Dave’s mouth had gone dry and his heart thudded rapidly in his chest with the hidden anxiety he felt as he stared at the screens, waiting for them to update. Feeling a tap on his left shoulder, he turned and was surprised to see the president.
“What’s going on?”
Dave pointed at the screen on the right and said, “We’re getting a huge amount of alerts incoming from LIGO, and I’ll bet you anything you want that the alerts are coming from our space-based intruder.”
“Sir!” The engineer pointed at the main screen. “I’ve got the Hubble 2 and IXO 2 satellites online, and they’re adjusting their focus to an area approximately 375 million miles away. That should be somewhere near Jupiter’s current position.”
Dave watched as the angle of the images on the large center display turned. The background stars and lights were all blurry as he imagined the space telescopes turning, changing their field of focus.
Margaret pointed at the large white blob that appeared on the left-hand-side of the video feed and asked, “What’s that?”
“I’m going to guess that’s an out-of-focus Jupiter,” Dave responded, as he watched the blob slowly sharpen into a recognizable image. His mouth opened in shock as the image crystalized, and he saw something he’d only ever seen in simulations.
Long gaseous streamers extended from the surface of Jupiter. As the focus of the image became even sharper, Dave saw the distant tendrils of gas seeming to swirl around an invisible threat.
On the right-hand-side of the screen, the X-ray filtered video feed coming from IXO 2 clearly showed the swirling gas around a dark center. The brilliant flares of intense light exploded in a myriad of computer-enhanced colors around the edges of the black hole.
“My god,” Margaret exclaimed. “It looks like Jupiter is being pulled like soft taffy.”
Dave nodded. “Madam President, Jupiter is being ripped apart by gravitational forces beyond comprehension. The event horizon around the black hole is rotating at almost the speed of light, and as Jupiter’s outflow approaches, the matter begins to get torn apart by the gravitational forces. Those flares of X-ray particles are the last gasps of matter as they’re ripped to pieces.”
A shiver raced up Dave’s spine as the images on the screen brought back memories of those nightmares he’d suffered through almost a decade ago.
“That’s our future if we don’t get out of the black hole’s way.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Being the Prefect of the Secretariat for Communication, Reverend Monsignor Domingo Adrian Herrera had authority over all communication coming out of the Holy See in the Vatican. However, after watching the broadcast from the President of the United States, he knew that he needed to consult with the Pope before speaking on his behalf over such monumental messages.
As Domingo walked through the long hallways in the Apostolic Palace, he began to feel every one of his eighty-five years, but he couldn’t help but wonder about the future. The American President was a powerful speaker, yet her message was replete with the signs of the Apocalypse.
Kneading his hands, Domingo worried about the crowds that would be gathering in Saint Peter’s Square. In two days, all of Christendom would attend Christmas Evening Mass, and the city would have over 100,000 worshippers.
Domingo slowly climbed the steps to the Papal Apartments, and as he crossed the entryway, he heard the powerful voice of the Pope being broadcast throughout the grounds. Such things were simulcast worldwide to the faithful.
“Ave Maria, gratia plena; Dominus tecum: benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui Iesus.”
Domingo paused and knelt as the Pontiff recited the Angelus prayer.
As the traditional 6:00 p.m. prayer ended, the Pope waved at those gathered in the courtyard below, then turned away from the window. His gaze fell on Domingo, who was just getting up off his knees. The Pontiff rushed over to help him stand. “Domingo, my friend, I hope your arthritis is not hampering you too much and that you are in good health.”
The warmth of the Pope’s genuine affection removed any discomfort that Domingo may have felt, but he knew that the Pontiff never watched television, so it was his duty to inform him of the latest events.
“Your Eminence, the American President has given word of a great change that is about to come. I fear that the signs all scream of an end to all that we know. There will be great fear in the flock that gathers here in two days, for they will have heard what is coming.”
The Pope turned and took Domingo’s arm, urging him to follow toward the window. “Tell me, what is it that concerns you? What could the American have said that has you so upset?”
“Holy Father, it was just some of the warnings. It matched the nightmares that I’ve had of late. The American President spoke of rocks flying down from the heavens, setting fire to anything that they touch. She spoke of the sun itself falling into darkness. I fear that the reactions that everyone will have will lead to panic. There are already riots in the streets of Rome, smoke is billowing from the battles throughout Italy ... it is getting worse.”
The Pope laid his hand on Domingo’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You forget that the Lord has promised us tribulations such as these, and promised that they hail a new and glorious day. This is not a time to fear, but a time to rejoice. Domingo, when you give the messages to all, I refer you to our Lord’s words. The pact that we have is unbroken. I’ll quote for you in Acts 2:16 the passage that reads:
‘And it shall be in the last days,’ God declares,
‘That I will pour forth of my spirit on all mankind;
and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,
and your young men shall see visions,
and your old men shall dream dreams.
Even on my servants, both men and women,
I will in those days pour forth of my spirit.
I will show wonders in the heaven above,
and signs on the earth beneath,
blood, and fire, and vapor of smoke.
The sun shall be turned into darkness,
and the Moon into blood.
Before the great and glorious day of the Lord shall come.
And it shall be that whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”
The Pope turned to Domingo and smiled. “It is this that you must tell the people. For it is this message that they need to hear. Have faith on this beautiful evening, for tomorrow brings us a greater world.”
Taking a deep breath, Domingo kissed the Holy Father’s ring and promised, “I will do it right away, your Eminence.”
Domingo turned and strode as fast as his feet would carry him.
As he set foot outside the Apostolic Palace, the chilled breath of a winter breeze blew across the courtyard, sending a shiver through his frail body. The brightness of the full Moon drew his gaze upwards into the heavens, and he sent the Lord a small prayer.
As he stared at the Moon, the Pope’s words rang loudly in Domingo’s head: “The sun shall be turned into darkness and the Moon into blood.”
At that moment, the Moon flared with a white light that, for a few seconds, rivaled the brightness of the sun. As Domingo shielded his eyes and the brightness dimmed, the Moon turned dark red and seemed to shrink before his very eyes.
With a surge of energy, Domingo raced across the courtyard to his offices. The only thought in his panic-stricken mind was that he needed to give the world the Pope’s message.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Sitting in the mission commander’s chair, Dave leaned back as the clock ticked down on the large middle screen. The president paced back and forth as the time elapsed. Dave would have sworn that if she had been a cat, her tail would be swishing back and forth in agitation.
Dave knew only a handful of the dozens of engineers manning the computers. Most of the ones he knew were originally part of the ISF and had gone into careers in the Air Force
working for NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command.
As the timer counted down below one minute, Dave tensed. An image appeared on the left-hand auditorium screen: a near-perfect visual of the Moon. The warp ring around it had just begun to glow.
Suddenly, an engineer’s voice broadcast through the command center’s speakers.
“Mission Commander, we have T-minus 30 seconds until activation. The warp ring around the Moon has begun to charge, and we have a visual signal incoming from the Palomar Observatory. They report having the telescope locked on target.”
Dave leaned forward in his seat and the room practically crackled with nervous tension as the launch director counted down the final seconds.
“Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... launch!”
The ring around the Moon grew tremendously bright, it was almost like looking at the filament of an old incandescent bulb.
Speaking into the microphone attached to his lapel, Dave ordered, “T-COM, give me telemetry data on the Moon’s motion. What do we have?”
“Mission Commander, we have lateral deviation from the Moon’s normal orbit. Detecting an acceleration of 20 meters per second squared ... correction, the acceleration has increased to 40 meters ... 60 meters ... holding at 60 meters per second squared.
“Mission Commander, the Moon is on target and after thirty seconds, has a velocity of 4,000 miles per hour and has travelled 16 miles.”
Dave felt euphoric as he witnessed the creation he’d slaved over slowly break the Moon free from its natural orbit. It was all that he could do to keep the excitement from his voice.
“Roger, T-COM, give me a minute-by-minute update or an immediate one if you detect something unexpected.”
Dave watched the video and listened to the regularly updated acceleration numbers and the ever-increasing speed of the Moon. Suddenly the warp ring flared so bright that the entire screen grew white, and then the signal went offline.
“What the hell happened?” Dave yelled needlessly into the microphone, because everyone in the entire auditorium could easily have heard him. “T-COM, what’s the status from Mount Palomar? Is the video offline? What’s the telemetry?”
The telemetry and communications engineer stammered, “S-sir, Palomar is resetting their imaging computer. Some kind of light flare that overloaded their sensors. They need thirty seconds to come back online.”
The president walked stiff-legged to Dave with an expression of both anger and fear. “Did the Moon just blow up?”
Dave covered the microphone and whispered, “I have no idea. We’re blind here. I can’t see shit without instruments.”
The communications engineer reported, “Mission Commander, we’re getting several messages from various air bases all reporting the same thing. A flash of light and the Moon turning red and then disappearing.”
The president turned to Dave as his mind reeled. A red Moon could mean only one of two things.
“T-COM, we need a visual. Track the Moon’s path. Do we have any changes to acceleration data before, during, or after the incident?”
The lost video signal from Mount Palomar came back online. The screen flickered and then showed empty space as one of the telemetry engineers spoke through the intercom. “Sir, Mount Palomar is moving the telescope along the path the Moon should have taken. Unfortunately, the last telemetry data we received was off the scale, so we can’t know for certain what happened.”
Margaret turned to Dave and nodded toward the panning video image of empty space: the place where the Moon should have been. “I don’t see rubble or dust or anything. Any theories?”
“Mission Director, we’ve gotten over 100 confirmed reports of a red Moon and one of our engineers has visually verified that the Moon is currently not visible in the night sky.”
Dave shook his head with disbelief and spoke into his microphone. “Keep looking, T-COM. Tell Palomar to focus on the debris field that the Moon was aiming for. Also, where have these messages come in from?”
Hitting the mute button on the mic, he turned to the president and shrugged. “I know what can cause someone to see a red Moon, one of them is easy to explain–smoke from a forest fire can cause that. However, I seriously doubt—”
“Mission Director, the messages ... they’ve come from everywhere. As far north as Joint Base Elmendorf-Richardson out of Alaska, we have reports from the CFB Cold Lake out of Alberta, and we also have several from McChord Field out of Washington state.”
“Well,” Dave grumbled. “No chance that we have a forest fire in the middle of Alaska, Canada, and Washington all at the same time. No, this looks like—”
“Mission Director, Palomar is now focusing on the debris field.”
Dave stared at the left-hand screen as the fuzzy image came into focus. Slowly the dark image began to show a gray background that seemed out of focus, while along the very edges of the image were dark gray objects hanging in suspension. They were clear images of asteroids, but Dave instantly knew something was wrong.
The president pointed and asked, “Is that the debris field?”
“I don’t know,” Dave responded gruffly as he stood. He felt that same uncomfortable sensation he always got when he didn’t have all the information he needed. He growled into the mic, “T-COM, what’s the diameter of that opening? Are we focused in too close? Also, the gray out-of-focus background, how far back is that?”
“Mission Director, Palomar reports that the field of view is 120,000 miles and that the gray background is the second wave of debris, 13,000,000 miles behind the first wave.”
Dave felt stunned into inaction, and then a crooked smile bloomed across his face as he glanced at the president. “I suppose it’s time for us to fasten our seatbelts. I’m not exactly sure how he did it, but Burt blew a hole straight through that debris field big enough for us to weave our way through.”
Dave hadn’t considered that the Moon could have accelerated as aggressively as it did. It dawned on him that, due to the Moon’s lower mass and the overall larger size of the gravity bubble, it was possible.
A rush of adrenaline raced through him. Dave spoke into his microphone, “T-COM, bring the Ecuador substation comms officer online. I need to talk to him. GNC, I need guidance systems online. Bring the navigation computers up and set controls for immediate readiness.
“Launch Director, do all your system checks. I want a launch sequence started now, with a thirty-minute countdown.
“Doctor Radcliffe blew a hole through that debris field for us, let’s not waste it.
“We’re about to make history, people.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“What do you mean Doctor Patel was on the Moon?” Margaret stared at General Keane in disbelief. “Why the hell did you let....” She bit her tongue with frustration as she remembered how upset the scientist had been and that she’d given Walter free rein on letting Neeta go to another site. Margaret just never in a million years would have thought that Doctor Patel would go up to the Moon.
Dave, who’d been standing nearby, pressed his lips firmly together, shook his head, and turned away as he focused on the countdown that had already commenced.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, but you—”
“I know.” Margaret waved his explanation away. “It’s not your fault. I just didn’t think she’d give up on life like that ... she would have been such an asset to everyone down here.” Feeling the heat rising in her face, Margaret dismissed the general and sat in the nearest chair, deeply regretting some of her most recent decisions.
###
With fatigue weighing heavily on him, Stryker finally left the evacuation center’s receiving area. It had been a full week since he’d arrived, reunited with his family, and helped organize the duty details for the MPs in his unit.
The Poconos Evacuation Center was enormous. It housed over 5,000 people and the buildings occupied nearly four square miles, most of i
t serving as housing.
Walking along the dirt-packed road that formed the evacuation center’s main artery, Stryker heard the sound of rapid footsteps.
“Dad!” Isaac’s voice rang loudly.
Both kids raced toward him, and he was nearly tackled to the ground when they slammed into him.
Emma yelled in her high-pitched voice, “Mommy said we can say goodnight before we go to bed.”
“She did?” Stryker gazed toward Lainie as she walked through the thin crowd in their direction, an amused expression on her pixie-like face.
She’d been pretty cool toward him when they’d all reconnected at the evacuation site, but lately he’d caught glimpses of her sarcastic humor, despite their grim surroundings.
Lainie rubbed her arms and complained, “It’s getting chilly out here.”
“Oh, that’s a good point,” Stryker remarked. He walked over to a large pile of quartered logs and grabbed one of the twenty-five-pound bundles. “Here, I’ll bring this over to your bunks. This’ll help keep things cozy.”
The kids began skipping ahead and Stryker smiled. “They seem to be adjusting pretty well.”
“They are,” Lainie replied. “I’m actually pretty surprised, considering what everyone around here has been through.” She blew into her hands and made chattering noises with her teeth. “I hate the cold.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She shuddered, but didn’t pull away. “Are you okay?”
“I’m freezing.”
“But it’s warm where you and the kids are staying, right? I tried making sure you have enough firewood and those warm chemical packs for the bed.”
“We’re fine. After Emma kept stealing Isaac’s blankets, I made the two of them sleep in the same bed so Isaac doesn’t freeze in the middle of the night.” She laughed. “I think our little blanket thief might actually be a sleepwalker. One time, I watched her get out of bed, yank her brother’s covers off him, and then go right back to sleep. She did it while I was sitting up in bed watching.”
Never Again Page 37
