Intrepid: The Two Storms

INTREPID – THE TWO STORMS

Post-Obama, an X-33-space shuttle Commander travels back in time to change history, after notorious assassin 'The Chinaman' shoots the American and Russian Presidents, and a devastating hurricane crosses the Atlantic. The Chinaman's game of cat and mouse proves as dangerous as the plan to destroy the super-storm using a neutron bomb....

'Steve Stone works at the tough but exciting interface between the thriller and the hardest of hard science fiction. In this second part of his four-book series, we find spaceflight, gangland violence, high politics and a clutch of plot twists. Based on deep research and imagination, the series has delivered plenty already and the final two volumes promise much more.' MARTIN INCE, SCIENCE JOURNALIST, AUTHOR OF THE ROUGH GUIDE TO THE EARTH.

This book is a sequel to the novel ‘Intrepid’. Whilst it can be read on a stand-alone basis, prior reading of 'Intrepid' comes highly recommended. Other titles in this series;

'Intrepid'. Available on Smashwords.

'Intrepid - Revelations'. Second sequel, coming early 2012.

'Intrepid - Regression'. Third sequel, coming early 2013.

Title and Copyright Page

INTREPID - THE TWO STORMS

Steve Stone

Smashwords Edition

UK Copyright Number 100902124, 06/04/2011, dulyregistered.com

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and is protected by English copyright, and therefore elsewhere by the Berne Convention. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS

Prologue: The Fisherman

One: The Launch Pad

Two: The Dual Launch

Three: The Tainted Arrival

Four: The Laboratory

Five: The Fuel Transfer

Six: The Long Voyage

Seven: The Office

Eight: The Bomber

Nine: The Night Club

Ten: The Snooker Club

Eleven: The Truck Stop

Twelve: The Old School

Thirteen: The Grandstand

Fourteen: The Riddle

Fifteen: The Shotgun House

Sixteen: The Senator

Seventeen: The Challenge

Eighteen: The Rumble

Epilogue: The Hospital Wing

Prologue : The Fisherman

11:42 a.m., 20 July 2017. A few kilometres off Fort Pierce, a fisherman in his late 60’s sat in his pristine white speedboat, of which he was very proud. It was a wonderful sunny morning, with super-calm seas. He sat at the centre of a row of leather upholstered passenger seats, fitted at the back of the open boat. He wore jeans and trainers, a blue NASA baseball cap perched over his light-sensitive sunglasses. His open blue raincoat partially hid a replica red NASA tee shirt, bearing the name of the space shuttle Intrepid. The lightweight coat wasn’t really necessary right now, but he sensed a turn in the weather was coming.

His fishing pole dangled over the chrome rail. Dazzling in the sunshine, the rail went all the way around the boat. He kept a guiding hand on the pole, just in case he got a bite. The pole hadn’t twitched yet. In fact, he couldn’t remember when he had last taken a catch home for his cat. Not that it mattered. Fishing wasn’t just about fish.

He glanced up at the chrome steering wheel, shining behind the leather driving seat at the front. The key was in the ignition, but the engine was switched off. Beyond the wheel, the Eastern Seaboard of Florida stretched silently out to the left and right. Between the boat and the shore, the sea was as flat as a pool table, seemingly covered with endless blue gloss baize. Above, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, not even a solitary plane disturbing the shimmering canvas.

He looked down at a NASA security pass, resting on the seat beside him, next to a full half-bottle of bourbon. His grey goatee beard and moustache stared up at him from the photo. It was amazing, how the cards of life could be reshuffled so dramatically in just a few short months. He remembered the day he had received the pass in the mail from General Jack Nelson, along with a check for half a million dollars.

The General had purchased the plot containing his old wooden shack beside the beach in Naples, on the opposite coast of Florida. General Nelson’s men had already demolished the shack, and were busy constructing a pink watchtower, overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. There would be just enough space left on the plot to add a two-storey pink house over the existing stone basement of the shack. When the house was complete, the fisherman would move back in, and live there for nothing, under the protection of the American military. The basement would be left untouched, and there would even be a cat flap built into the back door of the house.

In the meantime, he was more than content to stay at the luxurious Naples Beach Hotel, at the General’s expense. They had even allowed his cat to stay in the top dollar suite with him, and were more than happy to look after the cat whilst he was away. The hotel staff would also keep an eye on his brand-new car in the parking lot, not that security was usually an issue in sleepy Naples.

His new life had of course come at a price. General Nelson’s extremely generous deal had been made in compensation for an attack he suffered in the basement of the shack. A man and a boy had driven him home in the middle of the night, after he had drunk too much bourbon whilst fishing off Naples Pier. He had made them coffee, after which they proceeded to lock him in his basement, taking his old station wagon, and some items of clothing. Shortly afterwards, a second larger man with reddened skin and a limp had released the floor padlock securing the basement, but had beaten him before stealing his money. His cat had given the red man quite a nip on the arm for his trouble.

The fisherman had later discovered that the man with the boy was a US Air Force Colonel, name of Lance Tucker. Colonel Tucker was quite a celebrity by all accounts, because he was also Commander of the space shuttle Intrepid. The boy was a member of his shuttle crew, and they had apparently been on a military exercise which had gone wrong. The Colonel had needed the car for emergency transport, and the clothing as disguise for him and the boy. The red man that had beaten the fisherman was apparently a saboteur from a foreign country, and had later been dealt with by the American military.

The fisherman had been taken to hospital after the beating. The whole episode had been frightening, to say the least. But whilst visiting him in hospital, the General had seemed anxious to keep the whole thing under wraps. The fisherman had been more than happy to stay silent on the subject. His wounds had healed, the bad experience was now a distant memory, and the lives of himself and his beloved cat were all the better for the compensation money.

The fishing pole twitched slightly. He stood up, raising the pole. It wasn’t a bite, unfortunately, just an underwater current. He was suddenly distracted by a faint blinking light, in the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, he noticed a very distant black mass, way out at sea, on the horizon. The tiny flash must have come from it. He reached for the half-bottle of bourbon, unscrewing the cap.

‘There’s a storm coming,’ he said to himself. He took a small swig, and replaced the cap. Reeling in the line, he laid the pole down across the deck. He picked up the security pass, and strolled forward to take his position in the driving seat. He looked down at his picture on the pass again. It had been good of General Nelson to include a VIP ticket to the next shuttle launch, as part of the compensation deal.

He looked at the shore, and up the coast. Cape Canaveral was some 60 miles to the north. He would be there to take his place on the grandstand, for the dual launch at 10 p.m. that evening. The whole world had been talking about it. Three months ago, Intrepid’s last launch had been cancelled just before lift-off, because of some technical hitch. By coincidence, the attack in the basement had occurred the night before. The New Cold War had ended, just after the scratched launch, when Russian forces began to inexplicably withdraw from Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. The world was now a friendlier place, and a Russian shuttle had been flown to Cape Canaveral, to accompany Intrepid into orbit.

The American and Russian Presidents were already on their way to the launch, to watch the two shuttles ascend together to the International Space Station. Who knows, he might even spot the two leaders on the grandstand. He doubted that he would meet Colonel Tucker and the boy again. They would be too busy on the launch pad, getting ready to go up.

Sliding the half-bottle of bourbon into the inside pocket of his coat, he turned the ignition key, and the engine jumped to life. A mood of excitement overtook him, as the speedboat powered towards the shore. There was no doubt about it. He was definitely a space fan now.

One : The Launch Pad

US Air Force Colonel Lance Tucker sat at a table in a holding room at Cape Canaveral’s Kennedy Space Centre, surrounded by his crew. Everyone wore matching navy-blue flight suits, adorned with Stars and Stripes, and space related logos.

A man of medium height and build, Lance 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.

The holding room was walking distance from launch pad 39A. Looking past some lockers, and out of the window, he could see Intrepid standing next to a gantry, on the brilliantly illuminated pad. The first of the next generation X-33 space shuttles, it was mounted on a vertical brown fuel tank, flanked by solid rocket boosters. The silver delta wing craft could be seen for miles around, its double white tail fins, and blue and black wings shining brightly. As was the case for all preceding shuttles, it had been named after a famous sailing ship. USS Intrepid had been an Essex-class aircraft carrier from the Second World War. The shuttle was about the same size as the original fleet of all-white, single fin craft that had been retired in 2011. The old white shuttle Endeavour was however still being maintained, should the need for a rescue mission ever arise.

Lance could see the Russian Buran shuttle stack standing behind Intrepid on launch pad 39B. With its own fuel tank and boosters, the red delta wing orbiter shone as brightly as its silver neighbour. It seemed as though the two shuttles were standing next to each other, although the gantries were actually 1.4 miles apart. The Buran shuttle project had originally been cancelled by Boris Yeltsin in 1993, but it had been resurrected in recent years, and in the new spirit of international cooperation, the Russian President had suggested an inaugural launch from Cape Canaveral beside Intrepid. The Buran orbiter had consequently been flown to America on the back of a modified Boeing 747.

The crew of the Buran orbiter would be sitting in a similar holding room, nervously awaiting the call for its first mission into space. Lance held no such nerves. On previous launches, he had experienced fear, almost to the point of panic, without ever showing his emotions outwardly. He had endured nightmares, based on shuttle missions before his time that had ended in tragedy. It was of course true that the shuttle program nudged the safety limits of even today’s technology, and was therefore inherently dangerous, but with his crew laughing and joking all around him, it was impossible not to feel relaxed.

He reached inside his flight suit, and down into a leg pocket on his slacks underneath, pulling out a small scale model of Endeavour. Perfect in every detail, it was his travelling mascot, and he gently turned it over in his hands, as he listened to the others. He felt sure the last shuttle mission had cured him of his inner demons.

As far as the world was concerned, the previous mission and inaugural flight of Intrepid had taken place just over a year ago. Only a select few knew that a flight three months ago was actually the last mission.

Officially, the last mission had been cancelled, after the launch was aborted, with only two seconds remaining. If just another half a second had passed, it would have been too late to stop the launch, as the engines could no longer have been powered down. With the help of crew member James Gray, Lance had convinced US Army General Jack Nelson not to proceed, despite attention from the General’s elite guards, who had held their rifles to his temples. He had not convinced General Nelson to abort by talking to him from the flight deck of Intrepid. Two days prior to confronting him on the steel observation platform of Houston Mission Control, the launch of Intrepid had in fact proceeded, but an accident in space had caused nuclear war between America and Russia. Lance had used the shuttle to travel back in time and change history, by stopping its own launch. Stopping the launch had prevented the nuclear war, and as far as the world was concerned, the original launch had never taken place. And once the General had eventually accepted that nuclear war had been averted through time travel, he had gone to extraordinary lengths to cover the truth, including the arrangement of a secret operation to salvage the wreck of Intrepid from the seabed, just off the coast of Naples.

Sitting beside Lance at the table, US Air Force Major Les Cavilla also knew the truth. Three months previously, Lance’s pilot had survived the disastrous splashdown landing off Naples Pier. Of medium build at five foot ten inches tall, Les had super-strong facial features. At 34 years of age, he looked every part the Top Gun. Lance had believed that Les perished in the splashdown, but after the launch had been stopped, his pilot had saved his life by shooting Russian Colonel Aleksei Vasilyev at Stoney’s Bar in Florida. Lance reflected that Les had been a constant and trusted companion, over the course of many difficult missions involving the shuttle and conventional aircraft. Les had seen active service in the second Gulf War of 2003. You knew he would be calm in a crisis.

The other crew members sitting around the table were in the room, only because Lance had changed history, by averting the nuclear war. With the exception of James, they had no knowledge of Intrepid’s journey back in time, and believed its last mission took place over a year ago.

Jolly Irish civilian Alex O’Donaghue was a valuable import from the European Space Agency. The Flight Engineer was 28 years of age. He was generously built at five foot nine inches tall, but maintained an athletic appearance.

Civilian and Mission Specialist Mark Whitbread was 40 years old, and showed medium build at five foot seven inches tall. Dependable and reliable, Mark was a constant source of support. His approach was action centred. He believed in completing tasks, rather than talking about them.

At 44 years of age, with wire-thin build, civilian and Mission Specialist Nigel Martin was a completely different kettle of fish. Naturally opinionated and outspoken, you would have thought Mark worked under him, but the two men shared equal status. Nigel could be rather difficult at times, but was very good at his job.

Les suddenly looked up at a TV monitor, mounted on a wall. The news station had just returned from a commercial break, and a satellite image of a weather system appeared on the screen. The laughing and joking stopped, as he picked up a remote control, and raised the volume. The image of the weather system downsized to an inset. The newsreader began to speak.

‘Category Four Hurricane Ernie continues its slow progress across the Atlantic. The Meteorological Office advises that the storm has weakened, and is not expected to cause significant disruption.’

A fresh video inset replaced the image of the weather system. It showed three men dressed in suits, shaking hands and conversing. The illuminated shuttle gantries holding Intrepid and the Buran orbiter appeared in the background.

‘The American and Russian Presidents have arrived at Cape Canaveral, ahead of tonight’s historic dual launch of the space shuttle Intrepid, and the Russian Buran orbiter. The launch is due to take place at 10 p.m., Eastern Standard Time.

‘Leading Republican Senator Darrell McKay met both Presidents today on the tarmac. Security has been tightened, following last week’s unsuccessful assassination attempt on McKay by notorious international hit man The Chinaman.’

Lance’s eyes narrowed almost menacingly, and his cheekbones swelled, when he heard or saw something he didn’t like. He wore the look, in response to mention of The Chinaman. Les reduced the volume. ‘I saw the assassination attempt on TV,’ Lance began. ‘Senator McKay was luckier than the seven leading politicians murdered by The Chinaman in recent times. He only survived because he leaned forward to pick up his cell phone at the critical moment. The assassin’s bullet whizzed over his head.’

‘It’s the first time The Chinaman has missed his target,’ Les added. ‘A legendary marksman, he’s become a thorn in the side of the world. It’s rumoured he’s freelance, selling his services to the highest bidder. No one knows his identity, and it’s said he’s a master of stealth and disguise.’

‘You’re a sharpshooter,’ observed James. ‘Bet you’d like him in your sights.’ Of slight build at five foot three inches tall, James was just 16 years old. Laced with muscle and sinew, he would look good on the cover of a baseball magazine.

‘I hate to say it,’ replied Les, ‘but he’s probably a better shot than me. Even so, I’d have a game of snipers with him, if I knew his location.’

‘What really gets me,’ Mark said, ‘is how he taunts the authorities, sending vague notes, and riddles for the police to solve.’

‘That’s why he’ll be caught soon,’ Lance predicted. ‘Arrogance leads to mistakes. I’m just glad that Hurricane Ernie no longer poses a threat to tonight’s shuttle launch.’

The door of the holding room opened. General Nelson walked in. At five foot 11 inches tall, he wore a splendid grey uniform. A spotless white shirt shone under his black tie. A US pin sat above a cluster of medals on his left lapel. Embroidered yellow rectangles on his shoulders contained four white stars.

Lance’s cheekbones began to shrink, as the General approached the table. ‘It’s almost time,’ advised General Nelson, ‘but first a special surprise I’ve arranged with NASA, via a satellite link.’ He picked up the remote control, and turned towards the TV monitor. The news broadcast faded, replaced by white noise, until an image of a shirt-sleeved boy identical to James appeared on the screen. The boy was standing next to a blackboard, chalked with four bullet points;

Isaac Newton’s Laws of Physics

Objects keep on doing what they’re doing.

Force equals mass times acceleration.

Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

Every object attracts every other object.

Nigel piped up. ‘James, looking at the blackboard, I’d say that’s your twin brother, Sammy. You both have a Masters Degree in Physics, right?’

Lance and Les exchanged a knowing glance. They knew better regarding Sammy’s identity. Sammy wasn’t James’ identical twin, he was the same person, James’ other self. It was Sammy, not James that had accompanied Les and Lance on the voyage back in time during the last mission. Known then as James, he had been the only other member of Lance’s crew to survive the splashdown landing off Naples, and had accompanied Lance on the journey to Houston, to convince the General to abort the launch. Two versions of the same person now existed, because Sammy had arrived back at a time when James was alive on Earth.

Lance reflected that it was better to think of Sammy as James’ older self. Sammy was a couple of days older than James, because whilst James was sitting on Intrepid’s flight deck, waiting for the aborted launch, Sammy had already travelled to the International Space Station and back.

The existence of both James and Sammy on Earth had presented General Nelson with a further problem, in his quest to cover the truth. Prior to the last mission, James had lived with his identical twin brother, Timmy at his mother’s house, in the notorious Ninth Ward of New Orleans. To cover things up, the General had concocted a story that James and Timmy were actually two from a set of triplets, and Sammy had been abandoned at birth. The twins’ mother had agreed to the charade, in return for substantial remuneration from the American military, designed to help support her new larger family. Following much face-to-face and phone contact with her, General Nelson had organised all of the relevant paperwork with the authorities, to ensure Sammy’s new identity was secure. Timmy had bought the story hook, line and sinker, and his father had fortunately been in prison at the time of the birth. James had been let in on the secret, and therefore knew about Sammy’s voyage back in time, because he and Sammy both had the same Masters Degree in Physics, and had consequently both been selected for the shuttle program.

The General had experienced no such problems regarding the other crew members. Les had another self, but lived quietly with him at an apartment in Chicago. He had no family surrounding him, which made it much easier for General Nelson to arrange the necessary paperwork. Mark, Nigel and Alex had no other selves, because their older selves, who had all participated in the last mission, were killed in the splashdown landing. Lance also had no other self, because shortly after the aborted launch, his younger self had been tragically killed in a helicopter crash at sea.

The General used the remote control to raise the volume, and everyone’s attention was fixed on the TV monitor. ‘Hi!’ said Sammy. ‘I’m speaking to you from the University of New Orleans. I’ve been staying on campus for a few days, and I’m currently giving a Physics lecture to this unruly lot.’ The camera panned round, providing a view of the packed lecture theatre. All of the students wildly waved and cheered, but fell silent, as the camera returned to focus on the boy beside the blackboard.

‘Hello there, Sammy!’ said Alex, exuberantly. ‘I must say your presentation of Newton’s laws is rather simplistic. And it’s actually disputed whether there was a fourth law at all.’

‘That’s a comment I’d expect from a space shuttle Flight Engineer!’ replied Sammy. ‘The laws are expressed in commonly used jargon. When it comes to Physics, everyone has to start somewhere.

‘James, I’d like to wish you Godspeed for your first journey into space this evening. Commander Tucker, Major Cavilla, I’m sure everyone here will join me in wishing the crew of Intrepid the very best of luck.’

As the camera began to pan round again, the lecture theatre erupted with applause. In the holding room, General Nelson clapped his hands. All six men in flight suits smiled broadly. ‘Thank you very much,’ said Lance, raising his voice slightly. ‘I’m sure that means a lot to everyone.’ Sammy smiled into the camera. The picture gradually faded, and was replaced by white noise.

‘It’s time,’ said the General. Lance and his crew stood, and collected their white flight helmets from hooks on a wall. They followed General Nelson out of the door, and into the darkness, beginning the long walk toward the gantries.

Over 1,000 miles away, Hurricane Ernie swirled above the Atlantic. Across the enormous empty eye of the weakening storm, moonlight reflected off the churning ocean. All around the circular eye, a slowly rotating, dark wall of cloud extended from the wave tips to the night sky above.

On the seabed, directly underneath the eye, a multitude of wonderfully coloured fish swam along an enormous angled plane of rock. Exotic crustaceans of all shapes