Rocket Dawn Read online

  “I’m not sure about that,” Antonova said. “It was largely blind chance that we stumbled across it, and not many observatories look at the Lunar Trojans very often.”

  “All we need is a little time,” Knox replied. “A few days, just to allow us to get a proper orbital calculation and the fullest possible evaluation of the nature of the asteroid. Then, I promise you, we will make all the information that we have gathered available to the public.” He looked at the objects, then said, “Those don’t look very large.”

  “Until we get more images, we’re not going to be able to make any sort of definitive assessment, but they can’t be more than a dozen meters in length at best,” Dixon said, looking at the screen. “I’ll tell you one thing, though. I don’t think they’re made of the same material as the core asteroid. The color’s wrong, for a start, and the orbital tracks suggest a capture. Heck, that asteroid has so little gravity that any conceivable impact would almost certainly simply throw material clear. That could mean we get to survey multiple asteroid types in the same mission.”

  “I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m going to guess you’re planning on applying to NASA,” Knox said.

  Nodding, Dixon replied, “Tell you the truth, Colonel, I already did, once I got my Masters. I put my application in for the current selection. I know I don’t have much of a shot this time out of the gate, but I figured it made sense to get as far as I could, work out where my weaknesses are for next time.”

  “That’s a pretty smart play,” Knox said. Looking at the screen again, he said, “I think they’ve got to be the top priority for your observations tonight. If conditions are as good as they were yesterday, can you get better-resolution images for analysis?”

  “Probably,” Schneider replied. “We’re set up for it now, and know exactly what we’re looking for. I don’t see any reason that we shouldn’t at least be able to get some idea of their size and form, though we’re going to need space-based observation to get truly accurate data. I think Doctor Antonova’s idea of getting some time on the James Webb is the best one. We’d only need a few minutes to get everything we need.”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but for the present, that is out of the question. Later, we’ll be able to get all the time we need, but not right now.” He glanced at his watch, then said, “I make it five hours before it will be dark enough to start observing. The food for tonight should be up here in a few minutes. If you want to get some sack time, then…”

  He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and with his hand kept close to his holster, he walked over to it, relaxing as he saw a uniformed figure outside, badge in hand.

  “Corporal Hudson, Alaskan State Trooper,” the newcomer said. “My partner’s gone down to get your stuff from town, and we’re going to be responsible for your perimeter security tonight.” He reached carefully into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper, saying, “My written orders, Colonel.”

  “They check out,” Knox replied, scanning the document. “Neither you nor your partner is to come into the observatory, Corporal. This area is restricted from all visitors without my personal approval until further notice. I expect you to notify your relief officers of these instructions.”

  “Understood, sir,” Hudson said. “We’ll keep a good watch out. I know these hills like the back of my hand.”

  “I hope so, Corporal, and I certainly hope that you have an extremely boring night.”

  “My sentiments precisely, sir.”

  Nodding, Knox tugged the door closed, then turned to the scientists, saying, “We’ve got some other surveillance as well, but we’re trying to keep the lowest possible profile. As far as anyone outside is concerned, there’s been a report of possible sabotage to your telescope from local teenagers.”

  Antonova smiled, then said, “You’ve really thought this through.”

  “I hope so,” he replied.

  “I think all of this is a waste of time. Just pointless posturing.” Schneider grimaced, then said, “This is one of the greatest discoveries of the decade. It could…”

  “Doctor,” Gibson said, cutting in, “I’m sure the Colonel agrees with you, and I accept his word that these restrictions will only be in place for a short time. I think we should all make the best of a bad situation, and that we should all try and get some sleep. We’re going to have a big night ahead of us, and I for one am looking forward to getting in a little practical observing for a change.”

  “Words of wisdom,” Knox said. “Go sack out. I’ll keep an eye on things. I want to go through the pictures again, anyway.”

  “Just don’t touch anything,” Schneider replied.

  “Relax, Doctor, I’ve used this sort of hardware before.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’d rather you accepted your ignorance, rather than pretend to competence.”

  Cracking a smile, Knox replied, “I guess my secret is out, Doctor. Don’t worry, I won’t harm your precious telescope. Go get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when it gets dark. When our new moon rises again, I want to see it.”

  Chapter 2

  Knox stood outside the observatory, looking around at the spectacular landscape. The architects had shown phenomenal taste in their choice of a location for the building, perched close to the top of a windswept mountain, surrounded by lush, dense forest below. The helipad rested on one side of the mountain, at the end of a long, winding road that had been carved into the rock more than a century ago on the far side, once used by the miners who had attempted – and failed – to find valuable ores in this area. The only legacy of those days was the small cluster of houses at the base of the mountain, one of a thousand small towns that made a living from tourism, the locals doubtless hoping that the observatory would help support their community into the future.

  He looked down at the settlement, smoke rising from a couple of dozen chimneys into the sky, then up at the stars above, untold millions of them, too many for any man to count. He could almost imagine that he was back in space once more, floating serenely among them. Since his resignation from NASA, this was likely as close as he was ever going to get. The moon was beginning to rise over the hills, and he found himself staring at its ethereal beauty, his heart aching to walk its desolate expanse once more.

  “What was it like?” Dixon asked, walking up to him.

  “Huh?” Knox replied, jerked back to reality. “What’s happening in there?”

  “We’re taking a coffee break while the next batch of images finishes processing,” the student said. He looked up at the moon, and said, “I can’t imagine what it must be like out there.”

  With a smile, Knox said, “You’ve got it bad, kid, haven’t you.”

  The young man’s cheeks reddened, and he replied, “I suppose so, sir. I grew up dreaming about what it might be like to go into space, to see the moon close up, maybe go further still.” Looking down at the ground, he added, “I suppose you get this all the time.”

  “You’d be surprised. Astronauts aren’t celebrities any more. I’m the forty-ninth man to walk on the moon. The thirty-third American. That doesn’t amount to much, not really.” He looked at Dixon, then said, “It’s hard to put into words. Even pictures can’t do it justice. Buzz Aldrin called it ‘magnificent desolation’, and I suppose that’s just about right. Everything is so stark, untouched. Every day, you go somewhere new, see something nobody has ever seen before. And in orbit, when you’re floating free…” He paused, then said, “You’ll get your chance, kid. Even if NASA doesn’t take you, there are other options these days. Berths on the Commercial Space Station, research trips. What’s your thesis on?”

  “Micrometeorite hazards in lunar orbital space,” he replied. “I figure it might interest NASA.”

  “Don’t do it just for that reason,” Knox warned. “Though I think you’re probably right.” He paused, hearing something in the undergrowth, a faint, whispered voice. He turned to Dixon, and said, “Stay here.”

  “What’s up?�
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  “There’s someone out there.”

  “Probably one of the policemen,” the student replied. “You told them to stay well clear.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Knox said. “Nevertheless, I think I’d better go take a look.” He drew his pistol, walking cautiously down the path, moving as quietly as possible and listening to the sounds of the night. After a moment, he turned off the path, heading towards the tree line, hearing nothing other than the local wildlife going about its myriad nocturnal activities. Just as he was about to turn back, he spotted something in the distance, a figure lying prone on the ground, one hand sprawled out.

  He froze, looking around, knowing at any moment something might jump out at him. There were many predators in the forest, many creatures that viewed a lone wanderer as nothing more than a tasty snack, though from a distance, he could see no sign of the vicious savagery involved in such an attack. Cautiously, judging each step as though it might be his last, he walked towards the figure, his eyes darting from side to side, his pistol raised and at the ready. He cursed as his foot found a dry twig, the snap seeming to echo endlessly from the trees, and he paused for another moment, peering into the darkness. Somehow, he knew that someone, or something, was watching him, but the silent observer was keeping itself well concealed.

  Shaking his head, he continued through the trees, finally reaching the prone figure and kneeling down beside him. As he had expected, the body was wearing the uniform of a State Patrolman, his face twisted in agony. Rolling him over, he saw a crossbow bolt lodged in his back, just above the spine. Shards of glass were dug into the wound, and Knox grimaced, feeling at greater risk than ever. A poisoned dart. The weapon of choice for a trained assassin, one who wanted to kill silently. A gunshot would have been audible for miles, would have put them on alert. This manner of murder did not.

  The dead man had the name ‘Malone’ on his nameplate. Hudson’s partner. The two of them would have stayed together, keeping their guard on the observatory, which meant that in all probability, there was a second body out there, somewhere in the dark. He didn’t have time to look for it now. Finding Malone had been a stroke of pure luck, one that he was unlikely to repeat.

  He had a quick decision to make, and opted for speed over stealth, racing back towards the observatory. If someone was watching him from the shadows, as seemed all too likely, then there was little choice other than to assume that he was in imminent danger of death, and without even the correct camouflage, attempting to hide would only prolong the inevitable. He reached into his pocket, jabbing a finger on his panic button, alerting every military installation within a hundred miles of the need for immediate assistance. Help would be on the way, but almost certainly, not soon enough. Somehow, he had to work out his own salvation.

  Every step he took might be his last. He’d only seen combat once, in an off-the-books operation in Venezuela, years before, but he remembered that brief taste of battle just as clearly as he did his month on the Moon. He raced along forgotten Knox’s tracks, trying to avoid the obvious path back to the safety of the buildings above. Then, a shot rang out, and he hurled himself to the ground on instinct, rolling into cover behind a tangle of roots, looking around to see from whence the shot had come. A second followed, then a third, all of them from up above.

  The observatory itself was under attack. This had been a decoy, intended to draw him out of position, and it had worked just as their hidden assailants had intended. Racing from cover, he sprinted towards the building, where another, this time dreadfully familiar figure lay at the threshold, pistol in hand. Dixon. Two other figures were crouched beside him, Antonova and Schneider, with a third standing behind them, out of the line of fire.

  “That’s close enough,” Gibson said. “Keep still, Colonel, and get rid of that pistol.”

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?” Knox asked. “How’s Mark?”

  “He’s alive, for the moment. He may even stay that way if you do exactly what I say. Drop the gun.”

  Knox tossed the pistol to one side, making careful note of where it landed, then said, “Just what is your end goal from all of this? Do you honestly think that you’re going to get out of this alive?”

  “That really depends on you, Colonel. I rather think we will.” In the distance, Knox could hear the sound of an engine, a helicopter on the way. “I think my friends will be here shortly. It’s really rather a shame that the Space Force reacted so quickly to our little discovery. None of this would have been necessary if not for your intransigent attitude.” Dixon groaned, attracting the attention of Gibson for just long enough to allow Knox to snatch the second, concealed pistol from under his jacket and fire a wild shot, the bullet ricocheting from the wall of the building. He dived to the ground, Gibson firing twice more, ripping into the dirt. Knox had time for just one more shot, and it had to be perfect.

  It was.

  The shot slammed into the traitor’s forehead, sending blood and brain flying in all directions, Schneider screaming as she recoiled from the collapsing corpse of Gibson. Knox raced forward as Gibson noisily died, grabbing the scientist and shaking her in a bid to break through her fears.

  “You’ve had first aid training. It says so in your dossier. Get a medical kit and save that boy’s life.”

  “I…”

  “Do it, damn it! Antonova and I have work to do.” He turned to the engineer, and said, “You were a Major, right? I presume that means you know how to use a pistol?”

  She replied by pulling a small revolver from a holster, and said, “I had hoped to surprise Gibson myself, but you were somewhat quicker to the draw.”

  “He’s bad,” Schneider said, looking over Dixon. “Chest wound, I think.”

  “Do what you can for him, Doctor. Help will be here soon. Hold the fort until we get back.”

  “We’re going to stop that helicopter?”

  “Somebody’s trying to kill us. I’d like to know who that is.” He raced down the trail, gesturing for Antonova to retrieve his discarded sidearm, sprinting towards the helipad. The noise of the approaching helicopter grew louder and louder, and before he sped into the trees, he saw lights overhead, indicating that the feared landing was imminent. He glanced at his watch, and grimaced. Even if a rescue helicopter had already been ready to go, it would easily be an hour before any help could arrive. The cavalry wasn’t coming over the hill. At least, not until it was too late to make any difference to the situation. They were on their own.

  He sprinted down the hill, knowing that the helicopter had to be almost on the helipad. They wouldn’t linger for long. Presumably the crossbow-wielding confederate of Gibson would be down there now, waiting, and as soon as they realized they wouldn’t be picking anyone up from the observatory, they’d simply flee into the night. Radar could track them, but only up to a point, and there were a thousand places for a determined group to hide out in the wilderness, impossible to find with even the most through search.

  His boots slipped and slid on the muddy ground as they desperately scrambled towards their destination. Antonova was following with surprising speed, pistol in hand, her eyes matching his as they scanned the wilderness, looking for any sign of the assassins who had already killed one of them, and likely a second. Finally, he reached the bottom, pushing through the last of the trees and spotting the helicopter resting on the ground, blades still turning. A fusillade of shots rang out, an automatic burst that raked the ground in front of him, sending him diving for cover.

  “Machine gun!” he yelled, Antonova only getting out of the way in the nick of time. He reached for his pistol, scanning the helipad for a target, finally finding what he was looking for, a shadowy figure moving on the perimeter of the field. He had a shot, but before he could take it, Antonova beat him to the draw, sending the intruder collapsing to the ground, clutching at his shoulder.

  That was the cue for the helicopter to begin its departure, rising from the dirt, pausing long enough to fire at their wou
nded comrade, an anguished scream filling the night as his bullet-ridden body writhed in its final, desperate agony. Whoever it was, they weren’t leaving anyone behind to talk about what they did. Knowing he was outmatched, Knox pulled out his camera, taking a series of quick shots, hoping to gather enough information for later identification. Then the helicopter swung around again, firing into the undergrowth, presumably wishing to eliminate the final witnesses from the area.

  Thinking quickly, Knox screamed as though in desperate pain, and after a few seconds, Antonova did likewise, crying into the night as though spending her final breath. A third burst of automatic fire swept through the trees, then mercifully stopped, the helicopter rising once more, gaining height rapidly, concluding that its work was done. As soon as he was certain of their safety, Knox crept forward to look at the corpse on the field.

  “Hudson,” Knox said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t have believed it.”

  “Colonel,” Antonova replied, gesturing up the mountain, “The helicopter is heading right for the observatory!”

  “Christ,” Knox said, turning to race back along the trail to the top, knowing there was nothing he could do, knowing that he would almost certainly be too late, but still determined to do something to influence the dreadful fate of the two people he’d left behind at the summit of the mountain. He pushed his way through the undergrowth, Antonova more cautiously falling to the rear, as though hoping that at least one person could survive the night.

  “Knox,” a familiar voice said, the voice of his commanding officer, Major-General Cooper. “Help’s coming. Air Force Reserve has a jet in the air that will be with you in a minute. Where do you want it?”

  “Kill that damned helicopter, ma’am!”

  “We’re on it,” Cooper replied, “Out.” Knox continued his desperate climb, crying out, “Take cover! Take cover!” He knew that he’d never make himself heard over the noise of the rotors, but knew he had to try. He heard the terrible rattle of the machine gun firing again, heard the sound of bullet hammering into concrete, tearing into the observatory above. Finally, he reached the tree line, and his heart sank as he saw the two bodies sprawled at the threshold, blood scattered everywhere, the helicopter sweeping around with a searchlight to ensure it had done its work. He took a step back, but was a second too late, transfixed by the blinding beam, staggering belatedly back into the undergrowth in a bid to gain at least some cover from the fury that was about to rage all around him.