Immortal

by Nick M Lloyd

  Sam grunted acknowledgement of the fact and returned her attention to the ever-fading pinprick of light.

  ‘I need to go back down,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Can we stay up here?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Sorry, not without me,’ said Charlie.

  Returning to the main floor, Tim looked around. The atmosphere in Mission Control was happy but wary. The main screen showed the telemetry of the flight path. Tim was not an expert on ballistics but the fact that all the numbers were green gave him peace of mind.

  ‘Good view?’ asked Dexter, as Tim and Sam found a little space next to him.

  ‘Great, thanks,’ said Tim. ‘When’s the next one?’

  ‘Exact hour to be finalised, but within three days.’ Dexter turned his attention back to his screen. ‘Can you find a summary of the launch, please?’

  MacKenzie had given explicit standing instructions that all gossip and supposition was to be stripped away before anything was projected onto the main wall. Opening the MIDAS interface, Tim modified the news aggregation parameters and pointed MIDAS to look for comment from contemporaries of SpaceOp – other launch sites. Just to be safe, he also set parameters to triple check any quotes for positivity and factual support; given the overall nervous mood that permeated humanity, even well-respected academics were now prone to making unsubstantiated shock-jock comments.

  And they may be right.

  A moment later, the summary appeared. Almost exclusively positive, although a few repeated comments came through from other launch sites demanding exact payload information.

  ‘No-one here knows the payload,’ said Sam. ‘I chatted with a bunch of the technicians. The ballistics team know the weight and packing density, but that’s it.’

  Tim released the news item to the main wall and surreptitiously watched MacKenzie’s face for signs of approval, whilst also kicking himself for being too obsequious.

  ‘Can we go back to the flat?’ asked Sam. ‘I’m tired.’

  Neither of them had slept well for a few days. ‘Sure.’

  Tim and Sam made their way to one of the pathways through the crowded main floor.

  Outside, Tim grabbed a buggy and they headed for the flat.

  A few minutes later, Tim’s tablet pinged. The test launch had reached the correct orbit – three thousand kilometres high.

  Three minutes later, every siren in SpaceOp blared at full volume.

  Tim saw security guards swarming out of the Administration Zone.

  CHAPTER 22

  SpaceOp, Thursday 25th April

  Stuck in the open, halfway between the Administration Zone and Mission Control, Tim looked at Sam, and then looked around.

  Nothing physically obvious had changed, but the sirens weren’t stopping.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Sam.

  In the distance, the security guards from the Administration Zone were speeding off in all directions. Two were heading their way.

  As the jeeps rushed towards them – or towards Mission Control, Tim couldn’t tell which – he pulled the electric cart over to the side.

  His tablet pinged.

  Nuclear Explosion Reported

  Delhi, India

  Trending words: A-Grav, Dirty Bomb, Nuclear

  ***

  Release to Main Board Y/N?

  ***

  A rush of adrenaline blurred his vision. He couldn’t release something of this magnitude without express permission from MacKenzie. Could he? Should he?

  Nuclear explosion?

  Sam leant over and read it. ‘Shit …’

  Absorbed in the screen, Tim was brought back to the present by the screech of tyres as a jeep stopped next to him.

  It was Tosh. ‘Your cart works?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Sam.

  ‘Please head back into Mission Control,’ said Tosh, speeding away.

  Back inside, urgent whispering filled Mission Control. On the mezzanine, MacKenzie stared directly into his workstation, his face betraying a mixture of anguish and anger.

  Up on the wall, two screens were showing international news services; both were providing early pictures from Delhi. The picture was grainy. A large fire could be discerned and some damaged buildings. The explosion seemed to have been in a suburb rather than the densely packed centre.

  Dexter was staring at the MIDAS news service screen; he’d already released the India news.

  On their arrival, Dexter shifted over to his own desk. ‘Welcome back,’ he said, his face grave.

  Tim wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know the details. He hesitated … and then clicked through the item dirty bomb.

  How much radiation?

  Feeling Sam take his hand in hers and give it a gentle squeeze, Tim stared at the screen as MIDAS searched through recent analysis to display the source of the ‘dirty bomb’ return.

  Before the results were displayed, a second critical alert came through.

  Nuclear Explosion Reported

  Madrid, Spain

  Trending words: A-Grav, Dirty Bomb, Nuclear

  ***

  Release to Main Board Y/N?

  ***

  ‘Madrid!’ said Sam in an urgent whisper.

  Tim turned to Dexter, who nodded in the direction of the mezzanine. His eyes locked with Francis MacKenzie’s.

  MacKenzie gave a small nod.

  Tim released the news item to the main wall.

  A new screen opened on the main wall, live-streaming video of the Spanish explosion. Another blast in the suburbs.

  The murmuring that had accompanied the India news in Mission Control rose to animated conversation as people noticed Madrid.

  One of the large screens showing the news cut to a wide shot of central New York. People were streaming out of buildings. The picture split into four. Each quadrant showed a different city: New York, London, Moscow, Beijing.

  They all showed the same.

  Panic.

  ‘I don’t blame them,’ said Sam.

  Watching the live pictures of people running through the streets of London – past landmarks he knew well – Tim fought to keep his mind under control.

  There were ten thousand A-Grav units around the world. Of those, eighty-five had been assigned to the UK.

  Fuck … are they all going to explode? What if the next one is in a city centre?

  Adrenaline coursed through Tim. His hands, which had simply been clammy, now started to shake. ‘Poor bastards.’

  ‘We may be next,’ said Dexter, leaning over. ‘A large army flatbed truck arrived last night.’

  ‘Could be the plutonium,’ said Sam.

  Dexter shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. There’s been no political statement.’

  Tim considered the probabilities. MacKenzie had been adamantly against the A-Gravs, but if he’d changed his mind … SpaceOp was huge. There would be hundreds of places to hide one. According to Tosh, Mission Control had four storeys underground.

  Up on the mezzanine level, MacKenzie continued to stare at his workstation, concentration etched on his face.

  Five minutes passed, and Tim felt every single one of the three hundred ticks. The public perception was that these were not accidents.

  Is this the first act of aggression from the Ankor? Are we at war?

  Tim couldn’t believe it.

  MIDAS pinged again.

  Explosion Reported

  Liverpool, United Kingdom

  Trending words: A-Grav, Dirty Bomb, War

  ***

  Release to Main Board Y/N?

  ***

  This time, Tim didn’t look to MacKenzie for approval. He simply released it.

  Mission Control erupted.

  Of the three hundred people working on the main floor, at least forty surged towards the main doors.

  Barely holding onto the situation, Tosh’s security team waved them back and Tim could see Tosh himself speaking earnestly to the crowd.

  On the screens, large fires swept through a
suburb of Madrid.

  Up on the mezzanine, MacKenzie and his armed soldiers had still not moved.

  ‘How bad is it in Liverpool?’ asked Sam.

  New information was already hitting the internet.

  A-Grav Yield

  1 kiloton – estimates

  Significant physical destruction up to 1 mile radius

  Radiation levels variable

  Fissile material unknown

  Trending words: Dirty Bomb, Panic, Cloud

  Tim clicked through the word ‘cloud’, simultaneously looking for video streams.

  The explosion had been three to four times the size of the Madrid blast in terms of yield. Although it had not been a full nuclear blast, the news services were already reporting that a large cloud of radioactive dust had been created.

  More news screens opened on the walls of Mission Control. Now there were twelve scenes from across the UK, showing people streaming away from known A-Grav sites.

  ‘Known sites,’ said Tim under his breath.

  MIDAS pinged again.

  Explosion Reported

  Washington, USA

  Radioactive source

  Trending words: War, Invasion

  ***

  Release to Main Board Y/N?

  ***

  Having sat almost motionless at his desk for the previous alerts, Francis MacKenzie stood abruptly and paced around the mezzanine level. Three hundred people below him fell silent. One by one people looked up towards him.

  A minute later, he took a few deep breaths and walked to the top of the staircase.

  ‘I am assuming we are not at war. However, this is a serious situation. For the next thirty minutes, I will lift all restrictions on personal communications. Call your families, agree a plan of action. Do not assume you can leave the base. We may give permission for the most pressing cases.’

  Murmuring built on the floor.

  MacKenzie raised his hands for silence. ‘If the explosions are the precursor to an attack, then we will respond. However, if they aren’t, then I can assure you the damage they have caused will be insignificant compared to the gamma ray burst heading our way. Make your calls – then get back to work.’

  The crowd at the main door had taken MacKenzie’s words to heart and people were dispersing back to their desks as they dialled on their mobile phones.

  The lights in the Control Centre flashed briefly.

  Alien broadcast. All channels. The main screens displayed multiple copies.

  Test launch success

  Orbit accessible

  A-Grav decays due to unexpected gravitational flux

  Others are safe

  ‘They would say that, even if it was to precede an attack,’ said Sam, reaching over to the keyboard and typing.

  Tim was not so sure. If the Ankor were playing humanity for fools, would they have done this? Dirty bombs, killing a handful of thousands of people instantly, with a further hundred thousand critically ill from radiation poisoning? What did it gain them?

  What do they want?

  An hour passed. Tim and Sam spent it scouring news services and local media feeds for updates on the situation in Liverpool.

  Fortunately, as part of the installation, a one-mile exclusion zone had already been in force, so estimated direct deaths were numbered in the thousands rather than in the tens of thousands. However, the explosion had not simply been a dirty bomb, and the detonation had created a cloud of radioactive dust that would have a more insidious effect.

  Liverpool was being evacuated, but no-one was sure where to send people. Other large cities had A-Gravs of their own.

  Tim looked around the room, trying to gauge how close people were to melting down.

  ‘You okay?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Yes,’ he lied.

  A soldier came over and called Dexter away for a meeting up on the mezzanine.

  At that moment, a newsfeed switched to a live address from the Secretary-General of the United Nations.

  ‘The United Nations General Assembly has issued the following binding resolution ES-15/4. The A-Grav explosions were an accident. All members are ordered to continue as planned. Failure to adhere will incur sanctions, suspension and reprisals from the General Assembly.’

  Moments later, almost all countries broadcast a variation of the message, ‘we accept these were accidents and will adhere in full to binding resolution ES-15/4.’

  There were exceptions.

  China, speaking through the CNSA, responded more contrarily. ‘The PRC notes ES-15/4 but is proposing a delay of launches pending additional dialogue with the Ankor.’

  Italy stated a delay was unavoidable: their launch site was close to an A-Grav unit and they had evacuated the area.

  A little while later, Dexter returned briefly to grab some stuff from his desk.

  ‘Anything new?’ Tim asked.

  ‘The dust from the Liverpool explosion is heading our way.’ Dexter left again.

  Sam typed into the workstation. Within a few moments, she’d found maps showing the projected track of the radioactive cloud. At current speeds, it would miss the southern edge of Anglesey by five miles, and SpaceOp by more than ten.

  Things could change.

  Tim checked to see what people were saying about the Ankor.

  Reaction to Ankor Response

  Ankor don’t provide explanation but indicate accidental releases

  Still no bilateral discussions

  Trending words: hard to know, invasion, pointless to resist

  ‘Boston!’

  Tim looked up. Francis MacKenzie had shouted for him. Tim ran up the stairs to the mezzanine, the guards parting as he reached the top.

  ‘Tim,’ he said, moderating his tone, concern etched on his face. ‘I’m shutting the bridges and offering the caverns in the Hot Zone as a nuclear radiation shelter for Anglesey residents. You’re the only technology expert that I can spare. I want you to set up MIDAS to track the arrival of the Anglesey population. Speak to Dexter about accessing mobile phone mast data.’ He paused. ‘Some won’t come. That’s fine. There will be space for those that do.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Tim, waiting to see if there was any more instruction.

  There wasn’t. MacKenzie turned back to his workstation.

  Returning to Sam, Tim gave the update.

  Moments later, Dexter arrived with access codes, message configuration files, and admin IP addresses for the three mobile operators who maintained masts across Anglesey. He went through the information with Tim and then ensured that he had the right contact details if anything came up.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Sam asked Dexter.

  ‘Organising refugee processing and associated tasks,’ said Dexter. ‘Stripping supermarkets for food, looting hotels for beds, and moving fifty to sixty thousand people.’

  ‘Good luck,’ said Sam to Dexter’s retreating back.

  At that moment, MacKenzie stood and addressed the room. ‘Everyone in this room must ignore SpaceOp’s parallel efforts to support the Anglesey refugees. There remains one goal. Rocket Launch One, at ten o’clock Sunday morning, will take up the first components of the deflector shield.’ He paused. ‘Start the countdown.’

  On one of the main screens, the countdown was projected in numbers eight feet high.

  61 hours: 12 minutes

  MacKenzie and two of his soldiers left the building via the main doors. Juan, plus one other, remained on the mezzanine level.

  Tim handed Sam the notepad containing the codes and passwords. ‘Can you create a new set of host data files and encryption routines? Then we’ll suck the data out of the mobile operators and match names, locations.’

  ‘On it,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll go to the server room.’

  ‘Great,’ said Tim. ‘I’ll be down in a bit.’

  Sam departed, and Tim started writing a small piece of custom matching code.

  If there was a radioactive cloud of dust coming, then it would be unfair t
o abandon any refugees who wanted rescuing, but it would also be unfair on the support team to be driving coaches around Anglesey – through clouds of radioactive dust – trying to pick up people who had no intention of coming to SpaceOp.

  It wasn’t complicated, but it wouldn’t be an exact science. There would be plenty of people whose phones were off, or had dead batteries, or were simply unused. However, Tim was sure that by refreshing the data every fifteen minutes, or so, they’d be able to track most of Anglesey’s population. The major requirement was accessing the mobile operator data: customer names, addresses, and mobile phone numbers; that would then be cross-referenced with the infrastructure mast data to determine users’ current whereabouts – which could be used to infer movement.

  And I can analyse social media reporting of the refugees themselves … selfies and map pinning

  After twenty minutes, with the matching code written, Tim returned to the server room, where Sam was ready.

  There was no reason to wait, so they accessed each of the mobile operators and sucked out the data. Once completed, Tim ran a series of viral checks which confirmed the files only held simple data.

  Sam ran her encryption routines to incorporate the newly loaded data files into the system.

  A knock on the door drew their attention. Dexter.

  ‘All okay?’ asked Dexter.

  ‘Yes, no problem,’ replied Tim.

  ‘Okay, the caverns are being prepared now,’ said Dexter. ‘We just need to get people to the SpaceOp front gates.’

  ‘What’s the score with the bridges?’ asked Tim.

  ‘MacKenzie is adamant,’ replied Dexter. ‘The bridges are closed. Anyone on the mainland can look after themselves … his exact words were, “they’ve plenty of coal mines”.’

  Moments later, MIDAS churned out the first set of results. They’d managed to get positive matches on close to fifty thousand mobile phones. Tim packaged up the information and sent copies to Tosh, who was managing the retrievals.

  Fifteen minutes later they reran the tracking.

  By comparing the first and second cell registrations for each mobile phone, it was possible to see how people were moving.

  Most of Anglesey’s population was heading for SpaceOp.