Blue Hope: (Book 2) (Red Hope) Read online

  “And?” Alexis asked.

  “I think we’ve got it figured out,” he said with excitement. “There’s only one detail left, but it’s a pretty huge detail. Please come home ASAP so we can brainstorm this. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but this may be the greatest archaeological find in history.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Rural road

  Fort Worth, Texas

  The flights back to NASA Fort Worth were perilous. The first one ran into engine problems over Tennessee and made an emergency landing in Nashville. After twelve hours and two airplane changes, Alexis and Chris made it to DFW airport just after breakfast. Unfortunately, their luggage didn’t. Carrying nothing, they drove the long trek back to NASA Fort Worth.

  Chris decided to tell Connie about all of the information before the media got their claws into it. He called her cellphone, but she didn’t answer. He knew that Adam Alston’s mother-in-law lived nearby. Chris looked up Adam’s NASA personnel records and found her contact information.

  He typed in her number and it rang and rang. Finally a friendly older woman’s voice answered.

  “Hello? Roberta speaking.”

  “Hi, Roberta. This is Chris Tankovitch calling from NASA. I’m trying to reach Connie, but she’s not answering.”

  “Well hello Chris. You know, Connie thinks so highly of you.”

  “That’s kind of you to say, but do you know where she is? I have some information for her.”

  “Oh yes, she took Cody to the park out by Eagle Mountain Lake to ride his bike. They’ve got nice wide bike paths out there. That might be why her cellphone isn’t answering.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to take a drive out there. If she calls you, please have her contact me.”

  “All right. Will do, Mr. Tankovitch.”

  Fog rolled silently across the rural Texas road, oozing around the black sedan Chris drove. As the Sun rose on the right side of his car, the fog lifted, revealing rows and rows of old Mesquite trees. Suddenly, he saw several signs for the park up ahead. He slowed down and spun the steering wheel toward the gravel parking lot. There was only one other vehicle there — the Alstons’ newish minivan. He pulled up next to it, got out and stretched his back.

  Chris walked to the edge of the parking lot and looked down the incline at Connie chasing her son Cody on his bicycle. She turned around and saw Chris, waving at him. He was struck by just how beautiful she was. It was the first time he’d seen her walking around without crutches and she was filled with lively energy, chasing after Cody’s bike.

  “Hi, Connie! Hi, Cody!” he yelled to them.

  Connie and her son walked up toward the parking lot.

  “Long time, no see, Chris. Cody, you remember Mr. Tankovitch, right?” Connie asked.

  Chris leaned down and shook Cody’s hand.

  “Young man, I bet you’re a bicycle expert by now. NASA may need you in the astronaut program when you grow up.”

  The little boy smiled politely as he shook his head side to side. He wanted nothing to do with space travel.

  “Mommy, can I go play with my Rescue Bots?”

  She leaned down to speak with Cody at eye level.

  “Sure. Go ahead, and put your seat belt on, too.”

  She patted him on the head as he put the bike in the back of the minivan. Cody climbed in over the bike and crawled through the interior, finally flopping down into the back seat.

  Connie crossed her arms and let out a comfortable sigh.

  “So what brings you all the way out here today?”

  Chris smiled and said, “A lot has happened since we lost contact with them last year.”

  "That's quite the understatement," Connie replied.

  "From the way you were running with Cody, can I assume the experimental back surgery worked?" Chris asked.

  "It’s been like a miracle cure. It’s all healed.”

  Connie did a slow pirouette on the gravel to demonstrate how her spine operation had succeeded. In some ways she reminded Chris of his ex-wife, but Connie was much friendlier.

  Chris laughed. “That’s fantastic, Connie. I’m glad it worked out so well. I know Adam really wanted that for you.”

  An uncomfortable silence rose up between them.

  “Chris, I’m sorry that you aren’t the head of NASA anymore. I know it meant the world to you.”

  Chris chuckled.

  “That’s just the way it works when you are in a job appointed by the president. Besides, there’s a lot of people in the world right now that have it harder than me. I made out pretty easy, if I may say so.”

  Chris moved some gravel around with his foot to avoid what he had to say next.

  “I wanted to share some new information with you before the news media gets it. The president spoke about it in her radio address yesterday, but she left out some very important details that pertain to you. This is strictly off the record, okay? It’s serious stuff.”

  She answered in a worried tone, “Yes, of course.”

  “Okay. Some of the surviving engineers at NASA finally got the deep-space antennas at Goldstone back online last month. That's a remote antenna complex out west. They were able to re-establish partial communication with the Curiosity Rover, but without the long-range antenna on the space station, there was no way to communicate with the Little Turtle. NASA was in the process of building a duplicate of the long-range antenna here on Earth when, suddenly, the new Mission Control Center here in Fort Worth reported getting a beacon signal from the Little Turtle.”

  Connie looked confused.

  “I don’t know what a beacon signal is. Does that mean that the ship started working again? Is the signal coming all the way from Mars?”

  Her expression turned to one of hopefulness.

  “Not exactly. The beacon signal is a simple data stream that the ship sends out as it gets near Earth. It uses a short-range transmitter on the Little Turtle. The main purpose of the beacon signal is to help Mission Control get a better fix on its location.”

  Chris looked over at the minivan and then back at Connie. He continued, “Frankly, the beacon caught NASA by surprise.”

  “Okay, but what does it mean?” Connie asked.

  Chris looked over the top of his glasses at Connie.

  “It means the ship is still alive. The crew was able to at least launch off the surface of Mars and enable the communications equipment. It means the Little Turtle is coming home.”

  Connie’s eyes welled up with tears. She said, “You mean, somebody on board is still steering it? Maybe? Possibly?”

  Chris shook his head side to side. He didn’t want to get her hopes up – even if the crew were still alive, they had a good chance of dying during re-entry. And NASA couldn’t communicate with them, anyway.

  “No,” he said. “Well, there’s a remote chance…”

  He looked down to search for the right words.

  “They likely made it off the planet and possibly most of the way. We don’t know its condition or how it will handle re-entry. Besides, the beacon signal says that only one emergency life-support system was activated right after takeoff. Whatever happened wasn’t good. I wanted to tell you firsthand before this hit the news. I don’t want to give you any ideas that Adam is coming home alive. It’s just not in the cards.”

  Connie rocked side to side, crying. Through the tears, she said, “But there is a chance? Some hope?”

  Chris shook his head.

  “I’m so sorry, Connie. I don’t think so.”

  She brought her hand up to wipe away the tears that crowded on her cheeks and looked down, unable to make eye contact.

  “Okay, I understand,” Connie whimpered.

  She looked up at Chris suddenly.

  “Do you think he died a foolish death?”

  Chris didn’t expect a question like that.

  “I’m…” he said before pausing again for several seconds. Connie could tell that he desperately wanted to tell her something.


  “Let me answer you this way. I’m not supposed to tell anybody this yet – I’m not even supposed to know about this officially – but we finally figured out what the early Martian discovery was that ultimately brought down their society. The translation was very difficult because it used chemical equations that our chemists didn’t understand until just recently.”

  Chris paused. His mind searched for the right words.

  “You might think that an advanced culture like theirs would’ve touted interplanetary space travel or anti-gravity as their quintessential achievement, but most of the walls in that room were a presentation of a chemical equation and how to manufacture it. Our own chemists are trying to synthesize it here on Earth right now. The Martians invented a way, a medicine of some type, to control cell growth rates. They could slow it down, speed it up, or maybe even stop it.”

  Connie furled her eyebrows in confusion.

  “I don’t get why that's important, Chris,” Connie said as she wiped a hair from her face.

  “Being able to control cell growth rates has far reaching consequences. In addition to slowing down the aging process, they effectively cured cancer and any other disease that has to do with runaway cell growth. To them, treating cancer was probably like we treat heartburn today. Take some medicine, and the cancer goes away. They didn’t have to worry about exposure to carcinogens because, well, anybody who got cancer could be cured. They were smart enough to know that their greatest achievement was something that would save the lives of so many people. Not interplanetary flight. Not anti-gravity. Just a cure for something that has dogged us since the dawn of time.”

  Chris crossed his arms and continued explaining.

  “Unfortunately, their society wasn’t ready for the results of their discovery. Mars is smaller, so their food resources couldn’t keep up with the exploding population. They destroyed their planet by trying to keep everybody fed. Our experts are sure that Earth is different. We can absorb that kind of population growth. That’s what they say, anyway."

  Chris rubbed his chin with his hand.

  "We're not there yet, though. Part of the manufacturing process requires the use of anti-gravity and, unfortunately, that technology is either still on Mars or — if we’re lucky — inside the Little Turtle, on its way home. That's the vital missing piece. With cancer rates skyrocketing from the bomb radiation fallout, I hope to God they put that cube on that spaceship.”

  Chris walked closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Connie, your family’s sacrifice will ultimately save the human race from infinite misery. Rest assured: Adam did many great things.”

  Connie’s eyes overflowed with tears.

  “Yes, but I still miss him so much,” she cried as she hugged Chris. “It sounds like he went there for a good reason, then?”

  “Yes,” Chris answered. “He went there for the best reasons.”

  Connie nodded her head and wiped her eyes.

  “Okay, Chris. Well, thank you for coming all the way out here. I won’t tell the kids about the news; I don’t want to give them false hope. They’re having a hard enough time as it is.”

  Connie walked to the minivan and opened the door. Her head tilted up; she looked over at Chris who hadn’t moved. She climbed into her seat and sat there silently. Cody played with his robot toys in the back seat. She started the engine, pulled onto the road and drove away.

  Chris stood there reflecting on what had taken place: his journey all the way from visiting Keller Murch's beach house to getting a team of astronauts to Mars. He knew much more about what Adam had done on Mars, but he would never tell Connie about it.

  Chris walked toward his car, but slowed down. He paused and changed direction, meandering down a dirt bike path that ran near a casting pond. There was no bench nearby. He sat down in the inviting grass to enjoy the quiet solitude. He had a peaceful view of the calm water right in front of him.

  Birds flew overhead as Chris watched the puffy cumulus clouds consume the bright blue sky. The strong smell of freshly cut grass wafted past. It reminded him of the night spent observing Halley’s Comet with his dad. Chris looked to his left and then to his right. Finally, he looked straight upward and said, “Show me a miracle, Adam. Make me a believer again.”

  He knew that the crew was unlikely to survive re-entry with so many failed systems.

  “Please be dead already,” he prayed. “If you know what’s good for you, drink that Red Hope before you burn up during re-entry.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Office of vending services

  NASA Jennings Manned Spacecraft Center

  Fort Worth, Texas

  This job is the worst, Chris thought to himself. Perhaps I should resign before I ask somebody to drop a vending machine on me.

  Chris looked forward to the meeting with the NASA engineers later today – they would divulge their big find regarding the Earth base left behind by the Martians. Chris wondered what the missing piece of information was.

  His phone rang. The caller-ID said it was from Alexis.

  “Chris, the Little Turtle is arriving early. I postponed the scheduled meeting. Come on over to the mission control center as quickly as possible,” said the voice of his ex-wife.

  Ten minutes later, Chris ran up the steps to the Mission Control Center, taking two at a time. At the top, he stopped and leaned over to catch his breath. With one last deep breath, he swiped his card, opening the secure door to the new mission control room. He walked into a sea of engineers, all looking up at the large screens surrounding the room.

  A blurry and shaky image of the Little Turtle glowed from the biggest screen at the front of the room – the result of a video feed from the tracking telescope. The ship was due to enter the Earth’s atmosphere in ten minutes.

  Chris scanned the crowd, looking for Alexis. She was standing and talking with the mission director. Chris walked over to the group.

  “Have you re-tried the emergency communication frequencies?” Chris asked.

  The mission director nodded his head.

  “We’ve got the 145.8 megahertz voice frequency channel open. Nothing yet. However, we are getting some random tapping sounds.”

  “Random tapping sounds?”

  “Yes, sir,” the mission control director answered. “It’s coming over the broken voice comms, mixed in with the beacon signal.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Chris said. He reached down and picked up the microphone. “Quiet down, everybody!”

  The room hushed.

  He pushed the transmit button and thought for a moment.

  “To the crew of the Little Turtle, this is NASA dir…. Um, Chris Tankovitch. If you can hear me, please acknowledge.”

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Nothing.

  Chris leaned toward Alexis and the mission director. “If they can’t transmit, does that also mean that they can’t hear us?”

  “Not necessarily. It’s two separate circuit boards.”

  Chris looked down, tapping his fingers on the desk to think. “What about guidance? Has it changed course or attitude?”

  “Yes, there were some last minute corrections, but we’re not sure if they did it or the guidance computer did it.”

  Chris looked at the tracking map and saw it way off course.

  “Where are they coming in?”

  “They’ll be arriving over North America, most likely the west coast. Very shallow angle I’m afraid.”

  “They’re coming in over land?” Chris asked incredulously.

  The mission director nodded his head with a frown, implying the danger of this approach.

  “How many minutes before radio silence?”

  “Two,” the mission control director said.

  Chris pushed the transmit button one more time.

  “Little Turtle, this is NASA trying to reach you. If you can hear me, please push your transmit button three times.”

  Waiting.

  Wait
ing.

  Silence.

  Chris looked at Alexis and asked, “What do you think they…”

  Click, click, click.

  The room went deadly silent, every conversation halted mid-verb. Only the hum of the computers could be heard. Some rhythmic static sounds came through the speakers.

  “This is NASA again, just to confirm, push your transmitter button four times if you are hearing me.”

  A few seconds passed.

  Click, click, click, click.

  Chris nearly dropped the microphone. His heart was beating a mile a minute.

  “Are you prepared for re-entry? Three clicks for yes or two clicks for no.”

  Waiting.

  Silence.

  Chris held his breath, afraid to make any movement or sound.

  Click, click, click.

  Chris decided to ask another question.

  “Okay, you’ll be hitting re-entry in less than thirty seconds. We’ll be in radio silence. Do you understand?”

  Click, click, click.

  Chris let go of the transmit button and looked at the people around him.

  “Only a few seconds left before radio silence,” Chris announced to the people in the room.

  He bit his knuckle to think about what to ask before the radio went dead. He pushed the transmit button one last time.

  “How many are still alive on board?”

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  Click.

  PART TWO

  “Don’t you know you can’t go home again?”

  — Thomas Wolfe

  CHAPTER 27

  Southwestern coast of the USA

  A teenager in San Diego saw it first. Just like every morning, he pedaled up and down the street, delivering newspapers to the mansions in the upper-crust neighborhood of Del Mar — there was even a beach house on his route that was shaped like a castle. He set his earbud volume on max and hummed a tune while working his monotonous job.

  A flash caught his eye. He looked upward. A streak dragged across the sky, starting in the southwest and spreading northeast. The Little Turtle was returning to Earth at twenty-five times the speed of sound. The teenager had heard that a ship from the Mars expedition was coming back to Earth, but he didn’t care — he was a teenager.