The Taking of Theta III

By J. Rickley Dumm

The year is 2027. The world has become calm and committed through global policies made better through successful and responsible leadership. Even the most once-ardent skeptics acclaimed the shared cooperation among super powers and newly reinforced industrializing nations.

Under the dome of science and space exploration, the Theta Space

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Rickley Dumm
• Release date: Jan 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9780996765671

J. Rickley Dumm

J. Rickley Dumm is a graduate of the University of Oregon (GO DUCKS!!), a Sigma Chi, and a former television producer and writer (Magnum, P.I., Riptide, Silk Stalkings, et al.). He currently lives in Southern California.

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PROLOGUE

Beginning in 1899, the Wright Brothers, Wilbur and Orville, were scientifically experimenting with the concept of flight, from kites to their historic 605 pound Flyer. As to who would make the first flight at Kitty Hawk, the brothers tossed a coin; Wilbur won, but as he moved down the rail launch, he over-steered, dove the Flyer into the sand and lost his chance. It was unknown whether Orville was secretly overjoyed at the failure when he took to the Flyer on the second chance at manned flight, which became the first. Orville successfully guided the Flyer 120 feet over the sand for 12 seconds. On the fourth and final try, Wilbur took the double-winged mechanized Flyer a startling 852 feet on a flight that lasted 59 seconds. For the few observers on the sand at the Outer Banks of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, it was a breathtaking and magnificent feat. The Wright Brothers flying machine had flown!

During the next fifty years, the race and superiority of mechanized, propeller-driven, jet engine flight and rocket power ensued among nations, commercially and militarily, from peaceful traveling to death from above. All that remained was a frontier yet to be explored and, hopefully, conquered: Spaceflight.

Founded on June 2, 1955, and located in the Kazakhstan desert, the Soviet Union’s Baikonur Cosmodrome was introduced to the world and would soon become the busiest and largest spaceport on Earth. The first orbital spaceflight of any kind sent Sputnik-1 around the globe, and it was from Baikonur that the first manned orbital capsule was launched, carrying Yuri Gagarin who, it was safe to say, flew farther, faster and longer than 852 feet for 59 seconds, yet Gagarin’s ride was a magnificent feat. Thus was born the Space Race between the Soviet Union and the United States.

From NASA’s early 1950s Mercury astronaut corps and program, through the 1960s Gemini space flights and walks, and the infamous Apollo program, which in 1969 sent Apollo 11 to the Moon, putting Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on its surface and safely brought them back to Earth, was a breathtaking and overwhelming feat as well; the United States dominated spaceflight and the news. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Space Shuttles program evolved, and were built and flown. Tragically, in 1986, the Space Shuttle orbiter, Challenger, exploded 73 seconds after launch and all seven crewmembers were killed.

On December 4, 1996, a Delta II rocket powered the Mars Pathfinder on its rover mission, landing on Mars on July 4, 1997.

After the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, the Russian space program continued to operate from Baikonur under the auspices of the Commonwealth of Independent States, also called the Russian Commonwealth, a regional organization of former Soviet Republics. An agreement was ratified fourteen years later between Russia and Kazakhstan that extended Russia’s term of lease of the spaceport after a long dispute regarding money, but Russia was beginning to develop its own Vostochny Cosmodrome to reduce its dependency on Baikonur.

Though still a two-nation race entering the 21st Century, the first joint United States/Russia spaceflight was launched from Baikonur on October 31, 2000, carrying one American astronaut and two Russian cosmonauts. Then on February 1, 2003, the American Space Shuttle Columbia broke-up in the atmosphere on its journey and all crewmembers were lost. Shaken and with heavy heart, NASA announced a suspension of its activity, however temporary, of the Shuttle Program, and was permanently out of service by 2011. From there, publically, the United States and NASA only played a role in the planning and resupplying of Russia’s ongoing and joint spaceflights.

Two years prior to 2011, however, the Theta Space Station Program began clandestine six nation talks that affected accords and settlements regarding monetary appropriations, and was the first multi-national active space project that included the United States, Russia, Japan, Britain, France and Israel. China was asked to join in a seven-nation association but declined, initially. The Theta project was a gigantic undertaking whose scientific discoveries and endeavors were important to the world community, and it was agreed their findings and theories would be shared with other nations through education, research, and lecturing.

The Theta Space Station (TSS) itself was placed in a High Earth Orbit (HEO) 1,461 miles (2,400km) above the planet. Science had wanted the TSS to be an added ‘launching pad’ for rover craft for more access and study of asteroids, what space scientists referred to as ‘leftovers of the solar system.’ Asteroids, they believed, held the origins of the solar system as well as the origins of life on Earth.

With the advances in science and technology in the latter part of the 20th Century, NASA and the scientific community had also been studying and learning how the human body changed during long term space living and how to protect human health in the space environment. In the mid-2000-teen-years, voyages to Mars was revitalized, and after the Theta IV experiment reached completion, the Sigma Space Program would officially be implemented and the Theta Space Station would also act as a spaceport to launch spacecraft into the expanse to place mankind on Mars. NASA’s thinking was far-reaching, positive, and as aggressive and exact as it could possibly have been. Coupled with the minutiae gathered from the asteroids, that thought and study would, with great hope and knowledge, lend itself to the discovery of new medicines and the arresting and cures of diseases for many of humanity’s illnesses. If these breakthroughs occurred, they would be distributed to and for all of humanity on a not-for-profit basis and controlled by the Theta Panel, perhaps the most objective and honest collection of individuals ever assembled. They made a U.N. or a sport Federation seem like subversives that, it had been demonstrated and shown, were. Indeed, and once again, Theta and the proposed Sigma Program that would follow Theta were another great and extraordinary achievement in flight and humanitarian effort.

Of course, at a High Earth Orbit, periodic adjustments to the Theta Space Station’s orbit had to be made to prevent drag from solar activity and the upper Earth’s atmosphere, though nothing comparable to a drag at a Lower Earth Orbit (LEO). At this particular HEO, the TSS was able to avoid space junk, which were the fragments and shards discarded by rockets and other debris that traveled at bullet speeds. Needless-to-say, the Theta Program was a long way from Mir, the first regularly inhabited, long-term space station.

The Theta Program was comprised of four main stages of spaceflight. The first two stages and launches, Theta I and Theta II, each carried nine crewmembers, and emanated from Pad R-10 at the Baikonur Cosmodrome facility in 2018 and from the recently completed Vostochny Cosmodrome in 2020, respectively, and all control and communications were supervised and implemented from both Cosmodromes. The Theta I and II stages were spaceflights that actually constructed and assembled the bulk of the Theta Space Station while receiving numerous shuttle convoys of external and internal infrastructure launched from both Baikonur and Cape Canaveral. The space station was a giant, solid, floating Erector Set-like structure that was over 660-feet in length, 150-feet at its widest, two rotating wheels that comprised fitness areas, laboratories et al., and five docking portals that could receive and secure shuttles, ferried capsules or smaller modules. The designing, building and assembling were a decade in the making. The first two Theta Space Station assemblies incorporated an array to 80% of the TSS’s sustainable support technology while crews received the shuttled convoys carrying various components. Its entire design and construction was ultra precise, a marvel of architectural conception, and defended and applauded as a ‘wonder of the universe.’ Internally, the TSS was strict in its design and assembly, all units and spaces connected acoustically and visually to a central stability complex when completely functional: Living quarters, kitchen, laboratories, fitness rooms, medical facility, passageway conduits, et cetera. It was yet another glorious feat and achievement.

After the successes of Theta I, China entered the association, agreed to reasonable retroactive and further appropriations, and was granted two buckets (seats) on the Theta IV mission to be launched in 2028.

The Theta III shuttle, that would also carry a crew of nine, internally would be the largest and most complete to date, though in design and shape resembled shuttles of past spaceflights. It would carry a four-man External Theta Module (ETM), which was housed inside the fuselage, amidships, but several feet aft and behind Theta III’s belly docking hatch. The ETM’s primary purpose was as an inspection vehicle for the Space Station’s outer walls, sleeves and solar wings and from where astronauts could spacewalk for making any necessary repairs.

Much of the Theta III Shuttle contained a different design and spread of interior space, from cockpit-to-two architectural matrix labs, from living space-to-a-three-man exercise gym-to-a gender neutral, stainless, single stall lavatory with lock, dubbed the M & M (a suggestion from two rather disgruntled Theta II crew members named Mikhail and Marcel). To be sure, all the comforts of home would accompany the crew of Theta III.

It was agreed among members of the Theta Panel in the initial periods of discussion that Theta III and IV would be launched from Cape Canaveral, and all communications and technical management would be supervised and implemented from the L.B.J. Space Center in Houston just as Thetas I and II had been from Baikonur and Voctochny, respectively. Theta III’s mission was to complete two minor architectural exterior design components, complete the installation of the digital HD video scheme, as well as install and interface the same video receiving transmission scheme aboard the Theta III spacecraft, which had not been activated prior to launch, with the existing super computer receiving scheme in the TSS; and finally, after receiving shuttle convoys carrying essential life-sustaining components sent at intervals of 30-40 days, depending on weather patterns at both Canaveral and Vostochny, install those remaining life-supporting internal infrastructures and mechanisms in the Theta Space Station for the Theta IV crew who would journey there two years hence, and remain there for a five-year period.

As planned, it was anticipated that Theta IV would become a transition for space travel and space living. Aside from the anatomical necessity of watery fluids, blood work was of paramount importance in long-term health effects in space. Experiment, analysis and study of these blood work properties had been ongoing for over twenty years with astronauts who had lived in space for any length of time. Though Theta III would carry vials of crewmembers’ blood with them and the ship’s doctor would draw blood and record affects, the true affects and analysis would come with Theta IV. As part of the Theta Space Station’s infrastructure, a 2,000 square-foot medical facility, complete with a 12-foot-by-12-foot surgical theatre, had been designed with, and accommodated, a separate blood-draw (different in space) and analysis lab. Frozen and fresh vials of blood from all Theta IV astronauts would be carried on their voyage then immediately stored and monitored on the TSS. The human bodily changes and protections for health for all travelers also included defenses and safeguards for infants who were to be born in the space environs.

Theta IV’s astronauts would be dissimilar in many respects from previous trekkers, all labor-fit and highly trained professionals and connoisseurs in their respective fields. They would range from pilots and specialists in the sciences of super computer hardware and restoration, to internists and surgical physicians, medical technicians and scientists because of one interesting and particular aspects of the Theta IV mission: There would be a crew of ten: Five couples — those married and yet-to-be married. Two couples would officially marry in space, and two married couples would procreate and give birth. Depending on the long-term sensitivities described above, a third couple would volunteer to either marry, procreate, or both. It was the duty and responsibility of members of the Theta III team to prepare and outfit the final physicality for these events. In essence, they were fine-tuners, the Quality Control mavens — the confectionaries who would put the cherries on top of the sweet Space Station sundaes.

Unfortunately, as the launch of Theta III approached in the latter part of 2026, tragedy struck the United States and the world when President of the United States Kyle, well into his second term, unexpectedly succumbed to a coronary and the Theta Panel agreed to push back the launch until the early part of 2027 as well as push back Theta IV’s launch to 2029. The then Vice-President was sworn in, and the Speaker of the House was sworn in as the new Vice-President.

Thus, the year was 2027. The new President of the United States was in the fifth month of term, and Theta III was scheduled to launch in three days.

CHAPTER 1

Ar Riyad province, near As Sudayyil, Saudi Arabia, 1996.

The corridor inside an undefined structure resembled a dank 10th Century walk-through in a Mosque, or tomb, of cut-shaped stone. It was quite dimly lighted and devoid of any human activity. The nonfigurative cryptograms along the roughly chiseled walls were limited to considerations only of Islamic law and rites; they were conceptual, architecturally, based on esoteric aspects of Islam as expressed by various symbols, historically in evidence or not. One almost expected Scheherazade or Prince Ahmed of Arabian Nights to appear.

Five people exited into the eight-foot wide corridor, one adult and four children. Though it was difficult to distinguish, the children could have been between the ages of seven-to-ten-years old. They were attired in robe-like coverings; each wore a qubba’a (cap) and all four people were without shoes of any sort. Ushered by the adult, they proceeded down the darkened corridor toward a tall, heavy door at the far end. Nearing the door, it opened, sending a bright, blooming light upon them, murkily silhouetting them, and as it did, another door opened on the other side of the corridor, three men emerging into the brief glow until the door at the far end closed, sending the corridor into obscurity once again.

The other plan is not for your concern, Malik Anjami. A male, perhaps a Prince, spoke emphatically. He was attired in an Arab robe, a jellaba, and had a green bauble hanging around his neck with some Arabic writing above a sword, which pointed right-to-left.

I understand. Malik Anjami replied.

Malik Anjami and the other man wore traditional suits.

Listen to me carefully, both of you. The Prince went on. They educate, they work and wait for their glory to achieve God’s will. They shall go to meet Allah for Allah. The Prince calmly proclaimed.

Their achievements have been exceptional; they are smart and they are dedicated, my prince.

It is a long journey, Malik Anjami, difficult times and struggles. There must be no disappointments in their path to victory. Not only by them will their fate be decided.

Yes, of course.

The regime to the north has weakened, they will have new leaders, the Prince continued but their pursuits in this area is said to be absolute. We, too, shall wait then we will choose. Educate them and rejoice, and lead them to their reward.

It shall be done. Malik Anjami agreed.

The Prince offered a simple smile. Praise be to Allah. Peace be upon thee.

The two men bowed, obediently, to this person of some repute of the House of Saud, and left him.

The Prince reentered the room and closed the door as the two men walked down the corridor to the far end. The large door opened, the bright bloom shown through, they exited, the door closed and the stone corridor went dark once more.

Thirty years later. Moscow, Russia, 2027.

A smiling Ludmila Tashkinazy bid farewell to two teenage girls and an older woman with embraces while tears flowed and well wishes were exchanged. Soon after, Ludmila made her way through the archway at the Paveletsky railway station with her rolling piece of luggage, boarded a train and took her seat among other travelers as a porter lifted her bag up into a compartment. She was a slightly built lady who possessed a hidden beauty beneath a lack of personal make-up and she wore a simple burgundy wine dress. Perhaps it was her normal way, or perhaps it was something else purposely hidden from others, but it mattered little to her. Her sweet smile and tears had vanished from the heartfelt farewell and she now had become somewhat expressionless, maybe stressful, though that, too, seemed hidden; indeed, there was a shy, reclusive sense about her. She brought out her passenger ticket from her purse then double-checked to be sure she had another ticket; she’d probably done this ten times in the last hour. As the train pulled out of Paveletsky, and as nervous and preoccupied as she might have been, Ludmila acknowledged a passenger across from her, settle back in her seat and closed her eyes to be alone in her thoughts.

The train from Paveletsky only took an hour or so from the center of Moscow to the Domodedovo International Airport, one of three major airports in Moscow, and so named after the town of Domodedovo in the territory of which it was located. Ludmila could have taken the cheaper commuter railway, but it was more crowded, took 30-to-40 minutes longer due to frequent stops, and she thought she might have seen someone she knew on that particular conveyance.

Arriving, it was only a short taxi ride to Domodedovo’s new main Terminal. The old Terminal still operated but the new one had been operating for only a few years and was twice the size of Heathrow’s Terminal 5; it was the equivalent of 61 football fields at 235,000 square meters. The forty-year-old Ludmila Tashkinazy checked her bag at the British Airways counter, received her boarding pass, then made her way to the inspection and screening area. From there, she continued along one of the two separate and impressive concourses — one for domestic and former Soviet countries, the other for international flights — to one of the 22 boarding areas. Still a bit tense, she quickly confirmed the flight number and her London destination in the boarding area then wandered to the huge sheet of glass overlooking the tarmac and aircrafts cushioned at their respective ports. Amidst the din of gabbing passengers and Russian, French, German and English announcement over the public address system, Ludmila’s gaze went from the ground to the sky and to the infinity of the blue universe above. Her life had not been simple, she was an agnostic by choice, and was resigned to whatever fate bestowed, which included the journey that was unfolding. Ludmila closed her eyes to once again be alone in her thoughts.

At nearly the same hour in another part of Moscow, fifty-one-year-old Vonya Heminov was traveling on the Aeroexpress railway to Sheremetyevo International Airport. Vonya was the diametrical opposite of Ludmila Tashkinazy — strikingly pretty, taller, a bit overweight, and hardly shy, laughing, friendly, and in perpetual motion. Maybe it was her normal personality, or maybe it was because she lived in the subdued region of Noginskiy to the east of Moscow and this escape was an anticipated infatuation. In the passenger car in which she was riding, the atmosphere was lively and party-like as Vonya and others danced with female and male travelers to an upbeat tune coming from another passenger’s boom box. Her personality seemed infectious to other female travelers who might have felt the same pent-up frustrations in the towns in which they resided.

Arriving at the Aeroexpress terminal at Sheremetyevo, one of the busiest of the Moscow airports, Vonja and her one piece of luggage took a tram a short distance to the Aeroflot hub on the security side, for her flight to London-Heathrow. However, that lively personality subsided as she entered Terminal E, becoming more pedestrian, donning and tucking her hair under a wool cap, and proceeded to the concourse and the screening, x-ray process.

In a different part of the world and in another time zone, Elanah and Jaron Gayan, both in their mid-fifties, devoted to one another and their only child, were dropped off at the curb in front of the Ben Gurion International Airport, Israel’s largest and named after Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben-Gurion. Accompanying them were dear friends, contemporaries who appeared as excited as the Gayans. The two men unloaded the luggage from the trunk of their friends’ vehicle as the ladies summoned a passerby to take pictures. He was handed two master LGX-2 cellular phones and took a couple of smiling, waving photos of the four and was thanked. The Gayans hugged and bid farewell to their friends who said they’d be watching during Rami’s and Israel’s historic event, and wished them God’s blessing.

Armed police stood vigil every fifty meters as the Gayans made their way into the Terminal where heightened security was even more evident. In fact, no attempt to hijack a departing plane had ever succeeded here, though it had been the target of several Palestinian terror attacks. There had been two attacks that became well known throughout Israel and, indeed, the world: The first occurred fifty-four years ago on May 8, 1972, when four Palestinian Black September terrorists hijacked a Sabena Airlines flight en route from Vienna, forcing it to land at Ben Gurion. Sayeret Matkal commandos stormed the plane, killing two of the terrorists, capturing the other two; one passenger was killed. Later that same month, May 30, 1972, at the Lod airport in Tel Aviv, in an attack, which became known as the Lod Airport Massacre, 24 people were killed and 80 more were injured when three members of the Japanese red Army spewed machinegun fire into the passenger arrival area. Only one terrorist, Kozo Okamoto, survived and subsequently received a life sentence, but was set free 13 years later in a prisoner exchange with the PFLP, the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. Needless-to-say, some family members of the dead and of those injured were not ecstatic. Kozo Okamoto converted to Islam, was last known to have resided in Lebanon, and in 2026 would be in his mid-to-late 70s.

As Elanah and Jaron made their way through the El-Al screening process, gradually a few of the Customs and screening personnel recognized them, before long some of the passengers did as well, and a picture-taking carnival erupted; soon enough, however, the excitement subsided and the Gayans were rushed through the process, and escorted to their El-Al flight to London.

At Charles de Gaulle International Airport at about the same time, and without fanfare, a young Air France lady escorted Thierry and Chantal Peteau from the screening area in a four-person electric cart down the long concourse to their Air France boarding area to London. The young representative was very talky, conveying her privilege to be escorting them, and how excited her family would be that she was their escort, and generally, how excited her entire family and all of France were for them and their daughter; of course, the mid-fiftyish Monsieur and Madame Peteau were proud of their daughter, Penni, grateful for the young lady’s comments and, naturally, for the ride through the long concourse to their boarding area where, unexpectedly, they were greeted with applause from airport and airline personnel and waiting passengers. As was the way of the times, another picture-taking jubilee ensued and photos texted.

The Narita International Airport, 60 kilometers outside Tokyo, was the predominant international airport in Japan. The property basically overlapped the border between the city of Narita and the adjacent town of Shibayama, which was where Kinya and Hiroshi Yamashita lived and had brought up their son, Roloto and his younger sister, Kimiko.

Narita had aligned its terminals around the three major airline alliances many years ago. Kinya and Hiroshi made their way from the One World carrier drop-off and into Terminal 2. They were a small pair in height and impeccably attired; every stitch was in place and nearly perfect from head-to-shoe as they rolled their bags over the marble floor toward the Delta Airlines screening area. As they got there and stopped, Kinya preened a few hairs out of place and Hiroshi approached the couple just ahead of them and politely asked if the gentleman would snap a photo of him and his wife. Agreeable, Hiroshi handed the man his Samsung Max-6 cellular phone. Hiroshi checked the picture after it was taken, he was satisfied, and he and the gentleman exchanged a bow. It was a very nice and proper picture of the two. Their daughter would be pleased.

Meanwhile, somewhere in London, England, Patsy Clifford was packing a suitcase, neatly placing each article, smoothing it out as if it would not wrinkle once packed. Her twenty-five-year-old son, Bernard, in suit and bowtie, dutifully, yet a tad annoyed, held various articles of clothing for her, handing them forth to be folded and carefully positioned in the luggage.

It’s damn upsetting, mother, and thoroughly out of touch for the Americans. Bernard’s petulant mood wasn’t wearing well with Patsy as she’d heard this too many times before.

Again, Bernard, cease dwelling. NASA has its rules and protocols and I dare say a lack of space, pardon the pun, at their Mission Control and elsewhere. How many times, dear Lord? She had to reiterate.

There are three days, mother. A simple phone call and inquiry . . .

Patsy stood from the bag, interrupting him. How many times, indeed. You have hounded your father and I for months. Enough. Next, please — Bernard handed her a pantsuit — and delight me and be happy your father is a part of international history.

"One body. You’d think they have, somewhere in that vast monstrosity, a square meter