Comet!

by Laurence Dahners

  Epaulding closed his eyes hard in the hopes of shutting the world out. Dammit, what had gone wrong now? It was four days yet until their first nuke fired off at the comet, so there shouldn’t be anything to go wrong right now. He considered not answering, It couldn’t be important could it? He shook himself and said, “Put him on. Hey Mike, what’s up?”

  Epaulding could hear the horror in Voight’s voice, “Jim, Hearth-Daster has just become visible after rounding the Sun and… and…”

  “Yes, Mike?”

  In a hoarse whisper Voight said, “It’s broken up, Jim. Seven big fragments and a shower of little ones. The biggest one will definitely miss us, but the other six are all gonna hit us or come pretty damn close. We need more data because we’ve only just begun tracking them and we need more baseline, but…”

  “Christ!” Epaulding saw his sons look at him in concern. He never swore. He waved weakly at them and moved off down the hall to his home office. “So I suppose we really need at least six nukes out there, but we only have 3?”

  “Yeah,” Voight grated, sounding like he was trying not to break down into hysterics. “Well, we can hope that, when we refine the trajectories, three of them will turn out to be on track to miss us. But, hell, a lot of the ‘little ones’ are plenty big enough to kill lots of people. If one of them were all that were out there, we’d be horrified about what it could do.”

  Epaulding sighed and pinched his nose, “And with all the interest that that ‘huge tail’ has generated, every Joe with a telescope is going to look at the comet pretty quick and some of them are gonna analyze the trajectories. Then we’re gonna have a crisis when the survivalists hear we’re gonna get hit.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “OK, I’ve got to call the President. I’d like you to gather every smart person you can think of in the big conference room. Fill them in, no need to try to keep this a secret anymore, then brainstorm solutions. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Yes sir. Can I call Donsaii?”

  “Oh yeah! Of course. No wait, let me call her myself. I need to know what’s she’s doing before I talk to the President.”

  Epaulding and Voight spoke a few more moments then hung up. He’d just asked his AI to connect him with Donsaii when his son knocked on the door frame. “Dad, Mom says dinner’s ready.”

  “Sorry son, can’t come now,” he said hoarsely, “you guys go ahead and eat without me.”

  His son backed out of the doorway, wide eyed. His dad had always made time for family dinners!

  A couple of minutes later Stephanie Epaulding stepped into the room, ready to tell her husband to “get off the phone.” His face was turned to the side and he stared unseeingly out the window. Before she said anything she saw the tear rolling down his cheek. A cold fist closed around her heart as she backed out of the room and went back without her husband to join her family at dinner.

  “Yes, Director Epaulding?” Donsaii said. He noticed that the usually calm young woman sounded harried.

  “I assume you’re aware that Hearth-Daster has broken up?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And that approximately six large fragments are on intersecting trajectories?

  “Four, sir.”

  Epaulding’s eyebrows drew together, “Four?”

  “Yes sir. Our latest data shows that the thirty-one million ton and the eighteen million ton fragments will definitely miss.”

  “And you know this how? They’ve just become visible after perihelion!”

  “We have observation rockets in parallel orbits.”

  Epaulding closed his eyes, stifling an irrational impulse to lash out at her for knowing more than he did about what was happening. “Miss Donsaii,” he said, trying not to sound exasperated, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on then.”

  “Yes sir. Just before perihelion the comet, originally massing 298 megatons, massed 273 megatons, having lost 25 megatons to outgassing of frozen gasses and other causes. That 273 megaton fragment broke into two fragments. One massing 93 megatons, and the other 180. Whereas the entire comet had been on a trajectory to miss the Earth, this separation sent the 93 megaton fragment much farther away but placed the 180 megaton fragment back onto an Earth intersecting path. That 180 megaton fragment subsequently broke into fragments of 79, 31, 22, 20, 18, and 7 megatons as well as a shower of smaller fragments. Our analysis of their trajectories project that the 31 megaton and the eighteen megaton fragments will miss. The other four will strike the earth unless something is done.”

  “And what, exactly, should be done?”

  “Their trajectories should be altered.”

  Epaulding leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I deserved that, he thought. “And do you have plans for that?”

  “Yes, but it would be much better if we could coordinate with whatever NASA is doing.”

  Epaulding laughed, “And you believe that we are doing something because?”

  “Director, NASA influenced the DOT to allow us to provide ports to ILX. Your engineers consulted with us on the design of port fueled rockets. NASA had us carry three 1800 kilogram devices with rocket motors on them out into orbit and release them. Those devices were somewhat radioactive. Based on the launch dates for the devices, and their 22kps speed limitation, we expect that the first craft that we launched for you will intersect the comet within the next week. Based on the radioactive nature of your devices, we hope and believe that they are nuclear weapons.”

  Epaulding laughed again, “So you figured all this out and didn’t say anything to us because?”

  “You obviously wanted to keep it a secret.”

  “Some of my people believe that the twice daily eruptions that drove the comet off of its intersecting path were due to your efforts?”

  “You have some very smart people working for you.”

  Epaulding noticed that she carefully did not go on the record as saying ‘yes.’” He cleared his throat. “Might I assume that further such ‘eruptions’ may be forthcoming?”

  “Director, are we going to work together or not? Honestly, I think it would be the best thing for our planet, but if we are simply going to dance around this topic and then go our separate ways… I have better things to do.”

  “So do I, young lady, so do I…” Epaulding started frostily, but then forcibly tamped himself down. “Excuse me. Actually… I don’t.

  “I agree with you. We should work together. Let me put our cards on the table. You are correct, the three devices you launched for us were thermonuclear devices of 3 megatons TNT equivalent each. We intended for them to provide us three ‘shots’ at moving the intact comet off an intersecting path. Now we find that we need far more than three warheads. Although we’ll try to build and launch more, I hope to God that you can do something about some of the smaller fragments?”

  “Yes sir, I believe we can. But we could use some help.”

  “Explain.”

  Donsaii proceeded to tell him how they’d repeatedly hit the comet with “five kilogram impactors” in order to move it off of its original intersecting course. “So we can hit the fragments with more five kilo impactors, and in fact have greater effect because the objects we’ll be hitting will be smaller and more readily displaced. However, the closer they get to the Earth, the more we must displace them to make them miss.”

  “Wait a minute… my AI tells me that a 5 kilo impactor traveling at 22kps would displace the comet 0.3 kilometers per hour. You would have had to hit it thousands of times to move it 150,000 kilometers at intersection like we think you did!”

  “Uh, yeah, we can make ports that will work up to 150kps. We just don’t sell them.”

  “My God, why didn’t you let us have some of those?!”

  “If you’d asked, for this purpose we would have. We will for your next ones. We do want to keep their existence a secret.”

  “But, but…”

  “Director, what’s done is done.” She sounded exasperated, “We n
eed to move on to what might yet be done.”

  “Yeah… OK, make us some ports like that. What can we do for you?”

  “We need huge quantities of LOX and LNG to fuel the rockets for our impactors. Having it shipped in with trucks is extremely inefficient and we don’t think we can fly enough impactors that way.”

  Epaulding’s eyes narrowed, “And we could help how?”

  “We need to install ports at manufacturers and distributors to provide us with unlimited supplies on demand. PHMSA has made that illegal until our applications are approved, and Secretary Bayless intends to delay our applications as much as he can. You worked around PHMSA to get your ports from us. We want you to do the same for us. We don’t expect carte blanche for all ports, just for the ports we need for this.”

  Epaulding’s eyes widened, “Oh, yes, we can make that happen.”

  Epaulding arranged to brief the President in the morning. When he arrived at the family table, they were serving dessert but all immediately looked at him questioningly. Stephanie said, “Is it Ed?”

  Epaulding looked at her with some confusion. “Ed?”

  “That you’re so sad. Did Ed Candela die?”

  “Oh. No. Sorry, I… I can’t…” Epaulding suddenly found himself choked with emotion and unable to continue.

  Stephanie got up and bent to put her arms around him. “It’s OK honey, tell us what happened.”

  Through the tears brimming his eyes he looked around the table, at the sons he loved and their wives. At his one grandson in a highchair at the other end of the table. What the hell, it isn’t going to be secret much longer. “We… should… we should stock the cabin.” He croaked, “I’ve got some bad news.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  President-Elect Flood found himself somewhat surprised to find that he actually liked the outgoing President Teller. He’d railed against the man during the campaign because objecting to Teller and his policies equated to belittling the presumed continuation of those policies under his Vice President—if Mansfield were to have won the election. But Teller himself turned out to be very charismatic and likeable.

  Over the past weeks he’d had a number of briefings regarding problems facing the government that weren’t exactly for public consumption. He’d had a few moments, as he realized the nature and dimension of the problems, when he wondered if he really wanted this job after all. Recognizing the pressures Teller had been tolerating and the lack of excellent solutions to the myriad of problems out there had rendered Flood more accepting of the man he would replace.

  However, he’d just been told that, before he left Teller wanted him to sit in with him on a briefing from the director of NASA. “Tell him I have an appointment. I’m sure whatever issues NASA has, they can wait until I’m actually in office.” He turned and began to walk away down the hall.

  “Dave,” he heard Teller call out from behind him. Flood turned and raised an eyebrow. Teller said, “You really should sit in on this, it’s important.”

  Flood rolled his eyes and went back into the oval office. “Yes?”

  “Dave, this is NASA Director James Epaulding.”

  Flood looked at the director, a pleasant appearing white haired man. He didn’t offer his hand for a shake. “I’m sure you’re aware that I campaigned on spending cuts.” He shook his head, “You won’t be able to change my mind about cutting funding to NASA.”

  Epaulding stared at him pityingly, like you might gaze at someone with cancer. “I’m not here about funding…” he began.

  Flood had not intended to sit, but a few moments later he found himself stumbling to grasp the arm of one of the chairs. He levered himself into it. Jesus! I thought I understood that this job would be tough!

  ***

  “So, you’re not going to believe this,” George Tennet said to his wife and son at dinner. “I got a call put through to me yesterday from some psycho woman claiming to be from D5R, the company that rescued the Space Station, which I suppose is how she managed to get put through to the president of the company. She spins me a load of crap about how D5R wants to install some ‘ports’ she calls them, right on one of the big LOX tanks at Praxair… Now get this, she claims that this port will transfer LOX directly to their facility without any shipping. Says the LOX will disappear into the port and appear at D5R where she claims they need huge quantities and that our trucks can’t deliver it fast enough.” He shook his head, “Back in the days before AIs these kinds of psycho crank calls would never have gotten through to me.”

  George’s son stared wide eyed at him, “Dad!” he said in an exasperated tone. “That is how D5R saved the Space Station. They used ports that let oxygen go from Earth to the Station!”

  Tennet’s brow knitted together, “You think that might have really been a call from D5R? They have been great customers…” His AI chimed in his ear. “Yes?”

  “You have a call from the President.”

  “President of what?” he asked in an exasperated tone.

  “Of the United States.”

  “Uh…” he gulped, “put him on.”

  After a long pause the recognizable voice of outgoing President Teller came in his ear, “Mr. Tennet, your country needs you to cooperate with D5R and let them…”

  ***

  Kitt’s Peak National Observatory, Arizona—The Observatory confirmed this morning that claims by numerous amateur astronomers are correct. Comet Hearth-Daster has in fact broken up into multiple fragments as it rounded the Sun. They also confirmed that some of the fragments are now on a trajectory that may well intersect the Earth…

  National Aeronautic and Space Administration, Washington D.C.… NASA confirmed today that it had strategies in place to mitigate the risk that Comet Hearth-Daster will impact the Earth…

  AP Wire Service—

  Grocery chains nationwide report shortages of canned and other preserved foods…

  Home improvement stores report shortages of chainsaws, generators, lanterns…

  Nationwide runs on firearms and ammunition…

  All motorcycles sold out…

  Panic buying…

  Ell looked around the floor in the D5R building, gratified that they hadn’t lost a lot of employees to the national panic. When news stories first began to surface about the comet, Sheila had suggested a recorded mass call to their employees from Ell telling them that the comet stories were true and that she hoped they would continue to come to work because D5R—all three companies together—were trying to do something about the comet and needed everyone’s help. Ell had made the call and it seemed to have worked, only two people had failed to show up for work and one of them had come back to work again, somewhat sheepishly, a couple of days after his initial absence. Most of them were working very long hours; Ell had promised them double time for overtime, and triple time after they reached 80 hours a week.

  They had successfully launched their array of “camera rockets” and Allan now had precise location data on all fragments larger than 500 kilograms. They had placed six “port rockets” surrounding the area of the comet fragments at distances of 70,000 kilometers. Thus, they could launch impactors on courses that would allow them to drive fragments away from intersection paths along something close to the shortest possible trajectories. The ports on the opposite side could be used to return the pusher motors back to D5R.

  Iron impactors from five kilos down to 0.5 kilos were being delivered in quantity and the D5R folks were constructing more and more pusher motors. Yesterday they had finally installed the LOX ports at Praxair and Atmospheric Distillers. The LNG ports had been functioning for three days now.

  Ell picked up the first of their new impactor assemblies and dropped it into the cage over the port. Before she told Allan to open the port Manuel said, “Ma’am, is it OK if we say a prayer?”

  Ell turned to see his earnestly beseeching eyes and saw a number of others in the big room who also looked as if they would be greatly comforted. “Sure, do you mind doing
the honors?”

  Manuel looked momentarily uncertain, then stood slightly taller. As silence fell in the big room, he intoned a brief but heartfelt prayer.

  “Go Allan,” Ell said and with a “foomp” sound the rocket was sucked into the port and disappeared. The people in the room gave a brief cheer and turned back to their tasks.

  In her ear Allan said, “You have a call from a Mr. Voight at NASA.”

  “Put him on. Hello?”

  “Hello, Ms. Donsaii. I’m Mike Voight, leader of the NASA team trying to deal with the comet. Thank you for providing the new 150kps ports for our new vehicles, they will help a great deal.”

  “You’re welcome sir. Can we help otherwise?

  “Yes, well I’m trying to make sure we coordinate our efforts. It would seem to me that our nuclear weapons would be most effectively be used on the largest fragments while your impactors would be better for used for the smaller fragments, especially the large numbers of fragments under 30,000 tons?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Voight felt a little weird being addressed so respectfully by someone who’d won a Nobel prize. Someone he felt he should be addressing with respect himself. “Especially because we are about to fire our first nuke at the 79 megaton fragment and it would be a shame if you had just moved it with one of your impactors.”

  “Yes sir. We’ve just fired our first impactor but we are focusing on the seven megaton fragment first. We’re hoping that you will be successful in moving the three big ones with nuclear weapons so that we can focus our efforts on all the small ones. Um, our data shows that you would do best moving the 79 megaton fragment north?”

  Voight grinned at her polite reminder that she had better data on the fragment locations and trajectories than he did. He returned the respect to her. “Yes Ma’am that’s how we’re planning to push it. Then the 20 megaton fragment goes south and behind Earth in its orbit. The 18 megaton fragment goes north and ahead.”