Eagle Station

Twenty-Four

China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs occupied a large gray modern building right in the center of Beijing, about three kilometers east of the Forbidden City. Its curving, convex front and adjoining wings surrounded a large central courtyard, whose most prominent feature was a garden where carefully manicured bushes and flower beds formed the outline of a dove of peace.

An amusing piece of visual propaganda, Russian foreign minister Daria Titeneva thought cynically. In her experience, the leaders of both her country and the People’s Republic of China correctly saw diplomacy as a form of war waged through other means. In any negotiation between hostile powers, there would inevitably be winners… and losers. Those who proclaimed the virtues of mutually beneficial compromise were idealistic dreamers and fools. It was fortunate for Moscow and Beijing that so many of them held positions of influence in the West.

In her view, today’s briefing for the international media was simply a somewhat more modern version of an age-old ruse. Time and again throughout history, emperors, kings, and generals had dispatched heralds of peace to their enemies, buying time with meaningless talk while secretly massing their armies for war.

Putting on a warm and gracious smile, Titeneva followed her older, male Chinese counterpart, Peng Xia, out into the Foreign Ministry’s press briefing room. The two other human props in this little piece of diplomatic theater trailed behind her. Bearlike, with a shock of thick white hair, Anatoly Polikarpov was the head of Russia’s state-owned civilian space corporation, Roscosmos. He dwarfed Shan Min, the director of China’s National Space Administration.

Peng led them all to a lectern facing the assembled journalists and TV news crews. They lined up together, flanked by the red-, blue-, and white-striped Russian flag and China’s gold-starred red banner. Huge projector screens covered the wall behind them. Titeneva and the others stood quietly for a few moments, giving the assembled journalists and camera crews time to take in this unexpected exhibition of high-level Sino-Russian diplomatic and scientific unity.

Murmurs and whispers tinged with sudden interest rippled through the crowded room. What had originally been billed as a relatively routine press conference after a meeting between the two foreign ministers now seemed more likely to produce real news.

With exquisite timing, Foreign Minister Peng moved forward to the lectern. “Honored comrades of the international press corps, thank for your presence here this afternoon.” He offered them a slight smile. “I promise you that your diligence will be rewarded with more than the usual dull diplomatic platitudes.” That earned him laughs from some of the Western journalists present. “As you may have guessed, this is no ordinary briefing,” Peng continued.

To her amusement, Titeneva saw the array of reporters suddenly sit up even straighter. They reminded her of a pack of hungry dogs slavering at the sight and smell of a treat in their master’s hand.

Peng paused briefly, allowing their anticipation to build. Then he went on, speaking calmly and precisely. “Earlier today, three rockets were launched into outer space — one from the territory of the Russian Federation and two from the People’s Republic of China. The timing of these launches was not an accident. It was deliberate, the result of careful planning and many months of closely coordinated effort between our two countries.” If anything, the assembled journalists grew even more eagerly attentive, straining at the leash, as they waited for more details.

Still smiling, Peng half turned and beckoned Titeneva to join him at the lectern. “I now invite my esteemed colleague, Foreign Minister Titeneva, to provide you with more details of this historic and unprecedented event.”

She stepped forward, squaring her shoulders to present an image of resolute confidence. “Thank you for your gracious invitation, Minister Peng,” she said with a quick nod. Then she turned back to the waiting journalists. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to inform you that the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation have today embarked on the first of a new series of peaceful voyages of discovery to the moon. Our first unmanned mission together is called Pilgrim 1—Cháoshèng in the language of our hosts or Palomnik in my own native tongue. This symbolizes the sense of awe and wonder with which we approach the moon, Earth’s closest neighbor.”

Left unspoken but perfectly clear, Titeneva knew, was the vivid contrast between this seemingly peaceful Sino-Russian scientific mission and the greed and crass commercialism at the heart of America’s own revived lunar program. Behind her, the briefing room’s two large projector screens lit up.

Each showed full-color video imagery from the Yuanzheng-2 boosters heading toward the moon. Bright sparks flared on both screens as the boosters separated from their payloads and drifted off into the infinite blackness of space. There were more flashes as new explosive bolts detonated. Slowly, fairing panels detached and spun away, tumbling end over end — revealing the payloads flying toward Earth’s moon for the first time.

Titeneva waited for a few seconds, allowing the first, sudden buzz of excitement and curiosity to fade a little. “What you see are the two halves of China’s most advanced lunar lander, Chang’e-Ten,” she explained. “One is its descent stage. The other is its ascent stage. If all goes well, these two spacecraft, controlled by their own onboard computers, will rendezvous in lunar orbit and dock. The goal of this first test of circumlunar vehicle assembly is to produce a single, mated lander… a spacecraft capable of carrying taikonauts and cosmonauts safely to the surface of the moon and then returning them to orbit.”

She glanced toward the Chinese technicians controlling the video feeds. Obediently, they switched both screens to a new view, this one showing the joined Federation command module, support module, and space tug sliding away from the spent Energia third stage. “And here is Russia’s own Federation 2 spacecraft, also on its way to lunar orbit. Once the Chang’e lander has assembled itself and appears stable, ground controllers on Earth will signal the Federation to match orbits and dock.” She shrugged. “If this were a manned mission, that is when our cosmonauts and their Chinese taikonaut comrades would transfer to the lander… and begin their preparations to descend to the moon.”

Titeneva saw a young woman, a reporter for one of the American cable news networks, shoot to her feet — evidently unable or unwilling to wait any longer to ask a question. “Yes, Ms. Meadows?”

“But there aren’t any cosmonauts or taikonauts aboard that spacecraft?”

“No, there are not, Ms. Meadows,” Titeneva said firmly.

“Well, why not?” the young journalist demanded. “I mean, if you’re committing so many resources to send these spaceships all the way to the moon… why not just go ahead and land?”

Titeneva’s polite smile broadened. “Because we are not in a race, Ms. Meadows. Space flight is inherently dangerous, and our top priority is the safe return of any crews we do eventually send to the lunar surface.” She adopted a more serious tone. “Pilgrim 1 is first and foremost a test flight — both of these brand-new spacecraft and of their ability to autonomously rendezvous and dock. As it stands, this multi-vehicle mission is already one of the most complicated space flights ever attempted. But I can tell you this: whatever happens, the experience we gain over these next several days will pave the way for future manned Sino-Russian expeditions to the moon.”

With that, she signaled the men still waiting behind her to come forward. She turned back to the increasingly restless gaggle of journalists. “I’m certain that you all have many questions.” She indicated her Chinese counterpart. “However, I’m equally sure that neither Minister Peng nor I is qualified to answer those questions. Now, if you’re really more interested in the finer details of our most recent agricultural commerce talks, both of us would be glad to address those issues…” She let her voice trail off as the whole room broke into laughter.

With a chuckle of her own, Titeneva shrugged. “No? Then we will gladly yield the floor to Administrator Shan of China’s National Space Administration and Director Polikarpov of Roscosmos. After all, this space mission is, as the Americans say, their baby.”

Together, she and Peng left the room to a smattering of applause. Behind them, the two civilian space chiefs were already answering the first shouted questions. Inwardly, Daria Titeneva relaxed. She had carried out Marshal Leonov’s instructions with consummate skill. Now the task of deception fell on other shoulders.

She knew that Polikarpov and Shan had been painstakingly briefed on what to say. No one listening to them would ever suspect that neither of their civilian agencies had any real role in the so-called Pilgrim 1 mission. For the time being, the knowledge that all three spacecraft now speeding to the moon were entirely controlled by Leonov and General Chen Haifeng, the commander of China’s military space operations, would remain a tightly held secret.