Never Again

by M. A. Rothman

  Margaret shrugged; her emotionless gaze was more chilling to Burt than the images floating in his head.

  “I thought when I retired from the military, my involvement with other people’s deaths would stop. I’m afraid it’s only beginning.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Having gotten used to the heat at the equator, Dave shivered as the chill of the air-conditioned hallway tickled the back of his neck. However, that wasn’t what had caught his attention as he walked toward the building housing Mission Control at the Kennedy Space Center. His gaze instead fixed on the photographs hanging on the walls as he strode along the long corridor that connected the buildings of the Space Center’s campus.

  As he rushed past the clusters of images, Dave caught fragments of the motion-activated narrative spoken through a speaker under the photographs.

  “Kennedy Space Center and the adjacent Cape Canaveral Air Force Station have had a major role in human spaceflight during the last century....

  “Whether it was the Project Mercury and Gemini flights achieving man’s first orbital missions....

  “The Apollo program taking astronauts to the Moon....

  “The Space Shuttle program was launched and retired in the late twentieth century, only to be resurrected in 2045 to help establish the first permanent settlements on the Moon.”

  As he walked past a reduced-scale model of the newest in the Space Shuttle series, he trailed his fingertips across its fuselage and smiled. “If it weren’t for you, none of this would have even been possible.”

  Dave glanced at Bella, noticed her shiver, and whispered, “I’ll get us both jackets when we get to the control room.”

  “Are you glad to finally be approaching the end of this?” Neeta’s voice startled him as she appeared at the end of the hallway, holding the door open for them.

  Dave shrugged. “It wasn’t too long of a walk.”

  “No, I didn’t mean the walk from the parking lot....”

  Despite Neeta’s serious expression, Dave couldn’t help but smile at the aggressive woman who’d long ago grown to be a friend.

  “You’re making fun of me!” Neeta planted her hands on her narrow hips and glared at Dave, all the while struggling to keep a smile off her face. “Oh, you’re just an idiot.” She glanced at Bella and huffed, “I don’t know how you can stand him sometimes.”

  “Just follow me and I’ll show you the control room.” Neeta turned on her heel and motioned for Dave and Bella as she disappeared into the darkness of the building that housed Mission Control.

  ###

  Wrapping the wind breaker around him, Dave’s gaze panned across the fifty-foot-wide auditorium-style room. He sat on a large executive-style swivel chair and watched Neeta conduct business in the unrelenting style he’d grown used to.

  Neeta pointed at one of the screens, which wasn’t reporting a signal. “Substation 23, where the hell are you? Report in!” Her voice echoed loudly through the speakers in the auditorium. She tapped on her microphone, muting it, and turned to one of the harried Mission Control engineers. “What’s going on with 23?”

  “Doctor Patel, I’m in communication with the engineer at the station and they’re saying that the substation’s experiencing problems with their video feed due to a storm that’s blowing sand off the coast of Somalia. They’re otherwise ready to go, so I’m patching their data feed onto the screen now.”

  The one remaining blank spot without any of the reporting information flickered and suddenly showed the amount of power being fed into the substation and the percent of power being routed to the attached satellite flying high overhead.

  Neeta glanced back at Dave and nodded. “The alerts have been broadcast. All countries are now running with only critical power usage. All substations are reporting online and ready to go.” She pointed at the portable microphone clipped to Dave’s shirt. “Just tap that to turn the mic on, and everyone here and in the substations will be able to hear you.”

  Dave’s mind flashed back to those engineers he’d met at the substations. They were all men and women he’d shaken hands and even shared meals with over the last several months. When he thought about DefenseNet, it was their faces he saw: the scared yet serious expressions of the people who knew the importance of what they were tasked with. They’d willingly put their fate in Dave’s hands. And it was with those images in his mind that he tapped the microphone and gave his first order.

  “This is Dave Holmes with Mission Control. As I call out your substation number, I want you to route ten percent of your available power to your satellite connection.

  One....”

  Dave paused as he visualized a portion of the flow of electricity entering the substation being routed skyward through the graphene connection. As the power raced upwards, it would in turn be shunted across the long ribbon connecting the ring of satellites that encircled the Earth.

  The center screen showed a 180-degree fisheye view of the night’s sky above central Florida, as well as the readout from sensors attached to the ring connecting each of the thirty-six satellites encircling the globe.

  As the power being reported out of the substation changed, the power flowing through DefenseNet’s ring increased.

  “Two ... three ... four....”

  Dave continued to slowly add power from each of the remote substations, making sure that everything was working as expected. Even though he’d double-checked everything, he knew that any small error could be disastrous.

  As the last substation sent a small portion of their potential power zooming up into the DefenseNet ring, Dave breathed a sigh of relief.

  There were nearly fifty engineers in the auditorium, all monitoring one variety of signal or another. Not sure who handled monitoring the telemetry and communications, Dave asked, “T-COM, what’s our signal quality on the ring?”

  One of the engineers on the far end of the auditorium leaned forward, and a woman’s voice broadcast on the speakers, “We’ve got a clean sine wave without any indication of harmonics dirtying the signal. 3.015 terawatts are currently flowing through the DefenseNet ring. All systems are go for power-up.”

  Some of Dave’s anxiety began to melt away as things fell into place. The adjustments he’d made to the satellites were working as expected, the electrical signal was clean, and his confidence grew with the engineer’s confirmation.

  With a glance at Bella, who was sitting next to Neeta about twenty feet away, Dave gave her a nod and she returned it with a smile. In his head rattled her unspoken words of reassurance.

  “Roger, Mission Control. All substations, commence now with a controlled power-up sequence, maximum power output to stop at eighty percent of capacity and hold.”

  The numbers on the screens throughout the auditorium began changing rapidly, but Dave’s attention focused on the center screen where the sky above central Florida was displayed.

  As the midnight sky began to grow brighter, Dave’s smile grew wider.

  Suddenly, Dave’s phone buzzed in his ear, and with a tap on his microphone, muting it, he answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Dave, it’s Burt. I wanted to congratulate you. I’m standing on the roof of my hotel and you wouldn’t believe what I’m seeing. It’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed. Did you imagine it would be this bright?”

  Dave laughed. “Truthfully, I can’t tell for sure. I’m stuck in a concrete building and seeing a distorted video image. You’re in DC, right? Tell me what you’re seeing.”

  “It’s actually beautiful. I’m standing here breathing in the cool midnight breeze with the scent of fresh-cut grass, but instead of the night, it’s just bright enough to read one of those old pulpy paperback novels. I see a bluish-white ribbon of light draped across the southern sky. I’m telling you Dave, it’s surreal ... hey, do you know what the brightness will be like when we go full-power? I know damned well that after this display gets televised and r
eported on by everyone, I’m going to have all sorts of folks asking me in the morning.”

  “Sure, let me ask the telemetry folks here.”

  Dave tapped his microphone. “T-COM, what’s the brightness we’re seeing in our timezone at the equator? Also, do we have accurate readings for the same timezone at other distances from the equator?”

  The same woman’s voice spoke only seconds later, “Mission Director Holmes, we’ve got a reading of 20,150 lux reporting out of the Ecuador substation. We have 1,450 lux reporting out of Cape Canaveral and 200 lux being reporting out of a weather station in Toronto, Canada.”

  Burt clearly had heard the voice, because he responded excitedly in Dave’s ear. “Holy crap, 20K lux? That’s practically like the midday sun.”

  Dave tapped on his mic once again and responded, “Yup, but that’s a pretty quick drop-off of light. I think overall, you’ll have to prep folks for most of the world being a bit dimmer than they’re used to. Heck, just remember that there won’t be a sun-up and sun-down while we’re moving. I think everyone’s circadian rhythm is going to get shot to hell, but I can’t help that.”

  “Dave, I’ve got it covered. I’m sure as long as people realize they won’t be starving or dead, they’ll be fine. I’m okay telling them to take melatonin pills or some other crap to help them sleep. Anyway, I wanted to give you a call and congratulate you. We’re on the precipice of a new era for humanity, and it’s because of you.”

  With a smirk, Dave grumped, “Oh shut up, you know damn well it takes a team. Well, I’m going to get out of here and get some rest while the ring gets some burn-in time. We’ve got five weeks before we need to leave, so I think we’re in pretty good shape.”

  “Goodnight, but let me warn you ahead of time.” The amused tone in Burt’s voice was obvious. “Don’t be surprised if you get a congratulatory call from the president. Try not to bite her head off if she wakes you.”

  The phone signal dropped, and he gave Neeta a wave that she correctly interpreted. It was time for her to take over.

  As she communicated with the rest of the Mission Control staff about DefenseNet’s planned ten-day burn-in period, Dave stood.

  Bella joined him as he walked out of the Mission Control building and headed toward the security team that would take him to his hotel for some well-earned rest.

  As they passed through the corridor connecting the Mission Control center to the rest of the space complex, Dave paused to look at the pale ribbon of light in the southern sky. He breathed in the sterile air-conditioned air and felt Bella squeeze hard on his arm.

  “Something’s wrong,” Bella announced, and almost immediately Dave noticed the light in the sky flicker and dim.

  With his heart and mind racing, he turned back and ran toward the Mission Control building, with Bella chasing after him. Red lights began flashing along the corridor and the sound of a siren echoed through the hall.

  Just as he approached the entrance, the double doors slammed open, and Neeta, with an uncharacteristic wide-eyed expression of fear, yelled, “We lost forty percent of the power flowing into the grid!”

  “All at once? That’s not possible!” Dave lunged into the room and stared at the wall of displays strewn throughout the auditorium. Pointing at the displays, he turned to Neeta and yelled, “Why are six of the substations reporting zero energy input? What the hell is—”

  A team of security personnel burst into the room just as Dave’s phone buzzed in his ear.

  “Neeta!” Dave yelled over his shoulder, as some of his security detail began escorting him out of the room. “Find out what happened!”

  The buzzing in his ear continued. He tapped his ear bud and growled, “Burt, now is not the time!”

  “Dave, listen to me. We’ve got trouble—”

  “No shit we’ve got trouble, we’ve got multiple power grid failures and I’ve got to get—”

  “Listen to me. It’s not your doing or something you’re going to fix. We just got a security alert from six of the main electrical grids feeding power into the substations. I’m being dragged away to meet with the president now, and your security detail will be bringing you and Bella here for an emergency meeting. A jet is taxiing onto a runway just miles from your current location.”

  Dave’s mind went numb as he let himself get rushed into an SUV. “Burt, what do you mean a security alert? There’s some kind of power failure. We just need to get those fixed and....” It suddenly dawned on Dave that something catastrophic had to have happened. There was no reason for multiple failures to occur at the same time. “What’s going on? I don’t understand.”

  Burt fell silent for a moment, and then responded in an ominous tone. “Dave, I don’t know if you’ve been told, but let’s just say that there are those in this world who’d rather see us all die than let DefenseNet do what it’s meant to do. The report I just received claims that the grids were attacked by a well-coordinated group of terrorists.”

  A chill raced through Dave as the SUV barreled through a manned gate at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station and aimed for a jet on a nearby runway.

  “Burt, I thought the Defense Department had the sites completely impervious to attacks, how’d that happen? The grids ... they’re repairable, right?”

  “Each of the sites had small armies guarding them, so I don’t have any answers, but we’ll know more soon enough. However, the images I just received were pretty grim.”

  Dave rested his head against the back of the leather seat and felt as if a judge had just handed him a death sentence as he whispered, “We’re screwed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Margaret listened intently as the Secretary of Defense wrapped up his report on the substation attacks. “In summary,” he said, “a total of six of the collector substations were destroyed by what our intelligence sources have determined to be RA-115S Soviet-era suitcase bombs. With a nominal yield of one kiloton each, the sites are beyond repair. A seventh collector substation also was attacked, but unlike the prior six, the detonation did not set off a nuclear reaction and instead destroyed the transmission grid for that area while also contaminating the site with fissile material.” Walter Keane’s gravelly voice suddenly dropped off as the sixty-something-year-old former general finished reading from the security report and laid it back down on the table.

  Margaret scanned the faces of the members of her security council. They all looked haggard and pale-faced, as the grim news settled on them all like a shroud.

  Shrugging off the sick feeling of despair blooming within her, the president broke the silence in the Situation Room. “General Keane, are we sure that those substations are completely destroyed? I know those collector substations gathered the power coming in from the surrounding region and fed it to the DefenseNet substations. Couldn’t we gather the power lines that were feeding into the destroyed sites and route them to the DefenseNet ones?”

  Walter shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Madam President. Each of those bombs destroyed everything within one-third of a mile, which I’ll have you know is about the size of the substation itself. What makes matters worse is that the EMP pulse that the blasts generated sent a huge surge through the power lines, destroying the inner workings of the facilities that Doctor Holmes had created.”

  With a blank expression, Dave interjected, “What about the substations? The ones controlling the flow of power up to the DefenseNet ring. How’d they fare, what about the people in those?”

  The general turned to Dave and, with a grim expression, shook his head. “Everyone was lost at the collector stations, I’m sorry to report. Everything within the building was destroyed. In fact, the only thing left untouched was the concrete building itself. I suppose the only good news is that the building is still connected to the DefenseNet ring, whatever good that’ll do, and nobody died other than the poor folks at the collector substations.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Doug Fisher, the preside
nt’s Chief of Staff, grumbled sarcastically, as he removed his glasses and ran a hand through his thin gray hair. “A load of good that’ll do us, general. A couple dozen people in some remote location didn’t get killed, but we’ll all be dead in a matter of a month or two.”

  Margaret’s stomach turned with nausea as she thought about her son. Despite the anxiety she felt, she turned to Dave and found the strength to keep the worry from her voice. “Doctor Holmes, I want to hear your thoughts. What now?”

  Dave leaned back in his seat and ran his hands over his closely cropped hair. He breathed in deeply and Margaret saw a hint of a frown cross his face. “Madam President, I’d always worried that we might have some kind of failure. In fact, I planned for it. We could have dealt with a fifteen percent power hit and still been okay. Maybe twenty percent—I’m not positive. But from General Keane’s report, it seems as if we’re down over fifty percent, and even if we could spin up the one substation that didn’t get destroyed or route whatever sources of power it had directly to our substation, that’s still going to leave us down forty percent, well below what we need.” Dave shrugged and spoke with an ominous tone. “Even if every country went completely dark and we all lived in caves, it wouldn’t be enough. I’m sorry, I don’t have any good answers.”

  Karen Fultondale, the Director of the FBI, suddenly burst into tears and hid her face behind a notebook, the news clearly overwhelming her.

  Doctor Holmes glanced at Karen and grimaced, his expression of discomfort matching many of the others in the room. “I hate to say it, but I think we’re going to have to make peace with our fate.”

  The cold hands of dread gripped Margaret around her chest as Doctor Holmes’ words sunk in. For the first time in her life, the grim feeling of helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. She took a deep breath as an ominous chill spread throughout the Situation Room, the last hope of humanity fading.