Eagle Station

With the last of those satellite photos still up on the screen, Farrell swung back around to his assembled national security team. Worried faces looked back at him. “So there you have it,” he said bluntly. “Those multiple Russian and Chinese launches for their Pilgrim 1 moon mission were just the start of whatever’s going on. Right now, those sons of bitches in Moscow and Beijing have a shitload of space vehicles just about prepped and ready to go… and we’re still stumbling around in the goddamned dark.”

“Which is exactly where Marshal Leonov and President Li Jun want us,” Kevin Martindale said. While it was unusual for any former president to participate in a national security meeting, no one around the table had been prepared to argue against his inclusion. Every member of the administration knew how much Farrell valued Scion’s military and intelligence capabilities… and besides, it was a treat to have the popular, dynamic, swashbuckling former president here in person. “I don’t think that’s an accident.”

“Meaning what?” the CIA director demanded. Unlike her predecessor, Elizabeth Hildebrand was a thoroughgoing intelligence service professional. She’d been working hard to repair the damage done to the agency’s operations and analysis directorates during the previous administration, but it was an uphill battle.

Martindale grimaced. “That it seems increasingly likely that the Firebird spaceplane program we’ve all been fixated on was nothing more than a ruse. Right from the beginning, Firebird was intended to distract us from their real plan.” He sounded disgusted. “We’ve been played for suckers, all of us — starting with me.”

Farrell waved that off. “Save the blame games for later, Kevin. We all chased that same rabbit off into Leonov’s briar patch. But right now, we need to square up and figure this situation out.”

His White House science adviser, Dr. Lawrence Dawson, leaned forward from his place farther down the crowded Situation Room table. “On that score, Mr. President, my guess would be that Moscow and Beijing are both still looking toward the moon.”

“Is your assessment based on that new satellite the Russians just launched toward the Earth-Moon L2 point?” Martindale asked.

The rail-thin astrophysicist nodded. “Correct.” Two days ago, one of Russia’s Angara-A5 rockets had lifted off from Vostochny Cosmodrome. The satellite it had carried was currently on course for the same Lagrange point halo orbit currently occupied by China’s Magpie Bridge communications relay. Dawson continued, “Naturally, I’ve asked Director Polikarpov for details of this mission.”

Heads nodded around the table. Polikarpov was the head of Roscosmos, the government megacorporation running Russia’s civilian space program.

“And?” Farrell prompted.

“He assures me their new satellite is merely a backup for China’s Magpie Bridge communications relay.” The dry expression on Dawson’s thin, ascetic face plainly revealed his skepticism.

Patrick McLanahan nodded. “Yeah, that’s definitely grade-A pure, unadulterated bullshit.” He turned toward Farrell with a soft whine of servos from his LEAF exoskeleton. “Our best estimate puts the mass of this Russian satellite at considerably more than a metric ton. That’s at least twice the size of the Chinese com relay.”

The president frowned. “And that’s too heavy?”

“For a basic communications satellite? Absolutely,” Patrick said. “No one wastes mass on any space mission. It’s already incredibly expensive to put anything useful in orbit, let alone deadweight.”

“So what’s the real purpose of this Russian spacecraft?” Farrell wondered.

“I strongly suspect it’s a sophisticated radar and infrared surveillance satellite, something in their Kondor class,” Patrick said. “And if I’m right, pretty soon the Russians and Chinese will be able to track all space operations in lunar orbit, especially on the far side of the moon.”

Farrell scowled. “Where we’re totally blind.” Patrick nodded again.

“Which brings us back to the central question,” the president commented. “What can Moscow and Beijing hope to gain here? If you add up the costs of all those rockets they’ve got stacked up and ready to launch, you’re looking at billions of dollars on the hoof.”

“Maybe they’re trying to beat us back to the moon,” his secretary of state, Andrew Taliaferro, suggested. The former congressman’s North Carolina drawl was even more pronounced than usual. “Considering how much political capital we’ve already invested in our helium-3 mining plan, seeing a couple of cosmonauts or taikonauts strolling around up there way ahead of us would be one hell of a kick in the teeth.”

Grimly, Patrick shook his head. “I’m pretty confident the Russians and the Chinese have already won that particular race,” he said flatly. “So whatever they have planned, it’s got to be something considerably more dangerous to us than just sending a couple of men out onto the lunar surface for a few hours.”

His blunt assertion drew startled looks from everyone else in the room.