Legacy (15 page)

“What in the hell is wrong with it?” Nathan finally found his voice at about the same time he regained control of his racing heart.

“He’s been knocked on his side, Flight,” the
John
remote team reported, as they started typing commands once again.

“Damn it! Give its camera arm a ninety degree turn. Now!” Nathan ordered.

A minute later the picture started to rotate. The view cleared and the camera pointed skyward with just the edge of the crater’s rim in the picture. They all stood and stared, unable to believe what they were seeing.

“This can’t be,” Nathan said.

“Pasadena, Houston, we have a three-hundred-times-power picture coming in from
Peregrine 1
. It should be coming up on your screen, over.”

“Roger, Houston,” Nathan said, leaning heavily against his console.

The room was completely silent as the view changed from the bright, almost blinding, picture of
George
to that of
Peregrine
flying over 180 miles above the lunar surface.

“What the hell did we dig up?” Nathan asked, turning and sitting heavily on his chair as he realized that the Peregrine mission was now finished for all time.

On the screen, the mushroom cloud expanded into a silent and energy-filled cloud that rose from the lunar landscape, snaking into the airless void of space before dissipating sixty miles up.

3

THE UNITED NATIONS, NEW YORK CITY

The emergency meeting of the Security Council unofficially started long before some of its members joined together inside their chamber.

The television cameras were shut down. The press was being kept in the dark by the Council membership. The arguments with the American ambassador had begun as soon he had stepped from his office thirty minutes before. The tirade had continued as he tried to make his way to the Security Council chambers. After finally reaching the Council doors, the American turned to one of his assistants and whispered something. At that moment, the ambassador from Great Britain slammed his palm on the podium. After receiving his instructions, the assistant turned and left the chamber.

“Gentlemen and ladies, we must conduct ourselves with a little more decorum,” the British head of the chamber called out. “The gentleman from the United States has a statement he wishes to be read into the record.”

Even more protests then erupted among the eight-member council.

“Tell me, sir, will the Russian Federation be able to question this so-called statement, or will this be a deniable dictate from the esteemed ambassador from the United States?”

“I’m sure he will try and answer any questions the Council has—”

“China echoes the request of the Russian Federation. We must be able to question this statement and have far more precise answers of what really happened on the Moon this morning. The introduction of nuclear material into outer space is unconscionable and will not be tolerated by the People’s Republic.”

The American ambassador sat stoically, waiting for the chamber to calm. The two protesters to his statement did not go unnoticed by the career diplomat. Neither of them had used their interpreter to state their displeasure.

The French ambassador lowered his head in deference to the American on his left. He said, “France must concur with the sentiments of our esteemed colleagues, although we are willing to hear the United States reasoning, or explanation if you will, for this very disturbing development.”

The small, bearded American diplomat had just been ambushed by the Frenchman. While guarding his closeness with the Americans on most items on the Security Council agenda, he was now stepping back and siding with China and Russia. He knew then that the French government was in the process of forming their own opinion. If Britain and Japan abandoned the United States, censure would be close behind.

“I have a brief note to read from the president of the United States. Although he is going to brief the country, and therefore the world, at six
P.M.
tonight, he wanted to send along a personal explanation to our friends around the world.”

“Very well. Read your statement, Mr. Ambassador,” the Englishman said as he gave the American the floor.

The ambassador didn’t stand up. He simply opened the folder in front of him and started reading. He refused to use the dramatic move of looking tense. He was calm and cool, just as the president had instructed through his secretary of state.

“Gentlemen, as you already know, an incident occurred on the surface of the Moon at 1133 hours this morning, Washington time. It was witnessed by many of you live. It would seem that an unstable, but wholly natural element detonated on the lunar surface. As this incident was accidental in nature, but instigated by our robotic instruments, the United States must therefore assume responsibility for the event and will immediately start the investigation into what exactly happened. I must stress to the member nations that this was a natural element and not a device of American origin. We are fully compliant as per the United Nations treaty of 1966 forbidding the introduction of nuclear material into outer space.”

The ambassador and every member of the Security Council knew this was a lie. The exploration spacecraft
Cassini
launched in 1997 had violated the treaty and almost ruined the reputation of the American space program. Its most staunch ally, Great Britain, dropped out of the project because of the nuclear reactor that would eventually be sent crashing through into Saturn’s atmosphere. The American therefore wouldn’t bring up the fact that the Chinese, Russians, and even the European Union had also violated the treaty.

“We again emphasize the fact that this detonation was accidental and was not caused by any material we introduced into the lunar environment.”

The American closed the folder in front of him and waited for the tirade to start in earnest. He didn’t have to wait long.

“I think an immediate vote to censure the United States is appropriate at this time,” the French ambassador said, with a sober nod to his American counterpart. There was an instant smattering of yeses from around the large table.

“The Russian ambassador would like to read a statement,” the distinguished British ambassador said, looking at his colleague from America with sad eyes.

The Russian stood and nodded to the Englishman, then faced the American ambassador directly.

“You take responsibility for the investigation upon the lunar surface, is this correct?” he asked.

“That was clear in the president’s statement to this body, I believe.”

“I see. And just how is the United States planning to conduct such an exhaustive endeavor, from the safety of this planet?”

“I have not been informed of the plan of action nor its timetable.”

“Mr. Vilnikov, is this a statement or a cross-examination?” asked the chairman.

“I’ll tell you how,” the Russian said as he looked at the faces watching him. “You will simply guess as to the cause, or more to the point, you will lie to the people of the world. Therefore I will state that my government has every intention of conducting its own investigation, not from the safe confines of the Earth, but directly from the surface of the Moon!”

The Russian ambassador closed his briefcase. He turned and left the chamber with his assistants trailing behind.

As the American watched, the Chinese ambassador stood, nodded his head, and he also left. The meeting broke up with every U.N. protocol broken. The American ambassador sat and looked at the tabletop.

“What’s happening?” one of his young assistants asked.

“I’ll tell you,” he said as he tapped his fingers on the folder that held the president’s statement. “They’re not doing this to investigate what happened on the Moon. They saw everything as clearly as we did. No, they’re going because there is something up there that makes our nuclear technology as obsolete as a biplane. I figure they have two agendas, and I’m not even a scientist. One, they are going to retrieve the weaponry that was uncovered in that crater, if it’s still there, and two, they want that material.”

“But the images of the weapon were not broadcast to the public,” his assistant said.

The ambassador shook his head, not even wanting to comment on how naive the young man was.

“Then what will we do?” the assistant asked, worry finally showing on his face.

“Nothing. We can’t even begin to start planning a return trip. We stripped NASA’s budget completely to the bone as far as the Moon is concerned.”

“What does that mean for the country?”

The ambassador stood and placed the president’s statement in his case and then turned and smiled sadly at his assistant.

“It means if everyone gets to that technology before we do and answers the questions concerning that mineral, the United States just may become a Third World nation.”

EVENT GROUP COMPLEX, NELLIS AIR FORCE BASE, NEVADA

Dr. Pete Golding watched the Astro-Sciences Division in frustration. They had invaded the Computer Center and were working frantically. Their assignment was to find out as much from the
Peregrine 1
mother craft, and from the last burst of data sent by
John,
as they could. The photos and strange paperwork absconded by Europa from NASA and JPL communications was spread out on the largest ten monitors at the Comp Center. The way Virginia Pollock and her hundred-person team were working the problem of finding out what they were dealing with on the Moon, Pete figured they would get nowhere quick.

Golding stood from his position in the observation seats arrayed in a semicircle high above the Computer Center floor. He was looking at the unusual language discovered on the plasticlike “paper” uncovered by the lunar rovers. He figured it would take Linguistics a full year even to figure out the alphabet of the alien tongue. The Chinese- and Cyrillic-looking characters had no rhyme or reason based on Pete’s limited expertise. He wandered from screen to screen, his eyes fixed on what appeared to be a star field. Perhaps it was a photograph, though if it was he didn’t immediately recognize the position of the stars. As his eyes roamed over the recovered material he saw another photograph taken from the Moon. He did see something familiar in this one. It was obviously Earth. He could see what looked like the west coast of North America, but that was as far as the recognition went. The rest of the globe was covered in clouds. Pete then looked more closely at the small un-detailed photo and corrected himself.

“Not regular clouds.” he mumbled under his breath. “Looks like steam, smoke, maybe even ash.” He stepped up to Virginia, who was busy arguing with a supervisor from Linguistics about the very problems Pete had thought about a moment before—the fact that they had little time to decipher the alien tongue.

Pete tapped Virginia on the shoulder and nodded his head toward an empty Europa terminal.

“Just take your linguistics team, Professor, and start trying to figure the common wordage of repeated phrases. You may have better luck in the short time we have,” she ordered, watching Pete for a moment before joining him.

“What is it, Pete?” she asked finally, stepping up to the desk and terminal.

“This,” he said, typing in a computer command. The small photo of Earth came up. It was only half a shot. He assumed the picture was taken during earthrise, when only half the globe is visible. “What do you make of these?” he said, pointing at the cloud cover.

“Clouds?” she asked, wondering if Pete was on the same level of observation as everyone else.

“I don’t think so. There’s no pattern to normal cloud cover. It looks like steam, smoke, maybe even ash. See the dark tinges embedded in the clouds and the way the center of some of them look deep and funnel-like?”

“Okay, I see it, but that could be moisture, maybe even a hurricane. Hell, Pete, it could be anything. Listen, we’re worried about the Moon at the moment, not Earth,” she said, her words trailing off as she leaned in closer to the flat screen monitor. She saw something she thought was familiar.

“I think it’s volcanic activity on a massive scale,” Pete said as he tapped the screen. “And look at this,” he added, typing in another command for Europa to execute. The picture of the strange-looking star field came up and Pete leaned back in his chair. “Looks familiar, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I’m not an astronomer,” Virginia said, once more looking at Pete. She realized he was right about the strange cloud pattern depicted in the photo.

“Look,” he said, pointing at a spot inside the same star field. “That’s Venus.”

“Okay, I’m not an astronomer, but I know enough to tell you you’re mad. It’s not in the right spot. I would say it’s about, oh, maybe a hundred, maybe even two hundred thousand miles from where it should be.”

“Nonetheless, it’s Venus.” Pete began to type and then thought better of it. He reached out and brought the terminal microphone closer to his mouth. “Europa, shut down all inquiries from other terminals and then act on the following requests only.”

“Yes, Dr. Golding—overriding system for singular use.”

As the sexy-voiced computer started shutting down all terminals across the board, they heard the complaints from everyone in the comp center as their stations shut down. With a withering look from Virginia, who still gave Pete Golding a lot of leeway when it came to playing hunches, the operators and her team quieted and watched Pete.