Eagle Station

“They’ve also entered elliptical orbits,” Brad answered. “Both Long March 5s carried Yuanzheng-2 upper stages with additional payloads. But given their present positions, neither Yuanzheng-2 booster has the delta-V necessary to achieve a rendezvous with the Russian spacecraft. At least not in any useful Earth orbit.”

Martindale nodded his agreement. “Major McLanahan is right about all of that.” He smiled thinly. “Nevertheless, as a precaution, Colonel Miller’s S-29B is fully fueled and on standby at Eagle Station — ready to enter a fast-burn transfer orbit that will bring it within attack range if any of these spacecraft — Russian or Chinese — demonstrate hostile intent.”

“Glad to hear that,” Farrell said bluntly. “Now, I’d just as soon not start a new war in space. But if war comes, we’re going to be the ones to finish it. Clear?”

“As crystal,” Martindale said, speaking for all of them.

Brad’s computer buzzed loudly, signaling an urgent message from the team of combined Scion — Sky Masters analysts assigned to keep tabs on those space vehicles. He heard Boomer’s laptop making the same noise. His finger swiped across the screen. Instantly, a solid block of text and numbers popped open, accompanied by several blurry photos captured by ground- and space-based telescopes. He leaned closer, reading fast. His eyes widened in surprise.

“Holy shit,” Boomer muttered out loud.

Farrell frowned. “Is there a problem, Dr. Noble?”

“We’ve just received new tracking data, Mr. President,” Boomer answered. “Both of those Chinese Yuanzheng-2 boosters have restarted. And based on preliminary analysis, it looks like they’re making translunar injection burns. If so, they’re going to the moon.”

“Carrying what?” Patrick asked.

Boomer shrugged. “We can’t tell yet. Both payloads are still concealed by their fairings.” Seeing their surprise, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty fucking weird right there.”

Payload fairings, sometimes called shrouds, were thin metal shells intended to protect delicate satellites and other spacecraft from aerodynamic pressures and high temperatures during launch. They were ordinarily jettisoned once a rocket safely climbed out of the atmosphere and reached orbit. Usually, if those fairings failed to separate, the entire mission was doomed. But in this case it seemed likely that the Chinese were purposely retaining their payload fairings as a crude form of camouflage.

“The Russians are on the move, too,” Brad reported. “The Energia third stage has just separated from its payload.” He tagged one of the telescopic images and put it up on their screens. It showed a roughly fifty-foot-long spacecraft assembled from three different components — a blunt-nosed, cone-shaped capsule at the front, a larger cylinder in the middle, and what looked like nothing more than an egg-shaped fuel tank and rocket engine tied together by struts at the back. Solar panels extended off the central vehicle. “We’re looking at a Federation command module mated to its service module, with a Block DM-03 space tug attached aft. And the engine on that space tug just finished a six-minute burn.”

“Aimed where?” his father asked.

“Right where the moon will be in a little under three days,” Brad said quietly.

“Son of a bitch,” Farrell said in surprise. “So both the Russians and the Chinese are heading to the moon?”

Brad nodded. “Yes, sir. That’s about the size of it.”

“What the hell are they up to?”

Silence dragged on for several long moments. Without more information, no one felt able to provide a firm answer for Farrell’s question. At last, Nadia leaned forward. “Whatever our enemies have planned, Mr. President, I do not think it will be good news for the United States.” Her eyes darkened. “Or for Poland and the rest of the free world.”

Twenty-Four

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Beijing, People’s Republic of China

A Short Time Later

China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs occupied a large gray modern building right in the center of Beijing, about three kilometers east of the Forbidden City. Its curving, convex front and adjoining wings surrounded a large central courtyard, whose most prominent feature was a garden where carefully manicured bushes and flower beds formed the outline of a dove of peace.

An amusing piece of visual propaganda, Russian foreign minister Daria Titeneva thought cynically. In her experience, the leaders of both her country and the People’s Republic of China correctly saw diplomacy as a form of war waged through other means. In any negotiation between hostile powers, there would inevitably be winners… and losers. Those who proclaimed the virtues of mutually beneficial compromise were idealistic dreamers and fools. It was fortunate for Moscow and Beijing that so many of them held positions of influence in the West.