Eagle Station

“That’s for sure,” Farrell agreed. His mouth tightened. “So I’ll get right down to it. Right now, we’re getting our asses kicked by the Chinese and the Russians in deep space and on the moon… and all I hear from NASA are a lot of high-sounding explanations about why we can’t do anything to change that. At least not in time for it to matter a damn.”

Patrick McLanahan looked him in the eye. “That’s a self-inflicted problem, Mr. President. This country’s manned space efforts have focused almost entirely on operations in low Earth orbit for decades — ever since the end of the Apollo program.”

Martindale nodded. “There were various plans for longer-ranged manned missions, but every administration’s priorities kept shifting. So no one ever succeeded in setting clear, achievable goals for NASA.” He looked dour. “Not even me.”

“And now a lot of the best people have left the agency,” Boomer volunteered from his end of the table. “Eventually, just about anyone who’s seriously interested in doing real things in space ends up signing on with SpaceX, or Blue Origin, or one of the other innovative private aerospace companies.”

“Like Sky Masters?” Farrell said with a wry smile.

“Yes, sir,” Boomer acknowledged, matching the other man’s lopsided smile. “There are still talented engineers and astronauts and technical people at NASA, but they’re always fighting an uphill battle against the suits at headquarters to get anything done. And if there’s any serious risk involved?” He shook his head in disgust. “Shit. Calling NASA HQ risk-averse is like saying Ebenezer Scrooge was a little tight with his money.” He saw the suppressed grin on Brad’s face and spread his hands. “Okay, yeah, I’ve had my share of new engine designs blow up, so maybe I lean a little too far the other way. But, hell, rockets are inherently dangerous machines. Sure, you can make ’em safer… but there’s no way you can guarantee perfect safety, especially not with a new spacecraft. Well, not unless you don’t ever to plan to actually fly it.”

“Which just about sums up where we stand,” Farrell said with a frown. He sighed. “I keep looking at that fancy NASA logo during their presentations, and all I can hear is what my old grandad always used to tell me. ‘J.D., just because a chicken has wings don’t mean it can fly.’”

He looked around the table. “Which is why I’m here. I need better answers than I’ve been getting in D.C. Boiling all their bullshit down, NASA can’t send Americans back to the moon, not even on a flyby. Not anytime in the next twelve to eighteen months.”

“By which time, our enemies may well be in a position of tremendous advantage,” Nadia said grimly.

Farrell nodded. His frown deepened. “Let’s just say this is a comedy of errors, except without the laughs. NASA’s already built several of its brand-new Orion crew vehicles. And the European Space Agency’s done the same with the service module it’s building for the Orion program. Hell, everybody I talk to claims both of those spacecraft are flight-ready. So you’d think everything would be set to go for a manned lunar flyby—”

“Except we don’t have any rocket capable of lifting an Orion crew vehicle and its service module off the launchpad and boosting them into a translunar injection orbit,” Brad said quietly. “Because NASA’s heavy-lift SLS isn’t ready yet.”

“Yep,” Farrell agreed. “And none of the other private commercial rockets out there, not even a Falcon Heavy, can do the job.”

Brad took a deep breath. “Well, sir… we may have a fix for that. See, Boomer, Nadia, and I have been working the problem pretty hard ever since my dad figured out the Russians and Chinese had already landed on the moon.”

“No need to apologize, Major,” Farrell said with a hint of amusement. “I’d kind of bet on that being the case.” He looked at them more seriously. “Is this fix of yours something NASA’s going to approve of?”

“Not in a million years,” Boomer admitted.

“And why not?” Martindale wanted to know.

Brad shrugged. “Because we’re proposing to steal a page out of the Chinese and Russian playbook.”

“It’s our new definition of genius,” Boomer added smugly. “One percent perspiration. Ninety-nine percent sheer larceny.”

Patrick smiled as he saw what they were driving at. “You want to assemble that Orion crew vehicle, service module, and booster in space.”

“In Earth orbit,” Brad confirmed.

Farrell looked surprised. “I asked NASA about the idea of doing something similar and they told me it was flat-out impossible.”