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

  As he waited, Adam saw Yeva grabbing at her helmet and panicking. Her blood had finally clogged the air valve and she couldn’t breathe.

  Adam stared at the microwave and yelled, “Come on!”

  Before it finished, he opened the microwave door and grabbed the mostly thawed bags of liquid steak and pushed over to the panel-covered hatch.

  “Crank up the pressure just a little bit for now,” Adam commanded. Yeva tried to comply while fighting her own emergency.

  He tore open the bag and some liquid steak floated away. He caulked a very uneven bead along where the blankets were squeezed between the panel and door frame. The liquid, pressurized from the air inside the spaceship, soaked into the blanket material and partially out the hatch where it froze instantly, creating a near perfect gasket between door edge and the panel cover. Adam quickly put another blanket over the door stack and applied even more of the food-based sealant along the seams between the metal doors.

  Yeva was still struggling for air.

  Adam let go of the empty steak bags and spun around. He jettisoned himself over to the environmental panel and cranked the pressure all the way up. No time to wait.

  “Yeva, it’s almost there!”

  The dial moved just barely into the green “safe” zone. Adam grabbed Yeva’s helmet and unlatched it. It popped off and floated away as she gasped for air. Deep, starving breaths.

  Adam removed his own helmet and looked around for towels to wipe the blood from Yeva’s face.

  “Yeva, you gave me quite a scare there.”

  The panels on the door gave off a loud creaking sound.

  Both astronauts stared at the door cover assembly.

  “Do you think it will hold?” Yeva asked.

  “I hope so,” Adam confessed. “Those panels are the only thing between us and Jesus.”

  The first order of business was to determine which systems were damaged and which systems were working. To minimize the air pressure on the makeshift door cover, Yeva kept the ship at around three quarters of typical cabin pressure. Unfortunately that meant upping the oxygen levels which was not the safest thing to do. A similar oxygen-rich atmosphere contributed to the deaths of all three Apollo 1 astronauts in 1967. Until Yeva and Adam could rely on the door cover, that’s what they felt safest doing.

  Adam inventoried the food and water supply. They started off this return mission with enough food and water for four people. During the violent escape and the sudden decompression, they lost half of their water supply. Since there was only half of the crew, this was a bit of luck. If they began to use more water than necessary, they could rely on the water vapor recovery system which kept the humidity at reasonable levels while at the same time extracting it into liquid drinkable form.

  The water vapor recovery system was dead. Yeva saw this during her examination of the ship’s systems. She noticed the walls had condensation on them. Since they were in zero gravity, the condensation didn’t drip from the walls. Instead, it just grew like a thick layer of goo along any metal parts.

  Adam tried to get the radio system working, but he knew it was pointless. The long-range antenna was gone, having fallen off during the turbulent ascent into orbit. They would be without communication until within about 300,000 miles from Earth. At that distance, the short-range antenna could start working for two-way communication.

  Their real worry was the propulsion system. Even with their luck on the food inventory, it would mean nothing if they couldn’t get the high-tech MM10 motors up and working. These brand new magneto-plasma dynamic rocket motors were the whole secret to this mission, giving them a constant push for the next 60 million miles. If all went well, they would be home in two months’ time. The return voyage was not as simple as the arrival voyage, leading to the extended timeline.

  Before kick-starting the return trip, the Little Turtle’s flight controls ran a series of system tests. The news was not promising.

  First, the small booster rocket that would accelerate them out of Mars orbit and into a home-bound trajectory was reporting that it only had enough fuel for seventy five percent the required burn time.

  Lastly, half of the miraculous MM10 rocket motors were not responding to the system tests at all. If the remaining half could be relied upon, that meant a voyage home that would take five to six months. These engines had not been tested to run continuously for that long. Adam and Yeva would be that test.

  Adam realized that they faced, at minimum, a four month trip in very uncomfortable conditions. Systems would begin failing due to condensation among other things.

  During a quiet moment, Adam realized that his hands were shaking.

  “Yeva, my hands and feet are going numb. I’m shaking uncontrollably.”

  Yeva stopped checking the environmental controls panel and floated over to Adam.

  “The air temperature is normal. You should be fine,” she assured him.

  “We have a four-month trip ahead of us and I’m not sure if we’ll make it.”

  Yeva wiped the sweat from her forehead.

  “Adam, I think what you are experiencing is an anxiety attack.”

  “No way,” he laughed with a rigid smile. “I’ve never had one.”

  Yeva smiled.

  “Well, you’ve never been trapped in a tin can sixty million miles from home facing an inevitable series of system failures and certain death.”

  Adam stared at Yeva as if he’d just been hit with a frying pan.

  “Good point,” he said.

  Yeva pushed herself over to the personal storage bin of their former fellow astronaut, Keller Murch. She dug around in there and pulled out a pill bottle. She moved her head back so she could read the small print.

  “How much do you weigh?” Yeva asked.

  “What?”

  “Forget it, I’ll just guess.”

  Yeva dug her fingers into the bottle, took a pill from it and floated over to Adam along with a bag of water.

  “Here, we will test my theory. Take this pill. Here’s some water,” Yeva explained like a nurse.

  “What is it?” Adam asked.

  “It’s from Doctor Feelgood,” Yeva laughed. “That is the American song, right?”

  Adam nodded his head.

  “How much of a supply did Keller have?” Adam asked.

  “That’s up to you. If you take it continuously, maybe two weeks. However, much longer if you just take it on an as-needed basis,” Yeva said. “For both of our sakes, I recommend taking it sparingly.”

  Within a few minutes, Adam stopped shaking.

  The astronauts had postponed the MM10 ignition phase until they could ascertain the damage to their systems. That that complete, it was time to leave Mars orbit.

  Adam started up the navigation program to return home. It went through the bit checks on all of the propulsion systems. The screen blinked, awaiting confirmation from the navigation engineer. In this case, that was Adam.

  He initiated the Mars-to-Earth trajectory injection process. What fuel remained in the traditional rockets was fed to the engines to get the Little Turtle up to the escape velocity.

  The acceleration was palpable. A shower of rain fell from every metal beam and raced through the floor grates, pooling in one main area. During the trip, Yeva would find herself scooping the water up and putting it into reservoir bags. It was a tedious process, but was necessary to keep some modicum of control on the humidity.

  After a tumultuous visit to the Red Planet, the Little Turtle finally left the orbit of Mars. The remaining Murch rocket motors powered on. With their gentle push activated, both crew members slowly floated down to the wall that would now be designated as the floor.

  Adam looked over at Yeva.

  “With any luck, the next stop is Earth.”

  “And a nice gentle stop, I hope,” Yeva said. “I am glad we are going home.”

  Adam looked away to glance at the navigation computer. Yeva winced and grabbed the right side of her abdomen.
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  CHAPTER 10

  Alston family home

  Fort Worth, Texas

  “When is Daddy coming home?” Catie asked. She was following her mom who was pacing back and forth in the kitchen.

  “Please, sweetheart, stop following me like that. You’re making me nervous,” Connie said sternly.

  A muffled ringing sound emanated from the living room. It was the first time she’d heard her cellphone ring since arriving home from Houston the previous month. Connie ran into the room screaming, “We’ve got signal! We’ve got signal!”

  She rummaged through her purse and pulled out the cellphone. The call was from Chris Tankovitch. Connie pushed the Answer button.

  “Hello!” she screamed into the telephone.

  “Connie? This is Chris.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Chris, please, tell me you’ve heard from my husband.”

  Chris paused a little too long.

  “Not yet, Connie, but we’re trying to get our systems back online.”

  “Same here, we haven’t had power in a month,” she lamented. “My neighbor has a generator that we’re using to charge up the cellphone, but the towers have been dead until, I guess, right now!”

  Connie suddenly noticed that both of her children were standing next to her, looking up forlornly, hoping the phone call was about their daddy.

  “Hold on, Chris.”

  Connie wandered out through the back door and into the yard to get some privacy. The kids tried to follow her, but she shooed them back in and closed the door.

  “Look Connie, the International Space Station is dead. We can’t use the high-bandwidth antenna on it anymore. In fact, the damn thing is probably going to re-enter the atmosphere sometime in the next month or so.”

  Connie wandered off the patio and into the grass, the phone plastered to her head.

  “Okay, but there must be another way to talk to them, right?”

  “Connie, we’re working on it. The infrastructure here at NASA Johnson has been devastated. We don’t know how long it will take to fix everything. For the sake of the Mars crew, we’re considering moving all of our remaining resources north immediately — closer to you in fact.”

  “Just tell me I’ll hear from my husband again. Tell me that my kids will see their Daddy again.”

  Silence.

  “Connie. I am your friend and I won’t lie to you. If they followed protocol, they likely left Mars and are heading home right now. When we get a line of communication up and working, we’ll try to contact them. As of right now, there’s no reason to believe they are in harm’s way. If we can’t re-establish communication, well, that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get to it. We’re doing everything we can.”

  “Okay, Chris, I trust you. But I need you to keep me informed.”

  “I’ll call you every week, okay? Now how are the kids holding up.”

  “Well, they want to see their dad badly. We miss him so much right now. We’re not getting much news. It’s just, well, scary. Some radio stations are back up. One of the guys at church is a ham radio operator and he’s getting some scary information about Europe and China.”

  “I know, Connie. Call me if you want to talk, okay? It’s a terrible time right now – let me be a shoulder for you to lean on.”

  After his last words, Connie heard him cover the phone and mumble something to somebody nearby. Then he got back on the phone.

  “I was just reminded, I’m driving up to DC next week to get grilled by Congress. They’re meeting at some temporary facility west of DC from now on until they clean up the damage there. Mind if I stop by your house on the way?”

  “Sure, Chris. It’d be good to see a familiar face from NASA.”

  “Okay, see you then. Hang in there kiddo.”

  Connie turned off her phone to save power. She sat down on one of the kids swings and swung back and forth using one foot, all the while crying quietly to herself.

  The next week arrived with Chris driving into Fort Worth in his black Ford land yacht. He stopped by the Alston house, but Connie wasn’t there. He left a note on the door to let her know that she wasn’t all alone – she had a friend.

  Chris left her house and drove to the west side of town to inspect a dormant fighter aircraft factory. NASA was considering it for the new Manned Spaceflight Center while Houston was rebuilding. The facility was huge with a lot of manufacturing space and a lot of cube farms for engineers.

  After finishing the tour, Chris stood under the American flag outside the front lobby and shook the facility manager’s hand. “Expect a call from my Houston counterpart tomorrow. We’d like to start moving people and equipment up here as soon as possible.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Tankovitch,” the manager said, clearly happy to finally have a tenant.

  Chris’s next planned stop was Washington, DC. He eased his giant sedan out of the parking lot.

  What really caught his eye was the oddly placed mesa just west of town. Perched on top was a gated community with some of the largest homes he’d ever seen – the grand structures on the mesa-like hill reminded him of Mount Olympus. These homes were meant to be seen, the polar opposite of inconspicuous.

  As Chris began his long drive to Washington DC, he got one final glimpse at the mesa in his rear-view mirror.

  Some day, he thought to himself. Some day.

  CHAPTER 11

  Interstate 81

  Rural Virginia

  In his youth, Chris always dreamed of a rag-tag driving adventure across America. This wasn’t it, but he was trying to make it memorable by taking the scenic route – that meant avoiding all the cities that had been bombed. It’d been two days since he left Texas and so far he’d made it to the rural parts of western Virginia. He was scheduled to testify in front of Congress tomorrow. His large Ford sedan cruised along the nearly empty roads.

  The cellphone reception was very spotty, with substations just recently coming back online in the big cities. The constant roaming kept killing his battery, so he kept it plugged into the charger during the entire drive. However, here in the middle of nowhere, a call made its way through.

  The familiar old-time phone ringtone screamed out. He looked down, hoping to see a call from Connie. He didn’t recognize the number.

  Chris picked up the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Yes, is this Mr. Tankovitch?” asked the friendly woman at the other end of the line.

  “Well… that depends,” Chris said with a grimace.

  “This is the switchboard operator at the new White House. I have a call from President Jennings.”

  “Oh, then yes, this is Chris Tankovitch.”

  “Please hold.”

  Chris heard saxophone music playing. It was intermittently hit with static. His phone was losing bars. As he made it around a particularly tall mountain, his bars rose again.

  “Chris?” a gruff voice asked.

  “Yes, Mr. President, this is Chris.”

  “Great. Long time no talk.”

  “It’s only been two days, sir.”

  “Whatever. Look, we need to talk before you get in front of Congress tomorrow.”

  “I’m all ears, DJ.”

  Silence followed as the president showed his disdain for the nickname they used when both attended college together in the late 1980’s.

  “We’ve talked about using that nickname…”

  Chris cut him off.

  “Look, we’re far beyond niceties now, DJ. What are you calling about?”

  “I’ve decided to fire you. I know we’re old college friends, so it’s nothing personal. The surviving media is on a witch hunt and I need to throw them a bone and,” he paused. “Chris, you are the bone.”

  “I don’t unders…,” Chris trailed off.

  “Anyway, I wanted you to know about it before you got here to DC. Where are you anyways?”

  “I’m in western Virginia,” Chris said, his mind entering a stat
e of numbness.

  The president covered the phone and mumbled something to somebody nearby. Then he uncovered it.

  “Okay, whatever. There is one more thing. You’ve been a good public servant. I don’t want you to lose your federal employee benefits.”

  He took a deep breath and continued, “I’ve talked with your replacement…”

  “Wait, what? Who’s my replacement?” Chris asked with an angry tone.

  “Forget about that, you’ll find out when the press release goes out this afternoon.” The president sounded irritated now, “Like I was saying, I spoke with your replacement and he has a job for you lined up in Fort Worth at the new Manned Spaceflight Center – that’s a go, by the way, we’ve just approved funding for the new center there.”

  Chris saw his dignity flushing down the toilet. However, he was somewhat relieved that he’d still be working in the astronautics division.

  “Full benefits?” Chris asked.

  “Retirement, vacation and most importantly health insurance. We’ll take care of you, you know, if you take care of us during the Congressional testimony.”

  “You want me to lie?”

  “No, I want you to tell the truth. You know… my truth.”

  Chris rolled his eyes.

  “Full benefits?” Chris asked again.

  “Yes. Full,” the president confirmed.

  Chris thought about his options.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Chris ended the call and exited at the nearest off-ramp. He pulled into the gravel parking lot of a roadside diner, bypassing the boarded-up McDonalds. The large chains hadn’t recovered yet due to the total loss of communications which upset their logistics. Chris pulled into the gravel parking lot and walked into a dark diner.

  “Be right with ya!” a woman’s voice yelled from the kitchen.

  “You got power?” Chris asked, standing just inside.

  “Sure do, hon. We got the lights off to save the generator.”

  Chris walked to the first booth and sat down slowly. His knees creaked and popped. Clanking dishes and gushing water sounds emanated from the kitchen. An older woman came through the spring-loaded door. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. She pulled out her order pad, pen, and then formed an on-demand smile.