governor, he wanted Astermine to open offices in his state. It was for his own gain, of course; he was doing his best to make himself look successful, to advance his political and financial careers.

“Everybody in this capitalistic country shares some of the same goals; we all want to be rich. At times I get the feeling that I would like to own all those diamonds that may be about to crash into the moon. But gentlemen, my real dream was to go to space with a bunch of friends, strip away the pretense for glitter and riches, and lead a truthful life out there. That was what my dream turned into over the decades I’ve been thinking about it. One man’s dream can’t change a country’s destiny, but one man’s dream can certainly change his own destiny.

“I think we should turn our attention to the asteroid problem. I’m betting that DX2014B and C hit the moon. I want to know where so we can be the first mining vessel to explore the area.”

It was time to see if the moon was big enough to shield the earth against an attack by a diamond mine. Everything the president ever wanted from Ryan’s company was about to crash into the dark side of the moon.

By this time most of the telescopes and cameras on Earth were pointed at the moon. People in the United States couldn’t see much, other than a three quarter moon just above the western horizon.

Ryan could see more than most. He had two cameras pointed directly at the moon. One was from the 22,500-mile high laser target-acquisition camera in
America One, whose live video feed could now be viewed on one half of the screen in ground control. The electric crew up there had connected the laser directly to the reactor’s main control board for maximum strength. The computers were then programed to beam the video feed down to one of two Hughes satellite dishes on the roof of Hangar One. All this had been hurriedly set up within the last seventy-two hours.

The second pictures were from the
SB III’s laser beam target-acquisition camera on the front of the shuttle’s nose. Even though it was still orbiting Earth, Jonesy had positioned the shuttle to look directly at the moon.

Both views of the moon were very different. The higher view looked down at the moon, and could see behind the dark side.
SB III’s view was much the same as the moon viewed from earth, except that the moon was a clear crescent and twice as large as if Ryan looked out of the window.

“Can anybody see the asteroids?” Ryan asked, sitting down in the command seat.

“We have a lock on the largest, the third rock,” replied one of his team peering at monitors in front of them. It is about 3,000 miles from the moon’s dark side and calculating its position, I believe we should either see the first rock, or DX2014B, which is still a few hundred miles ahead of A, cause an eruption on the moon’s surface; or, we could see a black speck pass in front of the illuminated crescent of the moon in about thirty seconds.

They waited. For the entire thirty seconds nobody said a word. Then one man spoke up.

“I can see the start of an explosion on the rear side of the moon, and I also see a minute black speck the size of a pin head in front of the crescent, right by the rear dark/light line in the camera from
SB III.” Then others stated that they had it visual.

“Suzi, Mr. Noble, can you see the black dot on your screens up there in
America One?” Ryan asked.

“Ja, we see it now. The black speck is about 300 miles to one side, the left side of the moon as you would look up at it from earth. We also saw the explosion of dust on the darker side, there is a plume of what looks like dust forming in the sunlight around the moon.”

“Yes, we can see it from here,” replied Ryan. Guys get the coordinates of that plume of dust on the moon’s surface. That must be DX2014B. How close is the third one? Anybody?” Ryan asked.

“Our best guess is that it will hit the moon in 185 seconds,” replied one man.

“We can now see the first rock in front of the bright side of the moon,”
Jonesy reported from
SB III.
“It is sort of coming in our direction.”

“Can you see it on radar?” Ryan asked.

“Negative, but we are still picking up the first rock’s beacon, which means that it missed. The second beacon has stopped. I’m setting up the computers to plot the first beacon’s course. I should have it in a few minutes.”

Nobody moved until Jonesy came back on air.

“Your guys were right, our computers show DX2014A will crash into the Pacific about 200 miles off shore from Los Angeles in 31 hours, 23 minutes.”

Ryan tried to phone Hal McNealy still in Air Force One. He got no response. Then he tried to call the president. The Washington switchboard told him to call back another time. Then he tried Martin Brusk.

“The first rock is still curving,” continued Jonesy over the radio.

“Yes, we are now seeing it from your feed,” replied Igor, the head of ground control. “It’s center target area has already moved 200 miles further north, and at this rate it could plough into Alaska if it keeps changing its path. OK, we have a second minute plume of dust on the moon’s surface. We can see it from
America One’s feed on the opposite side about 1,000 miles from the first plume, which is still drifting above the surface. At least that is the largest rock down. How long before the last one?” he asked.

“I believe 102 seconds,” someone responded.

“It better be faster than that,” interjected another voice. “It’s going to miss by just miles if you are correct, Simon.”

“Switch on the television feed, put the screen into quarters. I want to know what the media is saying.”

Martin Brusk’s phone just rang and rang.

“The first asteroid named DX2014A has missed its hit on the moon, and is currently aiming for the Pacific, about 200 miles offshore. We have the Director of Kitt Observatory on the telephone…..”

“Well, it seems that the public is being kept up to date. What does CBS have on?” Ryan asked. Suddenly he saw himself talking on camera. It was the footage taken earlier with the president, and this was airing from the Los Angeles studio. The feed was suddenly frozen and a presenter came on. “The first asteroid, we’ve been told, has missed hitting the moon. The second and third asteroids have hit the moon and observers at the Los Alamos Observatory are waiting to see what happens to the fourth asteroid, the second largest of the group….”

“How big is the first one that missed?” asked Ryan.

“It seems to have lost some of its size,” said one scientist. All the observatories are describing it as less than half a mile across. The fourth one is still being shown at more than seven times its size and it seems to have missed the moon. We should have seen a….hold on…. . There is a plume of dust right along the moon’s dark side. Maybe it went in, but the plume looks like the wake of a speed boat. The moon dust is rising, but spreading out and right across the side of the moon, about a hundred miles long. I’ve got it. It has passed the moon and a grain of something moving is visible through
SB III’s feed. The moon is dark but I can see this grain of dust moving away from its surface. We have two incoming. We have now lost visual on it.

Ryan went back to the television. “…it seems that NASA has just told us that the fourth asteroid has just erupted into the side of the moon. We are awaiting more information from either Kitt Observatory, or Los Alamos Observatory for confirmation. Hold on, I’m getting a voice in my ear. OK… NASA believes that the fourth asteroid has hit the moon…that’s it, the danger is over for now except from the first rock NASA says is too small to reach Earth. Danger averted….our current weather for downtown Los Angeles….”

“Crap!” shouted Ryan. “The rock is still out there. He could just see the grain of dirt on the feed now from
America One, but not on the feed from
SB III. “Maybe all the Earth telescopes are at the same angle and blind,” he suggested to the team. He tried Hal’s phone again and left a message that the fourth asteroid was still incoming. Then he speed dialed his Hubble friend, and left the same message.

“The first rock is still curving but more slowly,”
Jonesy stated.
“The beacon we left on it is getting weaker. Possible impact looks like another 50 miles north and 220 miles offshore from San Francisco.”

Martin Brusk’s phone was answered on Ryan’s second try.

“Martin, Ryan here, we still have two meteors incoming,”

“Hold on Ryan,”
and Ryan heard him put his hand over the phone. It wasn’t long before he returned.
“Hal says that’s impossible, NASA saw it hit the moon and the danger has been averted. A missile will take care of the first rock,”
and Martin added
“please do not disturb us again. Ryan I’ll call you when I get back to Washington.”

For several minutes Ryan did nothing but look at the feed coming through from both cameras, and the television channels he switched continuously through.

His team just sat there and waited. “How far is the distance between the two rocks?” He asked to nobody in particular.

“It looks like that DX2014A is speeding up,” replied one man.

“Ja, it is being pulled in by our gravity,” added another. “Current speed 9,100 miles an hour, time to impact 27 hours, somewhere in the Pacific. DX2014D is harder to figure out since we don’t have a beacon-lock on it. It isn’t large enough to show up on radar screens yet. I studied those pictures given to us from Hubble. Rock four is now seven times the size of the first meteor, about half a mile wide and a mile long. The last time we saw it, we calculated that it is not as fast, traveling in the 9,000 mile range and I think it is now about five minutes behind the first one.”

“Can you get a lock on the first one, Mr. Noble?” Ryan asked VIN sitting up in the bridge of
America One.

“Negative, they are still too far and too small to show up on our radar.”

“Same here,”
replied Jonesy.

“DX2014A is curving north; we can go ahead with our transfer of cargo. It is going to put us back a day, but
Sierra Bravo III, gain altitude at maximum, meet up with your connection at 200 miles on your next orbit, and transfer your cargo.
Asterspace III, decrease altitude as rapidly as possible to get down to connect with the shuttle, then head back up to
Ivan; use one extra seven-minute thrust to eliminate your final orbit, and I want you back up at
Ivan in twenty-three hours in case we need your thrusters to help our investments up there dodge bullets.
Sierra Bravo III, hold back 200 pounds of fuel from the fuel transfer in case you need reserves.
Astermine I, with the two most recent freighters in tow, is expected to reach
Ivan in twenty-four hours. I want to see what the U.S. military sends up before we get involved. Team, what would be the safest height for
SB III?” Ryan asked his ground control.

“If the military blasts the meteor with a nuke,” answered the chief, “I would say a minimum of 1,000 miles away from DX2014A’s incoming trajectory window, currently 500 miles wide, is necessary. I think 200 miles higher than the ISS is minimum safe altitude. The ISS is not changing altitude anymore at 300 miles, they can’t; the ISS is already at maximum altitude for Earth-Exit’s resupply freighter going up to meet them. Their connect time is twenty-six hours, about the same time impact is possible.”

“If there are going to be particles slicing through the junk layers,” added another voice, “then a 600 to 1,000 mile altitude should give
SB III enough time to maneuver away from any debris below, and hours before any debris from the 12,500-mile military GPS and information satellites arrives at that altitude, if they get hit. The Chinese space station is still very low, their parts connected up only a day ago they are also climbing at full thrust, heading upwards to get out of the way of the lower junk.”

“Igor, please give me a sixty-second lecture on space junk. How much is actually up there?” Ryan asked his lead scientist.

“The great majority of debris consists of objects smaller than one-half inch across,” began Igor. “These millions of smaller objects do not pose a threat to our craft up there due to the protective forward directional Whipple shields we designed on them. The mid-2011 update to the NASA debris report places the number of what they describe as ‘large’ debris items sized at over four inches wide, or one pound in weight, at 21,400. These are the most dangerous and are in either in LSO, low space orbit or the higher geostationary orbit altitudes.

“Between four inches and down to half an inch, the ‘middle size’, they estimate 500,000 units, while the debris items smaller than half an inch exceed tens of millions, In terms of mass, the vast majority of the overall weight of the debris is concentrated in larger objects; using numbers from 2009, about 1,900 objects weighing more than 200 pounds each account for over 98 percent of the 2,400 tons of debris known to be in low earth orbit at that time.

“Due to extended distances at the geostationary level, the chances of collisions are far, far less, and most non-solar powered craft could maneuver out of the paths of possible collisions. Only solar-powered satellites, like the communication satellites are prone to collision at
America One’s altitude.

“Since space debris comes only from man-made objects, the total possible mass of debris is easy to calculate; it is the total mass of all spacecraft and rocket bodies that have reached orbit. The actual mass of debris will be necessarily less than that, as the orbits of some of these objects have since decayed. As debris mass tends to be dominated by larger objects, most of which have long ago been detected, the total mass has remained relatively constant in spite of the addition of many smaller objects. Using the figure of 8,500 known debris items from 2009, the total mass is estimated at just over 6,000 tons, not including the tonnage we have put up there. We can increase that figure by 140 tons of metals by the time we have
America One complete.”

“What about the mid layer, where the military GPS satellites, cameras, spy satellites, et cetera, orbit?” asked Ryan.

“There is slightly less large debris at this altitude, and durations for collisions are counted in hours and days, not minutes, like in low space orbit. Most of these satellites have power, hydrogen thrusters for emergency. But if there was a spray of rogue particles reaching through this mid layer it could cause havoc up there. We must now look at Professor Donald Kessler’s 1991 paper on this exact topic. Let me explain. Professor Kessler wrote that ‘chance of collision is a function of the number of objects in space.’ There is a critical density where the creation of new debris occurs faster than the various natural forces remove these objects from orbit. So, beyond a certain amount of directional changes, or meteors heading through this altitude in all directions, a runaway chain reaction can occur that reduces all objects in orbit to debris in a period of years or months. This possibility is known as the
‘Kessler Syndrome’, and there is debate as to whether or not this critical density has already been reached in the LSO, or the middle orbital band. Of course these times decrease as the numbers of alien rocks passing through increases. A runaway ‘Kessler Syndrome’ would render this useful polar-orbiting band difficult to use, and greatly increase the cost of space launches and missions.”

“So, if the U.S. military blast these incoming asteroids at low altitudes, then that altitude is directly related to how many rogue rocks could pass through a layer and cause a possible ‘Kessler Syndrome’?” Ryan asked.

“Correct,” replied Igor. Ryan thought about this vital information for several minutes, and then went out for a walk.

He returned thirty minutes later and continued the discussion.

“So, Igor, if the military nukes these incoming rocks, the lower the altitude, the more chances that this professor’s syndrome could actually happen?” Igor nodded.

He called the former president who, after three rings, answered his cell phone. Then Ryan put him on hold while he called Hal McNealy who must have been back on the East Coast. He picked up the phone this time.
“Mr. Richmond, you are not a popular person right now. The president has banned me, and anybody working in the space field from talking to you. He considers you dangerous and an enemy to the state. So, please do not call me again, please do not call the president, or any U.S. citizens working at the observatories in this country and especially any contacts you might have at Hubble, or in the government. If we learn that anyone discussed anything with you from today on, they will join you and your orange suited personnel at the location we discussed. You have stupidly pissed off the most powerful man on Earth, and he is out for blood, your blood.”

“And what location should I get my mail sent to?” replied Ryan calmly.

“The happy holiday resort location in Cuba. We are going to fill it with you and your friends, every friend you have. Joe Bishop and Tom Ward at the CIA are desperate to come and get you, and it looks like they will have the pleasure of putting you away for the rest of your life, without trial, and throw away the key.”

“And these are the totally illegal moves this country’s new president is taking?” Ryan asked. “I have done a study of the incoming asteroids and need to explain certain problems this country is going to face, McNealy. You had better listen, or thousands of Americans could be in danger.”

“Getting information from you, a person pretty close to being a criminal, is a joke. We at NASA and General Mortimer in the Pentagon will handle this situation, and whatever happens, you and your expired company better back off, and watch how we handle this from the sidelines. If you lift a finger to move this incoming asteroid off its course, we will take it as a direct attack on the United States of America, and have no choice but to retaliate. Remember, Richmond, we have nukes active and ready. It might be just a bad aim if they happen to take out one of your craft, or erase your entire airfield from the map.”

Hal McNealy hung up. He smiled as he put the phone down. Wow! This power rush was worth living for.

Ryan thought so as well. He asked the former president what he should do. His friend said that he would like a recording of this conversation, and that Ryan and his company back off, and allow the powers-in-command to solve this problem.

Ryan then explained the bad news he had gathered. He would send over the recorded message of McNealy. Pity he had not been able to record the president’s visit. The former president asked what the worst possible scenarios were, and smiled when Ryan explained that all of the satellites in space could be affected over time, and that the West Coast could have a tsunami several feet high if this larger rock impacted the Pacific. He was told to keep his eye on the news reports.

Several hours later the media began to receive information describing a possible rogue wave that could hit several cities if an asteroid hit the ocean, and that people should begin moving back from low-lying coastal areas as a precaution.

Two hours later, the news showed Hal McNealy himself explaining that there was a very slight chance that the asteroid could reach earth, as the military were about to blast it into millions of pieces once it reached 100,000 miles above earth. Upon being asked if there were two of the asteroids approaching earth, he smiled, replying arrogantly to the camera that there weren’t, but just in case, he would get all available space observatories to search the sky.

Ten hours later the early morning news was being broadcast on the East Coast when Ryan was awakened to get dressed and see the latest news.

Igor, again in control, told him that both Jonesy and VIN’s radar systems had picked up the fourth asteroid four hours earlier. Now the stations around the world were showing that two asteroids were approaching. When his craft’s radar systems had seen the second rock, it was 200,000 miles away from earth and coming in at 9,300 miles an hour, rapidly catching up to the first one. It was on an approach course similar to DX2014A, but angling south towards the equator.

Now DX2014D was only 162,000 miles away and as he spoke, they saw two rocket launches begin to glow on their ground radar system, exiting from somewhere in California.

“I think two nukes are heading up,” suggested Igor.

“We have two rockets on radar,”
reported Jonesy.
“We are over central China and see them climbing on our radar. They will pass our altitude approximately 2,000 miles from our current position. We are currently at 650 miles altitude and still climbing.”

“Roger that,” replied Ryan. “We are under orders from Washington that we do not, I say again, we do not get involved with these asteroids. Do not fire on them until I know that we have no other choice and only I will give the order to engage. Please confirm, Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble.”

“Shall we keep our computers locked onto them?”
VIN asked from
America One.

“Affirmative, keep your locks and your weapons powered up, just in case we have to do something. We are down to hours now and we can only wait and see.”

There wasn’t much else to do and slowly everybody who was allowed in ground control came in to see the show. Allen Saunders and Bill Withers joined Ryan and just sat there with him drinking coffee. The rest of the astronauts slowly filed in and grabbed coffee. Every work station and every computer was now manned in ground control. There wasn’t much they could do, but several members of Igor’s team were studying computer readouts as the asteroids approached.

“DX2014A has halted its curve northwards, currently at 152,000 miles,” stated Igor. “Its impact window is 300 miles off shore and middle of window, 50 miles south of Seattle. I think the fourth asteroid is the reason. DX2014D is still curving south. They are currently 432 miles apart and still approaching each other’s trajectory. Speed difference is 181 miles an hour and climbing. The window for DX2014D has changed to 450 miles directly offshore of San Diego. Computers show that they will be at their closest point in one hour fifty-five minutes, approximately 30 miles from each other. DX2014D will pass by, and we think could pull the smaller asteroid towards its trajectory.”

“Bill, Allen, what can these nukes do?” Ryan asked.

“These are the rockets I had been working on for three years,” replied Bill. “Before I left NASA we had tested small dummy warheads atop several stored NASA rockets. Three years ago, the former president signed off on a project to be able to get a nuke into space for this exact purpose. We completed our tests using quarter-size modified Titan III-copied rocket columns to carry a 1,000-pound, one-megaton warhead into space. We achieved three successful dummy warhead powered deliveries 300 miles into space before the third-stage hydrogen fuel motors ran out of rear-end gas. Six of these new rockets were built and then transferred to Vandenberg Air Force Base three months before I was removed from NASA, and the air force took them over. I didn’t hear much more, and now see that they have warheads fitted, as we see on the screen. The third stage motors will cut out at 300 miles and their directional systems will laser point them onto their targets. Any more information, I can’t tell you. It was up to the USAF to complete the project.”

“Allen?” Ryan asked.

“Not my department,” he replied. “I had heard that warheads had been placed on new anti-asteroid rockets, and that the air force was working with NASA, but that’s all I can add.”

Bill, what accuracy do these new rockets have at 100,000 miles?” Ryan asked.

“Well, they will certainly have the best targeting systems the air force can offer aboard them. We added the rear power systems and four side thrusters which have fuel for twenty minutes of thrust between them. It is up to the missile controller how he uses up his twenty minutes of side thrusters to stay on target. The first and second stages fall away and disintegrate in the upper atmosphere, the third stage doesn’t. This stage has the necessary guiding computers, power systems and oxygen tanks for the thrusters. The air force wanted liquid oxygen and not liquid hydrogen thrusters. The missile has enough velocity at 300 miles; 42,000 miles an hour to propel it into space forever and enough liquid oxygen fuel for twenty minutes of maneuvering throughout its journey. It should be pretty accurate.” As he said that two more blips appeared on the screen above California. “Backups in case the first two miss,” Bill suggested.

They watched for several minutes while the second two anti-asteroid missiles headed into outer space. There wasn’t much anybody could do.

Thirty minutes later Ryan’s ground control gave everybody the latest report.

“DX2014A is increasing in speed, now at 12,700 miles an hour, altitude 134,000 miles,” stated Igor. “DX2014D has also increased approach speed to 12,850 miles an hour, altitude 135,500 miles. Distance between them is still 169 miles. They will be at their closest point in one hour five minutes. Estimated time of the first nukes hitting target is one hour three minutes.”

“Bill, Allen, could they get lucky? Could they hit two birds with one stone?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, a positive scenario,” replied Allen.

“I agree,” added Bill, “but the asteroids will still be above 100,000 miles, and any explosion on the first one, could make the second deviate off its course, which could make the second nukes miss. I don’t know how much control the target coordinator has to redirect, but he might be out of fuel, or might have to make the second nuke a near blast. I think the added altitude was a good judgment call.”

Meanwhile the television stations had uninterrupted news programs running. This was exciting.
“Mankind’s first retaliation against destroyers from outer space,”
one announcer dramatically announced.

“Better than watching Star Wars,”
added another.

The government and NASA had gone silent after realizing that Hal McNealy had made a fool of them by proclaiming that there were not two asteroids. Footage on one channel had been found about these special rockets, and clips were being shown with then Administrator of NASA, Bill Withers, and members of the air force observing tests of the new rockets being launched into space from Cape Canaveral twelve months earlier. Since this footage had never been seen by the public before, Ryan was sure that his friend, the former president, had something to do with releasing the clips of these tests to the media.

None of the stations were prompting people to leave low-lying areas anymore. A government spokesperson announced that Washington, NSA, and the Pentagon had decided that their nukes would take care of business.

They did hit head on with DX2014A one hour later. Unfortunately the first two nukes went into DX2014A together and within seconds of each other, a hundred yards apart. DX2014D, now only thirty miles further out and right behind the massive explosions, immediately broke into two from the small shock blast emitted from the first two nukes.

“It looks like we have two meteors incoming, 119,000 miles out, one is heading further south, and the other now straight down towards the Pacific,”
reported Jonesy from
SB III.
“The two meteors are drifting apart and still incoming. They have just passed on each side of the first explosion.”

“Mr. Jones is correct,” added Igor. “The one piece heading south looks about the same size as DX2014A used to be. The second piece that is heading towards the Pacific and angling south towards the equator is, I believe, the larger piece. The second nukes are still 30 minutes out, and the computers are showing that unless somebody changes the course of both missiles, they are going to miss the larger meteor by about 400 miles.”

“Where is the other one heading?” Ryan asked.

“Trajectories from all our computers show that it will miss earth by a few thousand miles…..hold on….this meteor has just broken up into three pieces. I’m sure there are smaller pieces we can’t follow….now it shows seven pieces, all heading slightly apart, and all will miss earth. Their speeds are now 16,000 miles an hour.”

“Where will
America One and the rest of our craft be when they get into range?” asked Ryan now extremely worried.

“All our craft are now in the direct path of these meteors….now we are showing eleven pieces we can track, and one missile is turning towards the meteor that has just broken apart…..now it seems to be turning back to the more northerly piece. They are still turning….impact times are 22 and 25 minutes.”

They can’t have much more fuel left,” suggested Bill. “Igor, is the larger rock still in one piece?”

“Affirmative,” replied Igor “northerly meteor now 113,000 miles and increasing speed to 17,000 miles an hour.

“Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble, can you get a fix on these rocks coming towards you.

“Negative,”
VIN replied.

“We could at maybe 25,000 miles out, but no further,”
added Jonesy.
“Some of these rocks are looking pretty small to get an accurate fix on them.”

“Then do your best and once these smaller rocks get to a certain point where they can’t hit earth, then we must take action if you are in danger,” replied Ryan.

For another fifteen minutes, they could only look at the rocks showing up on the screen. Many at ground control in Nevada were worried about the smaller particles that couldn’t be picked up. Earth was safe from these smaller rocks, but the satellites weren’t. Any incoming rock bigger than a marble and traveling at these faster speeds could inflict damage on the sides of
America One, or any of the other craft up there.

“SB III to Ground Control, we had this same scenario when we collected the diamonds off DX2014,”
said Jonesy.
“All craft should move with the flow of the incoming rocks. If we all fly in the same direction as the rocks, then any damage would be minimal, and we could blast the more dangerous ones with the lasers. I recommend that everybody turn in the same direction the rocks are going.”

“Great idea, Mr. Jones,” applauded Ryan. “You guys can thrust yourselves in a backwards movement, with your laser facing the incoming meteors. Mr. Noble, am I right that
Ivan, all the cylinders, the still-loaded freighters and one of the Astermine Craft are all connected to
America One?”

“That is correct, ground control. Suzi will go back into the spacecraft to get her fired up. The computers are showing us the incoming trajectory and I’m sure the more powerful side thrusters you added onto the spacecraft will get America One and the Beer Can moving. We still have a couple of hours, and we have half-full tanks on the spacecraft.”

“Get her moving, Mr. Noble, the spacewalkers can refuel her from cylinders in
Ivan if necessary, and keep your laser pointing backwards, you might have to do some rock shooting. Out.
Astermine I, where are you?”

“About three hours from America One; we will be there before the meteors get close. I will change our course to tie in with the mother ship’s movements. Our two cargoes are still snug and secure. Over.”

“Position yourself within one mile of America One as soon as you can,” ordered Ryan. “You should have half tanks of fuel; do the beacons on the freighters still have power?”

“Affirmative,”
was the reply.

“Activate the European freighter’s beacon once you are in formation with
America One. Release your two cargoes with the beacon operational and connect up to the opposite docking port to
Astermine II to help propel the craft. Use all of your fuel to get
America One moving, if necessary. We have tons of cylinders up there and crew able to refuel you. These rocks are still increasing in speed and we need all the horsepower we can muster.”

Roger that, we are already on full thrust and can cut our time down by thirty minutes,”
was the reply.

Ryan noticed the television screens again. On all three channels uniformed military personnel were congratulating each other on the success of the missile strike. Joe Bishop, Tom Ward and General Mortimer with Hal McNealy could be seen mingling with the dozen or so people congratulating themselves. Then the phone rang wherever they were and the president’s voice could be heard congratulating Hal McNealy who proudly smiled, receiving the congratulations.”

“He did absolutely nothing to help the project. He wasn’t even part of the three-year program,” mumbled Bill Withers. Then Hal McNealy was interviewed.

“A job well done, Hal?”
asked a voice from beside the camera.

“Yes, a combined effort from all the staff here. The problem isn’t over yet, but the major dangers to Earth are. We knew the fourth asteroid, the larger rock was coming towards us, but NASA didn’t want to panic the West Coast population and attempt a massive move inland. The rock has broken into two and the second set of one-megaton nuclear warheads will destroy whatever is left. I wish I was on the West Coast to watch the dazzling fireworks in a few hours. Thanks to NASA, and to my project of asteroid-defeating nuclear rockets that were designed, built and tested over the last forty months for such a threat to our nation, we have defeated the enemy.”

“What happens if they don’t destroy the two remaining parts?”
the interviewer asked.

“Then we have a third set of nuclear rockets, which still have time to launch and finish the job off. I made sure that NASA’s project was large enough to have backups.”

“Then they had better launch them,” suggested Bill Withers watching the screen. “Their safety launch window is now down to ten minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes to nuke impact on the first one, plus two added minutes for the second one,” stated Igor.

“I bet they won’t launch before impact,” commented Allen Saunders.

“Of course not,” Bill replied. “McNealy doesn’t know what he is talking about; he just enjoys the limelight. I hope for his sake he is right. Igor, how are the nukes doing for accuracy?”

“Not good,” Igor replied. “The closest missile has stopped curving towards its target, and is flying straight. Our computers show that it might miss, by a mile or more. The second missile stopped its directional change over a minute ago–it could miss its target by ten to twelve miles.”

“Hopefully the controllers detonate them as close to the rocks as possible, continued Bill. “They could turn the rocks into useless shrapnel like what happened from the shock wave on the first set.”

Nobody said anything again, they watched as important ads ran on all three television stations.

“Three minutes to first impact,” stated Igor.

Ryan’s phone rang. It was the former president. He listened, and then spoke. “Thank you for getting the warnings on air, sir. It seems they were countermanded by the powers in Washington currently congratulating themselves…….no, we believe both missiles will miss……….yes, there could still be a tsunami if the missiles miss……yes, they have backups, but at low level, under 50,000 miles, they passed that launch window a couple of minutes ago and could cause havoc in all our orbit altitudes…………...If the rocks are not totally obliterated……………..yes, one or two rocks could still plough into the ocean, but I don’t think the wave size could be much bigger than what the West Coast received from the earthquake in Japan a few years ago. Yes, I believe a warning should still go out about ‘possible tsunamis’, not ‘definite tsunamis’. Thank you, I will call you if I need help, I think the powers will be too busy cleaning up to worry about us for a while, plus I still have twenty-one days….yes that is seven more flights out of the twenty I still want. Yes, there is still room for you and your family; the invitation remains open.”

“So, the former president is coming with us?” asked Bill.

“I think he is interested,” replied Ryan, “but I don’t think he will actually come. The outcome of this asteroid could be nothing, or it will cause larger upheavals across the world than the tsunami will.”

“The first nuke has missed its target,” stated Igor. “Nor is there an explosion….five seconds behind target impact…..ten seconds….they have exploded the nuke….. Our computers show that it was 40 miles off course and 60 miles from target when it exploded…..The rock hasn’t changed direction, but is speeding up again.” There was total silence as the television screens still showed happy people somewhere in Washington. Hal McNealy was right in the middle of the crowd when somebody came up and whispered in his ear. He scowled, looked at General Mortimer, and both men quickly left the viewing area. All the televisions went back to ads.

“The second nuke has also missed. Its impact time passed ten seconds ago……..we have a detonation 100 miles from the target. I doubt the blast will do anything.”

Three minutes later the third set of nukes was launched and heading in different directions towards their targets less than 90,000 miles above earth. It would take them an hour to reach their incoming targets now traveling at 25,000 miles an hour.

Bill Withers looked at the two nukes heading out and his face went white, while the televisions went back to their usual soaps.

It took another thirty minutes before the population on the West Coast was again warned about possible tsunamis; the people were advised to leave beaches and areas near beaches and proceed to locations at least ten feet above sea level. Suddenly the world’s attention reverted back from Reality TV to real television. Nobody knew who was putting out these warnings, until Tom Ward was informed that the FBI had been put on alert and were telling all the police systems and television stations along the whole west coast to order people along the low-lying areas to get to higher ground as a precaution.

Tom Ward told Joe Bishop, who angrily got on the phone to his counterpart in the FBI in Los Angeles. Within seconds he started shouting into the phone that all hell would break lose once Washington heard about these warnings. He directed his counterpart to tell him where the warnings were coming from as heads were going to roll. Once he heard the name of the person, he hung up and called the President of the United States.

An hour and ten minutes later the fifth nuke exploded against the side of its target at 61,000 miles. This was the most northerly rock and closest to Vandenberg Air Force Base. The second rock was now 5,000 miles away and six minutes later the second nuke glanced off the meteor at 47,000 miles above earth. Ground control in Nevada was on their fifth carafe of coffee.

“The first explosion looks good,” stated Igor. “I think that the rock disintegrated. There will be an interesting meteor shower with San Francisco at its center. We are showing that the southern rock has split up like DX2014A. There was no explosion; something must have gone wrong with the nuke. We have hundreds of pieces spreading out from the impact.”

“The disintegration helps the population on earth, but it is sure going to mess things up in space,” stated Bill angrily. “The first explosion is going to really do some damage at 61,000 miles. Imagine a million little bees, a massive swarm of them still heading out from a center point at 20,000 miles an hour, very few now in the direction they were traveling. Sure, those little bees are going to burn up in the atmosphere, but they are not going to burn up at altitudes over 60 miles. NASA and the Air Force have just unleashed a very angry swarm of bees, and my guys with me at NASA know that. You had better phone your friend Ryan, and tell him the situation before your cell phone goes dead. It looks like we could be on land lines from now on.

Ryan did as suggested and the former president thanked him and asked for a direct land line number. Ryan only had one on the whole airfield.

“I think we have a problem, Ryan,” stated Igor a few seconds later. “We are counting 37 large bits of rock from the second impact, and untold numbers of shrapnel now at 46,000 miles altitude. Most are heading out from its original direction, but one piece is large, and we can accurately still track it; it is heading north of the impact location. It’s hard to tell its exact size but I would bet that it is about a third of the original rock. This one last danger to the West Coast is still traveling at 26,000 miles an hour and still aiming for the Pacific, off the coast of the California/Mexico border. The middle of the impact window is about 500 miles off shore, and the rock seems to be traveling in a direct line.”

“Astermine I to ground control, we are jettisoning our cargo. We have slowed to join America One, now heading away from the communications satellite at about 100 knots. Suzi seems to have her set up pretty well. I will leave the cargo heading out in the same direction with the beacon at 100 knots. I will be connected to the docking port in thirty minutes. Over,”
reported the spacecraft’s pilot.

Roger,” replied Ryan. “I want a full burn from both of you for fifteen minutes once you are connected. You have, as Bill Withers described, two swarms of bees about two hours out.
SB III, do you have anything to tell us?”

“Negative, we are heading away from the rocks at 1,800 knots. It will take us another hour to reach 10,000 or above at full thrust. Our computers don’t show many rocks yet, but we should be at a safe speed before they hit us. Does Bill Withers know how long it will take for these rocks to pass us and America One? Over.”
Ryan let Bill speak into his microphone.

“We don’t know how fast
America One will be by the time the first rocks arrive. The faster you are moving the longer the meteor shower will take to get to you and pass you. The slower you are travelling the more quickly they will pass you, but once they are past, you must watch out for other pieces of satellites and anything else up there ricocheting around. I expect that the meteor shower will take ten hours if you are doing 10,000 miles an hour. The other stuff could be buzzing around up there for weeks, the faster pieces moving out faster than the slower pieces. Mr. Jones, space is big up there, you might not even see a dangerous object, you might see thousands. It takes only one big object at speed to take you out, so all I can say is be careful, keep your eyes open and keep your finger on the laser trigger for at least seventy-two hours. And, compared to the ISS, consider yourselves lucky, at least you are maneuverable.”

Chapter
20

Oh Crap!

“Oh Crap!” Stated Bill Withers. “That big guy might have a chance to hit the ocean in what, two hours?”

“One hour and forty nine minutes, allowing for slowing down through the earth’s atmosphere,” corrected Igor. “Two hours before
SB III is in range of the shrapnel and two hours ten minutes before
America One is in range. The Chinese space station will be directly over China and will be in range of flying debris three minutes after the rock hits the ocean. The ISS could come out of this the best as it will be on the other side of the planet and protected from the first round, but not from the space junk flying around.”

“Nobody will be safe from the junk for at least seventy-two hours,” added Bill Withers. “Worst scenario is that most of the LSO (low space orbit) craft could be cleared, and Earth will have meteor showers for a solid seventy-two hours. By that time most of the stuff will have departed the crime scene in all directions.
SB III is lucky here as the LSO will be cleared with much of the stuff at this altitude either burning up in the atmosphere or heading out to mess up the 12,000 mile zone. It will take a week before the mid-layer is reached by outgoing junk, which will in turn push around objects orbiting at the higher level. I believe it will then take a month before the exiting junk will reach the geostationary area. The rocks would have whizzed through. If they hit something the force will distribute pieces in all directions, but this exiting layer from below should halt any pieces heading towards earth. So, I might be wrong, and maybe Igor or his team might suggest something else, but I believe with my three decades of experience that the lower our craft are flying in say, fourteen days after the rocks fly through, the safer it will be for them. Igor what do you think?” Igor thought about the possible scenario and agreed with Bill.

“It will be dangerous for our craft to pass through the exiting band. It could be like a moving asteroid belt, but a million times smaller and closer together. I believe that these pieces of satellites and dead junk up there will be traveling at a much slower speed. Every time they hit one another their speed should slow, with forward energy being reduced due to impacts. I will put some numbers into the computers, and I could have answers in a few hours, but I don’t believe that any junk up there bouncing around will travel as fast as the rocks swarming through.”

“I agree totally, and I think there are some equations we can work on,” added Bill.

“So, now we just wait for the swarms to do their thing, and then we can figure out what to do next,” suggested Ryan. “If the low orbit area is clean, we might as well bring down
America One with Jonesy in support and blow a hole through the debris.”

“Asterspace III to ground control, we are in formation with
America One. We see
Astermine II connecting up to the mother ship. Do you want us to do the same?”

“Affirmative, but stay in your craft until the danger is over. Your lesser thrust can help the mother ship increase her speed. There must be a free docking port for you. Over.”

“There are still two open. We can dock on the underneath port of Cube Six. The other two craft are on Cube Three’s side ports. Our thrusters will be well away from them. America One is now traveling at 290 knots from her original position.”

“Guys, get her forward speed as high as you can,” added Ryan. “Asterspace III, even though you were short fueled by
SB III, you should still have enough fuel aboard for sixty minutes of full thrust. If your fuel runs out, then at least you have the larger craft to hold on to.”

Now everybody had to again wait. The television channels were still reviewing old data, until several minutes later when the president himself came on all three stations. He was in the White House Press room and smiled at the press in front of him.

“Good afternoon, everyone,”
he smiled, “it has already been a long day. Thanks to our experts at NASA and the United States Air Force, this threat to our West Coast has been averted, except for a small part of one of the asteroids that still has a slim chance to come down in the Pacific ocean about 300 miles off San Diego. Several warnings have already gone out from the FBI to the police forces, FEMA, the NSA, and other emergency departments by, we believe, the FBI themselves. How they are privy to so much information, I can only guess. This small meteor has less than a forty percent chance of hitting earth. If it does, the experts under Hal McNealy at NASA have told me that it could cause a minor tsunami, a one-foot wave about the height of what the West Coast received from the earthquake disaster in Japan. There was only minor damage from that disaster, so I am putting out my own warning to the populations of the United States, Mexico, Canada, Alaska, Hawaii, Japan and the east coast of Asia to expect a similar size tsunami as the United States received from the Japanese disaster.”

“And with less than ninety minutes to go, millions of people must now evacuate. This guy is nuts,” declared Bill Withers.

“It looks like people have been moving for over two hours,” added Igor. We have been monitoring local television channels in English and Spanish on several of our control screens, and they showed people clogging up highways out of the coastal areas as soon as the first warning went out. I think the FBI and police forces are already doing a fantastic job.”

The president’s message continued.
“So I have commanded all military departments and emergency units on the West Coast to begin moving people away from the coast. Anybody within three miles of our West Coast must move behind a three-mile line my teams will designate with white paint sprayed along roads. Any questions?”

“Wasn’t the first warning from you here in Washington?”
asked one reporter.

“Yes, in a calm and organized way, the government under my command began putting out warnings to local units throughout the West Coast.”

“What happened to the original asteroid that the fifth nuclear missile obliterated?”

“It was totally destroyed into minute particles, and will not hit earth,”
smiled the president.

“I understand that we are safe here on earth, but isn’t this obliteration a threat for all our satellites out there in space?”

“It could be, but our first priority was to save Americans down here.”

“Mr. President, I covered the press meeting more than a year ago when your predecessor and the former Administrator of NASA had the same questions put to them. Mr. Withers stated at the time that the minimum safe height to achieve one of these strikes against an incoming asteroid was 60,000 feet. Didn’t the air force hit these asteroids at a lower altitude?”

“Unfortunately, to save Americans we had to achieve our first goal; to destroy any possible threat to the people of the United States of America first. Whatever my predecessor stated or did more than a year ago doesn’t concern me. I knew he had an avid interest in space travel, and I’m sure he is as interested as I am in keeping Americans safe, but he is not president anymore, and should remember that a far more active group of dedicated people are now running this country. This was my promise to all of you from the get-go. Thank you, no more questions.”

“Oh crap!”
stated Jonesy in
SB III an hour later.
“It really does look like a swarm of bees coming to get us. Our speed is 9,800 knots in the same direction the rocks are coming from. Partner, how fast are you doing?”

“We have all three spacecraft on full thrust as of twenty minutes ago; we are not as fast, but our forward speed is climbing quicker now, through 4,100 knots, partner. How long do we have before I must ready my shooting skills?”

“Thirty-four minutes, Mr. Noble,” responded Igor from ground control.
SB III, you have thirty-five minutes; your speed is increasing more rapidly. As both of your speeds increase, so does the time.”

Thirty minutes later the meteor shower of all time began. Over the entire Pacific thousands upon thousands of meteors began lighting up the sky, even though it was daylight. It wasn’t possible for people to count them for the first few minutes.

Far off shore the one meteor that didn’t burn up, a piece of rock over fifty yards across, slammed into the Pacific, 320 miles off San Diego. It wasn’t the only one that hit the ocean, two smaller rocks each a tenth the size of the first one made deep craters in the flat wind-free waters several miles away from the first growing wave.

The water was vaporized where the meteors hit, creating craters that immediately filled with water and equalized the water level. Within seconds the largest crater filled up with millions of gallons of water, and then it spread out followed by three or four smaller waves. The larger swells hit up against the two smaller ones causing hundreds of new waves, and then all the waves rapidly headed out in all directions at speeds around 600 miles an hour.

San Diego was emptying of people, but many wanted to watch the show; the president’s promise of little danger made them want to stay, and they believed they were safe.

Thousands of officials were still painting lines three miles inland when the first waves hit thirty minutes later.

At first there was nothing. The sea looked normal, except that the seagulls had gone silent, and the air was empty of sound; a complete absence of traffic noises: birds, and any other forms of life.

Then the ooh’s and aah’s began. The high tide began to retreat from the sand it was gently lapping; the beaches and small vendor shops along the walking or skating paths were empty; most houses had been just shut up and vacated. But, there were hundreds of people on balconies and roofs of buildings, especially the first one or two rows behind the beach.

Cameras, including local television cameras, were rolling waiting for the first wave, which NASA had said wouldn’t be over a foot high. Currently at high tide, a one-foot high surge could cause little damage.

Slowly the sea returned and the first swell grew. It wasn’t large a few hundred yards out and many smiled not taking their eyes away from their phones and cameras. Then it decided to show its majestic head fifty feet out, and people looked on trying to guess its height. Many said two feet, and they were right, but the wave still had two more feet of water to rise in before reaching the high tide mark and a near four-foot surge of water erupted over the skating, walking and bike paths on Mission Beach, and just kept on going.

The water swirled and twisted around the buildings, nearly up to the door height of the first row. Water just kept on coming and then a small wave riding atop a second incoming swell a foot higher than the first wave increased the water’s height. Seconds later the wave from the third small impact reached shore and increased the overall height by another foot now pushing inland hard, lapping at the tops of doors of the first floor of all the first row buildings, and several began to vibrate throwing many screaming people in all directions.

The powerful water began flattening single-story buildings, mostly empty of people. Everything in the water’s path became objects of danger and began shouldering their weight against more buildings, weakening them.

On higher areas, even up to beach cliffs five feet high, water surged over the crests pushing small cars, neat white fencing and garden sheds off their platforms.

Half a minute later the water lost its energy. Half a mile inland it finally decreased in momentum and began to recede taking everything in its path.

The team in Nevada watched silently as cameras filming from helicopters above the area televised the retreat of the large mass of water. It returned to the coastline where tons of debris including cars, SUVs, even a few buses and trucks began to bear force against buildings, this time from the rear.

The fronts of many buildings, weakened from the first onslaught, couldn’t withstand the reverse push. A live camera crew on the porch of one of the larger beach houses screamed that their four story wooden building was toppling over, and viewers watched aghast as the filming camera suddenly looked skywards, and then seemed to fall, to be immediately sucked up in the swirling water.

A helicopter flying over a few buildings away caught their own media crew falling off the side of the house and disappearing into the swirling waters below.

Even the president’s face turned pale when he watched the carnage taking place from the safety of the White House. His quick mind was already working out who to blame for all this, and he already had a long line of people to pin it on.

After a couple of minutes of utter mayhem, a second wave, half the size of the first, again sent millions of tons of water over the coastal area, and then retreated, taking everything with it; the seagulls began screaming at each other looking for tasty morsels in the dirty waters hundreds of yards offshore.

Up and down the West Coast for the next fifteen minutes the same happened, although the surges reduced in size as the distance increased from San Diego.

Parts of Los Angles, a mile inland were swamped with water over three feet deep.

Meanwhile, Ryan was working his craft. Jonesy was at 13,900 knots and Maggie was flying. He had already aimed his laser onto a couple of rocks heading in their general direction. VIN, far higher and slower at 8,000 knots, was doing the same thing. The rocks he could see on his targeting radar were still a few minutes away. He had blasted one and it had disappeared from screen making him feel better. Then suddenly another few dozen appeared on radar and VIN shortened his burst to one-second bursts and began playing this dangerous computer game seriously.

“Wow! That was close!” exclaimed Maggie as they both saw a rock about the size of Jonesy’s head whizz by about twenty feet from their craft. Jonesy then pulled the trigger three times and three rocks exploded several miles in front of him.

“I can only fire so much, so I’m going for direct hits only,” said Jonesy as he calmly vaporized another one.

VIN was doing the same. His weapon was much stronger and he was down to quarter-second bursts to keep his gun from running out of power. He had hit another three before his radar showed a large rock the size of a house coming directly towards them several hundred miles away. He increased his burst to three seconds and hit it dead center. After three bursts, the rock angled off passing less than a thousand feet away from the mammoth space station he was protecting.

For the next hour the two lasers were on rapid fire. VIN had an easier time with the more powerful weapon, until even he couldn’t fire fast enough. Intensely concentrating on the vivid scene in front of him and on the computer screen, made this scenario look like clips out of Star Wars with all the enemy fighters coming in to attack.

“I can’t keep up!”
shouted VIN “They are growing in numbers, I can see several visually now plus dozens more on the radar.”

“Hang in there, partner!” Jonesy shouted back.
“It can’t be much longer.”

“Oh crap!
I missed one!”
shouted VIN
“It took out one of the end corridor beams. It just cut it away and the whole 40 foot piece just disappeared.”

“Just keep firing, Mr. Noble, Mr. Jones. You are through the worst part.” Ryan was calmly encouraging his men although his hands, and knuckles were totally white as he gripped the arms of his captain’s chair.

“You’re right!”
Jonesy exclaimed.
“They are decreasing in numbers. Wow! Here comes a big one. Giving it a full seven second burst…… Gee, that was close. A rock the size of SB III whizzed past less than a hundred feet away. I have no more power for a few seconds. Oh Crap! Here comes another…..Come on laser, power up…. OK, I’ve got a two-second burst…I hope that it’s enough; it’s coming straight for us…. Got it; it’s veering off slightly…Wow!... It passed by our port side at less than fifty feet…these rocks are really moving, and we are doing half their speed. I can see them for about two seconds before they whizz past. Here comes a smaller one…got it……..OK……Where have they all gone?”

A thousand miles closer to the blast, one of the last rocks, a big one the size of a small car hit the new Chinese space station dead on at 25,000 miles an hour and the brand new space platform splintered into a million pieces adding astronauts, space suits, supplies, and parts of the station to the debris flying in all directions.

On Earth the meteor shower still lit up the sky. The lower space orbital area looked a mess, with thousands of shards of debris flying in all directions, most of them burning up in Earth’s atmosphere.

The ISS, in a reasonably safe position behind earth had one close shave as a small rock the size of a fist took out one of their solar wings; it snapped it clean off and it just spun off into space disappearing a few seconds later.

The ISS crew could do nothing. The Earth-Exit freighter was less than three miles away when a huge fireball erupted from it, and the valuable freighter and all the supplies blew into the vacuum of space in billions of pieces and droplets of water and gas, disappearing quickly.

The mid layer, an area over a hundred times bigger than lower space orbit, fared no better. Satellite after satellite disintegrated from direct hits from rocks; no country’s space hardware was spared. Within minutes nearly 50 percent of all the military satellites had already disintegrated, with more to die over the next several weeks.

Down on earth several military operations screens went blank, including the entire drone system operating out of Creech Air Force Base, the new early warning system above the U.S., and limited GPS systems with feeds to many airborne craft below them.

Hundreds of personnel were scrambling to keep the vital GPS system alive; they needed three satellites per area to keep going.

The upper area fared better. Several television, Internet and cell phone relay satellites disappeared. Two of the three major television channels and one of the larger dish companies lost their feeds to billions of people and televisions automatically searched for new channels. Many irate viewers watched as their soap operas disappeared.

The communications satellite behind which
America One and
Ivan had been hiding disintegrated as it took a direct hit from a rock VIN turned away from the ship a couple of minutes later.

“Jonesy, I need you up here! Can you help?”
shouted VIN.
I have them all over the place…Here come three in a row……….Got them…. Crap……..Five heading my way…Got one…two…three….four…darn! The fifth took out another piece of cylinder. We are running out of cylinders up here…Another one… this one is big….full seven second blast… diverted it away from the middle of the craft but it took out two cylinders on my starboard side and it seems to have satellite pieces around it. I’m sure I saw a piece of gold metal fly past. OK, it seems to be dying down…….I have suddenly nothing to shoot at. Damage reports from all areas of America One. I think I’ve hit a lull. Over 70 “enemy” destroyed and I saw four cylinders get beaten up so far. Ground control, all gauges and computers reading normal atmospheric conditions inside the cubes. Ivan looks OK; so do the three spacecraft. Suggest that they begin to slow us down. I’m not ready to visit the sun just yet, and we are heading straight for it at 9,700 knots.”

“Affirmative, the asteroid blasts are past. Mr. Noble, your next worry is debris from below. Continue to arm your laser; your crew can bring you reports. Spacecraft around
America One, no more hydrogen thrusts until further notice. You must be short of fuel. Out.”

Ryan then turned to the solemn looking group all facing him.
“Igor, we still have those ten extra aluminum cylinders down here as reserves. We will have to get four of them up there, plus an inner cargo which will need to be liquid hydrogen fuel cylinders,” said Ryan. “When do you think we can get
SB III down, and send
SB II back up there?”

“I believe the longer we wait the better,” replied Igor with Bill Withers nodding his agreement. “I would say that Mr. Jones must stay in an upper orbit until pieces of debris reach him from below.

“Gee! Look at that meteor! Or whatever it is to the south of us!” observed one man. They all rushed to the window just in time to see a large fireball head west over Las Vegas and fizzle out in the direction of Los Angeles.

“That was going the opposite way to the blast,” stated Ryan.

“Incoming junk, could be part of the Chinese space station, it disappeared from view a few minutes ago,” Bill stated.

For another minute many of the team went outside, it was about 30 minutes before dusk and the sky was alive with hundreds of lights in the atmosphere above, different pieces of objects burned up as they descended.

“I guess that the eyes of the military have been really hurt today,” suggested Bill looking up.’

“And the communication channels,” stated Igor. Another channel went off the air just as we ran out of Hangar One.”

“I agree the Chinese space station took a hit,” commented another. “It seemed to just disappear off the screen several minutes ago.”

“Yes, I saw that,” added Igor. “The ISS seems to still be up there though. They must have missed a lot of the blast being in the right place at the right time.”

“I’m sure the Chinese aren’t going to be too happy with the U.S. military right now,” Bill Withers added.

“The guy who ordered up those last pair of nukes, hitting the asteroids so low, is the direct cause of all this.”

“Imagine Europe, Russia, and all the other countries with destroyed satellite communications,” added Ryan looking up and seeing several separate pieces of fire coming into the atmosphere and burning up one after the other. “I bet that was something, like a low orbit satellite’s pieces all coming in together.”

“If it goes on like this, one guy making the wrong command has virtually wiped every piece of space machinery up there in LSO off the radar screens.” As he said that far off to the eastern horizon, a large fireball entered the atmosphere and looked exactly like the destruction of the NASA space shuttle a decade earlier, as pieces flew off the fireball and disintegrated.

“I wonder what happened to the rocks that hit the Pacific,” Ryan asked. And they all went back inside to see the footage being broadcast from a helicopter showing several hundred yards of San Diego beach front destroyed and several limp bodies scattered along the beach where the bike/skating path had once been.

The radio chat from craft in space was quiet; both Jonesy and VIN reported that all was quiet. VIN’s team in the spacecraft was told to begin slowing their hunk of metal still heading towards the sun, and to begin working the craft to curve around and return to its original position above the communications satellite they wouldn’t find.

For the next three hours the team in Hangar One watched as night settled onto the West Coast. Nothing could be seen except the lights of thousands of emergency vehicle along the coast line helping people get to safety as far north as the helicopter’s camera could film.

Only one channel, CBS, still worked and by nine that night the first reports of devastation began to be aired. Tallies of deaths in San Diego mounted to over the 500 mark, Los Angeles already reported over 100, and other small towns, like Dana Point, had over 150 deaths and their entire marinas had been destroyed with hundreds of large boats left everywhere, even on the road going through town. Hundreds more people were missing, and search crews with thousands of flashlights were combing beaches and piles of rubble as far as north as San Francisco.

Apart from several houseboats in Seattle knocked away from their moorings, San Francisco was the last place to be hit, suffering slight damage to its low areas. Several small buildings had been destroyed with no loss of life.

Hawaii had seen a one foot wave, but it had caused minimal damage with little beach erosion.

The cameras in several areas of Southern California had reporters giving non-stop commentary on the destruction in their areas. Ryan picked up his cell phone to find it dead. He then picked up his land line; it still worked. He phoned the former president.

“Yes, Ryan”
stated his friend once the line was connected. It had taken a whole minute before the phone on the other end began to ring. “Thanks to those early warnings we got out, I believe thousands of people were saved from the tsunami. Did you see the roads before the first wave hit?”

“No I was too busy getting my space crews organized. We didn’t lose any craft, although we sustained some damage; but nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“Well, all the roads heading away from the coast were packed solid with vehicles before the president gave out his warning. Without your information, there could have been a massive loss of life. It looks like the southern disaster areas are as bad as New Jersey and Staten Island were after Hurricane Sandy two years ago.”

“Yes, it was a lucky call and thank you for getting the word out,” Ryan replied.

“Don’t thank me, Ryan, thank the head of the FBI on the West Coast, Joe Everson. He is a good friend of mine and one call from me had him alerting every office of every emergency system along the entire coast. With their earthquake readiness on that side of the country, many departments are well prepared for disseminating rapid information to evacuate. There could have been hundreds of thousands of deaths in southern California, instead of the 700 now estimated by CBS. Ryan, what has happened in space?”

For half an hour Ryan told his friend all he knew. First, that the new Chinese space station had disappeared off screen, the ISS still had a light beeping, and Ryan’s team were trying to talk to them. His guys were OK, but he guessed that space was again pretty empty of man-made objects.

Ryan suggested that somehow his company would be blamed for this fiasco. He told his friend so, and he suggested that his FBI friend might send a few troops to make sure his base was safe from other government organizations. It was the least his country could do.

Both men were extremely happy not to be in Washington right now. Unknown to them the president was already covering his tracks and the tracks of all the president’s men. Dozens of NASA department heads and high ranking officers would bear the brunt of the angry Executive branch, who blamed everybody but itself.

Chapter 21

Peace in Nevada

For the next seventy-two hours nothing changed in space. Maggie had to use the thrusters a dozen times to bypass, or get out of the way of much slower traveling pieces of junk heading towards their orbit. Jonesy vaporized three small pieces of metal and several pieces of what looked like parts of the asteroids moving in all directions. He managed to get into radio communications with the team aboard the ISS.

He learned and relayed the messages that they were OK, and had enough provisions and supplies for at least a month; part of their solar power was down but the space station was safe. Their incoming supply freighter had blown up a few miles from them, and a spacewalk had revealed that 50 percent of one of their main solar units had disappeared.

Jonesy tried to get in touch with the Chinese space station to no avail.

VIN hadn’t left the laser for less than ten of the seventy-two hours, often sleeping in the Bridge while Fritz took his place. Ryan allowed no one to spacewalk for the first seventy-two hours and
America One was currently 1,000 miles from her original position, where she would be repositioned until Jonesy surveyed the lower orbits.
SB III was still 600 miles above Earth, and she would need to return there pretty soon. The two crew aboard only had stores for another week at the most, plus their hydrogen fuel supply was low and the shuttle was using much of her remaining fuel to dodge slow moving bullets.

Down on Earth it was a different matter. Half of the military’s communications were down, and every several hours, it got weaker as another satellite was hit, or knocked out of its orbit. At the same time the world’s Internet and cell phone connections got slower and slower. The Pentagon panicked, putting the whole country on high alert, having every available soldier in the country guarding something important, as if they were about to be invaded.

Most of the West Coast cities had evening curfews, the few remaining channels broadcasting the latest news. Police, National Guard and army units searched the destroyed area around the coast for bodies.

Three days after the destruction, the death toll rose to over a thousand; few could use communication devices, except for land lines, and the president spoke to the media for the first time on the less than a dozen remaining television channels that were still operating across the entire United States.

For twenty minutes the country watched as the president, while sadly recounting the deaths, promoted himself as having saved many lives by warning the public to evacuate. Then came the finger pointing. He identified several people, unknown to the public, who would be called to Capitol Hill to testify about their failure to provide accurate information to Washington regarding the catastrophic outcome of the meteors that crashed into Earth. The CIA was trying to determine why the FBI had been warned before the rest of the country. The Administrator of NASA had been cleared of any wrong doing, but most of his management were about to be called to hearings to state their cases. And, the NSA was elected to be the head monitor of West Coast security since the CIA and FBI were at loggerheads.

The president continuously commended Washington and his own quick reactions and lastly suggested that internal U.S. companies were suspected of having had a hand in the catastrophe; a federal investigation would be led by Congressman Dickens to look at possible asteroid intervention by U.S. companies. He did not take any questions and left the room looking mean and threatening.

What he didn’t tell the people was that China was already accusing the U.S. of destroying its new space station and entire satellite communications system, which they considered an act of war.

Now that their security satellites were virtually useless the Russians were wary, as were most of Europe, Australia, and several dozen other countries whose communications systems were disabled. The world was blaming the United States and retaliating with threats of armed conflict around the world; they did not fail to mention that nuclear missiles were active and ready.

With Israel’s security satellites and GPS compromised, Iran was joining forces with the Syrians, Palestinians and other Arab countries to finally rid the middle east of the thorn in its foot; hundreds of tanks were rumbling into Iraq.

Pakistan was sending thousands of troops towards its border with India, in case of an attack and India was doing the same. North Korea sent several missiles into outlying areas of South Korea and all the nuclear missiles around the world were ready for Armageddon.

On the third day after the event Ryan received his first visitor to the airfield, the head of West Coast operations for the FBI. He had never met the man before but Joe Everson was a good friend of Bill Withers and the former president.

His helicopter was allowed in once Ryan had the airport’s Choking Device deactivated. Three men got out, all FBI agents, and were introduced to Ryan by Bill Withers.

“Joe and I played football together at high school,” Bill stated. “That’s how far we go back, but we haven’t spoken since before I left NASA. Joe is totally trustworthy, Ryan; he reported directly to the president until the election when he was replaced and transferred to Los Angeles.”

“Is your boss trustworthy?” Ryan asked Joe Everson, as he showed him into Hangar One.

The athletically built, six feet, six inch tall, grey-haired African American, replied, “I don’t trust anybody any more, Mr. Richmond. This country is a mess right now. I’ve just been called to Washington to testify about why I initiated the first warnings, which saved thousands of lives, and where I got the information. My hearing is in three days. Want to come with me, since you were the source of that information through our mutual friend?”

“I think going to Capitol Hill to open the lines of communications could be a good move; I can show them where the early information came from. I do happen to have a complete space system in orbit,” replied Ryan. “You can use me as the tipoff person.”

“Great. I think it would be beneficial to keep the former president out of this for a few weeks. The truth can’t hurt either of us, and Congress needs to learn the truth, that the current president and his cronies refused to heed warnings from outside experts. Our friend tells me that you attempted to warn several people, including the president himself, and the head of NASA?”

“Yes, ask Martin Brusk. He was on Air Force One when it arrived here that very morning; and, since his freighter supplying the ISS was destroyed, I don’t believe he is a very happy person. He listened to the president threaten me with wearing an orange jumpsuit and with Guantanamo filling up with America citizens as prisoners, and his team throwing away the key. I think that shocked him into realizing that this president is a despot.”

“The King and all the King’s men,” smiled Joe, “but not while this country still has a Constitution and two Houses. Most of our Washington politicians would love to hear the real truth. I have listened to a couple of the recordings you sent our friend, and he and several people are waiting for this panic to die down before we begin picking up the pieces. Ryan, believe me, there is still a majority of sane Americans out there and in Washington. Once we know how far the ‘King’s Men’ reach into the more powerful institutions of our country, then we can act. I believe that the our friend has enough to impeach the current president, Dickens Mullins and several others in Congress as well as about two dozen high ranking military officials.”

“So, what can I do to help?” Ryan asked.

“The whole world is in total meltdown at the moment. Bill Withers called me and said that with ongoing, slow destruction throughout all communications systems including military surveillance and GPS satellites, things will only get worse in the short term. CIA headquarters in Langley is keeping the FBI at arm’s length. Meanwhile, large divisions of the FBI are uniting with reliable areas of FEMA, Homeland Security, SBI, and several other agencies, as well as commanders of reliable sections of the U.S. military. Members of Congress who we know to be just and conscientious are being visited, and we should have an idea of whose side everybody is on within the next few weeks. Only then can we prevent any more fiascos like those belated explosions of nukes, due to inexperienced personnel while the president has control.

“We have followed the likes of Bishop, Ward and Mortimer for years. They began abusing military funds years ago, but we could never get close enough to get them into court. Now Bishop believes he’s been appointed Director of Everything on the West Coast and is rattling his saber. He will begin to make mistakes very soon.

“Unbeknownst to many on several sides, we still have limited world surveillance, but it is only operational for several hours a day, and we have repositioned several surveillance satellites over problem areas. Iran is about to head south and wipe Israel off the map. North Korea is trying to start a war, as are Pakistan and India. From what’s left of our satellites, we learned yesterday that hundreds of tanks and military vehicles illegally crossed into Iraq from Iran. There is nothing anybody can do about it with our limited GPS directional controls to coordinate rocket, missile, or even drone strikes against this army. We don’t know if they will reach their target before our satellites go offline. If something else happens up there, we could lose a drone’s directional feed halfway through a flight. The U.S. military lost two more satellites just this morning. From the look of it nothing can be done about the lack of communications by any country for the foreseeable future. All we can do is wait for the destruction up there to end and see what’s left.”

“We will be receiving an update on the clearance of LSO within a few hours,” said Ryan. “One of my shuttles will be heading back to earth. Many here believe that most of the destruction in the lower space orbit zone is done.”

“Yes, the USA and several other first world countries still have satellites operating in the LSO zone, but the mid zone is where most of our more important military satellites are located, and we should know in a few days what’s left,” replied Joe.

“About seventy-two hours,” added Bill Withers.

“As far countries attacking each other, we need some kind of weapon to deter these attacking forces and hopefully stabilize the world’s status quo.”

“So, how can I help?” Ryan asked.

“Ryan,” stated Bill Withers calmly. “I took the liberty of telling the FBI about your lasers in space, and your showing at Cape Canaveral in Florida. I hope you don’t mind. My reasoning was that you showed your enemy your strength, but you never thought about telling the good guys. Too much happened too fast for us to do anything about it.”

“That’s fine, I was going to relay the message to you, but all this action got in the way. I’m glad you did some of the work for me, Bill. They weren’t ever thought as weapons. Joe, our entire space operation is still active thanks to these two lasers.”

“You want to help, I appreciate that Ryan. We might need you to use these lasers of yours to warn any attacking armies that the United States still has teeth. You can do that. Virtually nobody else can at the moment,” Joe confirmed.

“If I do that, and the president finds out, I will have the entire military knocking at my door, weapons firing before they even land,” Ryan replied simply.

“I’m prepared to fortify your airfield with 250 fully armed FBI agents who will be under your direct command or the command of Allen Saunders while they are here. I don’t have tanks, fighter jets and nukes, but we do have agents who will not appreciate being attacked by other American agencies. And I’m sure that the other American forces will not fire on hundreds of FBI agents protecting a vital security base. That is all I can offer in return for you blowing up a few tanks or aircraft, to force enemy forces around the world to go home. Believe me, they will back down when they are confronted with weapons they’ve never encountered and don’t know what they are or where they came from. I’m afraid some countries might use a stronger force like an EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) blast to deter attacking forces. If we destroy any attacking army’s most powerful weapons, tanks or fighter aircraft, one by one, they will realize that ‘Big Brother’ is still up there watching them, their forces can be destroyed, and they can do nothing about it.”

“Where did this idea come from?” Ryan asked.

“From me, the former president, Allen Saunders and Joe, working out our future from the limited resources we have,” replied Bill Withers. “Ryan, I was employed by Joe and the FBI while I was at NASA. I was to keep an eye out for any mysterious events; I believe was why I was pushed out by the current administration after the election. They are doing their best to plug any holes to set up a watertight system for themselves. Over the last two days while you were running your space survival tactics, I spent hours on a conference call using the only phone line we have here trying to find a way of to deter the start of World War III. And, if we aren’t careful China will start it very soon. They are angry, very angry. They believe that the USA purposely destroyed their space station and communication satellites, using the asteroid explosions as an excuse. Ryan, if the Chinese were as advanced as our armed forces are, I believe we would have seen an attack on the United States already. Our mutual friend is sending emissaries to several countries in private aircraft to try to mitigate the frustration they have against us. The White House hasn’t even thought this far ahead yet.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all of this, Bill?” Ryan replied shocked to hear what had been going on behind his back. Now he really wanted to get into space and put an end to all of the “Spy vs. Spy” shenanigans.

“I wanted to make sure you were legit, Ryan. I found that out when Air Force One arrived. Those guys don’t like you, and it cleared the way for the FBI to begin protecting you from any possible attacks; yours is the only space program worth something to this country. The former president trusts you, always did, but you were always a lone wolf and we needed to make sure you were above board, hadn’t broken any laws, and are worth protecting as an asset. Allen Saunders will arrive in a few minutes. He is trying to get air support and a few more pieces of armor to protect this airfield.”

As he was speaking, Allen knocked and walked in. Ryan looked at him angrily, still shocked that his tight security had been compromised.

“And you gave me your word that you wouldn’t give out information,” Ryan, angrily addressed Allen Saunders.

“I kept my word, Ryan,” answered Allen sincerely. “Nobody knows anything about areas of your program that is not a threat to National Security. Joe doesn’t know anything about your space ventures, only that you have weapons that can defend this country. Joe, I have two C-130s with fifty men in each coming in from Nellis with a couple of armored Humvees, several heavy machine guns, mortars, and empty sand bags. I couldn’t get any more without making waves. I also have two Air Force BFVs, Bradley Fighting Vehicles, arriving on flatbeds by road. The eyes in the sky are blind, and I doubt anyone will see them arrive. Ryan, we can protect you if you allow us to house troops in your empty accommodations. A contingent of 100 air force and more FBI agents will certainly be a safeguard so that you can continue your project, in return for a little homeland defense and international persuasion now and again.”

“Ryan, your project hasn’t been compromised,” added Bill Withers. “Actually you are in a stronger position than before. We know that Bishop, Mortimer, or Ward will arrive shortly with troops; maybe not today, but as soon as the president’s men can get back to normal business. I bet you that not one of his team will be subject to scrutiny by Capitol Hill over this debacle. He has already cleared McNealy, who really wasn’t the blame. Mortimer was the one who sent out the orders to fire those belated nukes. Now let’s get back to completing your project.”

It was time to move on. Even though Ryan felt betrayed, he knew that maybe the moves were necessary; he had already lost one launch, and three days, and needed the next flight’s cargo to replace the broken corridors on
America One.

After a meal and a milkshake Joe returned to Los Angeles and Ryan’s entire team got back to work. It was thirty-six hours before New Year’s Eve, and thirty more of his crew and families were leaving on the last day of the year. That would leave him only sixty scientists, several family members, and his entire security force; there would be plenty of room to accommodate the arrival of agents and air men to help. He hoped he wouldn’t see Americans killing each other over his airfield.

Chapter 22

Flights resume

Jonesy was tired of space for this flight. A space shuttle wasn’t the best place to be cramped up with your future wife without household necessities for days on end, while shooting down the odd piece of junk that came their way.

They had just heard that
America One had resumed her initial position after collecting the unharmed freighters. One of the freighters had taken a hit from something, as part of its solar array was missing, but the freighter’s search beacon was still working and
Asterspace III had managed to connect to the vitally needed supplies floating around space.

VIN told ground control that the communications satellite they had used to hide behind had been destroyed. Ryan gave his crew the OK to resume the mother ship’s external building operations, with the first task to complete the large thrusters on the aft section. He wanted the whole craft to descend to a lower orbit, hoping to speed up operations by bringing her down to a 300-mile altitude. Bill Withers thought that within a week it should be safe to do so. Low space orbit was the cleanest place in the solar system.

The next problem was that although
SB III could defend herself from space junk, the next shuttles due up with Penny and Michael, and then Allen and Jamie Watkins on her first flight together, didn’t have a laser, so this next week was important to get the supplies through unscathed. He couldn’t let the launches stop. He was getting tired and now that Kathy was off flights, she followed him around helping him out with food and coffee.

Jonesy was given orders to descend, and he slowly worked his computers to figure out his descent from the craft’s high altitude to get to his usual orbital “Top of D” for final reentry. Since the objects on his radar screen were still numerous and dangerous, he decided to make a slow descent over twelve orbits, which would take twenty-four hours.

On the second orbit at 500 miles above earth he began to see an increase in debris rising upwards. It shocked him to see so much; over a hundred pieces alone were flying into his radar screen at hundreds of miles an hour, in an area twice the size of Delaware. Compared to the rocks days earlier, the movement of the bits of destroyed satellites was like shooting ducks on a pond, and he easily cleared a path for Maggie to descend through.

For several hours he was continuously dodging or shooting metal satellite parts flying around them. Many of the objects floated passed without danger as they headed out of the orbits they had spent years in; he could see solar panels, silver walling, gold covers, docking hatches, butterfly panels, thruster exhaust, and every sort of man-made junk possible. Several small pieces hit the deflector on the nose and they could actually hear and see small objects the size of a screw or small bolt bounce away from them.

Since the craft was on autopilot with Maggie monitoring the controls, she had time to work out the density of the cloud of debris. It was spreading out and would become less dense as the cloud floated farther and farther from Earth. She calculated that the dissipating cloud was a thousand miles wide and most pieces moved past them at slow speeds. Objects of all sizes were still moving in all directions; the pieces they could actually see with their own eyes or on the radar were pieces of junk a few inches wide and over a pound in weight.

“Jonesy, I don’t know what is coming from the direction of Earth from the higher 12,000-mile level,” said Maggie. “I’m sure these pieces are going to hit each other, bounce around, and ricochet off in different directions. I expect that they will collide in a few days.”

“What about the geostationary altitude?” asked Jonesy.

“The average pieces we see are rising away from Earth and traveling at hundreds of angles. It takes about forty-eight hours to hit the mid-level layer and then about a week before those pieces get to the geostationary level. I don’t know how much energy is lost when two pieces collide, but it will be years before everything up here settles down. As an aerospace engineer, I think that 50 percent of the stuff heading up will have passed an altitude of 22,500 miles in about seven to ten days.”

“SB III to
America One, do you copy? Over?”

“Hey! Are you heading down to Earth, partner? I had better tell the boss to lock his liquor cabinet.”
VIN smiled, knowing that everybody at ground control was listening to him.

Maggie got on the radio to explain her findings to the entire Astermine team, and that VIN better get his cannon ready in about six days to repel junk that would pass through his area.

“Makes a good movie title,”
relied VIN, laughing. “‘Attack of the Space Junk’, or how about ‘Space Junk Invaders’?”

****

Planet Earth was in real trouble. How could people survive without texting 24/7? The downed satellites caused havoc with communications. Some countries didn’t have communication systems like the Internet, cell phones, and pagers at all; their single or few satellites were totally destroyed. Many other systems were on overload; their populations competing for use on the remaining satellites caused the infrastructure to collapse. In a retro-world, dial-up modems, land line telephones and even call boxes were the best way to communicate.

The military were having the hardest time, trying to see through eyes that no longer gave them unlimited sight around the globe. The drones were useless. Creech Air Force base and dozens of other bases were on emergency standby; most of their flights in the air could not always be controlled. Air force jets patrolled the U.S. borders, their radar screens watching for any incursions. The couple of dozen satellites remaining, mostly orbiting earth a couple of times a day at the 12,000 mile altitude, went on and offline several times a day as they headed over a horizon. There was just enough feed to see what was going on for several hours a day, but here and there a valuable satellite was pushed off course, went into defense mode, or was broken up by “Space Junk Invaders”.

The president was kept informed of the proceedings around the world, but was far too busy trying to figure out what and who needed protection. He also worried about who he could trust for information on his own team and who might be suspect.

Everything on Earth not dependent on satellite communications still worked. Several television stations were still running, showing the news on a virtually permanent feed. Much like 9/11, everybody was shocked and trying to figure out how life had operated before the Internet and 4G communications.

Hal McNealy was working with a few trusted scientists on how to get satellites up with new communication relays. It would take years. Tom Ward was working on trying to get into the FBI databases to gather information. Joe Bishop was ordering relief people this way and that, and generally making the recovery situation on the West Coast even worse. In other words, the president and all the president’s men were doing squat to help the country and its allies. Nobody was interested in Ryan Richmond, yet.

****

Jonesy maneuvered the shuttle down to 100 miles above Earth over the next twenty hours. Once he reached the 300-mile altitude, nothing showed up on his radar. It was as if a vacuum cleaner had cleaned up lower space. In his final orbit, he had to wait six hours before the C-5 took off with the next shuttle, full of cargo to repair and replace parts on
America One.

Seven hours later they could see each other as Penny Sullivan in command of
SB I climbed up into a clear black space.

None of Ryan’s craft used the Cloaking Devices anymore. Who would notice them? Maggie was in contact with the ISS. They gave her a report that they would need oxygen, food, and other supplies within fourteen days; and Maggie relayed the message down to Ryan. On their descent they had actually orbited close enough to visually see the ISS for the first time; it was thirty miles away. Maggie also suggested to the crew on the ISS that descending was now safe and the commander who had been ordered by NASA to stay at a higher altitude decided to ignore the orders. It would be easier for them to be supplied from LSO, and NASA wouldn’t be supplying them.

Jonesy and Maggie passed
SB I still heading upwards. Both crews chatted over the intercom, catching up with the problems on earth while Penny increased the thrust to rise faster, behind the cloud of debris Maggie told them was heading upwards. It would take them the next four days to follow the debris, because it was too dangerous for them to go through it.
SB III needed to reenter, her fuel was low and so were the provisions aboard.

Aware that his time table could be disrupted for the next week, Ryan had added extra supplies for
SB I’s longer journey, using the space designated for the second crew. The badly needed extra repair crew was rescheduled to go up three days later, with the hope that once the cloud had passed 22,500 miles,
Asterspace III could at least meet
SB II part way.

As usual Jonesy brought his craft in for a perfect landing and really enjoyed being back on terra firma. The desolate desert around them looked like heaven as the tractor pulled them back to the apron and Hangar Six.

Three days later,
SB II launched with the load schedule back to normal. Jonesy and Maggie enjoyed their break, even using the swimming pool during the cold weather; they had arrived weak and in bad condition. Ryan’s team learned that being cooped up in small cockpits played havoc with his crew’s fitness.

SB I had followed the cloud for its entire flight and was still 2,000 miles lower than
America One when Captain Pete Gregory reported seeing debris rising up to meet them, had called in all the spacewalkers and closed down the entire ship until the cloud passed. There wasn’t much to do, except for VIN who was taking aim at the odd piece coming towards them, using the radar to pinpoint the target to disintegrate it. At the same time, the internal areas of the cubes were coming along under Suzi’s guidance.

When the shuttle arrived with the replacement corridors, the first accommodation units could be welded and bonded together into their permanent positions on the ship. First they needed to install the 400-foot long electrical elevators so crewmembers could be elevated from the center to the two levels. These elevators had three floors to service, each 200 feet apart.

The accommodations could only be used once the space ship was rotating. All units had an upper sleeping area with horizontal beds, and an open plan system below; the lower area accommodated a seating/kitchen/communal area, a marine-type forced air toilet and a shower with wash basin. There were no windows to the outside. Nobody would want to see themselves going around and around in space, and they wouldn’t notice the rotations if they couldn’t see them. Only the Bridge, library, and several other areas had windows, or portals to see out. The rotations would begin once the thrusters had been completed and were operational in about a month’s time.

VIN waited for the thousands of pieces of debris to attack them. During the time frame Maggie had estimated the debris would reach them, he saw less than 100 pieces fly past. He obliterated all he could see, as well as any he could follow on the radar, another 100 pieces before they seemed to end.

Ryan then gave orders for the three spacecraft to align the space ship into a real earth orbit, increase her speed and then descend by 1,000 miles per day. For the first time,
America One began orbiting the earth like the ISS.

Asterspace III, refueled and ready to go, descended to meet up with
SB II, still in Nevada. She passed
SB I four hours later still on the way up.

Six days after
SB I docked at
America One,
SB III was ready to launch for her next cargo flight.
SB I was due to reenter,
SB II had met up with
Asterspace III and was only two days behind her sister shuttle for reentry.
America One was already 6,000 miles closer to earth, at 25,000 miles an hour, and was orbiting earth once every eighteen hours. Things were happening fast at Astermine while the world had forgotten that they existed.

The space junk had calmed down and Ryan and his team still had eighteen flights to go to transport all necessities from Nevada. Only then he could fly up luxuries—beef, pork, four tons of frozen milk, and another four tons of butter. If at any time danger lurked, it would be the ground crew’s turn to go up. Astermine needed sixty days to leave earth, and he had eight days to go. It was January 7th, only one week to go before the president’s promised visit.

Chapter 23

America One becomes a real spaceship!

Slowly, Ryan watched as the days approached January 15th. Earth was in a mess. The rumblings from billions of people about lousy communications went on and on. Normal daily business continued, but companies that depended on the Internet for business dissolved into “has-beens”. Department stores became the places to shop again and landlines the way to communicate if one couldn’t afford very expensive satellite cellphone charges.

The former president’s team of civilians and older statesmen calmed down the Chinese, telling them that a world catastrophe had been averted by nuking the asteroids. Their anger was reduced to a mere simmer when they were promised help with a new station, once the USA got itself out of chaos.

Most North Americans and Europeans found this new way of life very frustrating to start with, but learned to relax a bit as time went by. Much of the world returned to using slow, antiquated systems to carry on their jobs. It seemed very slow and very labor intensive. The U.S. mail system doubled in volume, bringing in well-needed funds to deliver mail instead of emails.

Ryan’s landline rang for the first time in a week. It was the FBI.

“Mr. Richmond, Joe here. We need a little help with what we discussed. I heard the air force troops are doing well on your airfield. I hope my team arrived OK.”

The C-130s from Nellis had arrived within twenty-four hours of Allen Saunders telling him that they would. The air force troops dug in defensive positions, and the command took up headquarters in the buildings Ryan had built for Customs and Excise; that group had not returned. The air force seemed to be happier out there at the end of the runway, than in Ryan’s more comfortable accommodations.

The air force had flown in in two more C-130s a day later with tents to increase their base camp and supplies for their stay. Ryan immediately fell in love with the two Bradley Fighting Vehicles delivered on two large military flatbeds. He had them positioned, fully armed and with all their backup arms and ammunition in Hangar Three to protect the C-5. He asked Allen Saunders for two more, and the retired general replied that he would see what he could do. Ryan also wanted driving lessons, which was finally allowed before Allen returned to space with his girlfriend Jamie as his permanent co-pilot.

A couple of days later, many of the FBI agents arrived in C-130s thanks to Allen’s contact in the air force and several more dozen arrived in FBI SUVs.

Before Allen Saunders returned to space flying
SB II, Ryan and two of his American scientists completed four hours of driving lessons and weapons control in the Bradley.

The day Allen flew into space, exactly ten minutes after the C-5 took off before dawn, Ryan and his men started the two new toys and, with one of the air force supply trucks carrying the spare ammunition, they drove the 24-ton vehicles, one by one, onto his new hydraulic cement-slab door and descended into the depths of his new cavern thirty feet below ground. The opening, still surrounded by two of the remaining walls of Hangar Seven blocked any inquisitive eyes; there were only three half asleep guards at the end of the runway at this early cold hour.

The two Bradley Fighting Vehicles joined the two silver Audis, already garaged in the large cavern. It took two truckloads and ten of his ground control team—the only ones who knew about the secret cavern—an hour to load the ammunition onto a spare troop carrier to join the vehicles down below.

The cavern wasn’t empty anymore. Over Christmas, with trucks arriving everyday with Christmas supplies, nobody noticed trailers being parked inside the first gate and then disappearing the next day. Ryan had one of his trucks that could connect up to the trailers take them in Hangar Seven during the early hours of the morning. He now had a dozen trailers inside the cavern with liquid gas and specially prepared stored cans of food for extremely long-term storage.

Twenty-four hours later and just after midnight, two more military trucks arrived each hauling another Bradley, which he personally drove from the front gate and over the brow into Hangar Three, hoping that the air force personnel, still asleep, wouldn’t miss the first two he had made disappear.

Now with his cavern half full of supplies, he watched the clock click down to the possible attack on his base.

Jonesy and Maggie were flying up in three days to return with VIN. They were also prepared to help end the war of all wars in the Middle East if necessary.

The world had changed so quickly, Ryan wondered what would have happened if he had never gone to DX2014, and this breakup had occurred without their prior knowledge. He was sure that observers at Hubble would have seen the asteroid’s destruction and would had recorded the entire lead-up to the disaster before their telescope disintegrated soon after the third set of nukes sent out millions of deadly missiles. There now wasn’t one operational telescope in orbit.

The boss of Astermine still felt an occasional pang of guilt every now and again, wondering if the asteroid would have still broken up if he had never visited it.

“Yes, Joe, I have my lasers descending towards earth,” Ryan replied getting his wandering mind back to the telephone conversation. “They are currently at the mid-level space altitude of 12,000 miles and I have increased their descent speeds up to 2,000 miles per day.”

“We have approximately 75 hours before the Iranian military force of over 800 armored vehicles reaches within 150 miles of the Israeli border. The Iranians were joined by 200 tanks from Syria, too many for the Israeli military to handle without accurate guidance systems. Like us, they are down to a few hours a day to use their GPS guided weapons. It seems that there is a lull in the Syrian war. At the 150-mile range Israel will respond with everything she has to destroy this advancing force, including EMPs or even nuclear force. We must stop the armor before that happens, or it is too late for the Middle East. We are really worried that Israel will use their nuclear weapons, which could destroy the whole area, including Jordan and other countries susceptible to nuclear fallout. In addition, the North Korean army is getting ready to advance its armor into South Korea, so we need to shock them into sending their soldiers back. The Pakistani and Indian problem, thankfully, seems to have sorted itself out.

The current president has sent the Secretary of State over to Israel to try to broker a deal, just like the last time Israel was attacked from Gaza fourteen months ago. We know what happened then, the second or third takeover of the whole area by Israel. Nobody thinks that the Secretary of State being there will deter the attacking Iranian army. The president has also tried to call the Iranian government several times, but to no avail. Israel and the United States only have surveillance over the area for five hours a day instead of seven, since that latest satellite went offline 24 hours ago.”

“So, what happens if Joe Bishop or Tom Ward decides to enter my airfield in twelve hours?” Ryan asked.

“I doubt that will happen,”
replied Joe.
“There is too much going on. The cleanup on the West Coast is a mess, and there are riots and battles between the police and civilians everywhere. I hear Joe Bishop is in the midst of the trouble in Los Angeles. Tom Ward is in Langley trying to find information on FBI operations, and we are following his leads into our computer systems. The president has daily meetings about the two looming crises and General Mortimer is currently in Seoul checking on the Korean problem. Maybe the White House janitor is available to attack you, but I think that you have a lot more time, at least two more weeks. So, Ryan, when will your lasers be operational?”

“In seventy-three hours,” replied Ryan, relieved at the latest information. If anybody knew what was happening, Joe Everson knew. “I know it’s going to be close, but my arming procedures are extremely complicated to rush, so I can’t get the laser into position any faster. What I can do, is to get one laser closer to earth, into a 500 mile range within the next seventy-odd hours. Joe, you do understand that the lower the orbit, the quicker each orbit is, and the less time the laser will be available over the problem areas.”

“How long will the laser be able to fire into targets in the Middle East once in range?”
Joe asked.

“At 500 miles, I would say 25 minutes overhead and 50 minutes once we have visual and before the ship heads over the other horizon,” Ryan replied.

“So, how many times could that laser of yours burn a hole in a tank’s armor, or another type of armored vehicle?”

“Wait one,” replied Ryan and had a quick discussion with his Russian crew. “Sorry about the hold Joe, my guys say it will take a full seven-second burst to harm a large tank. That is our maximum burst, once every 27 seconds, and bursts from the second, lesser-powered laser, once every 67 seconds.”

“So, let’s say you have forty minutes of firing time over Israel. You could give me 150 strikes before you’re out of range?” Joe asked.

“My scientists say 157 strikes from the time we have targets visual at 500 miles or lower in altitude, and double that at 1,000 miles. At 2,000 miles we are looking at accuracy of five to six feet, which I believe is too inaccurate to hit such a small target,” Ryan added.

“So, at 1,000 miles, your accuracy will be twice that at 500 miles?” Joe asked.

“Correct, and with twice as many strike possibilities due to more time,” added Ryan.

“I want you to hit the Iranian tank’s aft engine compartment, just behind the turret. We have one shot per target. Some targets you will disable, some maybe you won’t, so I need your lasers at as low an orbit as possible to increase your fire rate. Can you organize a 400 mile orbit above earth?”

“I must get with my guys and see how low we can go in the time stated,” replied Ryan.

For the next two hours he met with the best brains in the world of space. He had one of the large rear hydrogen thrusters out of the three ready for testing on
America One, and it would help the spacecraft at full thrust to increase the descent.

For anybody working outside the space station, speed and descent didn’t matter. They wouldn’t notice it, so he asked the two craft close to the space station to dock up and increase the descent with a seven minute test of the large rear thruster to 4,000 miles per day. At the current 12,000 mile altitude, he could be in range in the allotted time, if the thruster ignited.

The rear thruster successfully ignited seven hours later, at midnight on January 15th, and
America One began her dive through empty space towards Earth while several spacewalkers still controlled the spiders to continue welding the cylinders, one by one.

Captain Pete Gregory left the hard work to control the Bridge for the first test. The other two experienced crew had arrived to take his place on the last shuttle. The Bridge was still a mass of wires, but operational enough to give computerized commands to the ship’s first thruster.

VIN entered Cube One to visit Suzi as the ship’s thruster was fired for the first time. It wasn’t a big deal and the captain didn’t need him. With a complete space suit on he wanted to visit all seven of the cubes; it was the first time he had some free time since the explosions of the asteroids two weeks earlier. Suzi was standing on the walkway waiting for him as the round door slid open to the first cube from the Bridge connected to its outer wall.

Since the craft was not rotating, everybody on the middle walkways could get about on foot. Away from the walkways, people just floated, pushing themselves around, or walking on the newly laid metal strips fitted in the first five cubes. Everybody floated to work inside the ever-growing length of vertical and horizontal corridors, several now with atmospheric and heated conditions. Even one of the nine elevators worked. It was hard to float in an elevator and watch one move up or down.

“It is good to see you fully suited Herr side-gunner,” said Suzi, kissing the front of VIN’s helmet before she was helped on with hers by another team member. Cube Seven was about to come online and the stores were ready in the last arms of the usual three sealed cylinders. Now they could walk through the entire ship on the connecting walkway.

Cube One was a mass of growth; the sunlight was bright and, apart from the narrow metal stripped-section breaks, the cube was beginning to look like a six-sided greenhouse.

Suzi pointed to a couple of her team standing or kneeling at different angles rearranging hydroponic plastic tubes. Another was walking around the roof right above VIN’s head pulling what looked like onions out of plastic covered soil beds. It was still hard to see soil and other objects right above one’s head, and not watch them fall to the floor. Then he realized that the gravity might be off in this cube, and he would be connected to the magnetically striped walkway by the metal pads underneath his space shoes.

“Is the gravity off?”
asked VIN.

“Ja, I know it is hard to tell the difference these days,”
replied Suzi.
“I turned it off an hour ago to suit up and allow for soil transfer and picking of vegetables for tomorrow’s first meal. We now have crops ready to eat, and I’m hoping that if the kitchen is finally installed and operational by tomorrow evening, we can have our first meal of space-grown vegetables.”

“It would sure beat the pouches for a change,”
remarked VIN through his intercom. He, Suzi now in her helmet, the few guys working in Cube Seven, the spacewalkers outside, and the crew on the bridge could hear conversation through the intercom system. The rest walked about without suits on.

“Something home grown will be a luxury,”
added Fritz working somewhere else in the ship.

“I was told French onion soup could be our first meal,” said another crewmember.

“Does that come with the usual cheese on top?”
VIN asked Suzi adding to the conversation as he walked along the magnetic strip of the walkway towing Suzi, who preferred to float.

“We do have a little, but it depends on if Ryan can get the six extra shuttle flights of special goods up here,”
replied Suzi.

“I thought there were only four luxury flights?”
interjected Fritz.

“Fritz, where are you? It is very weird talking to somebody you can’t see, or even know where they are,”
VIN responded.

“I’m working in the kitchen area on the midlevel above the Bridge, putting together the second kitchen cylinder. I am about 200 feet directly above you if you are still in Cube One.”

“Is the first kitchen part complete with the opposite rotating mess hall?”
VIN asked.

“As of one hour ago, if you can call it a mess hall; it seats eighty, VIN. Its mechanics are more like a Ferris wheel than a mess hall. We haven’t got the rotating part working yet since we don’t need it for another two months, but the kitchen has its electrics in, and we are putting in the space ovens and bolting the tables to the floor. It should be ready by dinner tomorrow night.”

“If the cafeteria had windows, we could dine with a view of Earth in our windows,”
added Suzi still very European,
“but I’m glad the designers didn’t add the windows. How could anybody eat watching the whole space station revolve around their heads?”

“True,”
Fritz commented.

“As long as we get our promised onion soup,”
added another unrecognizable voice.

They exited Cube One and the doors to Cube Two slid open. Here the gravity was on and Suzi floated back down to the walkway reluctantly.
“Mr. Rose, are you in Cube Two anywhere?” Suzi asked. “Oh! I forgot I’m wearing my helmet. Bridge, ask Mr. Rose where he is, please.”

“Bridge to Mr. Rose, Suzi is suited up and looking for you,” stated the loudspeaker system throughout the ship. VIN and Suzi couldn’t hear the loudspeakers, but they did see Mr. Rose’s head stick out from the corner control and computer room each cube had. He, with no suit on, and wearing magnetic shoes grabbed a two-way handheld intercom radio and walked over to the two space suits coming towards him.

“I was just checking the computer that is controlling the water drips per minute on the avocado trees.” Mr. Rose spoke into his handheld intercom devise. “Going to Cube Seven?”

“Two chocolate milkshakes please, Mr. Rose, and I might take Suzi for a walk in the space park behind Cube Seven,”
smiled VIN.

“Not until I get the frozen milk up here, Mr. Noble,”
replied the elderly man smiling. “I asked Ryan to send up cocoa on one of the luxury flights, as well as 500 pounds of pure dark chocolate; but until then chocolate cakes or milkshakes are not possible. I also hear that with the earth much closer now, a spacewalk is a treat for any lady today.”

“It sure will be,”
responded Suzi.
“We are now descending four times faster than before towards earth. Ryan wants us closer for some reason.”

“I hadn’t noticed an increase in speed or in altitude descent,” replied Mr. Rose, “nor am I interested in what is going on down there on Earth. I will never see it again, and won’t miss it. I have all the warm bright sunshine up here I need and at least a year of work in the cubes before I can relax.”

“You wouldn’t even miss blue skies, frost, and thunderstorms?”
VIN asked.

“Nope! Blue skies maybe, frost; I was never a winter person, and thunderstorms or rain… I can create rain in here just by increasing the water pressure and let the water spray out everywhere. The system wouldn’t lose a drop.”

As they carried on, VIN was surprised how differently people would react to the extended stay in space.

As they passed through the cubes they noticed the growth in each one was a little less dense with hundreds of different plants growing at their normal rates to their full sizes and eventual harvest.

The bees were flying about in Cube Five and VIN was shown a small flower garden that dozens of bees were pollinating; they watched and admired how nature could take its course and do her job in space.

Cube Six was still in disarray. The gravity was on and the original stocks of chickens and rabbits were atop several electromagnetic batteries powered up to increase the gravity levels for the animals to stay strong. The egg layers, now over their strenuous flight into space, would hopefully soon be producing eggs.

“They currently have 45 percent gravity with the extra batteries meant for the kitchen and hospital cylinders, until we have the animals stationed in their upper-level cylinder coops and hutches,”
stated Suzi.
“When is that planned?” asked VIN.

“In about a month,”
replied Suzi.
“They have enough gravity for now, but we will have them in their living quarters at about the same time the milk arrives for our chocolate cake. Remember we need eggs and milk to make the cakes and we think the eggs will come more quickly under normal gravity conditions,”
laughed Suzi.

VIN asked the men working in Cube Seven on the other side of the wall from them, if the door could be opened; he was told that the air pressure was good enough, so was the air mixture, but the temperature was only 45 degrees and it would help if they could leave the door open for a minute to allow the air to mix with Cube Six. The open door would help warm the last cube and a ten degree drop in Cube Six wouldn’t hurt the animals. VIN did so, and for a couple of minutes he held the door open. VIN stared into the empty silver and black rectangular cube bare of plants and life, and remembered what Cube One had looked like a couple of months earlier. The bare cube looked so large compared to the others, which were now full of vegetation.

The door was allowed to slide shut and now, with no gravity in the last cube, they floated up to where two crewmembers were unsealing the silicone seal to the first cylinder holding the supplies. Neither he nor Suzi were needed so they went up to the docking port above them. As usual there was a 100-foot cord inside the tube and VIN entered first, allowing Suzi to control it from inside the cube. The inner hatch closed and the outer hatch opened to allow him out into space. The hatch closed as Suzi worked the system.

Within three minutes, she floated out and VIN latched her onto the end of the cord. He had his new, smaller jet pack on. The jet pack was now a permanent part of the new top part of his suit sent up a couple of flights earlier.

Exiting from the last cube, VIN first looked towards the rear, to the new thruster exhausts twenty feet behind them. He couldn’t hear anything, but he could just see light coming out of the nearest six-foot wide exhaust.

“VIN to Bridge, how long is your blast going to last?”

“Forty-three more seconds, Mr. Noble,”
was Pete’s reply.
“The next burn, a ten minute burn is due in 120 minutes. We are currently heading through 11,800 miles altitude, 24,300 miles an hour and descending by 3,700 miles per twenty-four hour period. One more burn will get us to the 4,000 mile per day descent rate. Burn ending in ten seconds.”
VIN noticed the light disappear from the exhaust.

Now that the thruster was off, they could spacewalk. Suzi and VIN looked towards the front of
America One.

Construction was proceeding at a rapid rate with twenty crew working shifts on the exterior of the ship. The front of the ship, 100 yards in front of them looked a long way away as they looked down the length of
America One. The spaceship certainly looked long and big from where they stood. The three outer corridors in front of them extending horizontally between Cubes One and Four were complete, now standing 400 feet at the end of the vertical corridors from the walls of the cubes. The horizontal mid-level corridor level, 200 feet out was also complete, binding the vertical corridors together.

One of the outer level horizontal cylinders was complete over Cube Five. Once the section between Cube Four and Cube Seven was complete on all three sides, the whole accommodation and work sections of
America One would be complete.

It was hard to imagine why the scientists had designed such an ugly and ungainly craft, but it was beginning to look whole.

“Suzi, I want to see the rear engines. The engine crew should be appearing in one of the craft pretty soon.”
As VIN said that, he saw one of the spacecraft detach itself from the upper docking port on Cube Two.

The spacecraft, or the shuttles, could dock facing forward, aft, or sideways across the space ship from the three docking ports on each side wall of Cube Two. The three upper ports were positioned in the space underneath the midlevel accommodation cylinders.

There was ample room to maneuver with 100 feet between the horizontal mid-corridors and the ports, and 120 feet between the vertical corridors. Spacecraft could also dock on the underside of the ship.

On Cubes Two, Three, and Four, where there were no landing-legs, attached freighters, or supply cylinders on the underside,
America One had three more docking ports.

The six of the seven main docking stations were all situated on the four forward cubes of the ship, and there was one emergency temporary docking port on the thickened fuel compartment behind Cube Seven. This was where VIN and Suzi floated out of the way, so that
Astermine I could dock, and allow the crew to continue work.

They watched as someone floated the craft, still upside-down from being connected to the forward port. It connected upside-down to the aft port and deposited a crew member inside the engine room, as VIN called it. Then the craft detached itself and another crewmember floated out of the outer hatch, waved at VIN and Suzi thirty feet away, and entered one of the aft cylinders where the exhausts were. A second floater, as VIN now called spacewalkers, floated out of the hatch and followed the first.

“Which engine are you guys working on?”
VIN asked through his intercom.

“The second hydrogen thruster,”
stated Vitalily, the same man Ryan had spoken to in the cavern.
“The boss wants it connected as soon as possible. We can only work now between thrusts and it will still take three days before we can test it. The third one should be complete in two weeks and then we can work on the ion drives.”

“Sounds like a lot of spacewalking,” Suzi added.

“Da, Suzi,”
replied the never-smiling Russian.
“We have to work with one guy in the engine chamber while two of us work outside until the outer systems are all welded up to the outer cylinder walls, and all the electrical connections are live. Once that happens, then all three of us can work inside the engine chamber, entering from the cube without suits once we can pressurize the engine compartment in about two weeks. Once that happens we will be able to work around the clock. We should have full power by the time Ryan gets up here.”

“When is Ryan’s flight from Earth? Still the last flight?”
Suzi asked VIN.

“That’s the plan, but I have heard rumors that he promised the president and his cowboys that he will be there when they arrive. You know Ryan, he won’t break a promise.”

“Ja, he is far too honest, even with his enemies,”
replied Suzi.

They continued their spacewalk around the rear of
America One. She wasn’t a beautiful sight. More like a lot of squares and cubes of aluminum, but she was big, a thousand times bigger than anything humans had ever put into space with all the cargo sent up in the last eighteen months.

The spaceship’s rear engine exhausts were far bigger than the shuttle’s rear exhausts. Over twice the size and from the rear and seventy feet behind them, they actually looked like the rear of a real spaceship often seen in Hollywood movies.

Earth, behind the bow of
America One was getting larger and larger as they descended. Speed and velocity did not exist in space and after thirty minutes of doing nothing they reentered the world they would live in for many years to come.

Chapter 24

A new weapon

Nothing much happened on January 15th, nor was there any invasion on January 16th. On January 17th
SB III left earth for her next flight aboard the Dead Chicken.

SB I reentered on time nine hours later, about the same time Jonesy saw
America One, a small silver dot high in space, 200 miles above him.

Seventy-three hours had elapsed since the first call between Joe and Ryan. Now they were on their third call of the day. Tanks were 160 miles from the Israeli border and the former president had promised the Prime Minister of Israel that they were about to unleash a new weapon against the oncoming army.

Jonesy was on his third orbit at 199 miles above earth. The still rapidly descending
America One was about to level off at 400 miles altitude. Two of the spacecraft were at full thrust slowing her forward speed down.
Astermine I and II were facing backwards using both their rear thrusters at full power. The large ship’s side thrusters, two of the several she would have one day, and both on her underside and directly underneath the Bridge, were also at full throttle bringing her nose up to a horizontal flight direction for her first orbit around her home planet.

Even at 200 miles away, Jonesy could see her through the telescope. He also had the shuttle in reverse and full thrusters on reducing his speed so that they would get maximum time over the target. Boy she looked ugly! Not something you saw in the movies, and certainly not as pretty as the smaller craft.

Both ships were over Hawaii and had less than half an hour to slow, so that they could have as much target time as possible for their first pass over the Middle East. Their second opportunity would be 110 minutes after they went over the horizon.

America One was at a faster forward speed than
SB III and was catching up to her, even though her orbit was far longer than the shuttle’s.
SB III was also being readied to meet up with
Asterspace III which was to have the cargo transferred to her under the control of Fritz Warner.

Ryan wanted
America One ahead of the shuttle so that her more powerful laser bursts would pass miles in front of the shuttle’s nose. VIN was behind the four 48-inch screens in the laser control area on one side of the Bridge. One screen showed a normal radar screen image of the target area, the second a camera view of the same ground area. The third screen showed the target through a thermo-heat image and the fourth an infra-red image.

The size of the target area could be enlarged or reduced at any time. VIN was using this time to practice. It was night in Hawaii and as they passed he reduced the screen to a ten mile radius at 400 miles. Now he could see buildings and houses in a small village. With the radar screen, he could see a couple of vehicles driving down a road. On the third screen, he could even see the heat of their engines. One had the heat in the rear; it looked small and VIN guessed that he was looking at an old Volkswagen beetle.

He decreased the view down to its lowest point, one mile radius at 500 miles and the outline of the vehicle began to take shape. He looked at the thermal-heat screen and the shape of an old Volkswagen minibus could be seen, not a beetle. The camera screen was black, and he couldn’t see anything except beams from the headlights. He placed the radar screen onto “map-overlay mode” and the fake line of the rural road the minibus was traveling on could now be seen. The radar computer was using maps from saved maps in its memory from more than one company. Sometimes it used stored data from MapQuest, or it would flip over and use Google maps.

If an area in space was targeted, it was a totally different view. The area of space being viewed was three-dimensional and targets could be seen traveling in 3-D viewing. On Earth, viewing was in 2-D, and the computer worked on latitude and longitude coordinates changing many times a second. It worked well if it could pick up the remaining GPS satellites now 12,000 miles higher than the ship, and at this high altitude, it wasn’t a problem compared to Earth. They could see three satellites at all times.

“Sixteen minutes to first sight of target,”
stated Jonesy over the intercom.
“Partner, I will feed in the latest target coordinates to your computers.”

“Eight minutes until America One is flying straight and level, altitude 403 miles, speed reducing through 16,000 knots ground speed, I anticipate 15,000 knots by the time we are over the target. Over,” stated Captain Pete a few feet away from VIN sitting in his command chair.

“Roger that,”
replied Jonesy.
“We are at 198 miles above earth, speed 14,900 knots, flying straight and level. You should be ten miles to our portside and overhead in nine minutes. Over.”

“Asterspace III to Sierra Bravo III, we are ten miles behind you at 207 mile altitude,”
added Fritz Warner.
“If you are not going to make any sudden changes in ten minutes, I can hand over control to my co-pilot and go about transferring your cargo. Over.”

“Roger that, Asterspace III, slow to our speed, I will have reverse thrusters on for another 95 seconds, I’ll turn the shuttle to face forward, and you can begin. Since we have live animals aboard, I can only open the doors once you are spacewalking, and within twenty feet of our roof. Ryan said that you have 29 minutes to transfer before the little bunnies and chicks freeze. You will need to re-warm your cargo bay pretty quickly once you have the roof doors shut.”

“Ten minutes to target acquisition,”
stated Maggie from her co-pilot’s seat. Neither of them had their helmets on in the shuttle. It wasn’t possible to accurately aim the laser through darkened Plexiglas.

“Roger that, Mr. Jones. I’ve done an animal transfer in 19 minutes. We have two dozen ceramic hot heaters on full power in the cargo hold. The temperature is showing 68 degrees. It took twelve minutes to get the hold above freezing when we did a trial run a few hours ago, so I don’t need to rush. You just shoot straight at whatever you are shooting at, and let your future wife keep her steady while I transfer,”
smiled Fritz beginning to climb into the top half of his space suit.

“Partner, nine minutes to target,”
added Jonesy talking to several people at once. “The Atlantic looks very green down there this morning. I can see a sunny France on the horizon. The Alps sure look heavy with snow.”

“OK, guys, listen up,”
interrupted
Ryan over the intercom. All his craft were so low, that they were within range of private communications to ground control over their internal system. “I’m putting Joe Everson on the intercom. He is with the FBI. He has visuals to drones flying over the Iranians. Joe has as good sight of the vehicles as you have, maybe even better since his drones are at only 20,000 feet. Joe is on conference-call mode with me, and he will guide you in. If his ‘eyes’ can see your hits, that is, vehicles stopping or blowing up, then he will guide your bursts onto other targets he wants you to annihilate. Mr. Jones, do you have the targets in sight?”

“Negative,”
replied Jonesy.
“We are four minutes to our possible first viewing. I have my radar site tuned into Cairo at the moment. VIN, can you see Cairo?”

“Affirmative, I could blow up one of the pyramids right now.”

“Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble, Joe Everson here. Am I right that Mr. Noble has the more powerful weapon?”

“Affirmative, Joe,” VIN replied.

“OK, I want you both to aim at these exact coordinates,” Joe continued.

“Sorry, Joe, computer is showing 133 seconds before I can achieve target-lock on those coordinates,”
VIN replied 10 seconds later.

“My computer states 159 seconds,”
added Jonesy.
“I’m 200 miles lower.”

“OK, then we have no choice but to wait,”
replied Joe.
“The targets are Russian T-90s, older T-72s and Iranian
Mobarez Tanks. We didn’t know that the Iranians had taken delivery of Russian T-90s until they showed up crossing the border. The vanguard group one mile ahead of the main formation is made up of 25 of the latest T-90s with steel-composite-reactive blend armor. The next groups you will see are 200 T-72s followed by 400 Mobarez. Then they have two rear guard elements of 300 T-72s. The latest armor on the forward T-92s shouldn’t be a problem for your laser canon. It wasn’t when we were shown the test results from the Boeing’s new 20-mile range laser canon last year. The big difference in your laser is that, as Ryan explained, it is powered by electricity through a nuclear reactor and/or a mobile nuclear battery, not with the gas system Boeing uses.”

“I have 18 seconds to given coordinates target acquisition, laser live and ready,” stated VIN.

“Thirty-one seconds,”
added Jonesy.

Ryan sat in his chair at ground control. He had never been in the situation of being right in the middle of a battle. To him, the large screen which showed all eight of what both gunners were watching looked like a computer game. He could see that Jonesy was closer to earth, his screens showed more precise objects on the ground. VIN’s were far hazier, and he waited for the first move. Even though he was the brains behind this possible attack, with Joe Everson in control he was now just a bystander, and he wondered if anybody in Washington knew that Americans were about to destroy another country’s armored invaders.

“OK, guys, you will see the first 25 tanks come up on your screens. I will call the ones I want taken out and you just follow me,”
continued Joe.

“I have faint visuals through radar,” stated VIN. “The heat of engines is beginning to appear on my heat screen. Twelve seconds before I can get my first lock. Joe, which one do you want me to hit first?”

“Listen guys. The engines are at the rear just behind the turret, I want hits just behind the turret sections. They are diesel, so there won’t be explosions. At best, if you hit them they will just stop. I don’t want explosions. Try to aim for the engines without killing the occupants. I want the most powerful burst you can deliver on the first T-90s, all 25 of them. Then we aim for the next massive line of T-72s. These have less armor to penetrate and I want a quicker, more rapid burst into these. Once we hit a couple of dozen tanks, they will probably retreat and, hopefully, head for home. After that, we have the same problem just south of the border in South Korea; a hundred tanks there being bombarded by South Korean artillery.”

“I have target acquisition,”
stated VIN.

“Roger that, there is one tank in the lead, we believe it to be the new T-90 Division tank commander. Hit the first tank as close to the turret as possible and, if you can, within the heat glow you have.”

“I can only see the glow. I have a side view. Do you want me to hit it from a side angle?”
VIN asked.

“Wow! I never thought you would get an open side angle. Yes, hit the lead tank!” ordered Joe.

VIN could see a couple of dozen faint heat sources on his large screen. They were very close together. He could just make out one glow, the size of a pin head and he locked the targeting software onto the target, increased the laser burst to a full seven-second burst and pressed the button on his handheld control. “Burst fired,” he stated over the intercom.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, then Joe noticed through his screen from a drone flying to the side of the army that one of the tanks right behind the lead tank suddenly stopped, smoke erupting out of his engine.

“Your aim was fifty feet to the rear. You hit the second tank, and certainly did it some damage,”
Joe responded.
“VIN, aim at all the targets you see and blast away. It seems that your accuracy isn’t close enough yet.”
VIN followed Joe’s orders, firing once every 27 seconds.

“I have the targets online,”
stated Jonesy. “I can see the lead tank clearly, shall I take it out?”

“Affirmative,”
replied Joe.

****

The tank commander sitting comfortably in the lead turret thought he felt a vibration from his tank. Then the engines began to cough and slow. His brand new T-90 came to a dead stop nearly throwing him from the turret. Suddenly a black oily cloud of smoke blew out of the turret around him, and he was forced to exit, his crew scrambling to follow him out.

The commander scrambled onto the rear of his tank, and suddenly he saw a white-hot smoldering hole four inches wide in the armor right in front of his feet; he noticed it just as the hot area was beginning to omit the same dense black smoke. He looked up and saw that three of his 25-tank command had stopped with the same smoke blowing out of their turrets. Something was attacking his tanks. He looked around for shelter and saw a desert ridge a few hundred yards to his right. He pointed to it, and the tanks turned towards the cliff thinking that it would protect them. It would in ten minutes time. As soon as the two spacecraft flew far enough to the east, the cliff would get in the way of their aiming devices.

Every few seconds or so a tank stopped dead in its tracks with smoke pouring out of it. It took twelve smoking tanks before one tank, that of his second-in-command which was coming next to his to pick him up, suddenly exploded in a massive mushroom of flame. Something had blown up its full ammunition compartment, and the force of the exploding inferno literally blew the tank apart.

Bits of tank exploded out everywhere, decapitating the commander and two of his crew standing on their tank twenty feet away and turning their unprotected bodies into a dense cloud of red as millions of pieces of hot metal diced them apart.

****

“Try to aim for the rear engines, you hit an ammunition compartment,”
stated Joe his screen alight with the explosion. For several seconds both the heat screens in the ships glowed too bright to find a new target.
“When you can aim again, aim for the lead tanks first. The tanks are heading towards a rise that will take them out of your viewing area.”

At four tanks a minute, they didn’t make the protection of the rise, the last one being hit by Jonesy as it was about to get protection from them.

“Set your aim to the T-72s a mile behind. Fire at will until you are out of range,” Joe ordered.

It was easier now as the second battle group of hundreds of tanks had seen the smoking towers in front of their position, and stopped to wait for further orders. They weren’t tightly packed, but a tank did take a bit of room to maneuver, and as other tanks around the group began to start smoking, with a couple exploding, several were put into reverse gear and began slamming into the tanks behind as they tried to retreat from this unworldly attack; nobody knew what it was.

“I’m out of range,” reported VIN. “I cannot lock onto targets anymore.”

His laser was in a separate 360 mobile turret below him. Much like canons on helicopters, the laser could be aimed anywhere but up. Maggie had slowly turned
SB III around as they passed to the south of the attack zone. Now they were facing backwards and Jonesy killed two more stationary tanks before he too headed out of range.

Asterspace III, with Fritz in control, was already 500 miles behind
SB III and moving upwards in an ever-lengthening orbit. It would take them one complete orbit to reach
America One’s altitude and dock with her to transfer the live cargo in ninety minutes.

By this time both craft were at the same speed and flying in formation 200 miles apart.

“I’m switching to another feed from a drone above the Korean border,”
continued Joe.
“I see a long horizontal formation of tanks heading south. I count about 200. The Koreans are doing a good job with their artillery. Aim at any moving targets and help them out. Anything moving within 60 miles of the Korean border is enemy. We have already warned South Korea to halt all vehicles, so any moving objects are enemy. Whatever you see moving, take it out.”

Ryan watched the one-sided battle play out on his screens. Here and there explosions lit up the heat screens as vehicles, or tanks exploded. In this battle there were more explosions, as many of the vehicles were old gasoline troop carriers and the engines erupted into flame as the gasoline ignited.

On one road VIN saw a line of what looked like a column of vehicles that weren’t tanks, as they had their engines in the front, and he shot shorter two-second bursts, blowing up twenty vehicles in a minute.

This battle made Ryan feel sick. He hadn’t designed these lasers for warfare. They were designed for safety in spaceflight. Now he watched as hundreds of men died as VIN and Jonesy sprayed the area with short bursts, a new explosion lighting the screens every few seconds.

“Enough, Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble. Close down your weapons. We have done enough.”

“What do you mean, Ryan? Keep firing,”
ordered Joe.

“Mr. Everson, do not counter command my craft. These lasers were not built to kill. They were built for safety.”

“Mr. Jones, Mr. Noble, ignore Ryan. Keep firing! That is an order!”
shouted the FBI agent.

“Sorry, bud, we take our orders from our boss,”
stated Jonesy calmly.
“Ryan, we have holstered our weapons.”

“You continue firing, or I take your protection away from your airfield, Mr. Richmond,”
commanded Joe angrily.

By this time both craft were out of range anyway having caused mass destruction on two battlefields below them. Unknown to Ryan, the Iranian tanks were already retreating back the way they came, leaving more than fifty destroyed pieces of armor still smoking and the odd one on fire here and there.

Korea was the same. With the artillery bombardment and the destruction of over one hundred tanks and motor vehicles, the punch of the North Koreans was gone and they were about to go into full retreat. The lasers had made sure of that, destroying over thirty troop carriers filled with 1,000 men, who now were nothing more than burning remains on the road south.

Joe, in a really angry mood, immediately gave orders to his FBI team to evacuate Ryan’s airfield and ordered the air force personnel to do the same. Allen Saunders who couldn’t command the troops, since he was no longer in the military just listened, and waited for C-130s to arrive to pick up the men.

“I understand your ideals,”
Joe said to Ryan, the conference call still active a few minutes later
“and I appreciate your men halting the advances, but when I give orders, I expect them to be carried out.”

“That’s fine. Mr. Everson, take your control-freak attitude and leave my premises. And by the way, I’m an American civilian not one of your G-men. I just don’t understand where all these authoritarian ideas of controlling this country come from. First the president, then the NSA, the CIA can’t think further than their nose, and now the FBI gets pissed off when civilians don’t jump to orders. Maybe, Mr. Everson, you should go home and ponder your actions. You will never have the use of my lasers again. Maybe try a good old-fashioned nuke like Mortimer did, and then you will have your war, and hopefully mankind will survive it. Don’t phone me again. I hate authoritarian bullies, Mr. Everson!” and he put down the phone.

“That puts us on our own,” stated Bill Withers.

“Yes, and thanks for the introduction, Bill. Is your job finished here? Is it time for you, Shep and your RV to head home?”

I’m afraid so,” Bill replied. “It looks like war was averted, thanks to you.” Ryan got on the phone and called Lieutenant Walls, stating that the FBI and air force personnel were about to leave and to make sure the hangars were safe, and send two guards to Hangar One.

“I’m sorry, Bill, but you will be a guest of the airfield until my mission is complete, in about a month. I’m sure Joe Everson will come and release you once I’m out of here. You know too much and, unfortunately, I now have to place a good friend of mine into detention to save my project.”

The two guards arrived and walked Bill Withers away. It would be the last time Ryan saw his friend.

“Allen, are you—one of my best pilots—part of this FBI infiltration?”

“Sort of, but I was given no command of the air force personnel here,” stated Allen truthfully. “I cannot stop them from leaving, but what I can do is ask if any would like to remain, and perhaps to accidentally leave some weapons. You already have the two Bradleys that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Jamie and I are coming on your mission. We are too far into it to leave now, and a prison cell is not a place I prefer ending up in, I love the space flying too much.”

Ryan nodded, he needed Allen now that it would be the last lap of the long race, and it would be a race to the finish before the government goons decided to attack his airfield. He was sure that the power of the lasers would get out and he hoped it would deter the government agencies from attacking his field.

Chapter 25

The “End Game” of political chess

The former president phoned Ryan two days later. Ryan’s team had just watched the next shuttle depart, forty-eight hours after Jonesy and Maggie landed twenty-four hours late after taking several orbits to realign themselves for reentry.

“Thank you, Ryan, for saving the planet from two large wars,”
he began.
“Please thank your team for me. I know that I don’t have the power or ability to change the authority in this country, but at least we saved the world from possible world wars. The Iranians are in full retreat blaming the Israelis for their demise. They want war with the U.S., and I’m sure the president has work to do to solve the situation; hopefully, he’ll leave you alone long enough to finish your mission. South Korea sends their thanks. Your short intervention has North Korea scared and bewildered about what hit them. I think peace in that region will be good for a while. Your mission is still a secret with me. I want to thank you for your offer to join you in space, but I must stay here and try to solve the problems this country has. Of course, the current president has taken all the kudos for halting the potential wars, but I believe the use of your weapons has put you in a new spotlight. I think that Washington must be very scared; they have lost the upper hand in being the most powerful force on Earth, after nearly a century now.”

“Why is that, sir?” Ryan asked.

“Your weapons, Ryan. I believe they now make you the most powerful force on Earth. Nobody can really defend themselves from weapons they can’t hit. NASA or the U.S. military certainly can’t due to their own bad decisions which resulted in their destroying their own space defense system. I don’t think anybody can accurately target your craft in space, plus you can annihilate anything they throw at you.

“I never thought of the power of my lasers like that before,” replied Ryan truthfully.

“I will help you all I can. I hear that Joe Everson will be taken before a secret session of Congress in a few days, and he will be sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth. Joe calls a spade a spade, and he is an honest man. He owes you for sorting out the problems, and he won’t forget. Ryan, remember he was only doing the job demanded of him by others. This hearing will leave you and me in the open, so I’m getting ready for reprisals, and so should you. I will do my best to help you out if I can, but we have to look after our own forts from now on. I wish you luck ending your stay on Earth and look forward to a call from you from space soon. Goodbye, Ryan.”

After thanking his good friend, he put down the phone. His brain filled with scenarios of what could happen to his airfield in the near future.

There were seven more necessary flights to go in the next twenty-one days. An eighth flight carrying ground control and its computers and the remaining crew, would give Ryan the basic requirements to stay up in space. Twenty-four days was all he needed, and the former president said that Everson would be in a hearing in a couple of days. He expected that the hearing should last for at least a few days; that gave him three more flights without having to make another move on the political chess board.

Once the hearing was over, the government would know a lot more about his power in the sky, certainly more than they understood from his small show on the runway at Cape Canaveral.

He sat deep in thought.
The only weapon that could touch his lasers in strength was the Boeing laser. Less modern and weaker than his, it was currently installed aboard an Air Force C-130 based in Tacoma Washington.
General Mortimer’s face interrupted his thinking. General Mortimer probably had jurisdiction over the Boeing laser. It had an accurate range of ten miles the last time he was given a report about it. He heard Joe Everson say that its range may have been extended to twenty-mile accuracy or a 100,000 foot target scope from its flying altitude.

VIN or Jonesy could take out the C-130 any time they were over the Pacific or the American Continent. At 400 miles, nothing could touch the ship. The shuttles could be hit within a 100,000 foot range around the C-130’s maximum altitude of about 35,000 feet. The Boeing laser could easily take out the C-5 loaded with a shuttle. The only time the C-130 could be in range of an incoming shuttle would be within Ryan’s twenty-mile restricted airspace, as the shuttle was much too fast and too high further out.

So he and his team would need to be wary of any aircraft flying within twenty miles of the Dead Chicken and close to his air space. The airport’s Choking Device would help him within a ten mile window at maximum. Ryan was also sure Mortimer wouldn’t think twice before shooting down one of his own air force aircraft, the Dead Chicken, and then blame it on Ryan.

Since his allies seemed to have deserted him to fight their own wars, all he could do was to thank whatever good fortune allowed each of his shuttle flights to get airborne. He had enough fuel for a dozen or so more flights. It seemed that the last transporter with solid fuel hadn’t arrived twenty-four hours ago. Maybe he had not been forgotten after all?

The next week went by without anybody phoning him. The news of the disastrous attacks on Israel and South Korea was on the news all the time. He had seen the same pictures a dozen times; burning tanks by the dozens in the desert and hundreds of burnt-out blackened vehicles being searched by South Korean forces. The president stated that the U.S. Air Force had helped ally forces inflict this damage on the attacking forces in both areas.

The latest picture showed the last tanks returning to Iran and several going in the direction of Syria. What the Israeli media was saying wasn’t shown on the American media channels, nor was the information released from Seoul. It seemed that the government could now restrict what news was allowed and not allowed on the world’s very simplified communications networks.

Joe Everson had reported to a secret hearing in Congress telling them he had witnessed the capabilities of the most advanced weapons the world had ever seen. The five congressmen conducting the secret hearing, all the president’s allies, cringed at the information and did not sleep well. Many wanted to panic and immediately take out the “enemy” within.

Astermine had used two or more, not one, laser weapon to destroy the enemy forces with more precision that the U.S. Navy or Air Force could achieve, and in less than twenty minutes. Everson did state that the two gunners he was in communications with were operating under his, and the FBI’s, direct instructions and they had done only as ordered. He also said that Ryan had halted the massacre, explaining that the head of Astermine thought of his lasers not as weapons, but systems for safe space travel. This detail was completely ignored by everybody listening.

Everson was asked how many of these laser guns Astermine had, and their range capabilities. He was forced to tell the truth and stated that he had known of two lasers hitting targets, but there could be dozens up there. Ryan might have had other lasers to blast the enemy, but had not told Joe how many he had. Everson didn’t know that Bill Withers had seen Ryan’s gunners blasting rocks from hitting their craft in space at a distance of over 2,000 miles.

The FBI agent was then asked how many spacecraft Astermine had in orbit, and he knew of three shuttles, two mining craft, and a large new space station Ryan was building 400 miles out in space. All telescopes were immediately ordered to find this new ship and, when they did, many astronomers were totally shocked at what they found.

Three days later the hearing came to an end, and the president and all men in Washington met to figure out how to destroy Ryan Richmond, and Astermine.

Nuking much of Nevada was one suggestion. This area had been used by the military for nearly 900 nuclear blasts. What difference would it make if one more was added to the tally? Deaths would only be a few thousand in small towns around the site, and nobody really cared about a few thousand lives. They had lost that many citizens every single year since the U.S. government had been at war with somebody. The nuclear fallout over a wider area was the only reason that saved Astermine from being nuked, and that still wouldn’t stop his laser guns, maybe aimed at the very room they were sitting in. Members of Congress were not paid to be brave.

Sending nukes into space to destroy Astermine’s craft was the next possibility discussed.

The next day as the fifth of Ryan’s eight necessary shuttles was launched into space, General Mortimer spoke to Boeing in Tacoma during lunch, and the C-130 was readied for action. It would take forty-eight hours to arm and get the heavy aircraft into the air.

Meanwhile, Ryan had recomputed the orbit of
America One so that whenever the C-5 took off from the airfield, she would be over Hawaii. By the time the shuttle was released, the spaceship was over the Atlantic, still having the area in her sights. He wasn’t taking any chances.

The results of the secret hearing concluded with a decision to give Ryan one last chance to surrender, bring all his craft back to earth, and give himself up to be tried for crimes that took the men at the hearing a whole day to think up. They devised three main categories on which to indict him. He was: (1) a “danger” to National Security, which meant any government agency, could hold him without trial; (2) a “terrorist” working with a foreign terrorist agency, which meant they could transfer him without trial to Cuba; and (3) mentally insane, which meant they could throw away the key.

They compiled a list of at least a dozen laws that he had broken; some dated back as far as 1812, such as one that asserted no citizen could have more powerful weapons than what the United States Government had at that time.

On the third day after the hearing Ryan’s fourth-from-final necessary shuttle left earth with 4.1 tons of rich, black Washington state top soil, something the police roadblocks had not yet decided was a threat to national security.

The president headed into the final day of discussion and suggested that Congressman Dickens phone Ryan for the last time to give himself up, and if not, the marines would be deployed to capture the airfield.

Before Congressman Dickens could phone, the president issued orders for armed forces to prepare for an all-out attack on five square miles of Nevada, without telling the local police, or the state government of their plans.

Dickens called Ryan, who was sitting in a virtually empty airfield. Besides Ryan the only people remaining on the site were twelve security guards; several members of his ground control team, pilots and astronauts; twenty family members ready to fly up on the last flight; and his team of shuttle refuelers, three of whom were experts in all types of combustion engines, and were remodeling the ten vehicles down in the cavern to work on pure alcohol.

A week before the phone call, five special fuel tankers had arrived at the airfield from California at midnight. The drivers remained at the first gate while Ryan’s crew drove the trucks to the remains of Hangar Seven, and four hours later returned empty tankers to the owners. The owners of the trucks, all from Los Angeles, were paid in cash and left without asking any questions.

What very few knew was that 50,000 gallons of pure alcohol had been pumped into two long-term storage tanks in Ryan’s secret cavern. These two tanks were designed to store pure alcohol, the only fuel that would survive for decades underground in perfect storage conditions.

Having the best scientists in the world, they knew exactly how to change both the diesel engines on the Bradleys, a troop carrier, two air force jeeps, the airfield’s fire truck, ambulance, and a few used jet engines down there to run on pure alcohol. The safety vehicles already worked well above ground, to prove that the modifications had been successful.

The two Audis also needed converted fuel delivery systems, and onboard computer changes to allow their high performance engines to run on their new fuel; the experts had been down in the cavern for a dozen nights converting the vehicle systems.

Also over the last few hours, Ryan had given out three dozen large bonus checks to the penultimate group of his team before a bus arrived to take the 82 personnel to California. Only Lieutenant Walls and eleven of his men remained as security staff.

“Congressman Dickens, good to hear your voice,” Ryan replied on speaker phone with Kathy holding his hand next to him. “A decision by Congress on what to do with me and my team I assume? Death by long-range accidental nuke, or a long-term jail cell in Guantanamo for treason, for whatever you guys are going to call my disappearance from society? Which one is it going to be, Congressman?”

“The latter I’m afraid, Mr. Richmond, unless you come in peacefully, bring all your craft down back to earth, and allow U.S. troops to take over your airfield,”
replied the Congressman calmly.

“And how long have I got before you take away my freedom, Congressman? And what about the company employees I have on site, and their safety?”

“The president is a kind person. Many here at Capitol Hill wanted to nuke you, but your friend, his predecessor, has become a major problem, and the current president also intervened on your behalf. Mr. Richmond, we want your whole project, including all the scientists who work for you. Mr. Richmond, we don’t want you. The United States government wants Astermine and, by God, we are going to get it. The president also wanted me to remind you that he has been lenient with you, and given you more time than he anticipated.”

“Only because he got all the glory sorting out those two potential wars, and has certainly been happy to take all the praise,” Ryan replied.

“You have twenty-four hours, Ryan, or we are going to blow that United States Air Force C-5 out of the sky, next time it goes up.”

“Then you will not get my spacecraft back, as I have three spacecraft and lasers that need to return inside the shuttle’s cargo holds. They cannot reenter without the shuttles.”

“Oh!”
stated the Congressman thinking for a few minutes and having discussions with others.
“So how many flights will you need to return all your laser equipment up there? We want all your shuttles and mining craft.”

“My shuttles are all on the ground, so they need to launch. I will need six to eight flights, three to return with my mining craft, three to return with the laser weapons, and at least one to return with the crew I have up there…. and it seems that the crew of the ISS is going to die, unless one of my shuttles gets some supplies to them, so eight flights over twenty-four days.”

“I see that the Russians sent their last freighter up yesterday, and so did the Europeans. I assume these were your supplies, and not for the ISS?”

“Correct Congressman, these were the last supplies I need in space. My supplies here are virtually depleted. My rocket fuel is not getting through, thanks I assume to the government, so let me have my last three truckloads of solid fuel, and then I can do as you ask. Congressman Dickens, I cannot fly into space and return with my spacecraft. I don’t have wings.”

“So you have stopped other freighter craft supplying the ISS for your own needs?”

“No, Congressman, I contracted with the two authorities and paid them to carry my supplies into space months ago so that I could complete my project within the president’s time limit of January 15th. Now that the United States of America has destroyed everybody’s last forty years of space work, and I’m sure that Mortimer is taking bows for his brilliant orders to fire nukes against incoming asteroids at zero altitude..…”

“Screw you, Richmond!”
exploded a new voice on the line.

“As I thought! I have half of the government listening in, the wrong half I believe,” laughed Ryan.

“Carry on, Richmond, I haven’t got all day,”
continued Congressman Dickens.

“As I was saying, Congressman and half of Washington, I paid them to speed up the needed supplies for my project. Can’t Martin Brusk help you supply the ISS? Isn’t his company part of NASA yet?”

“He only has one more flight available and that launch rocket is still in Russia,”
answered Hal McNealy, also listening in.
“It will be ready to fly in about a month. The ISS crew will be dead by then.”

“And nuking me would have got them fed?” stated Ryan sarcastically.

“So, what do you want, Richmond?”
asked Dickens.

“Congressman, all I ever asked for was time, nothing more. I told you, once my project is finished, I promised to be here to greet you as you arrive to take my company over. I need the flights to return the transportation equipment up there inside the shuttles. Which part of that don’t you guys understand?”

“If we allow your launches to continue, then I want air force aircraft watching everything you do, within your airspace,”
interrupted General Mortimer.

“General Mortimer, I will give you one warning. If any military aircraft, especially laser-loaded C-130s, fly within fifty miles of my airspace, I will have all seven of my craft up there shoot them down, from 200 miles. Don’t piss me off; I’m sick of your bullshit.”

“You have seven lasers up there?”
asked Dickens.
“Mortimer, shut up!”

“Ryan, you have an aircraft approaching from the west,”
stated Allen Saunders, currently in orbit with Jamie Watkins in the unarmed
SB II being unloaded over the Pacific.
“The mother ship will be over the horizon in ten minutes. Looks like a military aircraft, a C-130, 28 miles out at 30,000 feet. You also have three jets incoming from the north. They are fast and their radar marks look like F-22 Raptors at 40,000 feet, 110 miles north of you.”

“So you already have aircraft incoming, Mortimer?” Ryan interrupted. “They have 30 seconds to head back, or the three F-22s will be hot metal and your C-130 will have no tail. Mortimer, I warned you once. I will not warn you again. You want to go to war? My lasers up there will flatten every government building, including the White House, Capitol Hill, and the Pentagon, where I believe you are calling from, within an hour of your aircraft attacking me.”

“Mortimer, who authorized these aircraft?”
asked Congressman Dickens.

“The president, and I told you Dickens we should have nuked Nevada. Who cares about a few astronauts in the ISS, or people around the airfield?”

“Actually, I do General,” Ryan replied. “I am a concerned American civilian, and one that is getting really pissed off. Mortimer all I can say is,
Make My
Day!”

“He won’t blast us, he’s bullshitting, Congressman,”
replied the fuming general.

“Mortimer, he is not bullshitting, I know him well. Richmond, you have three weeks, get these weapons of mass destruction down to earth, and you had better keep your promise about being there when we come to get you,”
stated a voice Ryan recognized as the President of the United States of America, and the phone went dead in his hands.

“All four aircraft turning and heading west,” stated Allen over the intercom.

Ryan’s face was white with rage, and he was shaking. One part of his brain was angry, and he wanted blood. The other half told him that he had just won the race to get himself into space, or anyway, the equipment he needed. Kathy just held his hand and let him be.

To achieve his dream, he would need a little help getting to
America One from a little jail cell in Cuba. Cuba didn’t have any flights into space, but he knew one airline that did.

The two ground control team on duty saw Ryan’s face and threw him a half-full bottle of vodka. They were the only two left to man the control center, as the orbits were controlled from the computers in each craft; ground control was purely to help with takeoff and reentry. The others were underground in Hangar Seven, fiddling with the engines, and taking stock of the supplies they would return to in a few decades, if nobody found them.

Taking a long swig and handing the bottle over to Kathy, he was reminded that his drinking habits now resembled the Mr. Jones of old.

It would be his last swig of vodka in Hangar One; that night the crew would begin packing up the computers for delivery in the same flight the crew would be taking.

Mr. Jones and Ms. Sinclair were around somewhere; he picked up the bottle and he and Kathy left the building to find drinking buddies as the last three fuel trucks arrived from nowhere at the second gate.

The next morning and back to his normal self, he watched the C-5 takeoff with the trustworthy Bob Mathews at the controls; a pregnant Penny Sullivan and Michael Pitt were flying into space with a cargo of 4.1 tons of distilled water, several frozen chocolate cakes, and containers of chocolate milkshake. Also on board was one member of Ryan’s ground control team heading up. With them was Martha Von Zimmer, the first member of the European Space Authority Ryan had employed years ago. Martha had a PhD in Astrophysics and was a single thirty-five year old female friend of Suzi’s from Berlin’s university. Her job was to find the crew in
America One a new place to live somewhere out there.

At the same time as the liftoff, the last European unmanned freighter, filled with eight tons of liquid hydrogen, and the smaller Russian cargo unit holding two liquid tons of xenon, were collected by
Asterspace III and connected tightly onto
America One.

Ryan had scheduled two flights of water, a flight of liquid oxygen, a flight of helium, and one more flight of topsoil before he had everything he needed up there. If the president was to keep his word, then he would be able to launch two flights of luxuries before the crew needed to depart on the final flight, and the C-5 and its crew would return to Creech Air Force Base.

The six flights of luxuries were not going to happen, so he decided on one flight of two tons each of beef and pork, and then a mixed cargo of the chocolate, frozen milk and butter. At least Suzi could have her chocolate cake for a year or so.

The next four flights went off as planned. The airfield was now really becoming empty. Ryan decided that since there was nobody to have a morning run with other than Kathy, it would be his last run.

He decided to run around the eastern half the runway, looking at the deserted accommodations still there at the end of the runway where the Customs and Excise team, and then the air force personnel had stayed. That already felt like a lifetime away and the place looked like a little ghost town.

He still didn’t feel relaxed. Kathy needed to pack, so he decided to walk around his entire airfield instead of taking the electric golf cart, which was already in the cavern. Nearly everybody was gone, or packed and ready to go.

The kitchen was clean. The chef and baker were going into space with the crew and had thoroughly cleaned it; it looked as new as the day they started work. The three massive freezers and half dozen walk-in refrigerators were clean, empty, and their doors were left open. He remembered the two Christmases here in the food hall, both happy affairs.

Then Ryan walked over to the three-story accommodation block. Only the C-5 flight crew and astronauts stayed there now, nine people. The next flight,
SB I, was to be flown by Allen, Jamie, and Ryan’s wife-to-be, Kathy, accompanied by one space rocket motor engineer; the shuttle would not return.
SB II with Penny and Michael flying would go up seventy-two hours afterwards with two of Martha Von Zimmer’s team of astrophysicists, and also stay in space. Only Jonesy and Maggie, Bob Mathews and his two air force flight crew ladies would be the flyers left on base, with Bob Withers still in detention of course.

With the limited eyes and ears the government had, he hoped that they wouldn’t notice that the two shuttles did not return.

After visiting the empty mess hall Ryan walked over to the bar, cinema, and shops. Again, this whole section was empty. Everything looked clean and new, but like a ghost town. The security section was packed up and clean. Lieutenant Walls and his remaining men were ready to leave. Ten of the men were departing in an hour on a bus to Los Angeles.

Bill Withers would leave in his RV with Shep on the last night. The lieutenant and Sergeant Meyers would leave a few hours before the last shuttle; Ryan had given each of them a brand new Jeep as a thank you and as a ride to town. Apart from Ryan they would be the last to drive out, northwards, hoping to avoid any incoming troops.

Once again he handed out checks from his New York bank account which he hoped the government wouldn’t find too soon. The account was in his late mother’s maiden name; it was her old student bank account from Columbia dating back sixty years. He had power of attorney, but he hoped because of the different name on the account nobody would tie it to him. He had withdrawn money when the payments from Amsterdam and Antwerp had arrived a few months earlier.

Twenty million dollars had arrived by armored vehicle, and most of it was in the mammoth cargo in the cavern. His mother’s bank account still had over a billion in it and much more was in his own bank account in Switzerland. The hundreds of bonus and salary checks for his crew were now hitting the New York account daily; most of his team already had their promised millions.

He had kept cash for the last two security men and pilots. The security guards received the last of his checks, each one, like the others, getting a cool million dollars.

Once that was done, and he had thanked each man personally, he returned to the empty, open inner gate and Deliveries Acceptance Terminal. It was empty and neat. Here, 1,993 trucks had stopped to offload food and supplies, or had passed into the airfield to deliver fuel, aluminum and materials. He had destroyed every page of delivery records the night before.

His records showed that the cost of his project totaled $6,170,480,759.00, money spent in a thousand different ways, beginning with the first delivery to the airfield over two years earlier.

“The fastest money anybody has ever spent.”
He smiled happily. All records, plus anything that wasn’t on disk up in space, was a mass of glowing embers five feet high next to Hangar One.

He turned back and looked at the apron. The C-5 was outside being refueled. He entered the now empty Hangar One. The raised floor where he watched the large screen was still there. So were the screen, his office, and the conference room with furniture neatly placed around the tables. It looked like an empty stage set with no actors, just props.

The rest of the hangar was totally empty. Everything had been removed— equipment, machinery, divided sections where over 180 people had worked 24/7. All gone! He was alone in the vast, empty space.

Hangar Two was nothing more than its outer shell, its concrete floor swept clean, and every part of any building device long gone. Hangar Three still housed the last remaining equipment needed for the C-5; the team was walking over the wings always on the lookout for missing rivets, or cracks. Bob Mathews and his crew waved at him. They were certainly a happy bunch, and he thought they would still be together, fishing somewhere in Florida, when all this was over. They would be even happier when they left Creech with their pilot briefcases filled with a million dollars each.

When Ryan had driven with VIN into Las Vegas on their last visit several weeks earlier, he had worked out a deal with VIN’s friend, the guard that had purchased all the liquor for him. For an envelope of cash to be delivered by Bob Mathews, he would meet the crew at Creech and drive them personally into Las Vegas getting them out of the base safely. Allen Saunders had managed to find an air force colonel’s uniform for Bob Mathews, and the two ladies had their old uniforms mailed to them from their homes. Allen was sure that the C-5 wouldn’t be noticed. They flew in and out every day, and Bob would know what to say.

SB III was stored in Hangar Four and was being refueled for the last launch. Hangar Six held
SB II, which was ready to go. Hangar Seven was finally gone, its walls and roof neatly piled behind the concrete floor it had stood on. Ryan could see the one slab, now in the sun that opened the cavern underneath his feet. The 10-foot wide 30-foot slab was invisible to the inspecting eye. Hangars Eight and Nine had also been taken down, and Hangars 10, 11 and 12 were as empty as the rest.

There was absolutely nothing left on Ryan’s airfield except empty buildings and hangars; even the above ground fuel tanks were nearly empty. The air force could have the remaining 12,000 gallons of jet fuel.

Underground was a different matter. The Dewars of liquid hydrogen, nitrogen and one underground bunker with the remaining $2,000,000 worth of solid rocket fuel for the extra flights that would never fly, were hidden in secret locations, all with secret openings invisible from above ground. The dirt from the cavern had been evenly spread over the surface.

Ryan had the best solar powered system in the world; the entire massive apron the aircraft, even Air Force One, had stood on, was covered with an invisible inch-thick layer of see-through silicon Nano paint, connected up to massive lithium batteries underground.

As long as the apron remained open to the sun, his secret cavern and underground storage tanks would have more than enough electricity to operate. The forty-foot underground 1,000 gallon liquid argon Dewar several yards away from the cavern, was computerized and would force the air out of all the storage units just before Ryan closed the last inch of the hydraulic door; then it would pressurize all the underground compartments with argon gas through pipes for long-term storage. Really long-term storage!

Ryan had a small control unit that he would destroy and from then on any underground systems could only be opened from the controls aboard all his craft, or from the Bridge of
America One from space.

He hoped everything would remain safe and in perfect condition for a visit probably decades in the future. Included in his secret storehouse were 100 tons of deep frozen food stores, five 25,000-gallon aluminum tanks containing water, pure alcohol, backup liquid hydrogen, and oxygen, vehicles, hazmat suits, space suits, weapons, thousands of spare parts, tools, dies, jet engines, old hydrogen thrusters, vaccines, medical equipment and hundreds of other necessary items.

It all depended on this unusable, desolate area of Nevada nobody really wanted, being ignored once the government realized that the bird had flown the coop!

The phone remained quiet; the television news was nothing more than deteriorating conditions around the world due to decreasing communications. The world was not happy with the U.S. Even Canada had broken off ties, now directing their exports more towards Europe. Washington, it seemed wasn’t worried that the rest of the planet didn’t like them; they were used to that but the threats were growing. The Chinese and Russians were not happy about the U.S. doing very little to ease tensions around the world.

The Secretary of State was practically permanently airborne flying from one nation to the next to discuss retributions for their lost satellites. The president was sure that once he got hold of Astermine he would have mega dollars available to pay them off. He was looking forward to the gift Ryan had promised him. He would make sure the invading troops would look everywhere for his promised diamond.

SB I left with tears and goodbyes from everybody. Ryan, now as attached to Kathy as one could ever be, knew that it might be a long time before he saw her again. Maybe never! They spent their last night together with a little food and wine, lying in front of his bungalow’s fire, sharing their hopes for their unborn baby and their space future together.

Jamie Watkins hugged Ryan, thanking him for the chance to be with her man. Allen was solemn, wishing Ryan the best, hoping that his escape plan was secure and ready to go. Ryan and Allen had worked hard on it; there was only one chance for Ryan to join his team in the foreseeable future, and that plan relied on a real and sincere friendship.

Ryan watched in a cold Nevada morning as the lights of the C-5 flew high out of eyesight, 40 minutes later the first-stage rockets ignited and all his new dreams left earth for a new world. For the first time he could remember, tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he watched the shuttle disappear in the dark morning sky.

Now only one shuttle remained. SB III, Jonesy, Maggie, his remaining crew and all their computers and equipment from ground control were in Hangar One.

Even though this was one of the most important cargos, there wasn’t a way to run ground control and also keep his project moving forward. He had several hours of work to do before invading troops arrived, and before
SB III left mother Earth.

His refueling crew, now as experienced a crew as one could ever be, had worked around the clock to ready
SB III for her final flight. They had beaten their record by forty-eight hours and she would fly out the very next morning after
SB II. The end of the project had been brought forward by hard non-stop work by the remaining team.

Ryan’s deadline was still twenty-four hours after
SB III’s lift-off, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t receive all of the allotted time he had been promised. There is no honor among thieves.

SB III was ready for flight except for the liquid hydrogen about to be pumped into her tanks. The Dewars would be closed and their openings in the concrete slabs sealed and hidden. The crew would literally complete refueling, hide the pipes, seal the holes and climb into the forward crew compartment in the shuttle’s cargo bay. The rear half of cargo hold was already filled to the brim with computers, cords, rechargeable lithium batteries, and even Ryan’s clothes and life’s possessions, except for the keys to the Audi; they were next to her new lithium battery and empty fuel canisters ready to start her up one day in the sealed and now airtight cavern one of the crew had just closed.

His nerves were rattled the whole day. Often he imagined that he could hear helicopters or aircraft approaching in the distance. At six that evening he did. He nearly had a heart attack asking who was flying in and was relieved that the incoming helicopter was one he had scheduled; Joe Downs and the Las Vegas CBS News team coming in.

An hour later a second scheduled jet came in to land from the west. As it touched down, his only phone rang in the empty Hangar One. The echoes could be heard outside the hangar walls.

“Ryan Richmond,” he stated answering the landline.

“Richmond, Mortimer here. I hear that you had landings at your airfield. Also, did we miss a reentry in the last few days?”

“Yes, I have just had one of my shuttles come in,” Ryan lied. Now he had no choice, and just hours still to negotiate. “They were several hours late; these lasers are cumbersome units to transfer, even in space.”

“How many more flights do you have coming in? We can’t see if there are any aircraft on your apron, are they all in the hangars?”

“I have one more flight due in tomorrow at about 2:00 p.m. That’s it. Yes, I keep my dangerous weapons under lock and key, General!”

The phone clicked off, and he suddenly realized that the Dead Chicken better fly high and fast in the morning. He was sure that whoever had eyes on him would react fast once the C-5 took off. Ryan decided to bring the shuttle’s takeoff time forward two hours, in case air force jets were ready to intercept her. He needed this one last flight.

His concentration returned to the incoming civilian jet, now parking on the apron.

For an hour Ryan met with the occupants inside the jet, and with Joe Downs and a cameraman from CBS. Once footage was taken with the important visitors Ryan thanked them and returned to the phone in Hangar One. Minutes after the jet took off the phone rang again. Joe Downs and his cameraman followed him to record everything.

“Yes, General, I‘m still here! I’m sure you are checking up to see if I left you in the lurch. I don’t break promises. I just had a few friends fly in for dinner; maybe I should call it The Last Supper?” Again the phone clicked.

For the next several hours, with Jonesy, Bob Mathews, and Lieutenant Walls making statements, Joe Downs took the rest of the needed footage to produce a 45-minute documentary on the dealings of the newly elected U.S. president that would be aptly called, “All the President’s Men”. Ryan handed over copies of every telephone conversation he had ever recorded to Joe and that was it. The cat was now completely out of the bag, even the possibility that Astermine could have averted the asteroid disaster, but the government refused his help.

There was no way Joe Downs and his team could be there when the forces came in. The incoming troops could have orders to destroy everything in front of them.

Joe thanked Ryan. The TV crew installed a modification while in Hangar One, and then they departed, the helicopter flying northwards slow and low to stay below radar. They would overnight in Tonopah.

At midnight, Ryan held a briefing with his flight crew. The shuttle passengers were already being lifted by crane one by one into the forward section of the shuttle’s hold, the passenger compartment. The passengers filled every one of the thirty-six comfortable captain’s chairs. The passenger manifest was the seven remaining ground control scientists, four of the shuttle program’s ground crew, and twenty-five family members. The family members included fourteen wives, two husbands, and eight children. There were also two babies in arm.

It was a full flight, and the last two of
SB III’s ground crew sat in the rear cockpit passenger seats. The shuttle’s refueling was just completed, and Ryan needed to make sure that the pilots knew the problems they could face.

“In a few hours, this airfield will be attacked by U.S. forces. I will be here to welcome our hopefully friendly government soldiers who will close this place down. We knew it was coming, and I’m just thankful that I was given enough time to complete my project. Today, most of you leave for our new ship, except for Bob Mathews and his crew who leave for his new ship, somewhere in Florida, I believe?” Everybody laughed and then Ryan, Jonesy and Maggie stood to give the C-5 crew a standing ovation. “One section of the accommodations in our new home is complete. Suzi is up there and will supervise assignments of living areas so that everybody gets a place to stay until the rest of the family and single apartments are ready for occupancy in about two months.

Once you arrive, the current 350-mile altitude of
America One will increase to a 1,000 mile height over three days. The reason for such a low altitude is that I might have to use the leveraging of the lasers to be able to free myself from confinement so that I can join you. I expect to be up there in less than a month. A plan is in operation and once you leave here this morning, there is no looking back. If I never make it up there, then my closest friend, Igor, will be in command of
America One, and you guys are free to run around the solar system.

“Mr. Mathews, as soon as you leave terra firma in a few hours my phone will ring. The only excuse I have left is that the C-5 is being returned to Nellis, the mission completed. If they don’t like that reason for your takeoff, I’m sure fighter jets will lift off from Nellis or Creech, or further afield. How long will they take to get here, once they are ordered to take off?”

“Since the bases around here are not High Alert Bases,” replied Bob, “I would assume twenty-one minutes before the first aircraft leaves a runway, and it will be the faster F-16s that will hit the air from Nellis, not Creech. Creech is not setup up for fast rotations like Nellis.”

“Mr. Jones?” Ryan asked.

“I would agree with Bob,” Jonesy replied, sitting next to a wide-awake Maggie Sinclair. “If they are on high alert, then fifteen minutes could be the fastest Nellis could get jets off the ground.”

“I’ve seen it done in eighteen minutes, not 15 minutes, Mr. Jones,” added Maggie. “That is a little too quick for a base as large as Nellis. Nellis does have a well-practiced drill for mid-alert emergency, fast rotation situations. It did while Allen Saunders was in charge.”

“Let us assume that they are on high alert for tomorrow’s attack on a dangerous enemy: Us!” continued Ryan. “How much time do we have before they become a problem for the Dead Chicken? Let’s use Maggie’s middle scenario of eighteen minutes.”

“Eighteen minutes for takeoff,” began Jonesy slowly, the other pilots nodding in agreement as he went through the situation. “They have to climb to catch up to the C-5, which at full power and altitude will be over 25,000 feet. With her low fuel load, she will climb fast and high with the cold of night and at full power, and with her cargo, I would say close to 1,500 feet a minute. Of course, they can loosen their rockets immediately after take-off and lock onto the target, but they will require permission from the president to fire at a friendly aircraft within our borders. They will try and buzz the C-5 to assess the situation, and will report back to command on what they see. Then they could try to swoop in to get her to level out and descend. All this will take ten minutes to get within sight, five minutes to do their first fly-past, then five more minutes to try and force her down, then once that fails…”

“Sorry, Mr. Jones. Mr. Mathews, can you ignore these jets?” Ryan interrupted.

“The C-5 is a monster aircraft; F-16s cannot really get in our way and or get within a couple of hundred yards of the aircraft. The only way they can hurt me is by firing on the aircraft, and the loaned camera from CBS should deter the air force from firing on their own aircraft.”

“We should only mention that they are being filmed after it looks like they will fire on you, Bob,” added Ryan. “I know for a fact that if they do, and with all the evidence we have on the president and his men, it will be the end of all their careers, and they will know it. The American public will not accept any bull crap made-up stories about the U.S. Air Force firing on their own unarmed aircraft, and killing over 40 American citizens inside the country for no apparent reason.”

“By the time they get orders to fire, and Mortimer cannot issue the order, Mr. Jones should be igniting his rockets,” stated Bob, “and we immediately descend down to Creech at maximum speed while the F-16s chase Jonesy. I also think they will back off for a few extra seconds once I do level out and go into our dive, thinking that I am following orders.”

“Just remember to get all the two-way radio chatter on the camera feed. The live feed will be going to Joe Downs 20 miles north of us in Tonopah. It cost me a fortune for the ability to feed the footage on the one remaining communications satellite above us. More than an ad at the Super Bowl!”

“Just don’t rip her wings off on the pull out, Mr. Mathews,” smiled Jonesy at his friend.

“Mr. Jones, what happens once you have ignition? How much time do you need to get out of harm’s way?” Ryan asked.

“F-16, top speed, clean, about 1,400 knots; we will need seven seconds to outpace them if they follow us on afterburners. If the F-16s are carrying the latest “am-ram” missiles they can latch onto us. Missile’s maximum speed is about Mach 4, or just under 3,000 miles an hour. We should be out of harm’s way within 20 seconds of ignition.”

“What else do they have that is faster?” Ryan asked.

“An ICBM,” Jonesy replied, “but I think they used up all their high flyers, and the ones they have are not air-to-air compatible.”

“So, you guys have twenty seconds from launch before you can outpace any missiles they fire at you?” All of the retired air force crew nodded.

“Unless they have their laser within 20 miles,” suggested Jonesy. A C-130 is not a fast aircraft, and she will have to be within 150 miles of this base once we takeoff to get within a 20-mile firing range within 30-odd minutes.” Ryan got onto the intercom.

“Mr. Noble, do you have any aircraft on your screens, or is it too early?” There was no reply. “I forgot that we are blind in sight and communications down here. Even the “Choking Device” is in your cargo Mr. Jones. The radar screen is showing no aircraft within 30 miles of us, so I will monitor it from now until
America One comes over the horizon. Mr. Noble will be over the horizon in about 65 minutes.”

“You have cameras recording the attack on the roof of Hangar One, why don’t you just come with us, Ryan?” Maggie asked simply.

“Yeah! Forget the bull of promising to be here,” added Jonesy. “Bishop and all his friends don’t really care. They don’t want you, they want your equipment.”

“I need to make sure this shuttle gets into orbit,” replied Ryan. “I also have my handheld that is also patched into the live feed going out of here, and I need to make a point to the viewers who watch the program one day, that Americans don’t bow down to pressure. We don’t take bullying, and we won’t lie down when we are being bullied. Thank you for your concern, but this one point must be made. If I run like a dog with its tail between its legs, it doesn’t show well for our side, it just brings me down to the enemy’s level.”

For twenty minutes the meeting covered every normal eventuality every pre-flight meeting did. The C-5 had just enough fuel to get into Creech,
SB III was fully loaded at 4.15 tons, at absolute maximum, and this time ground control couldn’t help Jonesy. Also the sun could only be seen once they reached the 50,000 release altitude and would be much lower for him to get a fix on it to ascend on a perfect trajectory. It didn’t worry him. After thirty-four launches, he and Maggie could fly the shuttle as well as the five computers inside her.

Everybody went over to Hangar Six. The C-5 was ready to be loaded. The shuttle crew had set up the loading operation so that the new loading team, Ryan, Lieutenant Walls and Sergeant Meyers just had to start the wheels to send her into the hold. Ryan shook the hands of the last two crew members, who had set up the final loading, and were the first to enter the cockpit through the small side hatch. The passengers in the already closed cargo bay had said their goodbyes over dinner several hours earlier.

The inside of the passenger compartment was much like the inside of any passenger aircraft, but without windows. It had nine rows of four first-class quality seats, and their one piece of luggage was in a separate compartment below their feet. There was no food section and no toilet facilities for their short five-hour flight. Their strong seatbelt systems were tight, there was piped-in music and the first movie was already playing on the screen in front of them. Many had not been told about the possible dangers on this last flight and would not hear anything from outside, unless Maggie spoke to them.

Once the compartment had arrived at its destination, it would turn into
America One’s
36-seat movie theater after it was welded onto one of the mid-level accommodation sections.

Jonesy said his goodbyes to Ryan by saluting him and, helmetless, entered the shuttle’s hatch first. Maggie also helmetless gave him a big bear hug and told him that he had better join them, or she was returning to get him. She knew she could, as she had been part of the design team to transfer the space ship’s massive hydrogen thrusters to
SB III, or any of the shuttles for that matter.

The hatch was sealed from inside and Lieutenant Walls started the platform’s motor that slowly slipped the shuttle backwards into the Dead Chicken’s forward nose door.

Twenty minutes later the C-5 reversed away from
Hangar Three for the last time and headed towards the runway. At the meeting Ryan had handed the C-5 crew their promised pilot cases full of cash.

Now there were three men left. It would take the C-5 five minutes to reach the end of the western end of the runway and they parked the shuttle loader neatly inside the now empty Hangar Six, closed the large doors, then closed the large doors to Hangar Three. All the remaining hangars were completely empty. A phone line extension now allowed Ryan to answer the only phone outside in the middle of the apron.

He thanked the last two men. They were already packed up with their suitcases in the two jeeps outside Hangar One.

“Just remember guys, you have about twenty minutes before this place could be buzzing, so make sure you are halfway to Tonopah before anything goes overhead, and stay a mile or so apart,” said Ryan shaking their hands. He watched the last two men drive out of the now open inner gates in their new jeeps, over the brow and out of view. They were to leave the outer gates open for the first time.

He was right about the phone call, just thirty seconds after the C-5 lifted into the air his phone rang. Now every second mattered.

“Richmond,” he stated after waiting for the seventh ring, the C-5 a spot on the horizon and already at a good height.

“Richmond, why is the C-5 taking off from your airfield?”
asked Mortimer at the other end.

“Well, a bright and happy good morning to you too, General,”
smiled Ryan.

“I’m cleaning house for your arrival and sending the C-5 and her crew back to Nellis. Her usefulness to me is over. Why do you ask? She doesn’t belong to me.” He heard Mortimer shouting orders; he was somewhere in the Pentagon he was sure. It would be dawn there, and it was rather early to be at work, Ryan thought.

“You do not have permission for the C-5 to leave your airfield!”
Mortimer shouted angrily into the phone.

“I didn’t have orders not to, General. Why would it worry you so much? I’m here at my airfield getting ready for the honor of your arrival.”

“Yes, I’m an hour out and want the C-5 to return to your airfield, now!”

“For what reason, General? She’s heading back to Nellis and has no need to be here anymore.”

Then he heard what he expected. Mortimer was speaking to Bob Mathews in the C-5 ordering him to return. Bob Mathews had learned a few new ways to communicate from Jonesy, and told the General to go to hell. He was not returning and that was that. Then Mortimer heard the orders to Nellis to scramble jets. Ryan had added two minutes to their necessary time. The phone went dead. He had done the best he could and changed the radio frequency to a hardly used channel.

“Bob, you will have incoming soon. I heard him over the telephone talking to Nellis.”

“Well, he’s going to hell anyway. I just told him to hurry up and get there. We are at 7,300 feet and we have 1,300 feet per minute climb rate. That Jonesy always amazes me how accurate he can be. I do have a bogey on radar, north of you and incoming. It is slow, a C-130 if I’m not mistaken, maybe our expected laser team from Boeing, currently 90 miles from entering your airspace and at 30,000 feet.”

Roger that,” replied Ryan. “VIN is 15 minutes away from communications and hopefully on time. Where should he hit the aircraft, so as to not put her crew in danger, Bob?”

“Hit an outer engine; I’ve heard she is heavy and will have to do something about it. If that doesn’t work, hit the second outer engine. She won’t be able to fly straight and level and will need to land.”

Ryan returned to Hangar One. It was still chilly. March was a cold month for desert nights, and he needed a chair and the cup of coffee he had prepared for the possible wait.

Seventeen minutes later, VIN came over the handheld stating that he had Nevada in sight on his infrared. Twenty seconds later Bob Mathews reported two aircraft leaving Nellis.

“Maggie’s was the closest guess at around 19 minutes 20 seconds,” Bob smiled.

Dawn was just making a sliver of light above the horizon when Ryan saw the glimmer of light from the higher sun’s rays hitting the C-5 right above him at 27,000 feet. Bob was headed northwest, away from Las Vegas. The further distance gave him a few more seconds.

“Here they come, guys,” stated Ryan as he saw cold-weather afterburner trails in the faint light from the south. Now there were five of them. “Five incoming,” stated Ryan.

“I have them on radar,”
said VIN.
“I also see one incoming to your north at 80 miles, speed 350 knots.”

“That’s the one I want you to target VIN,” Ryan replied as his phone rang again.

“Ryan if you don’t give orders for the C-5 to head down, I will have to blow her out of the sky. She is a possible danger to National Security,”
raged Mortimer getting angrier by the minute.

“Why would a Dead Chicken be a threat to National Security Mortimer? Grow up, she is only a danger to herself, and even I as a civilian know that you don’t have the power to fire missiles at one of our own aircraft,” replied Ryan watching the five streaks head towards the C-5.

“The president will be giving the order in a few minutes, if she doesn’t begin losing altitude.”

“Don’t try and bluff me, Mortimer, the president isn’t as stupid as you are. He will have to face trial for firing on American airmen. Maybe you should hand the controls over to somebody sane. May I remind you that there could be a laser aimed at you right now, if you don’t call off your jets and the C-130. You fire one shot, and the second aircraft fired at will be yours.” The caller hung up.

Dawn was getting brighter as the jets now nearly overhead and silent headed towards the C-5.

“Altitude 34,700 feet, bogeys twelve miles and closing,” stated Bob Mathews “We have a new very twisting target 200 miles to your east, Ryan. Did Mortimer crap his pants? With your threat, we should assume that is Mortimer trying to shake the target lock. Shows how little the twit knows. Ryan, turning southwards for my second last run across our restricted airspace. Good morning Foxtrot 16s, a little early isn’t it for you guys to be up and about? Colonel Bob Mathews retired United States Air Force here, flight commander of the Dead Chicken, an unarmed Charlie Five with 40 civilians on board,”
stated Bob Mathews over the radio.

Ryan could hear the F-16 pilots ordering Bob to descend. Bob replied that this was restricted airspace and that they, the United States Air Force were trespassing. This made Ryan smile.

A new voice came in on the radio, an old friend.
“Richmond, Joe Bishop here with Tom Ward, we are thirty-five minutes out with marines. I recommend you listen to Mortimer. Also get your security men to stand on the apron without their weapons. If we see anybody holding a weapon, we shoot them, no questions asked.”

“It is so funny that the generals running the U.S.
military are a bunch of television freaks. What did you watch on television last night, Bishop, The Goon Squad? The airfield is unguarded; there are no soldiers with weapons here. The only occupant of the airfield is a civilian ready to hand it over.”

Ryan looked skywards again, the five streaks were about to meet up with the C-5.

“Ryan, 43,000 feet, we are nearly home, one minute to turning back to the north. I’m leaving the radios open so that you can get everything on tape,” Bob Mathews stated. “Ryan could hear that the F-16 pilots were issuing orders non-stop. The C-5 crew just got on with their jobs. Ryan’s phone rang again.

“Mr. Richmond, this is the President of the United States. You have a U.S. Air Force C-5 illegally flying directly towards Las Vegas and I’ve been told that it could have a bomb on board. If you don’t tell this aircraft to turn around and descend immediately, I have the authority as president to blow this aircraft up. Do you hear me?”

“Good Morning to you, Mr. President. That aircraft which I do believe is now turning northwards, away from Las Vegas does not have a bomb on board. It is in my private airspace and has 43 Americans on board. Among those 43 citizens are women and children. If you want to blow up an unarmed U.S. military transport aircraft, I can’t stop you,” Ryan replied. He could see that Bob Mathews had turned and was now flying northwest to allow Jonesy to get his bearings.

“I’ve been told by the air force that the aircraft is still heading towards Las Vegas.”

“Then you are being lied to,” replied Ryan.

“Foxtrot leader, affirmative, aircraft is heading northeast….”

“Shut up, Foxtrot Leader, you have permission to shoot that aircraft down. You have your orders, I have given you code Fox Three, now follow them!”
interrupted Mortimer shouting at the pilot over the radio.

“Foxtrot Leader here. That is not your order to give. I can only accept Code Fox Three from the president himself. I will wait for correct command to order Fox Three. Target leveling out 47,000 feet and beginning to descend as ordered.”

“Ryan, you get that aircraft back down on the ground now,”
ordered the president.

Bob Mathews hit bottom at 515 miles an hour and brought her nose up. The F-16s now heading away from the C-5 turned around. He headed up and watched the needle climb….…..
“44,000…..47….49….they are coming in fast Jonesy. I’m releasing you Jonesy….God Speed my friend…. flight level 52…. shuttle away… turning over getting out of here…I see shuttle ignition. End of Act One.”

Ryan watched as the shuttle’s first-stage rockets blasted a hole in the dark sky above him.

“Fox Three! Fox Three!”
shouted Mortimer. “Mr. President, shoot the bastards down”.

“May I remind you, Mr. President, that all this is going out live on CBS,” stated Ryan. “You give that order to shoot at an unarmed aircraft with women and children aboard and the whole country will watch it over morning corn flakes. I’m sure Charlie and Nora in New York will air it first.” He heard nothing over the phone. Over the radio he still heard Mortimer screaming his head off. The shuttle gathered speed, the jets again on afterburner heading up behind it. Mortimer’s voice was blocked out.

“Colonel John Jones, United States Air Force retired, to Foxtrot Leader, thanks, I owe you guys, heading through Mach 4. See if you can beat my co-pilot, Colonel Sinclair’s record, 91,000 feet, I believe?”

“Correct Colonel Jones. Foxtrot Leader, we are passing through 98,000 feet, Mach 5 and goodbye Earth. Colonel Maggie Sinclair, pregnant with baby, United States Air Force also retired, signing off from Earth.”

Ryan then heard Mortimer talking to the C-130 now in Ryan’s airspace and now in range of the shuttle.

“You use that laser and shoot down that damn spacecraft, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Pilots in the C-130, Ryan Richmond here. You might have a laser aboard. I’m sure you know about mine. It is currently aimed at your gas tanks in the rear of your aircraft. You fire at my civilian craft and I promise it will be New Year’s Eve fireworks for you all over again. Now turn around and go home before I go insane like that madman controlling you. You have five seconds.”

“Ryan, do not fire at that C-130,”
came the familiar voice of the former President of the United States of America over the radio.
“If you fire at the C-130 I will terminate my agreement with you.”

“Who the hell invited you to this party?”
demanded the current president.

In between the bickering Ryan smiled as Jonesy told everybody that he was at 130,000 feet and at Mach 7. Mortimer was trying to get the laser to fire and unknown to him, the C-130 was already descending for Nellis. The C-130 would also need a Presidential Code to fire at the shuttle, and now the two presidents were too busy bickering, as if it was election time all over again.

The Dead Chicken was already on final approach when the two presidents stopped having a go at each other and the phone went dead. Bob Mathews was going in fast, telling the tower that he had just enough fuel to get her down. He landed sweetly at Creech and taxied onto the apron where a flashing military police jeep and showed him where to park.

The crew of three still holding their cases got into the jeep ten minutes later under armed guard and it drove off. They changed jeeps and in full military uniform entered a second jeep which got them to the main gate. A blue air force car was waiting for them, an envelope changed hands, and the guard saluted as three high ranking officers were driven out of the gate towards Las Vegas.

Chapter 26

Cuba is nice at this time of year

The aircraft came in fast. This time nobody asked to land. They just came in, paratroopers from a dozen C-130s exploding all over the airfield. Ryan, now relaxed and smiling, looked over to see if the red light on the camera in front of the old-fashioned duel-directional Hughes satellite dish was on. It was and he waited refreshing his cup of coffee.

Minutes later the first white jet came in from the west, braked hard and rushed onto the apron. The paratroopers already had the large apron surrounded and all watched the lone civilian man, in the middle of the apron drinking what looked like a cup of coffee. He was unarmed.

Through their glasses they saw the extension cord of a land telephone and what looked like a handheld radio on the ground by his side.

Bishop’s voice came across the radio.
“Make sure he is unarmed, then I want every hangar opened. Shoot to kill anybody you see armed inside. I want no loose ends.”

A team of men rushed Ryan who put his arms up, still holding onto his coffee.

“He’s clean,” the leader stated into his head mike. Ryan watched as a second jet headed in from the east this time. Dozens of aircraft of all types circled above. A very overweight Joe Bishop walked up to Ryan with Tom Ward next to him. They wore evil grins on their faces. As they reached Ryan the handhelds across the apron became noisy.

“Sierra Bravo III now on first orbit. Kick that prick Bishop in the nuts for me, Ryan. I’d do it myself if I were there. Colonel John Jones signing off. Out.”

“Where is that son of a bitch?” Bishop asked looking around. Ryan smiled.

“Oh! I think right above us and aiming several dozen lasers right at your head, and at the engine compartment of every aircraft you have here. Didn’t you hear him acknowledge your presence?” Bishop hit Ryan hard in the stomach, once and then twice before Ryan folded. Then both men decided to kick him hard while he was down. The soldiers just looked on. When they were done, one man whispered that he had seen a camera filming them from the roof of one of the hangars. Ward gave the order and several grenade launchers blew the corner of the hangar to bits.

Twenty miles away, a shocked Joe Downs told his crew to wrap up. The recordings were done and the camera was no more.

“All the hangars are empty,” shouted the soldiers one by one as they reported in. General Mortimer arrived in civilian dress and kicked Ryan hard in the stomach as he was still writhing in agony on the ground. Bishop told him that they were being filmed and Mortimer refrained from more punishment.

Ryan could hardly breathe. He was gasping for air as two soldiers grabbed his arms and dragged him along the apron to Mortimer’s waiting jet. They dragged him bumping up the stairs and threw his body onto one of the chairs. “Get him on the floor!” ordered Mortimer. “I don’t want blood all over my seats.” He shouted at the pilot to take off.

It took him half an hour before he could sit up. His ribs didn’t feel good. “No cameras where we are going?” suggested Ryan to the general now relaxed and having breakfast.

“Where we are going there are not many Americans,” laughed the general. “You are not even going to see the good old U.S. of A. anymore, ever. Our next stop is Guantanamo, as we promised. I have a friend there, my youngest brother, to look after you.”

“Must be a pretty long range jet for a round trip,” Ryan replied.

“Latest Gulfstream V with extended range,” Mortimer smiled. “We only have the best tools; money is no object at our level.”

Ryan slept, there wasn’t much to do, and Mortimer wasn’t worth talking too. He just hoped they had an infirmary or hospital there.

The Gulfstream landed several hours later. Ryan was seized from behind and pushed forward to the closest building, stripped searched, and told to put on the orange prison jumpsuit. Every time he tried to open his mouth the guard slapped him hard. He gave up. Once he was dressed and shackled, he was dragged unceremoniously along the asphalt to the medical unit. Here the doctor inspected him.

“A little worse for wear,” the American military doctor stated.

“Just the usual government greeting given to U.S. citizens,” Ryan replied.

“You’re American?” asked the doctor quite shocked at Ryan’s accent. “We have very few American prisoners in here, three to be exact.”

“Well I was American until I was abducted from my company premises in Nevada eight hours ago,” Ryan replied.

“That’s funny the other three all said the same sort of thing. What possible crime have you committed to end up here?” the military doctor asked inspecting his ribs. Ryan winced as they were touched gently.

“Running our businesses, employing Americans and paying our taxes. That seems to now be a crime in the United States,” Ryan replied grimacing with pain.

“Sounds fishy to me. I believe you have two cracked ribs. I need to run an x-ray,” and the doctor told the guards waiting by the door that this man would be admitted for further examination.

Ryan spent a week in the hospital ward. He was the only patient and the doctor kept the guards from hauling his butt to the confinement cells. Once he could stand and walk with little pain, he was roughly pulled out of the ward and marched to a new building. Here he was thrown into a small cell, and the door locked behind him.

The cell had one blanket on the floor and a hole in the cement an architect somewhere called a toilet.

For three days he received no food, no one visited him and the only sound he ever heard was faint singing several times a day; sounds that would be heard in the Middle East, near a Mosque.

On the third day, he was about to pass out from hunger when his cell door was opened, a thin slice of moldy bread and a glass of water was thrown in, and the door closed. The same happened the next day.

A day later, two guards dragged him out to a larger room with a chair and a table. He sat in the chair, the guards behind him and waited.

A military policeman, a lieutenant, walked in and stood over Ryan.

“Name, nationality, country of origin,” the tall thickly set soldier demanded.

“Ryan Richmond, U.S. citizen, born in the United States,” Ryan replied.

“Crap! You are a captured terrorist from Iran. Now state your name or we will water board it out of you.”

Ryan repeated his name over and over again, and the lieutenant slapped him every time he said it.

For two more days this interrogation was re-enacted.

On the third day Ryan got angry. He looked up at the lieutenant. “Lieutenant Mortimer, the next time I am in Washington, I will give your name and rank to the powers that be.”

Ryan received another harder slap which this time opened his lip, and he was dragged back to his cell.

The next visitor was the doctor who managed to get the thinner prisoner back to the infirmary for two more days. Mortimer tried twice to get him out, but the doctor, a captain, told him to go to hell. Ryan ate everything that was put in front of him. On the second day, he was told by the doctor, that the doctor had spoken to friends, and he could expect to receive visitors soon.

Three days passed with Lieutenant Mortimer opening up his lip again each day. On the fourth he was awakened by his cell door opening.

To Joe Everson, who opened the door, Ryan looked and smelled as bad as any of the other prisoners he had seen here in his three prior visits to Cuba. Ryan was helped up by two men in civilian clothes who removed his shackles and helped him along the hallway. The group was confronted by Lieutenant Mortimer, who wanted to know what was going on. Before Everson could reply, Ryan’s right leg connected hard between the Lieutenant’s legs at full force, and the man screamed like a pig and fell into a ball on the floor.

Ryan already felt better. It had been a good solid kick. Joe laughed and Ryan was helped outside.

There were two jets on the runway and two men talking to the doctor who had treated Ryan. Ryan, his eyesight pretty bad without his glasses, which had been taken away from him with his clothing, could see that three other prisoners were also being helped to one of the aircraft.

Martin Brusk and the former president were the best faces he had ever hoped to see.

“I should have closed this place when I had the chance, Ryan. I personally apologize for what our country has put you through. Martin is taking you to a safe place. I will take the other three with me. The CBS documentary we filmed together is going to air this Sunday, a special one-hour program, and I was afraid that somebody might want to make sure you were really history once it aired. There is a copy of the documentary for you to view on your flight. From Sunday onwards, Ryan, the U.S. will be a different place. With the changes and upheaval about to take place in this country, I think going with you would have been the better bet, but somebody has to clean up the stable. My friend, look after yourself and make that call to me from space when you get there.”