AMERICA ONE - NextGen (Book 5) Read online

  The cafeteria was filled with noise at that remark.

  “Why do we need robots?” asked Jonesy. “They can’t fly shuttles.”

  “Or design new crops,” added Suzi.

  “A great idea for defense: unmanned soldiers,” said VIN, rubbing his hands together.

  “They don’t need to wear spacesuits is the main reason,” added Ryan, and that shut the rabble up. “And I believe we need to bring our defenses up to date. I have been thinking about the race who gave the Matts these blue shields, and their new technologies all those years ago. I believe that we have something to fear from a return on Mars. Hopefully that hasn’t happened already. Now, as Commander Joot described this tribe, or race of people, it seems they eat people and drink more than Mr. Jones here.”

  There was some laughter and a few quipped, “Not possible.”

  “They had the same technologies we currently have, thousands of years ago, the commander believes they live somewhere on Mars, and since it is quite a large planet, hopefully it will take them time to find us. What they didn’t have was our laser weapons, or if they did, Commander Joot never mentioned them, but I do not want these people eating my children, or yours.” There were shouts of “hear, hear” from the group.

  “The main reason for the design and manufacture of a platoon or two of robots is to defend us in times of need. We have the most modern 3-D scanners, printers, computerized design and production computers, nickel, titanium, cobalt, copper, and I believe all we need to manufacture a defense robot, who will be armed and defend us in times of attack.

  “Will they do all our work for us in the fields, and clean our apartments?” asked Suzi, slightly worried.

  “No, we need to complete our own chores aboard this ship and in our bases on Mars. I still have nightmares about that old movie I watch every few years: ‘Wall-E,’ remember it?”

  The crew nodded.

  “I do not want our race to become a bunch of space misfits that do nothing all day but lie around and complain. A healthy body is a good body and a healthy body feeds a healthy brain, so we will continue to be a fit and healthy race of people on Mars.

  “Today’s meeting was to begin the NextGens’ involvement in their new careers. We have planet Earth getting smaller again. We have learned much from our visit, but my next project is to hand over the control of our inventions and journeys to our next of kin. We won’t have any communication with Earth in about two weeks’ time, we have said goodbye to our friends down there and we have separated ourselves from their advancements. Whatever happens down there, we will find out on our next visit. Captain Pete told me earlier that if we want to return in two years’ time, today is the day to leave to catch the next opposition. I believe that two years is a little short, and that we should return with a delegation of people in 4, maybe 6 years’ time. This will give them time to change something down there, and we Martians time to set up our defenses on our home to repel any invaders from Earth, or Mars itself.”

  Chapter 16

  Slight Change in Plans

  It was twelve days later when Ryan got into radio communication with Doug down in Australia. Much had gone on since then. The newbies had daily lessons on spaceship living. To many, especially Mr. and Mrs. Jones who were far older than the others, it took a lot of time to get used to many ideas. Ideas that you couldn’t go outside, or sit in the sun, or head out shopping. There was a set time for everybody to eat, sleep and work. Gardening, or as Suzi said, vegetation growth and conservation, was a daily chore for over half of the crew. Even though three of the seven cubes were empty and had been since Mars, the four cubes which had new vegetation, many new types and many of the same old, same old greens, needed daily nurturing by dozens of hands.

  The elevators were a difficult art at first. So was living and sleeping in such light “gravity conditions” from the electromagnets, and the continuous slow spinning of the space ship. The pool was used by everyone, and Jonesy and VIN were already deliberating how to manufacture a larger swimming pool, and which part of the spaceship to use for underneath the see-through silicone panels outside the main cavern on Mars.

  The weaponless freighters had been recovered by the three shuttles, as America One had begun her larger orbits. It had taken twenty-four hours, and by the time the mother ship reached a 600 mile altitude, everything was fixed tightly to her outer connections.

  Ryan was sure the world had watched them as they had prepared to leave, many with mixed emotions. The bridge could watch several of the international television channels while they were in Low Earth Orbit thanks to their systems picking up the communications through the ground towers.

  Several of the news channels showed government reactions to Ryan’s leaving. The Chinese and Russians held parades and celebrations, showing off their new missiles and space cubes, hundreds of them atop vehicles ready to be launched into space. The U.S. channels had hundreds of experts deliberating whether this was a good move on Ryan’s part or not. The British reckoned that world trade would come to a standstill again across the planet. The French were describing their new attack submarines, and stealth craft that could fly inside Earth’s atmosphere and destroy attacks by any enemy. The Germans were designing a new laser, and only the southern hemisphere channels were quiet, as they knew that trouble was about to start, and all large shipping worldwide was scurrying back to their ports to be mothballed again.

  Ryan had decided to say goodbye only once they got close to being cut off from all communications.

  “Good to hear your voice,” said Doug. The reception was extremely scratchy at 500,000 miles without the satellites that in the past had orbited Earth transmitting the messages, and the voice sounded more like a computerized version of Doug’s voice. “Well, it already started: attacks by cubes I mean,” he continued. “You have been gone 17 days and today we lost our first ship to a cube attack. Our friends in the Middle East say that they have lost two ships, both by Chinese cube attacks. It seems the Chinese got theirs up first, and the night skies are filled with tiny explosions as these cubes now annihilate each other up there as they did before you arrived.”

  “More than before we arrived?” Ryan asked.

  “Far more,” replied the voice from Earth. “It seems the Big Bad Three must have gone onto full production to replace the ones your crew shot down. Our economists here in Australia believe that these countries could bankrupt themselves trying to outdo each other.”

  “I thought they were already bankrupt,” Ryan replied.

  “Bankrupt themselves in their commodities supplies. They must be using up their precious and rare earth metals like never before. We all know China had an abundance of the metals needed for these cubes. We know that all three countries are producing Plutonium-238 as fast as possible, but we believe that given another decade, these supplies should be down at rock-bottom levels, and Australasia is going into a state, underneath our protected domes, of invention and learning until they empty their arsenals of supplies. Our friends in the Middle East sent us new Iron Domes aboard the last three container ships to completely umbrella our whole continent. Thank you for the gold to pay for our protection. Our country’s complete Iron Dome system will be operational within the year, and New Zealand will have the same.

  “Martin Brusk received two of three ships from California only hours ago. Ryan, it seems that your message to the U.S. President worked, but a Russian cube took out Martin’s third vessel 500 miles from its destination in the Med. It had broken down with engine failure and a few tugs were working it across that sea. He says that he has enough equipment in the first two vessels to continue, but the company lost over 100 of its best production team aboard the ship. Ryan, we are going to wait this war out. By then we hope to have our new power systems up and working around the country. Have you a date for your next visit?”

  “You say that the destruction of these cubes could hurt their own long-term production?” Ryan asked.

  “We reckon in
a decade or so,” was the scratchy reply. “They can’t go on producing them forever.”

  “That gives me an idea,” replied Ryan. “Doug, I’ll get back to you on a new set of scrambled frequencies in three hours. Out.”

  “You want to return?” Captain Pete asked, Mars Noble standing next to him.

  “Negative, but we are pulling back those useless freighters for no reason, Pete. They worked well with the shields. Ask Igor, Mr. Jones, Mr. Saunders, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Noble to head up here.” Captain Pete got on the intercom and twenty minutes later the five men and their protégés entered the bridge.

  Ryan had been deep in thought and worked on numbers on one of the computer terminals. He smiled and set up a task for young Mars Noble. Doug had given him a reason to make a slight change of departure plans.

  “Captain Pete, say the three shuttles head back to Earth in 24 hours’ time to a higher orbit than before for protection, say, 1,500 miles above the planet. How long would it take them to get there and return to us?”

  Captain Pete spent a few minutes in his Captain’s seat and on the computer. Mars Noble, his shadow, watched everything he did, and then with his own brain wanting to crunch numbers, he headed to a third computer. The older men watched. Ryan, or Captain Pete, had set the same type of test for each of them before and knew what was going on.

  “With full fuel, and using up 45 percent of it to reach orbit ASAP— seven days. Say they spend 24 hours in orbit, and using 75 percent thrust to begin a curved line to where they could catch up, it will take the shuttles 13 days with ten percent reserves remaining to catch up. A 21-day mission. Of course they could cut off thrusters a day or so early once they are on a corrected route to conserve fuel, but that would lengthen the contact time by 24 hours for every hour of fuel they save.”

  “How are our fuel reserves aboard America One?” Ryan asked.

  “We have been at full production since we arrived in orbit over three months ago. We have enough for the mother ship to complete a mid-speed return to Mars by firing up the ion thrusters for 90 percent of the flight in approximately 48 hours’ time. We will use up all the extra liquid hydrogen we hauled up from Australia for this three shuttle mission. We don’t have a problem, and we are still on a reasonable production status of 50 gallons of liquid hydrogen per day.”

  “If we went onto ion thrusters 24 hours early, what would we save?” Ryan asked.

  “Two hundred and fifty gallons, but our curvature to Mars would need to be extended two weeks longer,” replied Captain Pete, working hard on his keyboard. “The shuttles will save about ten hours of flight catching up.”

  “Igor, gentlemen, here is my idea,” continued Ryan, now facing his crew sitting at the bridge’s meeting table. “Our new NextGen shuttle pilots need some practical training. I want all three shuttles to connect up to a freighter. The freighter shields have been returned to storage, so I’ll get Vitaliy to spacewalk out and reconnect them with their on/off radio transmitters and 238 batteries. The shuttles will return to an orbit around Earth and set up the freighters to go through the wrath of destroying all the new cubes up there. Gentlemen, you and your wives are copilots on this trip, and you will be side-gunners for your commanders. I want the NextGens to be in command from outset to return. Your jobs will be to blast anything that could be a danger to you and your families. At 1,500 miles, any nukes will not be accurate, and the computers show a one in 50 chance of the freighters getting hit by a nuke launched from Earth.” The bridge was quiet for several seconds as Ryan and the others waited.

  “May I suggest a 3,000-mile orbit, sir,” interjected Mars Noble. He had moved to the laser control computer to work out calculations himself.

  Captain Pete and Ryan smiled, now knowing that the kid had the initiative.

  VIN looked on proudly as his son gave them a better report. “At that altitude, ground units could still track the freighters, and the cubes will need at least three orbits on full power to reach that altitude. The reason I say 3,000 miles is that the chance of a missile strike is one in 10,000. I don’t think many Earth countries have 10,000 nukes, sir.”

  “A good assumption, Training Captain Noble,” replied Ryan. “Could there be any other reasons why 3,000 miles would be a better bet? And what about a 5,000-mile altitude, or a geostationary 22,490-mile altitude?” Young Mars made his keyboard hot while the older group refreshed their coffee cups. Ryan was asking a lot from the young man, and they certainly didn’t know the answers without working them out. Even Igor and Pluto Jane Saunders were on the fourth computer checking Mars Noble’s numbers for accuracy.

  “At 5,000 miles, the cubes could be controlled not to climb out of Low Earth Orbit. At geostationary, the planet wouldn’t know if the freighters were up there, and the cubes again remain at LEO. I assume, sir, that you want to get these cubes to attack our freighters for a longer period than the cubes currently up there. Any lower than 2,500 miles, and the nukes could destroy our freighters or send them crashing into the atmosphere. I would also recommend a self-destruction device of sorts on the shield black boxes themselves.”

  “What about orbital decay, Mr. Noble?” Captain Pete asked.

  Mars, knowing suddenly that he had forgotten an important part, heated up his keyboard again. “Not a problem for two years at altitude above 1,000 miles,” he replied.

  “So, let us say we don’t head back to Earth for a decade. What about a decade of orbital decay, Mr. Noble?” Ryan asked. Mars was getting a good training that day.

  “Dangerous at 1,500 miles, a loss of 550 miles, and no problem at my suggested altitude, sir. Even after ten years, the freighters will be okay.”

  “Well done, young man,” replied Ryan. “At your altitude, it will take NASA at least a couple of years to get a manned space flight up to the freighters at 3,000 miles. With a loss of 550 miles over ten years, I think we should add 50 miles to the orbit altitude, as a 2,500-mile orbit is a far higher danger zone. There is still one problem we face with the shuttles. Anybody want to guess?” The Pitts immediately put up their hands.

  “Yes,” stated Penny. “The poor flight crew aboard SB-I have never had the benefit of a crew compartment. Mr. Jones, you live in luxury; so do you, Mr. Saunders; but we the Pitts have only had our cockpit for the hours we have spent protecting you guys while you were down on Earth.”

  “They certainly need the added room,” remarked Jonesy, the tallest on the bridge. “I don’t think I could survive another asteroid mining expedition in Astermine One or Two. Even with the added compartment, it’s like living in a train’s sleeping compartment.”

  “I’m thinking back to having to live with my partner in the mining ship’s forward cockpit only, on our first voyage to DX2014. Now that was hardship, especially for me,” added VIN, smiling at Jonesy.

  “Yes, it was a tight fit, and I’m glad we have continuously worked on better quarters for long-term travel,” smiled Ryan. “The good news is that SB-I’s forward crew compartment, or at least its exterior, is complete and can be attached to the rear cockpit door. Unfortunately, the interior is not ready, but we can get some vertical beds, a bath bag system, a bike exerciser, and some luxury supplies in there for you Mr. and Mrs. Pitt. What do you think?”

  “Anything is better than just our cockpit,” replied Michael Pitt.

  “A bath bag, even though they are horrible, is certainly better than not having one,” added Penelope Pitt. “It has been hell in there for the hours we spent orbiting when you guys were enjoying yourself drinking and fishing. And there were three of us in that tiny cockpit. I don’t know how my mother put up with both of us, and as far as I’m concerned, you can only love your parents so long.”

  “Now that I agree with,” remarked Saturn Jones, straight-faced. “Mr. Richmond, can I have a door lock put on the SB-III’s rear cockpit door? Then I can lock my father in there when he gets ratty.”

  Everyone smiled and looked at her father. Jonesy said little, but asked for an extra case of
beer in the supplies for his expected incarceration.

  There was much laughter as the youngsters became part of the planning, and the final touches were put to the return to orbit before Ryan called Doug back at the allotted time.

  “I’m sure you are having fun working up a scheme up there,” said Doug as the communications were again activated toward Earth.

  “Yes, good news for you,” replied Ryan. “I suggest you keep this secret, at least until we return on our first visit. It might or might not work for an extended period, and you can tell if it is still working by using telescopes to see our spacecraft flying overhead every six hours or so. They will be at a far higher altitude and small. We are going to do a trial to help clean up the cubes, which hopefully will allow your international trade to have better chances of survival. Do not attempt to launch into space and get near them. They will have self-destruction devices in case they are tampered with. We are returning three unmanned spacecraft back to orbit, and they will be orbiting Earth every 4.5 hours, so they will be over your part of the planet and circulating west to east over your country for about 30 minutes per craft. These craft will attract the cubes and destroy them. How, I cannot divulge our secrets, but if you don’t see them go over at some time in the future, then trouble will reappear out in space pretty shortly.”