Star of Fire 火星 Mars Space People

Chapter 20. Russian Cowboys

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Chapter 20. Russian Cowboys

The two highly instrumented Mikoyan MiG-31s approached the Austrian border, accompanied by electronic emissions-monitoring Sukhoi Su-27s (two-manned sise-by-side Su-34 variant). The exercise was simple – rush the border, activate the defensive radar systems across the border and see what radar signatures arose from the interceptors checkmating the Russians. Major Anatoly Malenko cruised [sauntered] along at a speed which would be considered dangerously slow in a combat situation but which conserved his fuel supply. His wingman, Captain Sergei Markachev, had been with him in Chechnya and the pair trusted each other with their lives. Maybe this would be their final Kamikaze mission. The two MiGs separated from the monitoring Su-27 fighters and flew parallel to the border, slowly drifting towards Austria. Ivan Andreyev, the weapons officer in the lead Su-27 monitored his data display and weapons stores. The data feeds to the threat display showed commercial activity but not the telltale high-speed formations of two or four fighter aircraft. The Italian Boeing KC-767 airborne refueler was beyond their radar and infrared sensors, about 320 miles away, working its way towards the Middle East. Airborne refuelers and transports were considered non-combatant and allowed to transit through Austrian airspace. This refueler aircraft was the type of target that the MiG-31 had been designed for - soft support targets deep behind the frontal danger zone. The ill-equipped Austrian Air Force tried to monitor the American flights over their territory, but was subjected to continuous violations enabled by the various blatant dodges used by the Americans.
Using hand signals Anatoly pointed out the Lufthansa 747 above them.
Yuri answered with a thumbs-up.
Anatoly radioed his wingman in the clear, “Tiger 2, I’m having an electrical problem. Drop back to the other two fighters while I troubleshoot the system. Out.”
The response came back, “Negative, Tiger 1, I never leave a point man or a wing man alone. Out.”
Since you’re going on a fox hunt, I’ll cover your ass… Besides I wouldn’t miss this for all the vodka in Siberia. Life had been boring lately.
Anatoly increased the thrust from the big engines and pointed the MiG almost vertical. He slowly rolled 360° scanning the horizon, dropping in behind the big Lufthansa B-747 airliner. Captain Markachev tucked in behind him. The commercial navigation database said that this airway would place them 110 kilometers behind the refueler, 1000 feet above the airway the refueler was assigned. Anatoly didn’t need to see any of the symbology on the navigation displays to know the combat situation – he had flown this mission dozens of times in his day and nocturnal dreams. Adrenalin cleared Anatoly’s vision and mind. The traffic was heavier in Austria and they couldn’t avoid being seen by civilian radar or visually by other pilots when they left the anonymity of being in the big Boeing 747’s wake.

Tally-ho

Anatoly started a descending turn, which would overshoot the intersecting airway a little resulting in a flight path parallel to the airway a kilometer away from the airway centerline. Anatoly feed his anticipated flight path into the flight director, but flew the fighter manually, without coupling the flight director to the autopilot. The two fighters flew about 100 meters too high for the flight level. Pushing closer to the sound barrier than the jumbo jets could cruise, the fighters passed twelve airliners before seeing the American tanker. The Americans were up to their old tricks – the tanker was refueling two large aircraft at a lower level in the open space between the airways.
“Tiger 2, I hate to be a killjoy but maybe you can avoid some of the blame if I take all the shots. You look out for the Austrians.”
Anatoly switched his radar from passive to active and obtained a targeting lock-on to the last American aircraft. His weapons weren’t armed but the lock-on would raise hell with the American aircrafts’ electronic warfare sensors. A billion dollar bingo! The aircraft were Northrop B-2 stealth bombers. Unofficially named the Spirit, the Voron (Raven in Russian) had no official name. The closest B-2 pilot pulled out of the formation and rolled to the right, diving for the deck. The first B-2 was still connected to the refueler taking a little drink of jet fuel. Anatoly locked onto the first B-2 with his gun cameras still rolling. The pilot of the last B-2 was oblivious to the MiGs as the pilot of the distant B-2 came over the international emergency frequency in the clear, “Fox 1, bandits, decouple and break away.” By then Anatoly was alongside the second billion-dollar stealth bomber. When the B-2 First Officer looked sideward towards the MiG, Anatoly gave him a tip of the cap two-finger salute. The B-2 pilot had probably had his last coffee in Missouri and was functioning by chemical propulsion.
“Tiger 2, tuck in above me in a trailing, inverted position. I want the pictures to be good.”
And the photos were excellent. The boom operator or boomer in the tanker was snapping pictures as fast as she could, ignoring the fact that she should have decoupled the fuel probe. The Russian fighters flew ahead of the Americans, increasing their speed from the slow refueling speed of the Americans. Returning to a normal combat formation, the MiGs stepped up a few flight levels on the airways as the airwaves came alive with reports of UFOs and renegade American fighters. If the Russians broke for extreme altitude it would confirm that they were fighters. The Russians slowed down a little to let an Airbus A-320 nearing the airway intersection pass in front of them; then they tucked in behind the airliner. The MiGs returned to polish airspace without further incident.
Anatoly adjusted the frequency on his transceiver and paged the Su-29s, “Dragon 1, this is Tiger 1. Where are you guys? Out.”
“Hello Tiger 1, Dragon 1 here,” was the response from the first Su-27.
The two MiGs popped up to 50,000 feet and headed towards the Su-27s. “Dragon 1, Tiger 1, nothing to report. Do you have any activity? Out.” They had been out of contact for two hours.
“Dragon 1, Italy beat Argentina in the soccer game this afternoon,” came back the sarcastic reply. “We’re breaking off to return to our base. See you in hell. Dragon 1, out,” was the final transmission.

Damage Control

As Anatoly walked into Operations to complete his paperwork the Officer of the Day told him that General Kravenko wanted to see him. He reported immediately to his old friend and boss. The general was studying the preliminary reports on the incursion. The mission was an unexpected success – radar systems that should only have been turned on during a real conflict had been triggered to life. The Russian elint collection assets were caught unaware by the unexpected deluge of electronic intelligence from the eastern NATO countries, limiting the data that could be collected.
The transmittal from Secretary Litrokin contained a single word, “Brilliant!”
“Stand at ease, Anatoly. Can you explain to me what you’ve been up to?” asked the general.
Anatoly stated the obvious arguments that he was upset by the failure of the new I-34 fighter to be funded and that he wanted to dramatize the need for new Russian aircraft with the Duma. A large explosion shook the building. “What the hell was that?” asked Anatoly.
The general said quietly, “Your aircraft blowing up.”
Anatoly stood up. “You blew up my MiG?” he stammered.
“Oh sit down, my friend,” said the general, thinking about how much Russia would need Anatoly in a conflict with the West. “I blew up the pieces of Miki’s MiG that we trucked back from the Ukraine. But you’re still dead. You, my best pilot, had a mental breakdown caused by your combat experiences and the loss of your friends over the years. After your attempt to shoot down some American aircraft we had to shoot you down when you threatened to bomb the Kremlin. I’ll shoot you myself if the orders come down to execute you just to save you the humiliation of a firing squad. Off the record, I think the Americans and our politicians need a kick in the ass. For now, you’re confined to my apartment on the twelfth floor. Dismissed.”
Anatoly snapped to attention, saluted, performed an about face and left the room. Anatoly thought, I probably won’t get a reprimand for not completing the paperwork for my last mission.
The weeks went by without a summons to General Kravenko’s office. Finally, a sergeant from Space Command appeared with orders for a Captain Sevenkov to report to Kaikonur, Kazakhstan for duty as a Supply Officer. I’d have been better off facing a firing squad. Anatoly followed his orders to obtain new uniforms and boarded an Ilusyin-76 to fly into exile.
Anatoly threw himself into the task of being a supply officer at Russia’s launch site at the Kaikonur Cosmodrome. The trivia of the job was mind-bending – rifles, uniforms, helmets, food, fabrication fixtures and space gear. The occasional launch was the only break in routine. The Progress supply ships and Soyuz were the most interesting spacecrafts. As an insignificant officer, Anatoly quickly tapped into the rumor mill at the various drinking places.
The foreign passengers were a strange and diverse lot. Anatoly got to know most of the Russian cosmonauts and flight engineers personally. His old pilot friends weren’t the only people dreaming of the glory days of the Cold War – the Russian space program had seen better days.

Star City, Moscow 1996

Star City, Zvezdograd, is the village northwest of Moscow where the Russian cosmonauts live. Star City contains the Gagarin Cosmonaut Training center (GCTC), which employs about 10,000 people. The escort policeman from the political commissar’s office knocked on the door of General Kravenko’s office. Anatoly wondered how his old boss would receive him. The door swung open and the general jumped through it, smothering Anatoly with a (Russian) bear hug. “My dear friend, it’s so good to see you,” was his initial greeting.
The general turned and walked Anatoly back into his office, his arm around Anatoly’s shoulder. Secretary Vasily Litrokin of Military Security was standing at the general’s desk, a large drinking glass full of vodka buried in his enormous fist. Vasi seemed somewhat amused and wasn’t in character – security people never smiled outside of their own circle.
“Vasi, this is my friend Anatoly, whom I’ve told you about. Anatoly, Secretary Litrokin.” Vasi offered his hand and Anatoly accepted it.
“Pleased to meet you, General Secretary,” he replied, a little insecure with somebody of the secretary’s rank and from military security to boot.
“Please, call me Vasi. We’re all on the same side here,” said Litrokin.
Nikolai pulled a frosted water glass out of his miniature refrigerator and poured Anatoly a glass of vodka from his two-liter bottle. Nicolai raised his glass and toasted, “To the Americans.”
All three drank a deep draught and their eyes met again, now a little bit more glazed. Nikolai and Vasi were in good humor and had obviously started drinking without him.
Nicolai jumped right to the purpose of the meeting. “You’re still a non-person but I managed to promote you and restore your pay and privileges. How would you like to fly again for the glory of Russia?”
Anatoly looked at his old commander trying to see if this was a cruel joke. The general smiled even more at his friend’s discomfit. “I’ve seen the movie. Do I go to Dreamland or Mars to get this aircraft?”
Vasi gasped a laugh, which launched some of his unswallowed drink into the open air. Nicolai and Vasi were laughing so hard that they had to support each other. “Anatoly, my dear friend, I’m so glad I didn’t have to shoot you. Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren this story,” said the general as he sat down.
Vasi refilled his tumbler and sat down. Nicolai signaled Anatoly to join them, splashing a slug of vodka in Anatoly’s tumbler. The men continued to make small talk. Vasi obviously wanted to know the details of the Austrian incursion, straight from the horse’s mouth. There were no further details on his tentative new assignment. Anatoly was told to quietly enjoy Moscow but not to return to his home or his old base and its watering holes. He would be flown to the Black Sea with his mother who would have to promise not to tell anybody that she had seen her son. He was to relax, exercise and report to work in two weeks. Vasi gave Anatoly a small paper bag that was folded shut. Anatoly could see that the bag was from the gift shop at the NASA museum in Houston. Vasi told Anatoly to open it when he had the time. Somehow Anatoly had passed Vasi’s evaluation.
Nikolai looked at the clock and chugged his drink. Putting the vodka bottle away in the refrigerator he said, “Drink up, gentlemen. Happy Hour.” He went to retrieve his dress military jacket as Vasi and Anatoly emptied their glasses. The party of three went to the elevator, which slowly filled up with secretaries, officers and politicians as it ascended to the heavens. The group emerged into a large well-lit room where everybody was drinking and laughing.
The bartender was beautiful and fit but as prim as a soldier preparing for a formal inspection. The three men ended up at a window after getting some vodka at the open bar. The tempo of the schmoozing increased. Newcomers were introduced to both Vasi and Anatoly. Vasi became the center of attraction because of his rank and Nicolai relished his role as Vasi’s host. Feeling left out, Anatoly drifted to a chair facing a window, which looked down on Moscow. He was only sitting for minutes when Vasi came over to him with his boss, Senator Sitrov. Anatoly jumped to his feet and almost threw up from the senator’s vodka breath. The polar bear-sized senator embraced Anatoly with a fatherly hug. Sitrov was squeezing Anatoly so hard that Anatoly couldn’t breathe. The senator stepped back looking like a father admiring his favorite son before his first day at school. He winked at Anatoly. “We’re depending on you. If you have any personal problems at all, call Vasi for help. You have the full support of my office so that you can concentrate on our little trip,” he said with a double wink.
Vasi was holding up his boss. The senator grabbed Anatoly’s hand and pumped it until Vasi tore him away from Anatoly. Vasi retreated to a private room with his boss. Still feeling out of his element, Anatoly sat down quietly in a chair as the street lights started to twinkle along the boulevards of Moscow. He opened up the paper bag that Vasi had given him. The bag contained three cheap windshield stickers, two of the American B-2s and one of an American KC-767 refueler. The young bartender from the bar walked up to him.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, as she poured some of the vodka from her full glass until both glasses were about two thirds full.
“Have a seat,” he said absent-mindedly.
“Are you a friend of the senator,” she asked.
“No, I work for him,” said Anatoly.
She smiled her approval, offering her hand. “Natoshi Menalov. I work in state security.”
Perfect, he thought with sarcasm, young, beautiful, intelligent and patriotic. With considerable effort, Anatoly shrugged off his weariness and turned on the smile he had almost forgotten that he had. Maybe I’ll get another decal for my MiG, he thought. A pessimist by nature, he dared to entertain the thought that things might be getting better.

Kaikonur, Kazakhstan 1999

Captain Sergei Markachev was waiting for him at the terminal in Kaikonur. “What the hell are you doing here?” was all Anatoly could come up with to greet his old pilot friend.
“I came here to see you, my dear friend,” replied Sergei.
“Have you been exiled here, too?” Anatoly hugged Sergei. “I thought you’d be dead or in Siberia by now.”
“Why should I be?” asked Sergei. “I got a medal for shooting you down in Moscow.”
Catching the Americans red-handed had embarrassed the Americans (as well as the Austrians) and the whole affair had been swept under the diplomatic rug. The Americans, for their part, didn’t want to be distracted from their war on terrorism by the usual Russian shenanigans. Anatoly become a hero to the Russian (and American) fighter pilot underground. One version of the legend had the intercept occurring over Strasbourg, France, involving French Mirages.
“Okay, but what are you – what are we doing here?” asked Anatoly.
“We can’t talk here. I’m your backup for some space research project at Star City. Get your clothes. I have a jeep in the parking lot.” Sergei didn’t know much more about their assignment than Anatoly did.
“Will we be able to fly our MiGs?” asked Anatoly.
“No, I think we’ve seen our last MiG,” answered Sergei. This was disappointing news that tempered Anatoly’s euphoria in joining Sergei. “And our last vodka as well,” added Sergei.
Would sex be banned next?

Pravda

Sergei and Anatoly were isolated in a mobile command vehicle in a large equipment parking area. The interior had been outfitted with computers, communication equipment including amateur radio gear and life support equipment. The trailer could simulate isolation on a Mars-like environment and they trained alone, endlessly, on the equipment. Trainers came and went, as did the supply trucks. Food was plentiful but vodka was absent.
Hot food was brought to the trailer late in the afternoon. Sergei realized that it was Friday and they would be left alone again for the weekend. He finally managed to get the driver to sell them a few bottles of vodka. The two men ate the hot meal and drank the vodka in silence. Sergei got the chess board out. The parking lot was deserted with only a few security lights on. They could see a building with flashing lights less than a kilometer distant from the perimeter chain link fence. General Kravenko would expect his men to show some initiative.
Sergei and Anatoly put on their light summer jackets and boots, flimsy protection against the rapidly dropping outside temperature. Releasing the parking brake on the trailer, they pushed the trailer back against the chain link fence. Climbing the ladder on the side of the vehicle they quickly accessed the antenna-laden roof of the trailer. It was easy to see from the roof of the trailer that the distant building was a restaurant or bar. Time to attack. Sergei jumped first and sunk up to his knees in the heavy snow. Anatoly made a bad landing after clearing the fence but scrambled quickly to his feet. The men started their tedious trip towards the lights, one step after another.
The flashing neon sign revealed that the restaurant was the Pravda, obviously an oasis for unsuccessfully “de-Ba’athified” communists. They cautiously entered the military bar and Anatoly’s former buddies in the supply corps yelled to him. Anatoly and Sergei were about two hours late for the party but they did their best to catch up. Anatoly’s former colleagues didn’t ask about his sudden departure – they felt they were good judges of character and Anatoly was a member of their group. Sergei was welcome as Anatoly’s friend.

Alley Oop

Sergei woke Anatoly up when the bar was closing. Anatoly had nodded off – obviously he was out of shape, as far as drinking vodka was concerned. The perimeter road came within 50 meters of the chain link fence surrounding the training compound. His comrades stopped their van and the group sludged their way through the snow to the fence, drinking vodka. They were about 500 meters from the command vehicle but most of the parking area inside the fence was plowed. The men grabbed Sergei and after a few swings to coordinate their cadence Sergei was launched over the fence to land in the snow pushed up against the far side of the fence. Sergei slid down the bank and one of the men threw two unopened bottles of vodka to him. Anatoly impacted the barbed wire along the top of the fence and thudded back to the ground on the near side of the fence. He had a cut on his forehead and one on his palm. The men grabbed him again and he cleared the fence by a full eighteen inches on the second attempt. Sergei grabbed Anatoly’s feet and pulled him down the snow bank. Anatoly slowly got to his feet and waved to his friends to show them that he was okay. Their friends started wading towards the road and their van as Anatoly and Sergei headed for the warmth of the trailer.

Chapter 21. Made in America

Zhou was impressed with the improvements to the new pressurized rover that would be included in the latest version of the ERV. He hoped the Americans hadn’t recorded the mileage on the odometer; he wanted to have his people get some experience with it, being careful not to break anything in the comparatively high gravity of the Earth’s surface. There were many improvements beyond those suggested by his engineers and the crewmembers on Mars. The terrain on Mars was rougher than had been hoped for and Mars was still largely unexplored. The large pressurized rover would allow longer overnight expeditions. The two electrolyzing units bought with Phillip’s help had been integrated with the ERV’s power systems and would allow replacing most of the six tons of reactant hydrogen with other equipment including biotechnical instrumentation and a large inflatable greenhouse. The Russian technicians would have to be fooled into believing that they were helping the Chinese to top off six tons of liquid hydrogen. Technically he was complying with the requirement to provide six tons of hydrogen on Mars. The cages for the fish, mice, rabbits and chickens were heavy but necessary. Fresh food for everybody was a necessity for his flight crews.
Zhou wanted to include a young girl with the two older girls. The American astronauts would be ready for retirement after a few years on Mars. The longer his people stayed on Mars the better. And why waste over a year of weightlessness in space? He wanted the zero g and EVA training to be improved. Hibernation for six months both ways was unthinkable and wasteful. Near space and lunar exploration and exploitation was still the official Chinese position. More problematic was the sparse communication with his people on Mars. A larger antenna would increase the rate that the information being accumulated on Mars could be transferred to Shanghai. The data would be invaluable if it could be evaluated on Earth.
Now the Russians wanted to receive some training in the Grasshopper for two of their cosmonauts. He didn’t see where the additional Russian funding would be worth interrupting his own training. He considered four of the older girls and two of the younger girls as ready for space. The pressure suits for the younger girls were not as mature and reliable as he wanted. The suits could not be tailor-made since the girls were growing. The inflated suits were fatiguing to wear compared to the jointed adult bio-suits. Giving the extended workload he was scheduling for Mars and transit, he would have to provide an extra suit for the young crewmembers as well as Mong and Charon. There were inflatable suits for the women but they would only be used for backup. Weightlessness and EVAs would, as usual, have to be on-the-job training.

America’s Deep Space Network

America’s tracking and data relay system (TDRS) for worldwide communication with the space shuttles followed Arthur C. Clarke’s concept of geosynchronous satellites spaced roughly at 120˚. Problems at launch and technical difficulties delayed implementation of the constellation, which eventually were placed with two at each station for redundancy.
The Jet Propulsion Laboratory’s control room runs America’s Deep Space Network (DSN). Three large radar dishes are located in Goldstone, California; Madrid, Spain; and Canberra, Australia. The Very Large Array (VLA) near Magdalena, New Mexico could double the data received from deep space probes. Data from the new dishes scattered around the United States and the world, could be added to the VLA data by supercomputers.
China had established a Telemetry, Tracking and Command (TT&C) network to support its near-earth programs. Unfortunately for the Chinese flight crew on Mars, the emphasis had been on military capabilities and in revenue-producing commercial satellite ventures. Any upgrades to improve communications with his people on Mars would be years in coming. Zhou would be happy when China had its own independent constellation of navigation satellites – dependence on the American GPS and Russian GLONASS or even the partially launched European Galileo constellation would be unacceptable during hostilities.

Talk, Talk, Fight

General Zhou knew that the Russian demand to allow a Russian cosmonaut on the Blue Jay would have to be complied with or they would sabotage the Chinese arrangement with the Americans. It became a deal of negotiating with the Russians to get a technology transfer of some of the space technologies that the Chinese needed. The Chinese hadn’t been able to get American or Russian rocket engines because of their dual use in missiles. His people also needed access to Russian expertise and assets in space communications. The Soviets had abruptly terminated the thirty-year New Defense Technical Accord in August 1960 because of Mao’s saber rattling, ending the transfer of Russian rocket and nuclear technology. The arrogance of the Bush II administration eventually encouraged the Chinese and Russians to have joint military maneuvers. Zhou reflected that the present regime couldn’t control mentioning their Dongfeng ICBMs every time the Americans pressured them on human rights, floating their currency or Taiwan. Premier Hu Jintao shot down a dormant communications satellite for shits and giggles.
Zhou thought that he could expect to get some better rocket engines for his Grasshoppers, which would be considered to be trainers by the Americans, as well as access to superior Russian communications. Perhaps he could obtain a closed life support system or one of the turbine auxiliary power units. More problematic, the lack of communications with his people on Mars had diminished the usefulness of the data from Mars. He would have to share some of his information with the Russians. He did have some cards to play – as the Russians knew, his people had walked on Mars.

Gladiator Status

The American astronauts became celebrities and achieved the status of heroes as soon as they were selected; the Russian cosmonauts only became known to the public after they had been in space. Anatoly was allowed a week to visit his mother and his mentor, General Kravenko. Anatoly wondered if Natoshi would be upstairs at the bar. Of course, she was – thanks to General Kravenko.
Anatoly was ordered to spend 5 days relaxing with his mother at the Socha resort spa on the Black Sea.

Chapter 22. The Birds and the Bees

General Zhou called Captain Wu to discuss what to do about a man being on the Blue Jay. He wanted her to call a meeting of twenty of his top female officers to discuss the problem. The more people who knew about Mars the more the likelihood that the information would get out. Should the six-year old Qian still be included if the crew included a man who was a foreigner to boot? He would address the women, introduce the three women involved in the flight and then leave. Zhou demanded a written recommendation in three days. He also had to find out what Sharon and Vivian thought, but didn’t think they really had much to say in this decision, except to refuse to go. The way he had trained his people, it was his obligation to protect them – peer pressure and their intense motivation hardly gave them a choice. Now what was the name of the American commander who had turned down the Mars mission because of his children?
The meeting and discussions were loud and resulted in no consensus.

Dad meets Suitor

General Zhou took Anatoly to a spacious, non-descript office which had a large Martian globe prominently placed in its open area. Small desks, chairs and tables were scattered around the room, which boasted two picture windows. The room was Spartan and worn, reflecting a complete lack of vanity. There was one PC in the room on a corner desk. The PC had a 17-inch flat-panel monitor as well as a 46-inch high-definition monitor and high-fidelity speakers, a desktop laser printer and toy flight controls. The back wall consisted of built-in bookcases, completely filled with books. Anatoly noticed a small table just inside the door covered with about thirty technical books.
Zhou pulled two chairs in front of his desk and indicated to Anatoly that he sit on one. Then he walked over to a bookcase, retrieved another chair and placed it next to the empty chair. Zhou had spent hours with Anatoly’s papers – a MiG fighter jock, no interest in politics, unmarried with a widowed mother. What a cardboard figure! What had the Russian’s superiors seen that he couldn’t see? The Russians had accepted the condition that his women would have command authority. How well would this agreement hold up in deep space?
Reaching into his side drawer he pulled out a tumbler made of Mexican crystal for Anatoly and a large European lead crystal wine glass for himself. Then he opened the German mini-refrigerator by his desk and removed a liter bottle of vodka for Sergei and a liter bottle of white French wine for himself. Ah, thought Anatoly, the inscrutable general finds me inscrutable. The situation looked like the start of a lengthy interrogation to Anatoly. Anybody else will be a pussycat after General Kravensky. Zhou joked about misplacing his cork-remover. He found the cork-remover in his top drawer, opened the wine bottle and poured a full glass of wine. Only then did Anatoly open the bottle of vodka, smell its aroma and pour himself a full glass of vodka. When in Rome, thought Anatoly. The use of a glass just produced one more dirty glass. Glasses were for rich people who didn’t need to worry about running out of money or vodka. The two raised their glasses and Zhou toasted the Americans. Sergei wondered what the Americans could possibly be doing to deserve all the booze being consumed in their honor in Russia and China.
The general wanted to know about Anatoly’s father, who had been killed during a training flight when Anatoly was only fourteen. Then Zhou started discussing his conquests as a surfing instructor in Hawaii. In truth, Anatoly was his mother’s son, a prude – in spite of all the Russian women who threw themselves at any officer wearing a Russian military uniform. He felt uncomfortable with the conversation but tried to make light of the subject. Questions about working with women added to Anatoly’s unease. In fact, he had rarely had a female co-worker and had never had a female superior. When Anatoly had some difficulty expressing himself in English as the conversation continued, Zhou dropped the personal questions and retrieved a model of the Grasshopper from a glass cabinet.
Now this is a mistress that I’d be interested in, thought Anatoly, as he turned the model over, looking at the bottom of the vehicle and then at the aerobrakes. Anatoly asked Zhou if Russian engineers had helped to design the Grasshopper, a compliment that General Zhou accepted graciously. Zhou was getting nowhere in his decision-making. He pushed one of the buttons on his desk as the men continued discussing the Grasshopper. Captain Wu entered the room without knocking about five minutes later. Zhou wondered if this character would require Captain Wu’s special skills. Captain Wu looked at her boss and thought that he looked tired.
Zhou pulled another crystal wine glass out of his desk and poured Captain Wu about a half of a glass of wine from the nearly empty wine bottle.
“Captain Wu Liang,” was Zhou’s introduction. “Major Anatoly Malenko.”
Anatoly examined the female officer with professional interest – she was a slightly older Chinese version of Natoshi. Women in uniforms really did turn him on. The alcohol started loosening up the men, as did the presence of Captain Wu. Anatoly stopped worrying about where this interrogation was going and relaxed. Captain Wu asked him about his mother, what he remembered about his father and even about his friend Sergei. Captain Wu looked into Anatoly’s eyes as she casually laid her hand on his leg and just as casually removed it. General Zhou decided that he would need Captain Wu’s evaluation. A general’s best units always took the highest casualties.

Decisions, Decisions

Captain Wu reported to General Zhou that Anatoly was a gentle lover and gave him her approval.
Zhou felt that he was losing his ability to command. The best-kept secret in the Chinese space program was that Zhou had never flown in a rocket, the Grasshopper or any of his other trainers. He would have taken a train to Hawaii if that had been possible. He knew how sausage was made and didn’t want to earn a position of honor among the photographs at Poncho’s bar in the Mojave Desert. [Poncho’s cantina, the Happy Bottom Riding Club, had been destroyed in a mysterious fire after its notoriety had embarrassed the fledgling United States Air Force at Edwards Air Force Base.]
“How do I get my picture on the wall?” the green test pilots would ask Pancho.
“You have to die,” she would answer.

Freudulent

General Zhou looked at the young psychiatrist sitting in front of him. Dr. “Richard” Chu Wen was handsome enough in a masculine sort of way, but lacked charisma and confidence. To Chu, an unexpected call to the general’s office could only be bad news, a reprimand or worst. The general was wearing a sidearm; the general was rarely in uniform and never wore a pistol.
“Good morning, Doctor,” greeted Zhou.
Chu returned the greeting. “Good morning, General.”
“Sorry that I’m late. How are you today?”
“Good, and you?” responded Chu.
“I’m fine.”
Zhou felt himself getting into a bad temper. I hate going through my annual weapon qualification test, thought Zhou. I hate things that make noise. Zhou liked Sargent Ang at the rifle range – Ang’s stated philosophy was that he didn’t care if they hit anything as long as they all returned home to their families intact.
“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked Chu.
“That would be nice,” Chu agreed and was about to ask for some coffee, when the general walked over to his sideboard and prepared some green tea. Chu took this as confirmation that bad news was coming.
The two drank the green tea in silence and Zhou felt himself mellowing. Banish the thought, he thought, that I, Apollo Coffee, should have to cut back on my caffeine.
“What do you think about the sexual naiveté of our pilots?” Zhou asked.
“It comes from their isolation and general lack of contact with outsiders, men in particular,” answered the psychiatrist. “They’re not being trained to be mothers, if they are fertile, or even members of society,” he continued. “What’s the basis of your present concern?”
“The oldest girls are eighteen years old, past adolescence. Did you have an interest in the opposite sex when you were eighteen?” asked the general.
“Well yes, but I was too busy trying to get into medical school to worry about it,” Chu said, flushing slightly.
Oh damn, thought Zhou. “How old were you when you got laid for the first time?” he asked.
Chu turned red. “You’ve never got laid?” demanded the general.
Chu shook his head. The general had an image of the psychiatrist and everybody involved with his hiring and training lined up before a firing squad. He straight-fingered the button on his desk so hard that the panel became disconnected and fell to the floor. The two sat in silence for about five minutes until Captain Wu entered the room without knocking. She felt the tension immediately and walked up to the desk, concentrating her attention on Zhou.
“I’ve been discussing sex and the human race with Dr. Chu, and I thought you might be able to contribute something to our philosophical conversation,” said Zhou. “Please sit down Captain; this is going to take some time.”
Zhou gazed into his tea for moments as the two PLAAF captains waited for the pent-up volcano to explode. Zhou chuckled to himself, remembering when he had bought a red-covered copy of the Kama Sutra from an amused old Japanese vendor on Hotel Street in downtown Honolulu when he was twelve. This treasure chest was locked in his secure wall safe as a souvenir. Zhou looked at the large grandfather clock near his desk. It was only two in the afternoon. “Feierabend,” he said, as if to an empty room.
Zhou returned from his wall refrigerator with three one-liter, frosted German beer mugs. He retrieved a huge aluminum keg with a spigot on a second trip. Distributing the mugs on the desk, he pushed the Hofbrau Haus keg near the edge of the desk so that the spigot extended beyond its edge. The Bavarian Biermeister, Oberst Dieter Machachek, who had taught him German drinking songs, had said that different beers required different spigots. He poured a mug slowly keeping the head small. He gave the first mug to Captain Wu. Captain Chu looked at Captain Wu who didn’t return his gaze. Zhou poured another mug and gave it to Dr. Chu. After the slow procedure of pouring the third mug, he passed the mug under his nose and inspected its color. The two officers held their mugs at present arms while the general touched his mug to each of theirs in turn. “Prost,” he said.
“Cheers,” said Chu and Captain Wu added, “Long life.”
Zhou took a deep drink of the helles Bier and he seemed to be on a distant continent, long, long ago. The three drank their beer in silence. Zhou finished his beer and stood up, facing Wu. “Captain Wu, I want you to assist Captain Chu with his preparations for the Blue Jay flight crew and the backup pilots. Captain Wu will have command authority. This assignment is of the utmost importance for a successful mission. Thank you both.”
General Zhou turned and retreated into his private restroom, leaving the two officers to finish the keg.

Venus meets the Kama Sutra

George Yu looked at the purchase order from a Dr. Wu at Beijing Medical School for 50 copies of the English version of the Kama Sutra. 50 legal copies of the Kama Sutra in China! He would have to order the books from England, since the book was now blacklisted in Hong Kong. Several dozen English medical books were also included in the order; the old science tutorials written by Isaac Asimov were out of print and would probably not be available.
Zhou wanted a progress report on Dr. Chu. Chu refused to subject himself to training by prostitutes, so Captain Wu was forced to seduce him. Chu defended his virtue to the end.
The new sex and reproduction classes for the flight crews and an introductory class for the younger girls stroked the rumor mill. Some of Zhou’s non-flight crew officers feared that Zhou might be entertaining the thought of bringing in some additional revenue by prostituting his women. Captain Wu tried to assuage these fears without addressing the questions directly, questions which nobody dared to ask publicly. Courses in embryology and microbiology were added to the already busy schedule of his pilots.
Captain Wu and Dr. Chu walked into the recreation room where a dozen of the women were watching a large screen TV. Vivian was curled up on the floor in a ball with her arms and legs intertwined. The other women were giggling/laughing.
“Vivian, what are you doing?” Captain Wu asked.
“Practicing my acrobatics,” was her reply to an uproar of laughter from the other women.
Dr. Chu blushed, recognizing the phrase from the Kama Sutra – but this is approaching the acrobatic and only learned through practice.
“I think I’m running out of arms and legs for this exercise,” Vivian added, with strain in her voice. The little red book dropped from her hand to the floor, eliciting another wave of laughter.
Captain Wu displayed a rare grin of glee. When did I loose my joy of innocence? Wu wondered.
The effect of the training on the girls was difficult to evaluate. The good psychiatrist, Dr. Chu, seemed to be the chief beneficiary, his confidence and demeanor improving, with an increased commitment to the flight and psychological aspects of the training. Chu requested and received two orientation flights in the Grasshopper with the backup flight crew, Janice Chan Jiang Li and Jane Chen Shu Teng. Venus transited the sun June 8, 2004, unobserved by the hikers on foggy Mount Desert Island.

Sanity Check

General Zhou watched Captain Wu as she bent over and gently held the plastic tube on the cream dispenser with her slender index finger, keeping the tube out of her coffee as the tube squirted an allotment of cream. Zhou dismissed his staff and asked Captain Wu to remain behind. “Could I talk to you after the meeting,” he asked. Captain Wu understood that this wasn’t a simple conference. The air around the girls had been saturated with pheromones for days.
“Certainly, if you promise to give me a challenge,” she answered as she modestly averted Zhou’s eyes by looking down.
Zhou thought back to Honolulu and his student days at the University of Hawaii. The recently-divorced women from the West Coast that he taught surfing to were busy spending their divorce settlement and burying their old life style. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try,” was his answer.

The General Returns

General Zhou woke up with the hot China sun on his face, anticipating an interruption by the surfing companions of his youth. He quickly sketched out a list representing the best-case solution to how he would proceed. There was no optimum path, only a set of least-risk choices. Given the short period involved he would have to make quick decisions and see what options fell out of the mix.
The launch preparations for the Americans had brought in a little hard cash and allowed the manufacture of many spacecraft components for small incremental cost. Zhou used computerized production equipment to manufacture prototype ERV components using the methods of the American aviation pioneer Bill Lear. This allowed the Chinese to manufacture more ERV components for a small incremental production cost. Zhou also believed in the Glenn Curtis technique of making an extra copy of every deliverable. The gamble was, would the excess components (besides those committed to the Americans) be used before they were obsolete or corroded? The loose money had been spent and the sickly world economy seemed to guarantee that the prophets of no colonies on Mars and no fully functional low-earth orbit International Space Station becoming practical during the next generation would be self-fulfilling. The common wisdom was that the technology just wasn’t there yet; it would be the next generation of humanity that would go to Mars.

Chapter 23. Boy meets Girls

Zhou pushed another button on his desk as Captain Wu walked over and got another chair, placing it alongside Zhou’s desk facing Anatoly. They continued talking and Anatoly heard the door behind him open. Turning his head he saw that it was two of the Chinese female cosmonauts. They entered the room and quietly sat in the two chairs to the right of Anatoly. General Zhou stood up and walked behind the two women.
“I know you have your duties and responsibilities, Major Malenko,” said the general, “but I have to ask you not to talk about this meeting beyond those obligations. Can you agree to these conditions?”
Anatoly thought for a few minutes and said, “Da, sure I can.”
“Sharon, could you take off your gloves and hood?” instructed Captain Wu. Sharon took off her gloves, goggles and hood, revealing her golden complexion and reptilian eyes. Anatoly just stared into the eyes of the beautiful girl standing in front of him. He had never seen such a beautiful, exotic creature. Anatoly resisted an impulse to touch her golden hair to see if she was real.
Sharon approached Anatoly, offering her hand, and introduced herself, “Lieutenant ‘Sharon’ Sun Mei of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force.”
Her handshake was warm and firm. Sharon sat back in her chair. General Zhou had walked back behind his desk.
“Vivian, could you remove your gloves and hood?” instructed Captain Wu.
Vivian removed her gloves and hood and placed them on her chair. She turned to look directly into Anatoly’s eyes. “Lieutenant ‘Vivian’ Wang Li No of the People’s Liberation Army Air Force,” replied the second golden woman.
She offered Anatoly her hand, giving him a firm squeeze that he instinctively responded to, before she released her grip. Vivian smiled and sat down.
General Zhou almost saw sparks flying between Vivian and Anatoly. He wisecracked, “Vivian, could you refrain from damaging our Russian friend until our flight is over?”
Vivian and Sharon smiled at each other.
Would this be a viable flight crew? There must be some other compatibility rule that we can break, General Zhou thought to himself.
“You three are the primary team for the Mars mission,” announced the general.
Anatoly had never been so confused in his life. “These are just girls,” he said.
“Glad you noticed,” said the general as the girls giggled.
General Zhou reached into his bottomless side drawer and pulled out two normal-sized wine glasses. He poured about an ounce into each glass and handed the glasses to the young women. “To Mong and Charon on Mars,” toasted the general as he and Anatoly emptied their glasses.
The girls looked at Captain Wu who slowly sipped some of her wine. The girls followed her example, drinking their first alcoholic wine. Formalities aside, everybody sat down.
Vivian wanted to get things moving, “Well, Major, what do you think about the Grasshopper?”
Anatoly had to smile. “I’m used to jets and wings,” was his lame reply.

Baby Sister

Anatoly sat behind Vivian and Sharon in the third or commander’s seat of the Grasshopper. A small girl was sitting at the Flight Engineer’s console.
“And who’s the kid?” he asked.
“She’s the commander,” said Vivian.
“Yah, I’m the boss,” said the girl called Qian.
“I suppose you’re the comic relief around here,” remarked Anatoly.
“Hay,” was Qian’s retort. “This ain’t rocket science.”
It would have been difficult for the Russian psychiatrist Valery Bogevsky not to notice Anatoly’s attachment to his mother. In a strange way Qian reminded Anatoly of his mother. Dr. Bogevsky recommended an additional young girl for the mission, Captain Wu agreed, and Zhou added Qian’s teammate, Mi, to the flight roster.

Read the Reference Material

Lieutenant Tang Peilin had completed a postdoc at Stanford six months earlier and needed a textbook on partial differential equations. His friends told him to ask Captain Wu at General Zhou’s library if he could borrow one. The door to Captain Wu’s office was open and the room was empty. The signs on the bookshelves made it obvious that the stacked books were medical and biotechnical texts. The lieutenant peered through the open door of the adjacent room and could see that its only occupant was an old man wearing a Hawaiian shirt. General Zhou was examining a copy of the [highly-illustrated] red-covered Cosmo Kama Sutra that somebody had left on his favorite table. He looked around for the potential prankster but he was alone.
Tang cautiously stepped into the room and could see that the shelved books covered engineering subjects. The old man looked up quizzically as the young lieutenant approached his table.
“My name’s Peilin,” he explained.
The old man rose to his feet. “Just call me Ken. Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for a text on partial differential equations for engineers.”
Zhou walked over to the math section of his library and pulled out the old textbook he had used as an undergraduate. “This book is especially good if you’re tutoring yourself.”
Tang accepted the book and looked inside the cover. “Wow. This is awesome. Zhou’s name is inside the cover.” He fanned the well-used book. “I can’t wait until I show the other guys this book.” Then he asked Zhou, “Have you been around here for a while?”
“Yes, for a few years. Why do you ask?”
“Why does General Zhou have to use a library for an office?” Tang asked.
Zhou answered, “This is General Zhou’s private library. His adjutant loans out his books without his knowledge. The general’s office is through that door.”
“I have to check this book out with Captain Wu?” asked Tang.
“She’s out of the office. I can check it out for you. Just return it to the table in Captain Wu’s library when you’re through with it.”
They walked out to the public part of Wu’s office and Zhou picked up the laboratory notebook on the table, entering the book’s title and the date on the first empty line. “Could you put your name and cellular phone number in the book so that Captain Wu can get the book back if the general needs it?” asked the general.
“Sure, thanks a lot Ken,” he replied as he filled out the entries. General Zhou smiled and walked back into the library. Tang speculated that Ken wouldn’t survive the next Cultural Revolution if he persisted in wearing Hawaiian shirts.

Launch of the Blue Jay, 2010

Major Chico Thiessen, Major Mike Jervis and Major Tim Perry sat with the Russian cosmonauts, Major Ivan Bolkov and Captain Mikail Sorenev. The Americans wondered if the next time that they’d be seeing the vehicle would be when it was on Mars. Sergei stood by a chain link fence, wishing his friend a safe voyage.
The Blue Jay rose with a roar into the twilight of the setting sun. The darkening clouds produced a somber mood. The Blue Jay punched a hole in the clouds leaving only a diminishing afterglow.

Marooned

The surface of Mars was buried in a seasonal dust storm. The five astronauts waited out the weather, with the women on the radio every daytime comm pass over Plymouth, Mars Site 1. Anatoly finally had his boyhood dream fulfilled – he was the only man on the planet. Curse or not, his adolescent wish had been fulfilled.

Blue Jay

The Blue Jay landed on the rock-covered channel near the Yellowstone riverbed.

Yellowstone Caverns

Mong started calling the caves and their surroundings Yellowstone Caverns, expanding the unofficial American name. The name stuck. The caverns were dead; they had been alive for millions of years but no new carbonates had precipitated for eons. Yellowstone didn’t have any geysers or hot pools.

Peacock

The Peacock habitat launched by the Americans landed near the point where Mong had placed the landing beacon, about 500 meters from the point surveyed (and selected remotely with the help of the miniature rover). The MAV surveillance cameras had been disabled to the extent that the cameras only panned the area of the landing site, reducing the problems Mong and Charon had with remaining unobserved by Mission Control in Houston. Mission Control in Houston couldn’t observe the relocated and partially buried MAV and the greenhouse. The surveillance cameras of the Peacock would fail in the near future so that the habitat could be integrated with the MAV.

Caveman

Vivian and Sharon worried about Anatoly’s obsession with the cave. He had graded a ramp to the entrance so that he could bring the tractor into the cave. The volume of oxygen that would be required to fill the cave to a breathable pressure would take decades of solar power. There would be carbon dioxide out-gassing from the cave walls; the cave door would have to be massive enough to withstand the high differential pressure. Hopefully Anatoly would return to normal when his friend Sergei arrived. In hindsight, Anatoly was the first of the Martian tribe called the Cave Dwellers, the people who forsake the surface and called the caverns and grottos their home. A few individuals chose to remain on the surface in spite of the dangers of radiation.

Mustang Sally

Charon loved the power of the new rover. At speed, she could make the rover jump for long distances, getting air before the rover finally thudded onto Mars. Mong had to limit Charon’s maneuvers in the new rover, restricting her to hot rodding the small, unpressurized all-terrain vehicle. They could survive the loss of the ATV but not the loss of one of the rovers.

Water Witch

Charon and Mong had detected liquid water less than seven meters from the icefalls that they had blown up. Anatoly had three lengths of 4-meter long aluminum pipes that he could connect together, all with heating elements. These pipes had been fabricated in Star City for this specific task. The inside diameter of the pipes was only 12 centimeters, barely enough to push his video camera through. The small tractor wouldn’t amount to much with a lot of force, but a lot of pressure should be manageable with this test probe. Anatoly and three of the four Chinese women watched the slow progress of the aluminum pipes melting their way into the wall of ice. Mong was alone in the rover, monitoring the engine and generator. The near end of the pipe had a large mechanical valve and a large 50-liter receptacle to receive the water. It would be problematic if the force from the reservoir were greater than the weight of the tractor loaded with large stones. The pipe broke out of the ice at 6 meters. The valve on the close end was closed and Anatoly looked at Vivian and Sharon with a smile.

Peep Show

Anatoly pushed the video camera up against the remote value of the pipe and then backed it off so that the valve could be opened. Sharon was monitoring the image in the rover and she could see the axle of the valve. The remote value was slowly opened and the sound of inflowing water could be heard. The water was murky and only shadows could be seen through the video. Vivian shut off the light and shadows could be seen through the background glow emanating from inside the reservoir. The water pressure was three atmospheres with a water temperature of 20 degrees Celsius. Any member of the polar bears (winter swimmers) in Moscow could handle this temperature easily. Installing large pipes would be a major undertaking. The sound of inflowing water stopped. All the connections to the receptacle were checked and Vivian slowly turned the large valve near the tank. Liquid could be heard entering the large receptacle. Vivian shut the valve to the receptacle and pushed the tank’s bleed valve. The pressurized gas whistled as it escaped. The receptacle was filled until its internal gauge showed that it was three fourths full. The remote valve was closed and some of the water in the pipe was allowed to top off the tank. Vivian closed the value on the water receptacle as Anatoly closed the value on the pipe. Freezing of the pipe and its valve would be a continuous problem that would need to be worked out to make a plumbing system practical.
Anatoly and Vivian loaded the heavy water tank on the tractor and Vivian jumped into the driver’s seat. The intensity of the light from the spotlight and headlights on the tractor diminished as Vivian maneuvered the vehicle towards the daylight. Anatoly’s mind was racing forward into the future. He would make Mars livable for his family.
The water from the underground lake often contained strange eyeless fish, which looked like large zebra fish with a pair of dark-colored sensors, definitely not light receptors. The sensor seemed to be an auditory and olfactory combination. Anatoly kept the fish in a tank and feed them peas. There were two other spined species, which disappeared shortly after the zebra fish was put into the tank. The zebra fish must be eating them as well.

Yuma Crossing

The nearby Yuma Crater contained a flat area surrounded by the corona of the crater. The outflow created by the ancient lake responsible for the flatness of the crater’s center had carved an opening about 500 meters wide. At one point near the western end an arch or what had probably been a bridge had formed. Anatoly wanted to survey the crater since it was an obviously ideal landing place, easy to spot from the sky. Mong was driving the pressurized rover, with Charon sitting in her usual position in the external bumper seat on the front of the rover. Mong dodged the larger rocks in the arroyo with minor directions from Charon. The entrance to the crater had a funny berm across the breadth of the entrance, like a speed bump that extended to the arch. The spectrometer on the remote arm sent back readings of various metals, mostly aluminum. Mong put on her gloves and helmet and depressurized the rover.
Anatoly and Sharon pulled up behind them and followed them to the curved surface. Anatoly kicked the non-existent dirt – the berm was solid. Anatoly retrieved a rock hammer from the exterior tool chest and stuck the surface. The glare of metal shined in the gouge. Pure metal. Anatoly’s initial evaluation was that the soft metal was aluminum. Later analysis confirmed that the metal was aluminum with smaller percentages of copper, lead, silver, iron, nickel, gold, calcium and sodium. The ring of metal continued across the entrance laterally to both sides of the pass. Sharon guessed that the metal ring had formed when a meteor created the crater and that the ring followed the crater wall around the impact area. Let the astrophysicists in Beijing and Moscow figure out the mechanism of the ring’s formation. Anatoly dug out a long curling of metal but they would need better tools to get larger samples. Anatoly hoped that the metal would solve his need for something to build doors and structural supports for his cave. Anatoly and Mei returned the next week to grade the rise to the berm to conceal the metal with a layer of concrete.

Citadel

Sergei surveyed the site. A series of switchbacks would have to be plowed at the lower levels; the large flat sandy area between the peaks would make construction of buildings and green houses comparably easy.

Olympus Mons

Sergei wanted to see if they could at least attempt a long-distance probe towards Olympus Mons, everyone included, using both rovers. First they’d effect an expedition towards the base of Pavonis Mons, blazing a trail and exploring at least that far. Anatoly wanted to visit the property that he had brought on the slopes of Pavonis Mons five years ago from the Ukrainian Galactic Embassy. It would be a perfect place for a space elevator if a non-intervention treaty could be penned with Deimos.

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