Intrepid: Revelations

INTREPID - REVELATIONS

28 January 2018. Post-Obama, Colonel Lance Tucker is Commander of the next generation X-33 space shuttle Intrepid. Its latest mission to the International Space Station ends in calamity and tragedy, when a meteor shower strikes.

General Jack Nelson orders Lance to use a secret flying saucer at Area 51, to travel back in time and change history. An imprisoned alien navigator offers assistance in exchange for his freedom, but a slip of the tongue diverts the journey to 1888 London, 1945 Berlin, 1963 Dallas, and 1994 Los Angeles.

En route to try and save the ISS, Lance cannot resist the challenge of solving the greatest mysteries of the modern world. Who was really Jack the Ripper? Did Hitler commit suicide, or did he somehow escape the wrath of the Allies? Who really shot President John F. Kennedy? And did O.J. Simpson really do it?

But as Lance closes on the space station, does the alien navigator have a secret agenda? The shocking revelations continue to the very end....

Other books by the same author;

‘Intrepid’ (2010)

‘Intrepid - The Two Storms’ (2011)

And coming soon;

‘Intrepid - Regression’ (2013)

‘Intrepid - Requiem’ (2014)

Steve Stone was born in Bristol, England. A former expert IT Project Manager and statistician, he threw off the shackles of computer contracting in 2005, to become a full-time writer. He enjoys poker, golf, walking and billiards in his spare time. A summer tour of New York and Florida provided the main inspiration for the ‘Intrepid’ collection of novels, of which this is the third in a series of five. Steve lives in Swindon, England, with his wife, Debi.

Title and Copyright Page

INTREPID - REVELATIONS

Steve Stone

Smashwords Edition

UK Copyright Number 100903791, 18/01/2012, dulyregistered.co.uk

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CONTENTS

The Key Locations in Pictures

Prologue: The Fisherman

One: The Meteor Shower

Two: The Aftermath

Three: The Escape Craft

Four: The Saucer

Five: The Alien Navigator

Six: The Ripper Files

Seven: The Britannia

Eight: The Desolate Courtyard

Nine: The Reich Chancellery Garden

Ten: The Fuhrerbunker

Eleven: The Pillbox

Twelve: The Plaza Sky

Thirteen: The Texas School Book Depository

Fourteen: The Lunchroom

Fifteen: The Rockingham Mansion

Sixteen: The White Bronco

Seventeen: The Condominium

Eighteen: The Enemy Species

Nineteen: The Propulsion

Twenty: The Momentous Decision

Epilogue: The Shocking Revelations

The Key Locations in Pictures

Whitechapel, London 1888;

Fuhrerbunker, Hitler’s Reich Chancellery, Berlin 1945;

Dealey Plaza, Dallas, 11/22/1963;

O.J. Simpson Murder Scene, Los Angeles, 1994;

Prologue: The Fisherman

10:01 a.m., 28 January 2018. At the mouth of a quiet tributary, somewhere in the Florida Everglades, a simple fisherman in his late 60’s sat in his sparkling white speedboat. He wore jeans and trainers, below a thigh-length coat, and scarf. The real heat and humidity of the day hadn’t set in just yet, and the scarf and coat provided adequate protection against the cool, gentle breeze. A blue NASA baseball cap bearing the name of the space shuttle Intrepid sat above his light-sensitive sunglasses, grey goatee beard, and moustache. The logo on the cap matched that of the red NASA tee shirt he was proudly wearing, under the coat.

In the wild expanses of the subtropical wetlands, he felt so alive and alone. The wetlands were the province of turtles, fish, alligators, snakes, and the occasional group of manatees. There were no people for miles around. He sat on a leather upholstered passenger seat, one of four fitted at the back of the open boat. A full half-bottle of bourbon sat on the seat next to him. A fishing pole in his hand hung over the chrome rail, which ran around the sides of the boat. In the morning sunshine, the rail gleamed as brightly as the matching silver steering wheel, sitting behind the leather driving seat at the front. Dangling from the ignition, the keys swung slowly from side-to-side, as the stationary boat sedately bobbed up and down in the narrow tributary, surrounded by reeds, and mangrove trees reaching up from the water.

His line had been in the water for forty minutes or so, but he hadn’t caught anything yet. His bad luck so far would matter to his cat waiting at home, but didn’t matter to him. He reminded himself once again that there was more to fishing than fish. Whether you were angling in the Glades, or in the sea off the Eastern Seaboard, there was something engaging about the solitude and serenity of it all.

He reflected that he was very lucky to be sitting where he was, doing what he had always loved to do best. He was also very lucky to have the small, but luxurious speedboat that had made today’s fishing trip so pleasant. Things hadn’t always been the way they were now. For many years, he had lived alone in a wooden shack, on 18th Avenue South in Naples, Florida, just along the beach from the wooden pier he loved to fish from. His mother and father had purchased the shack in the early 1960’s, moving down from Dallas, Texas. An only child, he had eventually been left alone in the place, and it had fallen into disrepair, due to his meagre earnings as a tour guide. Although he inherited the shack, in later years he had been forced to rely on delivering papers and leaflets, and playing small-stakes poker to keep up with the bills.

But all that had changed, after US Air Force Colonel Lance Tucker strolled into his life one night, some nine months ago now. Although the fisherman didn’t know it at the time, Colonel Tucker was also Commander of the space shuttle Intrepid. After a session of night fishing from Naples Pier, the fisherman had watched a meteor crash into the sea, less than a mile offshore. Some minutes later, he had crept up on the Colonel, on a small green, just behind the beach. By coincidence, it had been the night before a scheduled launch of Intrepid, which was aborted on the launch pad at the last minute. Colonel Tucker had been accompanied by a boy, who turned out to be a member of his shuttle crew. The Colonel and the boy had apparently been on a military exercise that had gone wrong, and were soaked through, because their boat sunk.

The fisherman had taken pity on them, and invited them to his shack for a hot drink. Because of the shock of witnessing the meteor impact, he had consumed quite a quantity of bourbon on the pier. He had given Colonel Tucker the keys to his station wagon, and the Colonel had kindly driven him home. The company of the Colonel and the boy had been enjoyable, but they locked him in the basement of the shack with his cat, and stole his car, together with some items of clothing. Shortly afterwards, a bigger man with reddened hands and face had released him from the basement, but had then proceeded to beat him, and steal his money.

US Army General Jack Nelson subsequently visited the fisherman in hospital, and had apologised on behalf of the American military for the incident, explaining that the red man was a saboteur from a foreign country, and had been dealt with. The General later sent the fisherman a compensation check for half a million dollars, in exchange for his silence regarding the incident. A VIP ticket to the next shuttle launch had been included in the envelope. As part of the deal, General Nelson had acquired ownership of the plot of land containing the shack, and had knocked it down, building a pink house over the existing stone basement, for the fisherman to live in. There had been just enough room on the plot for the General to add a watchtower, enabling the American military to look out, over the Gulf of Mexico. General Nelson had kindly put the fisherman and his cat up at the luxurious Naples Beach Hotel, until construction work was complete. The station wagon and the fisherman’s clothing had subsequently been returned.

The fisherman plucked the half-bottle of bourbon from the seat beside him. Carefully unscrewing the cap, he took a large slug. He told himself he needed it, after reminding himself of the traumatic events in the basement. The money from the General had of course made the lives of himself and his beloved cat all the richer, but he reflected that the money wasn’t the only reason he was lucky to be sitting in the Glades, fishing in the sunshine from his speedboat.

At his age, he had been lucky to fully recover from the beating, dished out by the muscular red man. The awful experience was now a distant memory, and the scars and bruises had healed nicely. But the fisherman had also been remarkably lucky to survive, whilst using the VIP pass to attend the launch of Intrepid, six months ago. He had become a space fan in recent times, and had sat in the VIP box of the grandstand, at the Kennedy Space Centre in Cape Canaveral. The shuttle had been going up again, this time in tandem, with a Russian Buran orbiter. He had been amazed and humbled to sit with the world’s leading dignitaries to witness the historic event, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock of spotting Colonel Tucker, in disguise on the grandstand. After catching up with the Colonel on the walkway beneath the VIP box, right in front of both the American and Russian presidents, he had pursued him along a corridor beneath the stand, to a utility room. The boy had shown up in the room, and they had together solved a riddle to defuse a large bomb, left by international assassin The Chinaman. The fisherman had originally intended to leave, well before the timer on the device expired, but in the end they entered the correct numeric code to make the device safe, with just 19 seconds remaining.

He had pondered how Colonel Tucker and the boy could have been in two places at once, since they were supposed to be on the flight deck of Intrepid, in the distance beyond the grandstand. Perhaps they were time travellers or something, not that it mattered now. The American and Russian presidents had been saved, and the American military later caught up with The Chinaman in New Orleans. The military had actually been very busy at the time. On the very day of the tandem shuttle launch, they had used an experimental neutron bomb to destroy Hurricane Ernie in the Atlantic Ocean, after the American President somehow predicted that the hurricane would be transformed into a super-storm, by an underwater volcanic eruption. Sea life had apparently not been affected by the explosion, as the bomb produced no lasting radiation.

A couple of days after the tandem launch, the fisherman had moved with his cat, into the new pink house. The American military in the watchtower had been really helpful since then, bringing him endless meals and cups of coffee, although he sometimes wondered if they were doing it all, just to keep an eye on him.

His cat was called Thing, because he couldn’t think what else to call it. The name had caused quite some embarrassment, during a routine visit to the vet. He could picture the cat, stuffing its face in the basement, waiting for him to come home later, with a nice juicy catch. As well as plenty of food and water, the brand-new television in the basement had been left on, to provide the cat with some amusement. The trap door in the ceiling had been left open, providing free run of the house, and General Nelson had been kind enough to have a cat flap built into the back door.

The fisherman raised the bottle, and took a second slug. Although he was enjoying the fishing trip immensely, it had been quite a busy weekend. He had attended the most recent launch of Intrepid three nights ago, courtesy of the General. The following morning, he had dashed across Florida from Cape Canaveral, to tend to the cat, and make preparations for the fishing trip.

The pole twitched in his hand. This time, he was sure. He took a quick slug from the bottle. Standing up, he raised the pole into the air. Pulling on the line, he felt a little resistance. He pulled harder, and the line sprung up at him. Sadly, it had simply become caught in the reeds. Or maybe it had become snagged on the bottom of an old, septic fuel tank, suspended between several mangrove trees, just above the water. It was hard to tell what had hitched the line, as the bottom of the dark purple, oval-shaped tank was almost completely obscured by foliage.

He was very familiar with the local rivers and tributaries, and had first noticed the tank, a few years previously. It was bigger than the speedboat, and had become splattered with mud. He smiled, remembering the rickety old fishing boat he used to own, with its dodgy engine. One day, whilst out in the old boat, he had clambered on top of the tank. He had fished from the tank for a while, and considered it to be completely hollow, from the sound his feet made on it. Maybe it had once been housed on the back of some oil tanker. As happened all too often in the Glades, it was a shame someone had chosen to dump unwanted material. He began to wonder what the tank might once have contained. Perhaps it was still spilling residue into the water, which might explain why he never caught any fish.

He was suddenly distracted by a light, high in the sky. Actually, there were two tiny specks, sitting next to each other in the sunshine. He raised the bottle to his lips again, and took another slug. ‘There are no stars in daytime,’ he told himself. ‘They must be planets, or something.’

He took a last small sip, and carefully capped the bottle, sliding it into his coat pocket. Reeling the line in, he laid the pole down, across the deck. He strolled to take his position in the driving seat, and started the engine. The speedboat powered along the tributary, heading for a distant river.

As the boat reached the river, Thing the cat sat alone, in the basement of the fisherman’s home, some 25 miles to the northwest. The cat was watching a television. He had watched the local news station with interest, without really understanding the meaning of the images or sounds.

Four humans dressed in blue flight suits suddenly appeared on the screen. Smiling broadly, they stood in a line, and carried white flight helmets in their hands. The suits were adorned with stars and stripes, and space-related logos. Thing hissed loudly. His hackles were raised, as the newsreader began to speak.

‘We’re now going to hand you over to NASA TV, as Commander Lance Tucker and his crew approach the International Space Station. Intrepid’s journey to the ISS has taken over two days to complete.’

It wasn’t that Thing was afraid of the row of humans. He recognised two of them, from an encounter in the basement, many Suns ago. They smelled of seawater at the time, but he couldn’t smell them now. There was no mistaking the large man at the centre of the line, and the smaller man standing at his side. They had visited his long-time friend with the grey furry face, who had been so kind, since adopting him as a kitten. The cat looked to his right, at a mahogany table and leather chair, sitting at one end of the basement. He remembered the smaller man had sat in the chair, placing an old broken noise-box amongst the books and candles on the table. Opening the box, the smaller man had tampered with its contents, and fiddled with its aerial, until it made the sound of humans again. But then Thing’s friend had replaced the smaller man in the chair, to listen to the box. The smaller man had scampered up the stairs, through the big cat flap in the ceiling. And the large man had closed the flap, imprisoning them.

The cat looked back at the television. Intrepid had appeared on the screen. The silver superstructure of the delta wing craft shone brightly in the sunshine, in sharp contrast to its blue and black wings. The shuttle was travelling sideways, nose down. Its double white tail fins, and open payload bay doors were pointing towards the end of a leading silver cylinder, at one end of the ISS. Two further cylinders, also silver in colour, were visible in the picture. They were attached to either side of the leading cylinder, pointing away at right angles to it. The cylinder pointing away to the left culminated in two external racks, packed with scientific equipment. A long manipulator arm, surrounded by communication arrays, marked the end of the cylinder pointing away to the right. A small, stubby circular module sat on top of the right-hand cylinder.

A large truss appeared above the arrangement of cylinders. It stretched away to the right and left, far beyond their reach. The truss consisted of large metal boxes and gantries, and housed an assortment of robotic arms. The largest arm sat directly above the leading cylinder. The fingers of the arm held a large, foam-covered fuel tank in place. The truss culminated in arrays of solar panels, eight at each end. As the shuttle slowly drifted towards the leading cylinder, the NASA Flight Commentator began to voiceover the television footage.

‘Welcome to NASA’s coverage of the docking of the space shuttle Intrepid with the International Space Station. The approach of the shuttle has been visible to the naked eye for some time, from many vantage points around the Earth. Intrepid is the first of the next generation X-33 space shuttles. The shuttle left Cape Canaveral on Thursday evening, for its latest journey into space. As was the case for the preceding fleet of all-white, single fin shuttles, Intrepid is named after a famous sailing ship. USS Intrepid is an Essex-class aircraft carrier that served with distinction in the Second World War, before its retirement in 1976. The carrier currently forms part of the Sea-Air-Space Museum, in New York City.

‘The shuttle is currently lining up with a docking adapter, at the end of the Harmony module of the ISS. Intrepid’s docking mechanism is housed behind its open payload bay doors. Once the docking mechanism has entered Harmony’s adapter, and an airtight seal has been confirmed, the astronauts on board the shuttle will be able to climb aboard the space station, without the need to don full spacesuits.

‘Two space laboratories of the ISS are visible in this shot, beneath the metal truss. The laboratories run adjacent to the truss, one on either side of the Harmony cylinder. The Columbus laboratory of the European Space Agency appears on the left, the Japanese Kibo laboratory appearing on the right. The logistics module attached to the roof of the Kibo laboratory makes it the largest single area of the station.

‘Above the Harmony module, the supplementary fuel tank is suspended from the truss by robotic arm. The foam insulation surrounding the fuel tank is designed to protect it from extreme temperatures, and small micrometeorites. This lightweight titanium tank can be fitted to the payload bay of Intrepid, or that of the Russian Buran orbiter, enabling either to orbit the Earth for considerable periods, servicing satellites.

‘The remainder of the ISS is out of shot, behind the truss. The Destiny, Unity, Zarya and Zvezda modules sit behind the Harmony cylinder, providing a total of over 12,000 cubic feet of shirt-sleeved living space.’

The picture of Intrepid and the ISS was replaced by an internal view of the flight deck of the shuttle. Five astronauts were strapped to their seats, before an array of control panels, appearing below the windows. The astronauts had their backs to the camera. Four wore blue flight suits, the clear visors of their white flight helmets down. The fifth man wore a red helmet and flight suit. Two astronauts in blue sat at the front of the deck, a short distance apart. The others sat on a row of three seats, towards the rear of the deck. The man in red flight gear sat at the centre of the back row.

‘On the flight deck of Intrepid, Commander Lance Tucker is accompanied by Pilot Les Cavilla. Commander Tucker is also trained to pilot the shuttle, if required.’ Lance looked around at the camera, and smiled. Sat in the Commander’s chair, on the left-hand side at the front of the flight deck, his medium build and height were indiscernible. He was of uncertain age, to the keenest of observers. But for his fame as a shuttle Commander, his appearance would be un-noteworthy to the average man on the street. His appearance had however been instrumental to the success of several covert operations, stretching back over many years. His face was long and wise, and his small, piercing dark-blue eyes sat behind well-defined cheekbones.

Thing hissed again, at the sight of Lance’s face. Black fur stood on end, all along the cat’s back. His tail pointed straight up in the air, fur fluffed out. He remembered the big red man that had opened the flap in the ceiling, after the man on the screen had left. The cat looked at a metal bedstead, at the other end of the basement. His friend had been hurt by the red man, before spreading himself across the bed.

Thing looked down at the floor. Three bowls sat in a line, in front of him. One contained clear water. The other two were full of food. Grabbing a mouthful of cat biscuits, he began crunching them angrily. The Flight Commentator’s voiceover continued.

‘Appearing on the right, at the front of the flight deck, Pilot Cavilla is currently operating the navigational targeting system, responsible for ensuring alignment of Intrepid’s docking mechanism with Harmony’s adapter. It would seem that beside him, Commander Tucker is patched into this broadcast.

‘The pairing of Commander Tucker and Pilot Cavilla has headed both previous missions of Intrepid to the ISS. Also on the flight deck are Mission Specialist James Gray, and Flight Engineer Alex O’Donaghue from the European Space Agency. The Western contingent is joined on the flight deck by cosmonaut Aleksei Vasilyev from the Russian Federal Space Agency, pictured here at the centre of the back row.’

The image of the flight deck was replaced by a picture of two astronauts in red flight suits and helmets, strapped to chairs on either side of an airlock hatch. They were facing the camera, and the Russian hammer and sickle on their suits was clearly visible, amongst space-related insignia.

‘The crew of Intrepid is completed by cosmonauts Grigory Lebedev and Viktor Volkov, down on middeck. Lebedev, Volkov and Vasilyev will remain on the ISS at the completion of the mission, replacing Mission Specialist Nigel Martin, and cosmonauts Nesterenko and Burlechenko. This mission further extends multinational cooperation in the science of space exploration.’

The picture switched back to the external view of Intrepid and the space station. The camera zoomed in a little on the Harmony module, as the shuttle inched closer to its docking adapter. Several pockmarks became visible on the surface of the Harmony cylinder.

‘The recent micrometeorite strikes on the ISS will be foremost in the crew’s minds, as they prepare for docking. Three days ago, just before Intrepid’s launch, the station suffered multiple hits from small fragments, forming part of a meteor shower. Minor damage to the cylinder housing the Harmony module is visible in this shot.’

The metal ring