The Dark Freeze

by Peter Gregory

  The meeting started off with good intentions but the gravity of the situation, coupled with the stresses and strains of the past few years, quickly got the better of some of the delegates. Tempers flared. Nerves were frayed. Heated exchanges took place. Accusations flew. Finger-pointing was rife. Why do countries find it so difficult to cooperate, to work together, even in times of impending doom?

  ‘Is that the fucking best you can come up with?’ spat the German Chancellor in her heavy Teutonic accent, glaring at the British delegation and thumping the table with her fist. She’d put up with obstructions and veto’s from Britain on various EU (European Union) proposals for years, and now the anger and frustration came pouring out. Pouring out like a torrent. In a way, it was payback time.

  The British Prime Minister met fire with fire. If the German Chancellor wanted to rant and rave, then so would she. ‘At least we discovered the fucking things!’ she shouted with venom. ‘It’s more than your lot did.’

  ‘Please, ladies and gentlemen,’ interrupted the President of the United States, ‘this behaviour is getting us nowhere. Let’s stop the accusations and finger-pointing and concentrate on the task in hand – to save our planet from destruction.’

  His intervention had the desired effect, calming them down.

  ‘We need to address the key questions,’ he continued. ‘Why are they here and what do they want? We’ve already tried, and failed, to communicate with them, so the question is: what do we do next?’

  On that point there were splits and divisions, not only between the scientists and the military, but also between the hawks and the doves. The hawks wanted immediate military action, the doves a more measured, peaceful approach. Once again, heated, sometimes acrimonious, exchanges took place. Old animosities resurfaced. Even the clear and present threat of a common enemy couldn’t unite the nations of Earth. At the end of the day, no matter how much they huffed and puffed, their options were limited.

  Forty of the world’s most powerful nuclear bombs exploded close to the asteroid had failed to destroy it, so attacking the asteroid itself was a non sequitur. The best option, they decided, was to send a single rocket, either manned or robotic, to the asteroid to try and instigate some direct, physical communication. The problem was, no robots existed that could take the place of a human being.

  ‘Couldn’t we send an unmanned rocket crammed with information about ourselves and our culture, and land it on the asteroid?’ asked the French President. ‘At least, if they shoot it down there’s no loss of life.’

  Everyone agreed the single rocket option was the least threatening to the aliens. If 40 rockets had had little effect, a single rocket posed no threat whatsoever. The majority of those present agreed.

  ‘If that fails,’ said the Russian President, ‘we have no option but to send a manned rocket, a single rocket containing one or two brave cosmonauts.’

  ‘Only if they don’t destroy the first rocket. There’s no point sending two astronauts to a certain death,’ said the President of the United States, deliberately emphasising the word ‘astronauts’, the term used by Americans to describe people sent into space.

  Once again, most of the delegates concurred.

  They had to act fast. To find two brave humans to undertake what would be a one way mission. And to prepare the rocket. Their mission would be to land on the asteroid, gather whatever information they could, and try to communicate with the aliens. There’d be no return journey, unless the aliens possessed the technology, and the desire, to send them back. Under normal circumstances, volunteers for such a Kamikaze mission would be few and far between but, given the present circumstances… well, it offered a chance to die a meaningful death, an honourable death, doing something positive.

  There were risks associated with such a strategy, of course there were. They knew that. The risk that the astronauts would be captured and interrogated by the aliens and subjected to extensive physical scrutiny, possibly even dissection and death. An intensive examination to discover everything they could about human physiology. But it was a risk worth taking. There were no other options anyway.

  To placate both the Americans and the Russians, it was decided that one astronaut and one cosmonaut should be sent. These two countries had dominated the space race: no other countries came close to matching their experience in space exploration so it was only fitting that the volunteers should come from these two countries.

  While preparations were made to get the manned rocket ready, the unmanned rocket was launched from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. To everyone’s relief, the launch was successful and the rocket wasn’t destroyed. Eighteen hours later, it reached its destination, landing safely on the surface of the asteroid. They waited anxiously to see what would happen. Waited for a response. A response to the information, and questions, they’d sent, but none came. One day passed, two days, a whole week and still no response. The rocket remained precisely where it had landed. The aliens made no attempt to investigate it or to check its contents. It was time to send the manned rocket.

  The ensuing days saw a frantic rush to get both the rocket and the two space travellers ready. To select the best examples of our culture, our science, our mathematics, even our music, and decide on the best way to convey that information. In the end, it was decided to display the data in digital form on laptops, but to take hard copies as back-up. The astronaut and cosmonaut underwent intensive training on how to conduct themselves, what to say and how to say it. And to explain to the aliens the damage they were inflicting on the planet and its people. Most of all, they needed to find out why they were here. What they were doing? What was their purpose? And to make it clear that the exploding of 40 nuclear bombs close to their starship wasn’t an act of aggression, just an attempt to deflect a giant asteroid off its collision course with Earth. They needed to do all of that and relay the answers back to Earth.

  Even at this late hour arguments raged. Trivial arguments such as which language to use. The Americans and most other nations favoured English, not because it was their own language, but because it was the language used in the early radio broadcasts, the language the aliens would have encountered as they entered the Earth’s radiosphere.

  ‘Why not Mandarin?’ said the Chinese President indignantly. ‘It’s the most widely spoken language in the world.’

  ‘Only because there are 1.3 billion Chinese,’ retorted the American President, irritated by these trivial arguments. ‘English is the universal language, the language spoken in most countries, not Mandarin.’ And he was right. The Russians felt their language should be used too seeing they were sending a cosmonaut, but in the end, common sense prevailed and English was the language chosen.

  Twelve days after the launch of the unmanned rocket, the rocket carrying the astronaut and the cosmonaut lifted off the launch pad for its 18 hour voyage. The world held its breath.

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Bubba Watkins to his Russian colleague, ‘look at that. Just look at that. It’s like a giant golf ball.’

  As the rocket approached the asteroid, it did indeed look like a giant golf ball. A dark, grey-black golf ball. From a distance, its smooth but dimpled surface reminded Bubba of a grey-black version of the ‘golf ball’ at Epcot, only infinitely bigger and infinitely more sinister.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Nikolov Spasky, ‘it’s gigantic, like a small moon.’

  As the rocket got closer, they could see that the surface was composed of interlocking hexagonal panels, very large hexagonal panels. Strangely, there were no lights and no sign of any activity. Away in the distance, the unmanned rocket stood exactly where it had landed.

  ‘What are those?’ said Nikolov, straining his eyes trying to make out the dim shapes.

  Bubba followed his gaze. ‘They look like… dishes. Radio dishes. And those… spikes look like antennae,’ he said, pointing to the profusion of spike-like protrusions emanating
from one of the panels.

  Bubba and Nikolov looked at each other. Both were thinking the same thought but it was Nikolov who spoke it. ‘If they have radio dishes and antenna, why the hell haven’t they responded to our signals?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bubba. ‘I just don’t know. But I don’t like it.’

  Houston was listening to their conversation. ‘Is everything okay up there?’ asked the senior controller.

  ‘Yes, everything’s fine,’ replied Bubba. ‘We’re about to make preparations to land.’

  ‘Is there still no sign of life? No lights? No activity?’ asked the controller.

  ‘Negative,’ replied Nikolov.

  ‘What about the fan-like array? Is it composed of solar panels?’

  ‘We’d say yes, definitely,’ replied Bubba, looking at Nikolov who was nodding his head in agreement. ‘Giant solar panels. The engineering is fantastic, out-of-this-world. It’s incredible.’

  As they began manoeuvring the rocket into a position for landing, Nikolov noticed a small aperture in the centre of one of the panels. An aperture that was growing bigger.

  ‘Houston, we have activity,’ he said. ‘An opening is appearing in one of the panels, and it’s getting bigger.’

  ‘Roger that,’ replied Houston. ‘Keep us informed Carpathia One.’

  The aperture continued to grow in size, revealing an enormous, dark tunnel. A gaping black void. ‘Do the aliens live in total darkness?’ thought Nikolov. ‘Surely not.’ Suddenly, he felt something invisible tug on the rocket. Take control. He tried his damnedest to wrest control back, increasing the rocket’s thrust to full power, but it was hopeless. Whatever force had taken hold, it was far stronger than the rocket’s chemical engines.

  ‘Houston, we have a problem,’ he said, a message reminiscent of that sent by the astronauts on board the ill-fated Apollo 13 moon mission in 1970. ‘We appear to have lost control of the rocket. We’re in the grip of a powerful force, a sort of tractor beam. It’s pulling us towards the opening.’

  ‘Roger that,’ said Houston. ‘Is there nothing you can do?’

  ‘Come in, Carpathia One,’ said Houston. ‘Come in.’

  ‘Houston, we can’t escape the…’

  The signal ended abruptly as the dark tunnel engulfed the tiny rocket, like an elephant swallowing a gnat, and the aperture began to close.

  Despite repeated attempts by Houston, there was no further contact with Carpathia One.

  ‘I knew it. I just fucking knew that would happen,’ said the spokesman for the military faction. ‘We told you we should have attacked them.’

  ‘Look,’ said the President of the United States, ‘we’ve tried a peaceful approach and it appears to have failed. So now, you have your chance.’

  The military had discussed the options for days – there weren’t many – and formulated a plan of action. It would be futile to attack the asteroid itself – it had already withstood the force of 40 nuclear bombs – so they’d focus on the more vulnerable fan-like array of solar panels. If they could destroy some of that – it was now too big to destroy completely – it might affect their power supply, a power supply that must surely be depleted after years travelling through interstellar space. The asteroid may be powered by nuclear fusion, or matter/antimatter, but internally, it would almost certainly be powered by electricity. And that would need replenishing. Recharging. They couldn’t damage the asteroid itself, but they could disrupt its energy supply. The Earthlings could still bite.

  They decided against sending dozens of rockets armed with nuclear warheads. They’d be intercepted and destroyed, and the resulting nuclear fall-out would contaminate the Earth. No, to increase their chance of success, messages should first be sent saying they were sending two more rockets in a final, peaceful attempt at communication. That way, there was less chance of them being destroyed. After all, they’d already allowed two rockets to reach the asteroid. One rocket would be loaded with the latest chemical weapons – a lethal poisonous gas and neurotoxins – and sent to the point where Carpathia One was swallowed up. The other, armed with a nuclear warhead, would be directed at the fan-like array. At the same time as the rockets unleashed their deadly payloads – timing was crucial – lasers, both ground-based and satellite-based, the Star Wars technology initiated by Ronald Reagan, would be fired at the fan-like array. Hopefully, the rockets would distract the aliens, diverting their attention away from the lasers. In the best case scenario, both the rockets and the lasers would do their job. In the worst case scenario, well, they didn’t want to think about that. Either way, the two brave astronauts were deemed expendable.

  On the day of the launch, everyone was tense. The two rockets sat on their launch pads ready to go. One armed with chemical and biological weapons and one with a nuclear warhead. The lasers were powered up and ready to fire. All that was needed was the go-ahead from the Security Council. It came at 12 noon.

  ‘Five, four, three, two, one, we have lift off,’ said the controller. The engines burst into life and began to lift the two rockets off their launch pads. Slowly at first, then faster and faster as they disappeared into the dark sky, like two tracer bullets leaving a wispy, white vapour trail in their wake. A nervous 18 hours lay ahead.

  As the two rockets approached the asteroid and prepared to unleash their deadly cargos, the lasers opened up. What happened next took everyone by surprise. The aliens’ response was both immediate and deadly. Almost the instant the lasers switched on, they were destroyed. Destroyed by powerful bursts of radiation from the asteroid. The two rockets met the same fate, destroyed before they could unleash their deadly payloads. It was as if the aliens had anticipated what they were doing.

  It had been a feasible plan, a well thought out plan, but it had backfired. Big time. They’d played their trump card, and failed. All they could do now was wait. Wait and see what the aliens would do. But time was running out. The Earth was getting colder and darker every day.

  24

  Life at the Edge

  Silence. Complete and utter silence filled the room. Permeated the air like some invisible presence. They stared at the screen in disbelief. Moments earlier, two rockets were about to unleash their deadly payloads. Now they were gone. Blown to smithereens. Just a pile of debris floating in space. For an instant, they’d seen the lasers hit the array, but only for an instant, because they too had been destroyed. Extinguished. And with them the last realistic chance of averting the catastrophe looming over planet Earth.

  They just stood there. All five of them. Liz, Rupert, Viv, Frank and Zak. Stood there in stunned, shocked silence. Stood there in the underground bunker that was the Simulation Chamber. Stood there harbouring their own, private thoughts. And a common feeling of complete hopelessness.

  Gregg was in the Simulation Chamber too, but in a different room with the other chemists and biologists, no doubt experiencing the same emotions of shock and despair.

  It was Viv who broke the silence. ‘Well, that’s the last throw of the dice. There’s nothing more we can do now except wait. Wait and see what develops.’

  ‘There must be something we can do,’ said Rupert, angry at the failure of the mission. ‘We can’t just sit around twiddling our thumbs waiting to freeze to death.’

  ‘No, we can’t,’ said Frank. ‘It’s not fair on the billions of people out there who are depending on us.’

  Frank’s last remark brought images of Baby Blu and Charlotte flooding into Liz’s head. She tried her best to suppress her emotions, to stem the tears rolling down her cheeks, but to no avail.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Rupert, noticing her tears.

  ‘I’m fine,’ replied Liz, wiping away the tears with her hand. ‘I was thinking of Baby Blu and Charlotte.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Rupert, putting his arm around her. ‘It’ll be alright. We’ll think of something.’

&nb
sp; Her mother had used the very same phrase when telling her of her father’s illness. It wasn’t alright then and it wouldn’t be alright now.

  ‘Do you think the aliens intend to block out all the sunlight,’ said Rupert. ‘Block out all the light and heat, plunging the Earth into total darkness and extreme cold, or will they let a little through, just enough to attain and then maintain their preferred temperature? Whatever that might be,’ he added quickly.

  ‘That’s a good question,’ said Frank, pondering what Rupert had just said. ‘I suppose it depends on their intentions. If they want to extinguish all life on Earth, to sterilise it as a prelude to colonising it for themselves, then yes, they could very well block out all the sunlight for months, even years. That way, they’d be certain that all life on Earth would be dead. Exterminated. Then they would retract the array to allow just enough sunlight through to warm it back up to the temperature they prefer. Or,’ he continued, ‘they may decide to skip the total darkness stage and halt the expansion of the fan-like array when the Earth has reached their preferred temperature. That would save them a considerable amount of time but it wouldn’t necessarily have killed off all life on Earth.’

  ‘Can life exist in total darkness and extreme cold?’ asked Viv, remembering his interrupted conversation with Liz.

  All eyes focused on Liz. On the woman who was the expert, the specialist, on life in extreme conditions, at least in this group of people. She was the centre of attention. She’d always been intrigued by life at the edge, both on Earth and alien life. It was her favourite topic, the reason she did her PhD in astrobiology. She’d have to be careful not to go overboard, not to get carried away, to confine herself to answering the questions on the current situation. Not to digress. But it wouldn’t be easy.