Read Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series) for Free Online Page A

mystical element to these so called Kalahari crystals. I read about it.”
    “Oh . . . so you read about them!” Alex interjected with mild sarcasm.
    Rose ignored him. “Universal energy,” she continued softly, “living energy, the life force of the universe itself . . . It sounds so convincing.”
    “That’s bullshit!” Alex laughed. “We’re talking chemistry and physics, and that’s all there is!”
    Commander Duval, sensing their antagonism, said to Rose, “Yeah, well, I know nothing of mysteries. This deposit is all that has been discovered . . . There are no other similarities anywhere in our galaxy – not that we can detect anyway. That is what makes the element absolutely beyond value. How can you put a price on survival?” Duval shook his head and glanced at the people around him. “Either way, we have one hell of a responsibility.” He paused, pulled his shoulders back and looked again at Mike Matheson. “Go ahead with the plan, Mike!” he said, in a way that was half an order and half a request. “Collect as much as you can without stretching the window. If you can’t make the eighteen kilogram consignment in the time allocated then you leave with what you’ve got. Understand? You get your ass back and we get the hell out of here. Hopefully, in ten months from now when we get back, there still will be a civilisation somewhere on Earth to save.”
    The officers returned to their positions and Commander Duval slowly circled the central console, stopping with each one momentarily. “Everybody ready?” he asked decisively.
    There were nods. “Aye, sir . . . ready . . . looking good . . . let’s go for it!”
    Duval nodded sharply; all seemed ready. “Run the checklist!” he said, and then he quickly scanned a number of system pages as they presented themselves on the screen of his command monitor. Finally satisfied, he typed an initiation code into the computer programme and punched the enter key. Instantly, the checklist appeared on the screen. “Flight controls?” he asked.
    “Systems green, Commander,” replied Steven Tani, a Major in the Japanese Space Agency, his sharp gaze sighting every parameter on his instrument panel.
    “Life support?”
    “Green, Commander, no problems here,” responded Carol Boardman, a British civil servant and a specialist in human physiology. She was a slim, short-haired brunette with a beautiful white complexion and deep brown eyes. She returned the Commander’s gaze for a few seconds before looking down again at her monitor.
    “Remote tracking, Lander support and ascent craft status?”
    “No worries, sir. All systems check A Okay,” said Joe Ansbacher, in a Southern American drawl. He casually rotated a pencil-like screen marker between the fingers of his left hand and leaned back in his chair. He was a former instructor at the tactical fighter pilots’ school that was attached to Sentinel Wing – Earth’s principal air defence squadron based at Canaveral. Ultra-cool, he always looked the top gun type.
    Commander Duval nodded thoughtfully and stood up. “Communications?” he questioned quietly, as he passed Rose Harrington.
    “Restricted, Commander, as Alex explained. I’m measuring an acceptable level of signal attenuation all the way down, so I do not expect problems during the flight phase. With the Lander on the surface, however, it will be a different story, I’m afraid.”
    “Specify?”
    He knew well enough the nature of the problem, but he wanted it recorded in the flight log, just in case.
    Rose enlightened him: “As Io rotates, and without a geostationary probe in position, over the horizon communications will be intermittent, Commander. Nonetheless, I’m confident that there will be enough of a signal reflected from the tube periphery to amplify – so we shouldn’t be out of touch with the pilots for more than a few minutes at a time when they are on the other side. There is nothing long range, however,