This is the Preface and first two chapters of my novel

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PREFACE

The International Space Station is years behind in its completion for too many reasons, the main one being the antiquated fleet of space shuttles. After the loss of two shuttles and their crews, all of the other ships were grounded for many months. NASA scrambled to solve the problems that caused the loss of the shuttles and their crews. It was not helping that sabotage was suspected, which in turn caused long delays in projects that were crucial to the entire program. In addition, certain countries did not want to see the space station completed — namely Russia and China — which were trying to prevent America from controlling outer space.

U.S. Vice President Cynthia Alexander came to the realization that her Democratic party was trying to dismantle the U.S. military. When she spoke to the president about this matter, he told her not to be concerned with it. When she insisted that it was her concern, the president looked her square in the eyes and ordered her to stay out of it. She knew that would never happen. She could not, and would not, stay out of anything. She had to find a way to stop what her party was doing.

According to the CIA, both Russia and China were working hard to build their own space programs, yet the U.S. kept cutting the funding for NASA. When the president forced the sale of top secret technology to the Chinese, Vice President Alexander became infuriated and almost resigned. She changed her mind quickly though, for she knew if she resigned, she would lose access to key information. She decided she had to know everything if she was to fight her own party from within. She had no idea who to trust, but she knew she needed help.

That was when she thought of Thelma Ritter Estes, a lifelong friend, schoolmate, and person she knew she could trust. She needed to talk to Thelma and see if her husband could be trusted as well. It would certainly help to have him on her side, as he had recently been promoted to a one-star general in the United States Air Force.

When she arrived in Houston, her escort was waiting for her on the tarmac. The black limo shimmered in the sun, and it looked as though pools of water were dancing on the asphalt. As she walked to the limo, the pools of water seemed to move farther away with each step. In the back seat, she could feel the cool air from the car wrap around her. She knew there was no turning back now.

At Thelma's, she was greeted with girlish laughter and hugs that brought the old days flooding back. After catching up, Thelma looked long and hard at her friend and got to the point, “Tell me what's on your mind.”

Cynthia told Thelma the details of her problem, and then asked if her husband could be trusted not to give her away.
Thelma said everyone in the military hated the commander in chief for what he was doing. They hated that the president, as well as the party, were selling out their country.

General Estes met with Vice President Alexander and an alliance was formed. They were both concerned, not only for the Armed Forces, but also in the direction the race for space was heading. General Estes was a U.S. Air Force technical representative with NASA and was associated with Colonel Dennis Denehey, who was working on a new shuttle — one that could do the same duty as the original but was a true space ship. The slimmed down budget Denehey had to work with was no help, but he managed to do his job, and do it well.

Vice President Alexander put her plan into action and within a short period had diverted a few billion dollars to set up a secret facility where the first prototype of the newest shuttle could be launched from the drawing board and into a production stage.

She set up a secret meeting with the two top Republicans in the House and Senate, revealing everything and informing them she planned to resign and leave her party. They agreed to assist her with more funding if she would consider running for president in the next election on the Republican ticket. She agreed and was elected president by a landslide. With Cynthia Alexander as president, the rebuilding of the U.S. armed forces began in earnest, as did the race for space, under the genius of one Colonel Dennis Denehey.

This is the story of those involved in the project — Delta Blue Squadron, America's First Space Fleet.


CHAPTER ONE

General Robert Estes was sitting in his office at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base when his intercom sounded.

“Yes, Anna,” he mumbled into the system.

“Lieutenant Denehey, sir.”

He sat there a moment staring at the black phone, took a deep breath, and answered it.
“Dennis, what the hell happened? I can't believe they busted you to the bottom.”

“Yes sir,” Denehey replied. “They did give me a tough choice though, either a general discharge or take the reduction in rank.”

“Damn it, Dennis!” exclaimed the general, as he leaned back into his chair. “Why did you have to hit the S.O.B.?”

“The same reason you would have, sir. No one questions my integrity, honesty, or loyalty to my country — and no one curses me on the floor of Congress either.”

General Estes wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead and took another deep breath. He knew that Dennis was right, but to strike a U.S. senator for whatever reason was still a no-no.

“There's something I need to know. Can you still work on the program?”

“There was no mention of my being relieved of my duties, sir. With or without me, the program must continue.”

“Good, because I don't think we could move ahead as quickly without you. There is one more question. Do you believe you can still function after this bull crap?”

“That's no problem, sir. It's a huge disappointment to me, but I'm fine. I won't let you down.”

“OK, Dennis, I'm sending a plane to bring you here. I have some new pilots to meet with in the morning. Their scores on the simulator, such as it is, look very good. The plane will be at Andrews in about two hours.”

##
Dennis was sitting in the op's lounge at Andrews Air Force Base, dozing, when the intercom system broke the silence.

“Lieutenant Denehey. Lieutenant Denehey. Report to spot six, a plane is waiting for you,” said the drowsy voice of someone who sounded like she could use another cup of coffee.

There was only one plane on the parking ramp and he was met on the steps by the flight engineer, who offered to stow his bags. The lieutenant was surprised to see four other passengers on board. He felt their stares as he passed by their seats to find a spot where he could have some privacy. He was in no mood for any conversation after all he'd been through in the past few weeks. The court-martial was still fresh in his mind.

Dennis had married a U.S. senator's daughter — first mistake. Senator Tolbert, from the start, did not particularly like the idea of his daughter marrying a military man. Dennis was among several called before a special hearing to testify concerning not closing certain strategic bases. He disagreed with the senator's stance on the subject, and said so before the board. Senator Tolbert was furious. He made the mistake of walking up to Dennis, putting his finger an inch from Dennis' nose, while more or less accusing him of being a coward. He had quietly told the senator to abide by the rules of protocol, get his finger out of his face, and be very careful of his accusations. Tolbert persisted and made the big mistake of repeating his previous action, and that's when Dennis knocked him out cold.

Then there was the court-martial. He almost accepted the general discharge, but then strongly considered the great need the United States had for the ship he had designed, and accepted the demotion instead. Then came the divorce papers from his wife and now the call from General Estes.

He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts of the previous few weeks, Dennis didn't even realize the plane had taken off until he heard the familiar crackle from the intercom and the pilot announcing it was OK to move about. Dennis opened his laptop and brought up the plans for his ship. He would get lost in time when he studied the ship. It was his passion and an escape from past troubles.

“Interesting looking ship. A little farfetched though, don't you think?”

Dennis immediately closed his laptop and looked into the intense green eyes of a tall woman wearing the uniform of the U.S. Air Force. His eyes traveled down to the wings that were pinned to her blouse and then to the silver leaf of a lieutenant colonel.

She smiled and offered her hand, “Colonel Diane O'Hara.”

Her perfect teeth gleamed through the sexiest lips Dennis had seen in a long time. He took the offered hand and introduced himself. A slight, cocky grin appeared.
“Farfetched? Maybe it is, Colonel.”

“Are you by any chance writing a science fiction book?”

Smiling in earnest now, he answered, “No, ma'am, I'm not a writer; just speculating.”

“Looked pretty detailed for just speculating, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, Colonel, but at present I can't discuss my speculating with you.”

“I see,” she said with a hint of disappointment. “Well, Lieutenant, perhaps another time.” She turned sharply and went back to her seat.

Dennis closed his eyes. I wonder what part she’s going to play in the future of my ship ... hope it’s a good one! He dozed off; when he opened his eyes again they had already landed. Diane was standing, looking back at him.

“Are you coming with us, or are you sleeping all day?”

He grabbed his laptop and headed to the front of the plane.

##

The small waiting room seemed stuffy. No one was talking, which made it even worse. Everyone had other things on their minds, like what was in store for them here. General Estes' secretary came in.

“Dennis, follow me, please. General Estes wants to see you. Sorry about the problems.”

Dennis noticed the questioning looks on the faces of the others as he fell in behind Anna.

Forty-five minutes later, he and the general came out to the waiting room. The general fumbled with some files until he found the one he was looking for. He glanced at the name on the top of the file.

“Colonel Deana Kutchmark?”

Deana stood and saluted him “That would be me, sir.”

He returned the salute and shook her hand. “Welcome, Colonel Kutchmark.”

“Thank you, sir.”

The routine repeated with Lieutenant Colonel Diane O’Hara, Colonel James Matovich and Colonel Edward Mitchell. General Estes then handed all the files to Dennis.

“If you all would take a seat at the table, we can get started,” Estes said, and the four recruits made themselves comfortable while Dennis sat across the room at a smaller table, alone, to study their files.

General Estes studied the faces of the recruits. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm not quite sure what conclusions you've reached concerning our simulator. We're sorry for the poor design of it, but due to budget crunches at that time, which are changing now in our favor, we did the best we could. Considering what you had to work with and what your records reflect, you have again excelled. That's why you're here now.”

He glanced toward Dennis and then back to the four sitting at the table. “I want you all to be aware of the job ahead and what your job will be. Since the clarity of our program was not fully revealed to you when you volunteered, you will have a chance to reconsider. You can walk away from the program and go back to your previous positions, but understand one thing, what I reveal to you is, and must remain, top secret.”

The general paused and looked intently at each of the recruits. “The new positions intended are not just as pilots but also as astronauts — astronauts in a much different sense than the present shuttle astronauts. America is going into space, and back to the moon.”

General Estes smiled at the puzzled looks on each of their faces. “Now before I go further, you can ask your questions and voice any doubts you may have, or even withdraw.”

“You certainly have caught my interest, sir,” Deana said. “I have many questions but my first two are, why back to the moon, sir, more rock samples? Furthermore, will our transportation be similar to the Apollo Lander?”

General Estes replied, “Back to the moon to install a manned base.”

“Sorry to interrupt, sir,” Colonel Matovich edged in before the general could respond to the last part of Deana's question. “We have had enormous problems just supplying the space station. How can we be sure we can sufficiently supply a base on the moon, and lastly, what is the value of a base on the moon?”

“To answer Colonel Kutchmark's last question, your transportation will not in any way resemble the Apollo. The new ship will be two and a half times larger than the present shuttle and capable of moving almost four times the tonnage of the shuttle.”

General Estes walked over to the water fountain and took down a small cup. He offered the others a cup and they all declined. After taking a long, cold drink and tossing the cup into the tiny trash can beside the fountain, he continued. “Why a base station on the moon? Several reasons, really, but the main reason is for national security. The United States has a new anti-missile weapon; a laser cannon. It's so powerful it can track any missile from the minute it's launched. It can track it, and if deems it is going in the wrong direction, it can blow that missile out of the sky within five to eight seconds.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Diane interrupted. “According to the Outer Space Treaty and Resolution; no country can put weapons into space. So, is it the intent of the United States to break that treaty?”

General Estes shook his head. “Russia and China have already broken that treaty, and we have solid proof of it. You already know that Russia is mad as hell since they got booted from the space station when they broke the ISS Code of Conduct rules three times. Now, before I reveal anything else, is there any of you who wish to withdraw and return to your previous duties?”

The four looked at each other and Diane quickly spoke up, “I certainly don't, sir.” The other three followed suit.

“Very well then, we have another flight to make.” The general called out to his secretary. “Anna? Has the luggage been transferred to my plane?”

“It's all on board your 747, sir.”

“Is all the equipment and files on board the C-130?”

“Yes sir, once we wind everything down here, and you're on your way east, we should be airborne within the hour heading west.”

“Thank you, Anna. Take care of yourself and my Thelma. Safe trip.”

Anna smiled. “We will be fine, sir; see you at home base.”

The general turned back to the recruits. “Ladies and gentlemen, Anna will take you to a van. I'll be right behind you and we'll be on our way.”

Everyone filed out behind Anna except Colonel Mitchell, who followed the general back into his office. “Excuse me, General, for being so curious, but what is with this Lieutenant Denehey? You have to almost twist his arm to get him to speak and his clipped answers are to the point, and then he clams up.”

The general picked up the files from the desk and turned to face the colonel. “Colonel Mitchell, that's not something I'm privy to speak of at this time.” He paused at the door and offered an ushering gesture. “After you.”

##
Diane and Deana were very comfortable. The seats in the plane were as good as any easy chair in one's living room. They were facing each other but gazing out the window as the huge plane lumbered toward a runway. The sun was setting behind them and the huge plane turned slowly to the south, onto the runway, and into the prevailing wind. The two women could see the top quarter of a huge fireball slowly dropping down behind the western horizon. Many streaks of white clouds, high above the earth, were turning a brilliant light pink, with the still-azure sky as a background.

Speaking softly and to no one in particular, Diane said, “God has his paint brush working on pure beauty.”

“You're right,” Deana answered. “I can never get enough of his art work.”

The huge engines whined softly as the nose of the aircraft lifted gently into the air. The big bird was up and climbing for the heavens. Dennis, once again, was sitting off by himself studying the files of the four new recruits.

An Air Force stewardess came down the stairwell and proceeded to the intercom to make an announcement. “Lieutenant Denehey, the general would like to see you above. For all others, the general will hold a conference on the upper deck and all wishing to attend are welcome.”

The recruits were on their way before she finished, loaded with questions. Dennis smiled at their enthusiasm as he, too, climbed the stairs.

Once they were seated, the general announced, “OK, I know this is turning into a very long day. I just want you to know that I'm not going to make you starve ... yet.”

The recruits laughed and the tension seemed to ease somewhat.

“Dinner will be served in an hour, but in the meantime give the stewardess your orders for drinks. Alcohol is permissible at this time. Now, let's get down to business.”

Diane jumped in immediately. “Sir, if the new ship is so big, what size booster rockets could possibly put that much weight into orbit? The booster rockets for the shuttle are what? Twenty percent marginal?”

“I guess I'll have to let Lieutenant Denehey answer that, Colonel.”

Dennis put the files aside. “We don't use booster rockets, Colonel, and we don't launch from a pad like the shuttle. We take off from a runway like a conventional aircraft.”

Surprise registered on their faces as they stared at him, trying to comprehend what was just revealed.

Ed Mitchell cleared his throat. “Are you telling us, Lieutenant, that you genuinely believe you can take a ship that's two and a half times the size of the Space Shuttle, get it airborne from a runway, carry enough fuel to reach escape velocity and get into orbit? Is that a paper formula?”

Diane chimed in unbelievingly, “How so?”

The cocky grin appeared once more on Dennis' face. “I've flown it seven times to the space station and back to base, ma'am.”

All four of the recruits looked at Dennis anew. Colonel Kutchmark leaned forward, folded her arms on the table and stared disbelievingly at Dennis. “You're telling us that you've test flown such a ship? How much fuel, of the ship’s total capacity, did you use?”

Dennis smiled at her two quick questions. “Yes ma'am, the prototype has been on the runway for a year. She has quite a few hours on her, and I worked out the bugs long before I took her into space. I made seven trips at different times, for trial runs, and used less than twenty percent of the fuel to get into orbit.”

“You flew a craft that size by yourself?” Colonel Matovich asked.

“More or less, yes, sir. I had my engineer, Sergeant Tensley, on board each time, but the computers did most of the work.”

Diane was mesmerized by what she was hearing. “How many orbits around the earth did you have to make to get enough speed to slingshot the ship into orbit?”

“None. I avoid the jet streams and go to 35,000 feet, kick in the after burners and go vertical to get into quick orbit.”

Ed Mitchell stood up with a look of disbelief on his face. “Lieutenant, I believe that what you're telling us is almost impossible. To reach for almost 25,000 miles per hour in a vertical flight, in a ship that size, just can't see it, sir!”

“OK, let's hold up,” General Estes intervened. “What Lieutenant Denehey has told you is fact. He has worked years to not only design the ship, but ninety-nine percent of the computer system and the electronics are his baby.” The general looked directly at Ed Mitchell. “Without the new fuel — 100 percent his — and the engines, which he almost totally designed, we could not have powered this ship to perform as it does. I personally guarantee that whatever he tells you is fact, not fiction.”

A new respect for Dennis was formed at that moment.

CHAPTER TWO

In Moscow, Russian President Dimitri Kozolov was meeting with his defense minister, Vladimir Bienski, and several other high officials.

“Our radar outposts in Cuba and Mexico are giving reports of activity somewhere in the Nevada/Utah area,” said Vladimir. “They can't pinpoint the exact area because of the distance. We have also learned that the Americans have developed a new aircraft that moves at speeds in excess of 25,000 miles per hour.”

The president's eyebrows rose as he tried to imagine this, and the other men around the table looked at each other with questioning glances.

“The radar operators also reported that from the time they switched from narrow screen to wide screen, the aircraft would literally disappear.”


“Disappear?” asked Dimitri. “Disappear to where?”

Vladimir read each of the solemn gazes of the men sitting around the table. His hands trembled slightly from his nervousness. “We aren't sure, sir. The next thing that appears on the radar is the craft, in orbit, but what's so strange is that its configuration is different. The first has a set of delta wings while the one in orbit has no wings.”

Dimitri thought for a moment, and then replied, “That difference is easily explainable. Delta wing planes can retract their wings, but that is not my main concern. If you are even half correct about the velocity, then we are half a century behind the U.S., and that we can't allow.”

He stood up slowly and walked to the window. He stared into the thick blanket of fog that seemed to smother the land. After a few minutes, he quickly turned back to face the defense minister. “I need proof. I can't believe any aircraft can fly at the speed you are telling me. Here's what I want.” Dimitri sat back down and scribbled some notes. “I want a radar watch station put in the area where their new craft is first picked up on radar. If that craft is really what you say it is, it needs to be destroyed. We can't dismiss the possibility that it could be a new type of unmanned missile.”

“That is a possibility,” Vladimir said, “something similar to their interplanetary probes.”

“Regardless, we need to know one way or the other. Can we get a radar site in that area, undetected?”

“I believe so, sir; we have a study of that area of the United States. They do much of their testing in the deserts and there are many abandoned airfields, and even missile silos, all over those deserts.”

“Get on it as quickly as possible and keep me informed, Mr. Minister.”

“Yes Mr. President, but one question, sir. If we do determine it's an aircraft, I'm wondering; how can we get close enough to destroy it? Once we make our presence known, the Americans will take it as a declaration of war. Are we ready to face that possibility?”

“Hmm,” Dimitri murmured, as he leaned back in his chair. “No. We are in no way prepared for any war. As a matter of fact, if we got into a shooting war with the U.S. right now, we would be on the losing end. Then China would attack us like the mad dogs they are.” He leaned further back in his chair, rubbing his eyes and speaking to no one in particular. “No, no confrontation with America.” Then, as if a brilliant idea hit him, he leaned forward. “What are the chances of our people escaping if we used ground-to-air missiles?”

Vladimir replied solemnly, “I would say slim to none, sir. Even though there are thousands of miles of nothing but desert, it is surrounded by military installations. They would swarm the area within minutes with aircraft, helicopters and soldiers. With heat-seeking infrared technology … well, I have no doubt our people would be found, sir.”

“Suicide?”

“Mr. President, our people are totally demoralized. We have cut military spending so drastically that some are not getting paid for months as it is now. I doubt we would find one who would even consider a suicide mission.”

“Arrest their families and kill them if there is a refusal!” Dimitri's face turned red as he slammed his fist down on the table.

Beads of sweat began showing on Vladimir's forehead as he tried to talk some sense into the president. “That would be the final straw, Mr. President. Our military would revolt against us; they are almost at that point now.”

“OK, OK …” The president threw up his arms in a gesture he was laying that idea to rest. “Just get some viable ideas soon, and I do mean very soon. If it is as you say, that prototype must be destroyed.” He took his notepad from his pocket, and again began to scribble notes in it. “You may go, Mr. Minister,” he said without looking up.

Just as Vladimir got to the door, the president shouted. “Wait!”

Vladimir turned, with a questioning look on his face.

“Seven years ago, when I was head of KGB, there was a very workable plan to get our MiGs into America undetected. You will find those plans at KGB headquarters. How many countries are we selling our MiGs to?”

“At least ten or eleven that I can think of, sir.”

“Very good, get seven or eight of our very best pilots, and find those plans. I want unmarked MiGs, and also get me the topographical maps of the area where this new craft is located.” A reassured, devilish grin came over the president's face. “We're going to put our MiGs into the U.S.”

“Yes sir, right away!” Vladimir turned back toward the door, and as he opened it, he remembered something else and turned back to face the president once more. “Oh, Mr. President, Mr. Castro finally approved the mission into Florida.”

"It's about time. The fool is starting to get on my nerves."

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