Chapter 1

He lay there sweating in the stifling heat of an August desert night, thinking about his upcoming mission. Death is a constant companion here. You spend endlessly boring days and nights waiting, anticipating--the eventual fate of combat. To be or not to be? He didn't want to die, but it was a possibility that could not be escaped. He had seen his buddies go down, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But this is not his cot. Where is his tent? The eyes are all wrong. They are too large and totally black like those of sharks. What do they want? He remembered the bright light, blinding, penetrating his cockpit. He couldn't make out what kind of enemy craft had overtaken his. It was too fast, too maneuverable. What do they want?

Am I dead? Is this purgatory? Why are they sticking needles into me? They speak in an unfamiliar language that sounds more like cricket chirps. What are they talking about? Are they talking about me? Why me?

###

Martin Vincent Sinclair entered NASA's D.C. headquarters with both excitement and trepidation. He was excited about being back in the saddle again, going back out there in manned flight, but he was concerned that management would consider him too old for the rigors of outer space. It had been five long years since his last mission and that was just a trip up on Atlantis to supply the International Space Station and remove their garbage. Where's the excitement in that? He yearned for a more challenging assignment like a trip to Mars or Io. He sure as hell wasn't getting any younger and he was afraid that he was losing his edge. All he wanted was one more adventure, one more glory day out there in the final frontier.

Unfortunately, he would have to share that glory with his partner, Angelina Marie Sarasota, a woman, no less. Not that he had a problem with women, but it had taken him a long time to accept political correctness and swallow his male pride. NASA didn't discriminate, and many women had entered the astronaut program. There was no reason to be a combat pilot in order to qualify.

Angie wasn't any ordinary woman, though. She had risen up through Air Force ranks to become a B-2 pilot, fly combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, and command a bomber wing. After joining NASA, she piloted three shuttle missions, one as commander. She was quite capable of exploring space. It's just that he yearned for the good old days when men were men and women were-- Oh well, no use going there now.

He envied her accomplishments despite the fact that he had flown twenty-five combat missions in an YF-22 and had piloted four shuttle missions and commanded the last Orion mission to the moon. She had risen through Air Force ranks much faster than he and had been awarded the Silver Cross for her last combat mission, having saved her crew's lives by piloting a severely damaged plane back safely.

He really couldn't complain. He knew that he could depend on her to come through when the going gets tough. She pulled a shuttle mission from certain disaster when she averted a computer shutdown malfunction upon reentry, flying the bird manually to a perfect landing.

Besides, she was easy on the eyes. Always in top shape, she had short jet-black hair complimenting a classically beautiful face. Her expressive dark eyes were mesmerizing and her luscious lips, inviting, so much so that he had to keep reminding himself that theirs was a professional relationship.

He had had enough of relationships. Two divorces helped with that conclusion. What's worse is that he has a son and daughter, neither of which he has seen in three years. His parenting skills weren't much better than his husbandly abilities. Oh well, that's life.

###

Marty was noticed the minute he entered NASA headquarters.

"Marty, ol' buddy, what the hell are you doing in this den of thieves? I thought you were retired."

Marty turned to watch Larry Timmons approach with a grin on his rugged face wider than his ego. He and Larry went back a long time, having served together in the last African campaign as well as on two shuttle missions.

"You still hanging around here, Larry?"

"I'm in charge of mission planning now," Larry said, losing his smile.

"That must be boring as hell. NASA can't seem to keep anything in service. How many months has it been since the last flight?"

"I know. I know, too many. If it weren't for the Russians, we'd have to abandon the ISS."

"Sad state of affairs, isn't it?"

Larry shook his head. "Yeah." His eyes transferred to Angie. "You didn't introduce me to your--"

"This is Angelina Sarasota," Marty said smiling at her. "Angie, this is Larry Timmons."

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am. Have you ever been to NASA headquarters?"

Angie gave Marty a smirk.

Marty flashed a smug grin. "She piloted three shuttles and commanded one."

Larry's eyebrows shot up. "No shit . . . I'm sorry, I didn't . . . Wait a minute. What are you two doing here?"

Marty grinned. "Angie and I are test pilots now. We're here to present our firm's space plane proposal."

"Good luck on that mission impossible. Congress isn't interested in manned missions these days. We have some astronauts here who will have retired long before setting foot in space. Besides, we'll all be too old to go into space before they actually have a space plane."

Marty gave him a mocking grin. "Maybe not. I think they'll go for our proposal once they see how versatile it is."

"Dream on, pal. Manned flight is dead. Maybe they'll go back to using chimps."

Marty chuckled. "At least monkeys wouldn't complain. Just give them plenty of bananas; although, they'd have to contend with poo in the pod."

Larry guffawed. "Good luck with your presentation. You'll need it."

"I hope he isn't on the review committee," Angie said as she watched him depart.

"Nah. He would have known about us. Larry's a little too sensitive. He doesn't take well to criticism."

"You would wonder how he survives in a government agency."

Marty cracked a knowing smile. "Yeah, you're right about that."

"Welcome back, Marty, long time no see."

Marty turned to a graying middle-aged man in a dark blue business suit and a crooked black tie. "Yeah, you're right about that," he said, shaking hands.

"How are you, Angelina?" He asked.

"Great, sir. How have you been?"

Jerome Tindale, NASA's chief of Technical Development, gave her a half- hearted smile. "Not too bad. Things have not been going well here, as you have no doubt heard."

"Perhaps we can change that," Marty said.

"I hope so. I can't imagine it getting any worse." Tindale's eyes seemed focused on something only he could see. He came back to earth. "You two had better get checked in. The review starts at two."

Marty gave him a mock salute.

Angie politely smiled.

###

The main security desk was unavoidable because it blocked entry to the inner concourse. A stern-faced, middle-aged woman was keeper of the keys and she meant business. "No cell phones or wireless devices beyond this point."

"What about my laptop?" Angie asked with her brow wrinkled. "I'll need it."

"Just turn off any wireless. If you require access to the Internet, you'll be provided with a cable."

"Yes, ma'am." Angie threw a subtle smirk at Marty but he returned a shrug.

"Deposit all of your metal containing objects in a tray, remove your shoes and step into the scanner."

Marty was first to comply and he passed, but Angie tripped an alert.

"I have no idea what's causing that," she said, her face twisted with annoyance.

The gatekeeper motioned to a female guard. "Go with the her, please."

Angie gave Marty a frown before trotting off to security hell. When she returned twenty minutes later she looked perturbed to say the least. "They must have thought I was a terrorist."

"Why is that?"

"They gave me the whole nine yards."

Marty threw a salacious smirk at her. "You were their entertainment for the day."

"Very funny."

He laughed.

Her frown softened into a teasing grin. "Next time, I'll tell them that you're packing."

He frowned. "Don't you dare!"

She laughed.

###

NASA's main staff room was packed with officials, and most people summoned before such an intimidating review board would be understandably nervous. You wouldn't know it by observing Marty and Angie. Was it nerves of steel or just apathy?

Or, was it just plain old confidence?

Clarence Wilmunson had a commanding presence. As executive administrator of NASA, he commanded a fifty billion dollar government agency with quiet fortitude. Tall and lanky with a full head of peppered hair, he had the appearance of a college professor in his tweed jacket and plain blue tie. Despite his nerdy appearance, he had the uncanny ability to handle both scientists and bureaucrats with equal aplomb.

Seated next to him was a real scientist with a PhD in both physics and astronomy and a MS in aeronautical engineering. Arthur Wasserman looked the part with bushy white hair, steely eyes and a white shirt with pocket protector.

Of course there was the contract administrator, Darryl Stenis and the chief legal council, Walter Boyl, and Marty's old buddy Larry, plus a handful of mission and design engineers.

Angie plugged the video-out of her laptop into a DPL projector while Marty handed out proposals. All eyes were drawn to the screen and the first PowerPoint slide, which showed a speeding comet icon above a list of corporate names.

Angie smiled before setting her beautiful visage with determination. "We represent The Space Consortium, a union of seventeen companies that have elected to play a major role in space exploration. The principle members of this Consortium are Boeing, Rocketdyne, Honeywell, IBM, Alcoa and Raytheon. This Consortium has decided that a true space plane makes more sense for manned flight."

"I'm sure you are aware," Clarence interrupted, "that Congress is no longer interested in the space plane concept. We're dedicated to heavy payload lifting rockets."

"Yes, we know," Marty said. "But, when they see what we've come up with, they'll change their minds."

"Go on," Clarence said, waving his hand.

Angie smiled at Marty before continuing. The second slide showed what appeared to be a large black plane sitting on three landing gear struts. Its stubby wings were situated near the back under twin tails, and slits in the fuselage appeared both in the front and back of the tail section, which gently curved up from the main body of the craft. Other than the slits, no other seams or protrusions were visible. The craft had the form of a large stealth bomber rather than a space plane.

"The X-1001 is capable of flying off the ground without the need for rocket boosters and accelerating to orbital velocity in two minutes or less, depending on how hot the pilot is." She flashed a smile at Marty.

"Whoa," Arthur said. "That's impossible. First of all, no known propulsion system is capable of that acceleration. You're talking about going from zero to seventeen thousand miles an hour."

"Our engines are capable of achieving much higher speeds. They're not rockets. They employ ion propulsion."

"Ion propulsion? No way! We've done a lot of work with ion propulsion. It's capable of high speed but can't deliver the kind of thrust you're talking about."

"Our engines can. They use an ionized plasma stream to achieve thrust."

"I'm not familiar with that. What powers it?"

"Cold fusion."

The engineers laughed. Arthur grinned. "You're pulling my leg, right?"

"No I'm not. Cold fusion drives hydrogen and oxygen plasma to over two tenths the speed of light in our engines."

They laughed derisively again. "Cold fusion? Isn't that what got those chemists at the University of Utah in trouble?"

"We're not rocket scientists; we're rocket pilots," Marty said. "It doesn't matter how it works. It just does."

Arthur appeared flustered. "Even if you could accelerate that quickly, the G-forces would kill the crew."

"I agree," Angie said. "But, we can counter the G-forces with the Antigrav system."

"Antigrav? What's that?"

"Antigrav is a force that can apply both negative and positive gravity fields in a localized volume of space."

Arthur was really flustered now. "You're talking nonsense. No one can generate gravity fields."

Angie became defensive. "We can."

Clarence broke in. "This technology that you're describing will take decades to develop and cost a fortune."

"It already exists."

His jaw dropped. "Are you trying to tell us that this space plane of yours," He gestured at the screen, "has already been designed?"

"It has been designed, built and we've flown it."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would this Consortium of yours spend billions to make a prototype like that, not knowing if it would be acceptable?"

"We don't know," Angie said. "All we do is test it, not analyze why they made it."

"Think of it this way," Marty said. "The X-1001 represents technology light years ahead of current hardware. When the military discovers that we can build a plane that no missile can bring down and no fighter can catch, its use for space exploration will be abrogated. This craft represents NASA's greatest opportunity to return to meaningful manned flight."

That resulted in silent gaping. Obviously they were still skeptical.

"I'll tell you what," Marty said with a conciliatory smile. "We've been authorized to fly the X-1001 up to the ISS with a replacement crew along with any supplies you deem necessary and bring the current crew down with no cost to NASA."

"There's a lot to consider here," Clarence said. "This is all unproven technology. We have no idea of how to incorporate its navigation and system controls into our T&DA systems, and we have no S&MA data."

"We can provide that," Marty said. "Angie and I have test flown the X-1001 on several flights and our people can help integrate our flight recorders into your tracking systems in Houston."

"We'll have to get back to you on that. We would like to digest your presentation first before we decide."

Marty waved an affirmative hand. "No problem. Angie will provide you with our cell numbers." He paused for effect. "Maybe after the ISS re-supply we can go to the moon and Mars."

Arthur's eyes widened briefly. "Mars? That would require months."

"Not really." He turned to Angie. "How far away is Mars?"

She looked at her laptop. "I don't know. I'm not online."

An engineer near the back replied. "Approximately 140 million kilometers."

"We could make it in a couple of days," Marty said.

Arthur shook his head. "That's impossible. You would have to speed up to over a million and a half kilometers per hour."

"Angie and I have gotten the X-1001 up to five million on test flights. It's capable of much more."

That earned him blank stares.

"How far have you flown this thing?"

"Oh, about three or four billion kilometers out give or take a few." He turned to Angie. "Right?"

She nodded.

"I don't get it. What kind of a trajectory did you use?"

"Straight out, stop, turn around and straight back."

That earned them silent stares.

An engineer in the back raised his hand. He appeared to be a dark complexioned Indian with curly jet-black hair and a thin equally black mustache. "May I please ask a question?"

Arthur turned and gave tacit approval with a nod.

"How do you propose to avoid collisions with space debris at such extreme speeds?"

"There are three levels of protection," Angie said. "The navigation computer uses Doppler radar and spectral tracking to adjust flight speed in real time. This works for large objects. The energy shield deflects objects below ten centimeters. The last resort uses a particle canon to vaporize the object."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "A particle canon?"

"A particle canon fires a stream of particles at approximately ten to the thirteen joules."

"Wow! That would be capable of vaporizing an asteroid. How is that much power generated?"

Angie barely suppressed a smile. "Cold Fusion."

Clarence didn't suppress a big grin. "Who came up with all of this Buck Rodgers' tech?"

"Most of it came from a research lab called the Omega Stone. They're part of the Consortium."

"Never heard of them. They must employ a bunch of Einsteins."

The room erupted with derisive laughter. Marty looked at Angie and shrugged. She made a face at him.

###

Angie swirled her Pinot Grigio before taking a sip. When she sat it down, she sighed. "Did you get the feeling that they thought we were from outer space?"

Marty gave her a soothing smile. "Do you blame them? We sounded as if we were postulating Star Trek ideas."

"We made fools of ourselves. I can understand them laughing at me, but you're an icon around NASA."

"I'm old history. NASA is interested in the here and now, not history. They didn't believe us because the concepts we presented are too futuristic."

"If we had told them what the Consortium is presently working on, they would have thrown us out."

"I can believe that." He took a sip of beer. "I don't care. I just want to go out there where no man has gone before."

"Or woman."

"Or woman. Now I'm sounding like an old Star Trek episode."

She sighed. "Do you think they'll really call us?"

"I don't know --" His cell phone chirped.

"Hello."

"Marty, we're all overwhelmed by your presentation, but we need to meet with some of your engineers," Clarence said.

"No problem. I'll call and arrange a meeting. Where?"

"How about Houston?"

"Sounds good to me. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

"Good. Til then."

"Bye."

Angie smiled. "That was fast. I guess they are interested."

He smiled back. "It's your mesmerizing personality that did it."

She scoffed. "Oh sure, and pigs fly."

He laughed. "If they hang around us they will."

###

Jerome Tindale appeared stressed and on edge, but his smooth baritone voice was relaxed. Marty assumed that it was just job stress, but it had been several years since he had worked with Jerome and the years had not been kind to his former friend. The lines on his face were more pronounced in the subdued light of Sheraton East's Blue room.

"There are some things about this space plane of yours that disturb me," he said after taking a sip of a double Manhattan.

Marty tried to smile but it was more of a grimace. "That's quite understandable. Many aspects of it are in the realm of extreme science."

"That's putting it mildly." He paused, as if trying to find the right words. "How could all of this advanced technology be developed in secret, especially with so many people from all of those companies involved?"

"That's a good question. When Angie asked me to join the flight-testing team, most of the prototype was already constructed. We had no inkling of its existence. From what I understand the CEO of Omega Stone, Viktor Woronowycz, is a genius and had been experimenting with this technology for years before deciding to develop it."

"That's what bothers me the most. I've never heard of him and what's worse is that there is scarce background info on him. He was born in some obscure Ukrainian village and supposedly taught at MIT for a spell but fell off the radar after he left."

"I can't help you there. I've never met him. He's an eccentric enigma much like Howard Hughes was."

"Do you understand how this technology works?"

"Not in the detailed sense of a physicist. I only know it from a laymen's perspective."

"Let me ask you this. Why is this the X-1001? Was there an X-1000?"

"Yes, but we're not supposed to talk about it."

"What happened to it?"

"There was an accident. That's all I know."

"Oh, my god!"

"They fixed whatever went wrong. Angie and I are proof of that. Apparently there was a problem with the computer control."

"That's scary. The computer controls everything. How can you place all of your trust in a computer that thinks it's a person?"

Marty suppressed a smile. "I don't think that Delphi believes herself to be human."

"How can you say that? You referred to it by name and gender. That effectively makes it a person."

"I suppose you could say that, but it doesn't matter as long as it works." He flashed a benign smile. "Besides, there are manual overrides. Angie and I have had extensive training on the simulator."

"Let's hope that it never comes to that. The technology in this craft is so complex it will never be fully understood."

They both looked up when Angie approached. She was wearing an off-shoulder cocktail dress that made both males struggle to pull their eyes from her exposed cleavage.

"I'm sorry. I got hung up with my shower. I had to wait on the hot water."

Marty got up to help with her chair. "No hurry. We haven't ordered yet."

She glanced at Marty before staring at Jerome. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Not really," Marty said, offering a subtle smile as punctuation. "We were discussing some of Jerry's reservations about the X-1001."

"That's understandable. The X-1001 is an engineering and scientific enigma. However, it represents the future of space exploration."

"That's probably true," Tindale said. "But how does it tie into the past?"

Angie smiled. "You mean: how is it even possible?"

"Yes!"

"I think it's the result of some very advanced theoretical work in both quantum as well as multi-dimensional physics."

"Let me ask you this: how in the hell does this thing produce a gravity field?"

"You mean Antigrav. It has something to do with a cyclotron that focuses antimatter."

"Antimatter? I thought you said that it ran on cold fusion."

"That powers the plasma engines."

"How do you generate antimatter? You would need a very powerful magnetic field."

"It's produced in a cyclotron. That's as much as I know about it."

Tindale shook his head. "Boy, this is unlike anything I've ever dealt with. First, this futuristic craft had already been built and tested before it was presented, and second, it has nothing to do with the government. That's wild."

Marty smiled. "What's wild is the fact that this craft can go anywhere in this solar system with ease. With it, we can explore anything within 40 AU."

Tindale shook his head again, obviously unable to absorb the unbelievable facts about this new craft.