8 November 2034
Earth Departure Minus Five Months
20:00 Universal Time
The White House
President Harper never liked wearing a tuxedo; he felt much happier in a sweatshirt and dungarees. But Washington’s inexorable social protocol demanded formal dinner wear so often that he had long ago surrendered to the inevitability of wearing “the uniform.”
This evening he was to preside over a cocktail party in the White House’s Blue Room in honor of the Russian ambassador’s sixtieth birthday. The party’s real purpose was to show the news media and the world that Russia and the United States were closer than they had been in decades. And the keystone to this newfound amity was the Mars project.
While there had been powerful opposition in Congress to revitalizing America’s space program, even the narrowest minded politicians couldn’t ignore that the Chinese rover had found powerful evidence that the chemicals of life existed on Mars. Washington politics simply wouldn’t allow this historic discovery to belong only to China. Harper had put every ounce of the White House’s prestige and power into the mission to Mars. The votes in Congress had been close, but one of the telling factors in favor of Mars was the obvious benefits of partnership with Russia—instead of distrust and tensions.
The Cold War had been over for fifty years and if it took organic chemicals on Mars and the possibility of the discovery of life beyond Earth being credited to China to bring the two world powers closer together, then so be it, thought the president.
Of course, Harper had offered a pro-forma invitation to the Chinese government to join the U.S. and its partners in the manned Mars mission. Beijing had refused, pointing out that China had its own plans for exploring Mars.
At the moment, Harper was sitting upstairs in the sumptuous Yellow Oval Room, a slim-stemmed martini glass in one hand. Sitting on the delicately ornate Louis XIV chair opposite him was Valeri Zworykin, head of Roscosmos, the Russian federal space agency.
“I’m glad you had the chance to come early,” said Harper, absently tugging at his tight collar with one finger.
“It was good of you to invite me,” Zworykin replied diplomatically, in a deep bass voice.
No one else was in the room; this was a strictly private meeting. Zworykin was built like a scarecrow: tall but very thin, all long legs and skinny arms. Harper was more like a hedgehog, short, thick, stubby limbs. Zworykin’s hair was dark and long, tickling his collar; flecks of gray peppered it. Harper was silver-gray, his hair luxuriantly thick and carefully brushed back off his high forehead.
Raising his snifter of vodka slightly, Zworykin said, “I congratulate you on the safe landing of the Fermi module.”
Harper smiled warmly. “Thanks, but the real congratulations should go to all the men and women who made the mission a success.”
“Indeed.”
“And to your nuclear rocket. It worked flawlessly.”
Shrugging nonchalantly, Zworykin said, “A few dozen engineers won’t be sent to Siberia, after all.”
Harper felt a pulse of alarm, then he realized that the Russian was joking. “Your launch went well, I’m told.”
Zworykin closed his eyes briefly, his version of a nod. “Extremely well. The propulsion module is safely in orbit, waiting to be mated with the other components of the Arrow.”
“Good,” said Harper. “Good.”
The technical people’s insistence on using nuclear rockets had given Harper the opportunity to create warmer relations between the United States and the Russian Federation. Seventy years ago the U.S. and the old Soviet Union had brought the world to the edge of nuclear Armageddon. Even after the USSR was dissolved and the Cold War officially ended, relations between the two giant nations remained tense, frosty.
It was Harper’s administration that realized the Mars program could create a bridge of cooperation and even trust between them—thanks to the Chinese.
Trying to build and launch a nuclear rocket in the U.S. was political suicide. The anti-nuke lobby was too strong, too vociferous, and Congress would knuckle under to their obstinate “no nukes” demand.
But in Russia, the anti-nuclear movement faced a government that either ignored or destroyed any opposition. Over the years, scores of Russian satellites had been powered by nuclear electricity generating systems. Although there were protests against these nuclear power systems in the United States and elsewhere, there were none inside Russia.
Building a nuclear rocket took advantage of decades of Russian experience. And there would be no demonstrators at the Plesetsk cosmodrome when the nuclear propulsion system was launched.
So serious talks began between Russian and American scientists and politicians at the very outset of the Mars program. The scientists had always gotten along well together. This time, even the politicians managed to find common ground.
The price was negligible, Harper thought. The U.S. paid most of the cost of developing the nuclear propulsion system. And one Russian scientist was included among the team making the journey to Mars.
With a genuine smile, President Harper raised his stemmed martini glass and toasted, “To a successful Mars mission.”
“To Mars,” Zworykin agreed.
Once they had drained their glasses, Harper put on a resigned face and said, “I suppose we should get ourselves downstairs and join the others.”
Zworykin sighed dramatically. “Yes. It wouldn’t be right to let the ambassador celebrate his birthday without us.”
They got to their feet, the Russian towering over the American president.
Harper gestured toward the door, but Zworykin hesitated.
“May I ask a favor?”
With a mischievous grin, Harper replied, “You can ask.”
Looking uncomfortable, Zworykin said, “My daughter is a fan of some musical group called Angels of Destruction.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Apparently they are quite popular among the young. My daughter is fourteen.”
“Oh.”
“They are giving a concert tomorrow evening in the baseball park. It seems there are no more tickets available.”
President Harper pursed his lips. “I think we ought to be able to get her a ticket.”
“Three tickets? I won’t let her go without some security to protect her.”
“Three tickets,” said the President. “I’ll see to it.”
“Thank you very much. She is my only child, you know, and—”
“Think nothing of it,” Harper said, gesturing him toward the door. “I have three kids. They were all teenagers once. I wouldn’t go through that again for the world!”