Never Again

by M. A. Rothman

  “Didn’t you guys say that there were millions of them?” Burt asked. “Isn’t there still a risk?”

  The general nodded. “There is, and we’re still on top of it. We’ve had nearly three dozen different attacks on collector substations, which our armed forces have rebuffed. Hell, we’ve shot down two rogue shuttles heading toward the Moon. One launched out of the Ukraine and the other originated from Sri Lanka. They’re still out there, like cockroaches, waiting for someone to stop looking.”

  Margaret drummed her fingers on the table and turned to Burt. “You’re sure there’s no way to transfer the power reserves on the Moon down here so we can use it, regardless of that crap about tides or whatever?”

  Burt shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Unlike here, where we’re generating the power actively and sending it up into the DefenseNet ring, Dave didn’t have that power generating capacity on the Moon. So instead, he’d spent years trapping thermal energy deep inside the Moon itself. Almost like a battery. There’s really no way for us to do the same thing. We don’t have time for the mining setup to even try to tap the heat within the Earth, and even if we did have a tap through active volcanoes or anything else, we don’t have the technology to deal with the intense temperatures of molten rock.”

  Feeling resigned to a fate no president in the past had ever faced, Margaret nodded and panned her gaze across the three men sitting around the conference-room table. “We have very little time left, folks. The next briefing will be in our new location.” She turned to Burt with a grim expression. “Get ready. Unless something changes, you’ll be going on a different trip soon.”

  ###

  Margaret glanced at the altimeter reading of 35,000 feet as the last remnants of the nation’s administration evacuated the capitol. Flying in Air Force One was unlike anything she’d have imagined prior to experiencing it. It was literally the equivalent of a flying office with all the same communication capabilities.

  Not knowing what the future held, Margaret felt the all-too-familiar burning in her stomach and hoped the stress of the job wasn’t getting to her. She tapped her fingernails against the tabletop that served as her desk when suddenly a red LED flickered an alert.

  She tapped the touch-sensitive panel on the desk, and a voice immediately broadcast in her office.

  “Madam President, this is NORAD control, we have another unauthorized launch detection. Proceed with intercept?”

  Margaret frowned. To ensure the public’s safety, the world leaders had agreed on a complete moratorium on orbital travel unless explicitly authorized.

  “NORAD control, we are still on launch lockdown. Do we have an identity on the vehicle and a projected trajectory?”

  “We’ve detected a multi-stage rocket launching out of the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Western Asia. The trajectory indicates no intent for a suborbital flight. The rocket is at 100,000 feet and climbing rapidly.”

  “NORAD control, go with intercept. Over.”

  “Targeting lasers activated … firing sequence authorized … fire! Target has been destroyed. Over.”

  “Roger, NORAD control. Any flights over 100,000 feet are to be intercepted unless given explicit clearance ahead of time, is that understood?”

  “Roger.”

  Margaret tapped at the control panel, disconnecting the call, and grumbled to nobody in particular, “I can’t believe they’re still trying to kill us all.”

  ###

  The president waited patiently as the site-wide announcements broadcast through the speakers in her private office. “Recent Evacuees to the Cheyenne Mountain Complex, please report to the barracks wing for bunk assignments and duty rosters.”

  As soon as the announcements finished, Burt, who was sitting on the opposite side of Margaret’s desk, insisted, “Evacuating now I think is premature. I have faith in Dave coming up with something. Heck, his last report was only a few days ago as he was boarding the flight to come back from Shanghai. He said that the meeting with the North Korean leader had given him some hope.”

  Margaret’s head was throbbing from lack of sleep and Burt, even though he was arguing for patience, wasn’t helping matters. “Listen to me, Burt: it takes at least a full day to get people organized and over to Cape Canaveral for takeoff. It takes at least another day to get all your butts over to the Moon. We don’t have much more than ten days left. We can’t afford to wait any longer. Even though I might be under 2000 feet of granite right now, that won’t help the rest of the people who are living in barely passable shelters. If we start getting bombarded by space debris, maybe we’ll be okay, maybe we won’t, but like you’ve said before, it’s just a matter of a few months more and we’ll be dead.

  We can’t risk the Moon getting hit and destroying our last chance of evacuating any remnant of humanity out of harm’s way.”

  Margaret saw the frustrated expression on Burt’s face and slammed her open palm on the desk.

  “No more arguing, Burt! Two days. If we don’t have a solution in two days, I want you to do what you vowed you would. I need you to take responsibility for what will be left of humanity.”

  Burt pursed his lips and Margaret could feel the tension emanating from her Science Advisor. He hated the idea of giving up on anything and she knew it. She admired that about him, but Margaret also knew that there were times when things simply don’t go the way you want them to.

  With a sigh, Burt grumbled, “We have two days. In two days, if we haven’t made any progress, I’ll do what I have to do.” He stared into Margaret’s eyes and she felt his emotional pain, despite his calm demeanor. “If the time comes, who else is going up with me? And why am I imagining this as a sick version of Noah’s ark?”

  The vein in her temple began to throb as she considered the horrendous choices that would need to be made. Burt wasn’t wrong about it all being very much like Noah’s ark.

  Seeing the turmoil he was going through, Margaret hesitated to ask anything else of him. With her head pounding, she took a deep breath, focused on his troubled features, and asked, “What about your family? I kind of assumed they didn’t want to come here, since you never followed up with me. There’s still enough time to bring them to the mountain and they could go up with you if it comes to that. Interested?”

  Burt pressed his lips together and shook his head, remaining silent for a long moment. “Thank you for asking, but unfortunately – they wouldn’t budge. My brother and his wife want to meet whatever ends up happening in their own home.”

  Reaching across the table, Margaret clasped hands with Burt, whose eyes shined with unshed tears, and she whispered, “I’m sorry to be putting this on you—” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “If I didn’t think it was the best of a bunch of horrible decisions, I wouldn’t do it.”

  “I know. This sucks all around, but we’ve got two days. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Are you okay?”

  Margaret leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingers against her temples. She cringed through her headache and pushed Burt’s question aside for the moment. “Let’s talk some more tomorrow morning. We’ll decide on who goes up on the ark then. I’ll be very open to suggestions then, but for now, I need to get some sleep.”

  ###

  Margaret had somehow managed to get nearly five hours of fitful rest, but the never-ending anxiety she felt spurred her onward. How could she sleep when the fate of her family, Americans ... the world was on the precipice?

  It was the next morning, or at least that’s what the clocks all said. The concept of morning, evening, day, or night were all somewhat meaningless in the underground world of the Cheyenne Mountain shelter. Sitting in her office, Margaret stared at the roster of evacuees currently housed in the complex. Hundreds of faces stared back at her as she swiped her hand across the touch-sensitive table, flipping from page to page.

  “How do you want to choose?” Burt asked, with an expression bordering on disgust. “Breedin
g age? Younger than that?”

  Margaret shook her head and admitted, “I’m afraid the analogy you gave yesterday to Noah’s ark is probably a good one. Whomever we choose needs to go through a quick fertility screening. It would otherwise be pointless to send them.” The sour taste of bile rose in her throat as her own words echoed off the stone walls of her office.

  Burt posited, “Some may not want to go. We can’t afford to take any who have criminal records. Probably need to get a psych screen too.” He looked Margaret in the eyes and admitted, “I can’t believe it could come to this. We’ll have to pick more than are needed, and only the first two hundred and fifty get to go.”

  Margaret sensed a resignation to what might be the inevitable in Burt’s voice.

  The desk began blinking, signifying an incoming call.

  Margaret tapped the receive button, and only an audio signal came through. “President Hager? Burt?”

  Burt’s eyes widened. “Dave? Is that you?”

  “Yup, it’s me. I’m done testing this monster and I’ve got good news and bad. Which do you want first?”

  Margaret immediately responded, “Give me the bad, the good news can wait.”

  “Well, I can’t exactly get a full measurement of how much power this thing is generating. I’ve tried with everything I can get my hands on from the site and even pulled resources from the local universities. No good.”

  “What do you mean you can’t get a full measurement?” Burt asked. “Can’t you measure the magnetic field around the power cable and get a reading?”

  “Nope, tried it. This thing Frank developed as a power interconnect is a room-temperature superconductor, and from what I can tell, it’s just about perfect. I can’t read shit off this thing. There’s no magnetic field, yet I know lots of juice is flowing through it, because it’s blown any other inline attempt to measure the engine’s power output. Even at the lowest setting possible, it’s well over the multi-megawatt output level.”

  “Is that enough for what we need?” Margaret asked.

  “I have absolutely no idea. That’s kind of why I called it the bad news, because I don’t know if it’s enough. I can’t directly measure the power coming out of this thing, it’s that strong. So I suppose it’s also the good news. The only next step I can think of, considering how little time we have, is for me to take this thing to one of the anchor points and hook it up. At this stage, what’s the worst that could happen?”

  Margaret watched as Burt crossed his fingers and closed his eyes for a second, evidently praying. He leaned closer to the table. “Dave, that’s absolutely fantastic news.”

  Margaret stood as she felt a surge of hope rush through her. “Doctor Holmes, I’m going to call and arrange for a military jet escort. Where do you want to take this to?”

  “The substation located in the jungles of Ecuador, just west of Quito. That’s the closest one to my location.”

  “Fine, I’ll call something in right away and will scramble an entire brigade of soldiers to ensure there’s no complications. I don’t need to tell you that everything is riding on your success. The least I can do is ensure your safety. Give me a couple of hours to get soldiers en route to the site and we’ll get you where you need to go.”

  “Thank you, President Hager. I’ll be frank and tell you that I can’t wait for this to all be over so I can go to sleep for a couple of years.”

  Margaret smiled and nodded. “You and me both. Unless there’s something else, I’ll make all the arrangements right away.”

  “No, that’s it. I’ll crate this thing up and get it ready for transport. Thanks again.”

  The table flashed as the call disconnected and the open list of the evacuee faces showed on the tabletop once again.

  Margaret tapped on the phone icon on the table and within seconds had General Keane on the line.

  “General,” she said, “our Doctor Holmes might be saving all of our asses again, but we need to get him and his gear over to Ecuador ASAP. Walter, let me be clear about this. Everything rides on him getting there in one piece with his equipment. Give me a plan.”

  “Understood. I can get 5,000 special operations soldiers in-country in ten hours to act as escort for Doctor Holmes. We’ve got ground transport assets already there from other tasks. Give me thirty-six hours and I can get a division of soldiers on top of the 5,000 already there to create an outer ring and cordon off any ground attacks. As to the air, I’ll scramble the Air Force Special Operations Wing to run cover for the site itself. They’ll cover from just above ground level to the ceiling of operations. Nobody will get through. On your authorization, I’ll commence with ... let’s call it Operation Iron Shield.”

  Margaret leaned her hands on the table and barked, “You’ve got your authorization. Commence with deployment of Operation Iron Shield. Doctor Holmes needs a coordinated transport with payload from Homey airport to the substation located in western Ecuador.”

  “Roger that, Madam President. I’ll get on it right away.”

  “Thanks and dismissed.” Margaret disconnected the call and stared at the faces of the evacuees. Taking a deep breath, she barely managed to control her reaction to the glimmer of good news.

  Margaret turned away from the faces on the table and stared at Burt. “We still have to make these lists.”

  Burt returned her gaze and carried the barest hint of a smile. “That little substation in the middle of nowhere will soon be the safest place on Earth.”

  Margaret nodded. “Let’s just hope that Doctor Holmes’ gadget does what we need it to do.” She tapped at the faces staring up at the ceiling. “In the meantime, let’s figure out who gets to ride on our little Noah’s ark.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Dave inhaled the humid air of the Ecuadoran plain. The musty scent of vegetation still permeated the air, even though much of the nearby land had been cleared. He tapped on the taut sheet of graphene that rose up into the sky and waited impatiently for the arrival of Frank’s engine. Standing at the top of the Ecuador anchor station, helicopters hovered nearby, and every minute or so, a fighter jet would zip by–all assigned to keep watch over the highly secure site. Bulldozers were busy clearing the last of the jungle vegetation within a three-mile radius of the substation. Dave glanced at Bella and pointed at the thousands of soldiers who were creating a multi-layer secure perimeter. The soldiers were everywhere, all of them tasked with keeping him and the site safe as far as the eye could see. “Could you have ever imagined such a thing?”

  Bella shrugged. “It makes sense. They don’t want to take any chances, especially with all hopes hanging in the balance.”

  “I know, but it seems like overkill.” Dave’s gaze veered suddenly toward what looked like an incoming caravan of military assault vehicles, many of them with machine guns installed on their roofs. His heart raced as he spied an armored cargo carrier in the midst of the vehicles. He began walking toward the stairs as he pointed to the line of trucks. “That’s got to be the engine. Let’s go meet them.”

  With Bella on his heels, Dave raced downstairs, through the shell of the ruined substation and out the front door.

  “Doctor Holmes!” One of soldiers barked at him, and moved in his way. “Please wait here for the cargo. We don’t want any accidents.”

  The man held an expression that brooked no argument. Dave’s gaze was drawn to the Special Forces tab the soldier wore on his left sleeve, and it suddenly dawned on him that the president must really be concerned if she’d sent the Army’s elite troops to watch over the site. Despite the warmth of the day, a chill ran through him as he wondered if there was something he wasn’t being told about the threats against them all.

  ###

  Under Dave’s direction, a group of four soldiers carried the crate into the otherwise inoperable substation. This was one of the substations that had had its contents damaged by the electrical surge that resulted from the suitcase bomb at a nearby col
lector substation.

  As the soldiers unpacked the engine, Dave glanced at the ceiling. His gaze followed the three-foot-wide ribbon of graphene that descended from the closed slit in the roof. The end of the graphene ribbon was attached to a wiring harness that was, in turn, linked to a burnt-out transformer.

  Extracting a wrench from his tool belt, Dave loosened the connecting bolts on the wiring harness, disconnected it from the transformer, and inspected the harness’s connector.

  Bella asked, “Is it damaged?”

  Dave shook his head and showed her the shiny gold leads on the end of the harness. “No thermal damage whatsoever.”

  “Doctor Holmes,” said a soldier, waving to catch Dave’s attention. “We’re done unpacking. Do you want to leave this on its base?”

  Turning to the engine, Dave backed slightly away and motioned toward the closed slit in the roof five feet above him. “Can you scoot the engine closer, and bring it under this clear ribbon? I’ll hook it up.”

  Four soldiers carefully slid the base of the engine until it sat directly beneath the graphene ribbon, and Dave proceeded to attach the wiring harness to one of the electrical leads coming out of Frank’s engine.

  A soldier who’d helped unpack the engine approached Dave and asked, “Sir, is there anything else I can help with? I’m one of the men assigned to this station and will be acting as this shift’s maintenance engineer.”

  Dave glanced at the man’s name stenciled onto his fatigues and clapped him on the shoulder. “Sergeant Vasquez, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it for now.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Dave confirmed that Frank’s engine was properly connected to the graphene ribbon, then retrieved a satellite phone from his belt and punched in the numbers to the NORAD Mission Control. The phone rang once, twice ... and then the crackling sound of an operator broadcast through the phone. “Operator 1543, Cheyenne Mountain switchboard. Where may I connect you?”