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

  She chuckled at her own joke.

  “And yes, there are photos of prehistoric humans interacting with the Martians. You can see in… this one, right here, there is a huge height difference.”

  On the screen behind her, a photo showed a prehistoric human standing next to a Martian. The difference in height was about four feet. The alien wore what looked like a long-sleeved red shirt and actually seemed to be smiling, showing huge teeth – not sharp scary teeth, but more like giant regular human teeth. The Martians had surprisingly thick hair on their arms and head, but their faces were cleanly shaved. They had an olive-tinted skin color. In fact, they looked like large-scale humans.

  A murmur went through the crowd as the president continued.

  “We did not find any bodies of the Martians. Instead, we discovered that as much as they may have enjoyed their time on the surface of Earth, the high amount of gravity was making them ill…. so they retreated, somewhere with lower gravity.”

  A hush went through the crowd of reporters.

  “They retreated — to the Moon.”

  Behind her, Chris Tankovitch reached over to a table and removed a blue sheet that was covering the cube-shaped object. Inside was a small pedestal with a white sphere on it. It was all incased within a clear acrylic box.

  The president continued. “I’d like to introduce our new interim NASA director, Dr. Chris Tankovitch.”

  Only half of the crowd applauded as Chris carried the clear box up and set it on the lectern.

  “Thank you, Madam President. Thank you, members of the press corps. I’d like to discuss where we’re at and where we’re going.”

  Chris carefully lifted the clear box from the lectern and set it down on the floor. He reached into his pocket and removed a white glove, put it on his right hand, and pushed the button on top of the white sphere.

  “This white sphere was found in the Martian laboratory. However, as you can see, it’s a globe of our Moon, complete with all the usual craters. If you can look right here,” Chris pointed at a location and then looked back at the screen on the wall. An image of his enlarged finger on the globe was projected onto the screen.

  “That hole you see right there with the red circle around it, that is where we believe we’ll find the remains of a secondary Martian laboratory – one that may contain the missing information for us to produce the anti-cancer medication. Now, I’d like to show you a close up of that area in the red circle.”

  Chris turned around and the image on the screen was replaced with a high-definition image of what looked like a sinkhole in the Moon.

  “This hole that you see is what we call a lunar pit.”

  A reporter yelled out, “What’s a lunar pit?”

  Chris looked at the reporter and smiled.

  “That’s a great question. It’s almost like you and I practiced this beforehand.”

  The room let out a big laugh.

  Chris removed his glove as he explained.

  “The Moon is permeated with ancient lava tubes below the surface. Some of them were close to the surface and on rare occasions, they caved in. Perhaps a meteorite hit them and knocked the roof in. This image you see here was taken by NASA’s Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter, or LRO. As with all things in the heavens, it has a name. We believe the Martian laboratory is in the lunar pit called Mare Tranquillitatis.”

  “Where is that?” a reporter asked from the back of the room.

  “The Moon — I thought we covered this,” Chris answered sarcastically.

  “No, I mean where on the Moon.”

  “It’s about 200 miles, or 322 kilometers, northeast of the Apollo 11 landing site.”

  The reporter nodded his head and sat down.

  Chris took a drink of water.

  “As you can imagine, this sudden change in our agency’s plans is huge. We’ve shifted gears from going to Mars to going back to the Moon. Rest assured, we have a plan. In the past few days, NASA has extracted the last remaining viable Saturn V rocket from Houston and it is in transit to Florida where it will be updated.”

  A rumble went through the crowd.

  A reporter from the New York Times jumped up to say, “But that technology is ancient!”

  “Well, I like to use the term proven technology instead of ancient.”

  The audience laughed.

  “Those rockets took us to the Moon safely many times and, yes, I understand the Apollo 13 mission was the exception, but I should point out that even with that mishap, the Saturn rocket got our astronauts safely back to Earth.”

  “Who knows how to work on those?” the reporter asked again.

  “Good question,” Chris said. “We are currently scouring the nation looking for legacy employees who worked on the rockets during the Apollo program. So far we’ve contacted four hundred and many of them were happy to come back on board. Our time frame is four months.”

  A chorus of “What?” and “Impossible!” rang out from the press corps.

  Chris pointed out at the crowd with his index finger.

  “That short timeline is necessary. Each of you knows someone or several someone’s who have been affected by cancer from the fallout. We have strong evidence to believe that the cure for cancer is sitting in that lunar pit. Time is of the essence.”

  “How will you pay for it?” yelled another reporter.

  “We’ve moved all of the remaining Mars exploration budget over to the Lunar Mission budget. We also found some questionable contractual issues with the old Murch Motors contracts and we’ve performed a clawback on those payments — in fact, his former flight test engineer, Tommy Richtover, is under indictment. If all goes well, this mission is already funded. Believe me, getting to the Moon is much cheaper than Mars. Especially at this point with our space infrastructure in a mess.”

  “Okay, okay” a New York times reporter complained, “But who will go on this mission?”

  Chris smiled.

  “Well, we’ve already chosen a Mission Commander named Sally Monta and a Command Module Pilot named Tucker Rosedale. They’ve been selected out of the existing astronaut pool. I promise you they have been carefully vetted and are highly skilled. We were able to find the old Apollo simulators and have hauled those out to our training facility in Watsonville, California — if you remember, that’s where we built the Mars spacecraft simulation facilities.”

  “Surely, you’re updating the equipment?”

  “Absolutely,” Chris said. “We’re updating all the steam gages with modern glass cockpit displays. We’ll be updating all of the thrusters. The vehicle itself is going through a lot of hull pressure checks. The F-1 engines are being disassembled and rebuilt. Most importantly, we’re adding an external ring of small rocket engines for better steering control during launch.”

  “Can you elaborate?” a voice rang out from the back of the room.

  “Sure,” Chris said. “As you can imagine, flight controls have made huge advances in the last half century, so we’ve added a ring of smaller rocket engines surrounding the main set of five engines. These smaller engines can tilt inward and outward and will be used for more fine control of the rocket.”

  “What about the third?”

  “The third what?” Chris asked, genuinely confused.

  “The Apollo missions always had three astronauts, but you only mentioned two?”

  “Yes, we are currently searching for a qualified third crew member. He or she will be the Mission Pilot.”

  Chris looked over at Adam Alston who was sitting on the side of the stage. Adams eyes bulged wide open. He shook his head from side to side. He mouthed the message “No way.”

  Chris turned back toward the audience.

  “Thank you for the questions. As President Bexar said, all of our findings from the Martian laboratory will be published on the NASA website for you to look at — starting today. And we’ll issue regular updates on the Lunar Mission. Once again, time is of the essence.”

  Chris put the
acrylic box back on the Martian globe. Two armed guards came and picked it up, transporting it through the curtains off stage.

  Chris started walking toward Adam, but Adam got up and walked away. Just when Chris was getting upset, his cellphone beeped. The screen displayed: “This is your old friend in Arizona. Call me immediately.”

  Chris chuckled. He never expected to hear from Dmitri Stalov ever again. Chris wandered backstage and found a vacant room to sit in. He called the number back.

  It rang and rang.

  “Hello, Chris, I’m glad you got my message. I am panicking.”

  “Dmitri, I thought you shunned technology like cellphones,” Chris said with a laugh.

  “I do,” Dmitri answered. “I’m using the clerk’s cellphone here at the coffee shop. I just saw your press conference and had to call you immediately. You have to abandon your new ring of external rockets.”

  “Whoa, whoa, why?”

  “Do you know that my home country, the Soviet Union, tried a huge engine-cluster idea like that on their Moon rocket?”

  “You mean the M1 rocket?”

  “Close, it was called the N1. We built four of them to beat you guys to the Moon.”

  “And?”

  “And we had a huge cluster of thirty engines on the first stage alone. My estimates are that your current ring plan will add 25 engines to the Saturn V. Is that true?” Dmitri asked.

  “That’s actually right on. How did you —”

  “I’m a bit of a Saturn V aficionado,” Dmitri interrupted.

  “Well, how did that work out for you?” Adam asked.

  “On the N1? It caused the largest non-nuclear explosion ever created by mankind.”

  “I assume that was not the expected result,” Chris asked.

  “Of course not!” Dmitri hissed loudly into the phone, clearly upset.

  “Don’t worry, Dmitri. We’re going to throw together an engine-control computer to manage all of them.”

  There was silence from Dmitri.

  “Are you still there, Dmitri?”

  “We had an engine-control system called the KORD — it’s Russian, don’t worry, but it was meant to manage the engine throttling and positioning. Very advanced. We found out that a mixture of aerodynamics and just the expected failure rate on the engines caused massive problems on all four of our N1 rocket flights.”

  “How far did they get?”

  “We never got past the first stage. Those huge liquid-fueled engine clusters kept failing in unimaginable ways.”

  “You have my attention…” Chris said.

  Dmitri sighed.

  “Look, Chris, I just updated the Wikipedia page on the N1. Read it. Learn from their mistakes. Go with the standard Saturn V engine layout. It got you to the Moon many times.”

  Chris sensed that Dmitri was done.

  “Dmitri, thank you for calling.”

  “No problem. Please stop causing me panic attacks. Trust your gut. The Saturn V is the most amazing machine ever built by mankind.”

  Dmitri hung up.

  Chris bit his lip to think about the conversation. He dialed up his counterparts down in Fort Worth. When they answered, Chris said, “Hey guys, I need you to read about the N1 rocket that the Russians tried to launch to the Moon. Pay close attention to the huge engine-cluster problems.”

  Ten minutes later, a text arrived from Fort Worth: “Looks like managing the big liquid-fueled engine-clusters was a serious problem. Caused constant failures.”

  Chris sent a return text: “Okay, let’s kill that plan. Go with the standard setup. Get those F-1 engines rebuilt and cleaned up ASAP.”

  CHAPTER 70

  Tankovitch house

  Mount Olympus neighborhood

  Fort Worth, Texas

  Connie watched the entire press conference from the living room of Chris Tankovitch’s house. Up on stage she saw Chris and Adam interacting. It had been a long time since she’d seen them in the same room together.

  Cody and Catie sat on either side of her, watching the TV. They jumped up and down and clapped when their Dad stood up to speak.

  “I miss Daddy,” Catie cried. “When’s he coming home?”

  “I don’t know,” Connie said. “He’s been very busy.”

  She held their hands.

  “Let’s go for a ride.”

  She loaded the kids into the minivan, and drove east toward their old house. She exited at the Wanigas exit and drove through the winding spaghetti streets of their neighborhood. She pulled into the driveway and opened the garage door.

  Connie stepped inside the house and disabled the alarm system. Then she paused, somewhat reluctant to go back into the house with so many memories. The place had that smell you get only when returning from a long trip.

  This was the first time she’d been back since the attempted kidnapping. She was, in fact, returning to the scene of the crime. When she got to the living room, she halted at the image above the fireplace. It was their family portrait taken just before the Mars mission.

  Connie walked up to the portrait and saw a Post-it note tucked into the frame that simply said, “I miss you all so much. Call me sometime. Love, Adam.”

  She took the note.

  “Kids, let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER 71

  Jose T’s Mexican Food Restaurant

  Fort Worth, Texas

  “I’d like a Mexican Coke,” Chris told the waiter. The man wrote down his order and walked away.

  “What’s special about a Mexican Coke?” Adam asked.

  “It’s bottled in Mexico, but made with real cane sugar instead of corn syrup. It tastes great.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really drink soda anymore. My stomach can’t handle the acid.”

  Chris ignored Adam’s complaint and looked around. They were eating in an outside dining area, complete with palm trees, fans, and traditional Mexican music.

  “So how can I get you on that rocket to the Moon?”

  Adam rolled his eyes.

  “Chris, my flying days are over. Besides, why would you want me on that mission after how poorly the Mars mission went?”

  “Look Adam, Sally and Tucker are first-class astronauts. You’d be along for the ride. Besides, you are the most famous astronaut in the world right now. Our nation needs a boost of morale and having you on the mission will garner a lot of attention.”

  Adam didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he picked up his glass of water and sipped. He set it down, swirling the ice around.

  “Let’s get down to brass tacks here, Chris. Forget about this Lunar Mission. I want to see my family and Connie won’t answer her phone. I have to assume you are feeding her a line of garbage about me.”

  “You did it to yourself by talking all night with Wilhelmina.”

  Adam gave Chris the death stare.

  “You know her name was never made public…” Adam trailed off.

  “Oh,” Chris said, obviously realizing he’d been caught. “My mistake. Too bad that won’t make it better.”

  Their food arrived and the two men ate in silence. The tension was at maximum. Adam used his knife extra hard on the plate to make irritating screeching sounds. Each man occasionally checked his cellphone. Chris drank his entire bottle of Mexican Coke. Adam noticed Chris was dripping sweat.

  When they finished, Chris said “I’ve got the bill.” He left some cash on the table and stood up.

  “Adam, I want to show you something. Come with me.”

  The two men exited the restaurant and headed out to Chris Tankovitch’s car — he’d recently upgraded to a Cadillac CTS, befitting the director of NASA. They nearly fell down into the bucket seats and then headed down Main street. They drove in silence for ten minutes and pulled into the parking lot of the Clark Children’s Hospital.

  “Why are we here?” Adam asked.

  “I want to show you the cost of not going to the Moon.”

  “Chris, I think the Lunar Mission is absolutely criti
cal. However, it’s not critical that I be on that rocket.”

  “Just follow me,” Chris said, heading toward the hospital entrance.

  The two men walked into the front lobby and headed toward the pediatric oncology building. Formerly just a floor, it had expanded to an entire building after the explosion of cancer cases from the bomb fallout around the country. They spoke with the nurse at the front desk.

  “Oh you’re Adam Alston!” she yelled. “Hey everybody, Adam Alston is here!”

  Chris leaned in, “Captain Alston is here to visit some of the kids getting treatment.”

  Adam looked up at Chris incredulously. The nurse walked from around the counter and grabbed a face-shield and gloves. She put them on Adam and Chris.

  “These kids are going to get a kick out of seeing the Mars man,” she said with incredible enthusiasm.

  They walked into the first room in the hallway. A little girl laid on the bed. Her hair was very thin – Adam couldn’t quite guess her age, perhaps eight or nine. She looked up and smiled at Adam.

  “Captain Alston! My Dad took me to one of your speeches last month — it was before I got really sick.”

  “Oh, hi there…,” Adam looked at the dry-erase board to see her name, “Mindy. Thank you for coming to the speech. How are you?”

  Mindy looked confused.

  “I’m really sick,” the girl said, looking upset.

  The nurse piped up.

  “Mindy has brain cancer. It’s being treated with chemo right now. She’s one of the lucky ones here because it’s working.”

  Adam panicked. He’d never met a child with such a cruel illness before. He gave her a hug and wished her well. The nurse, Chris, and Adam walked out of the room and across the hallway to a room where a little boy was asleep.