by Hylton Smith
“Elise, I swear that I’ll delegate as much work as humanly possible, to be with Sophie, you, and Geraldine. I need to step back a little, you’re right, and for the first time in my career I have subordinates capable of taking the strain.”
“Fine, we’ll decide at breakfast tomorrow.”
Julien nodded and said he’d call Eugene.
*
“Hi Dad, how are things with sis? I guess you were shocked, I just don’t get it, really. Mother has her in that looney house, and I’ve tried my best to tell her that Sophie needs a different environment altogether. She won’t hear of it and Geraldine doesn’t help. I mean, I know my aunt is a kind, caring person, but she just repeats whatever Mum says, like a sodding parrot. Even some of the relevant stuff I had to study at University, which could help Sophie is thrown back in my face. Sophie has a gift, Sophie is sensitive, sure, and like many talented people, doesn’t take criticism too well. I’m sure that’s why her painting became a burden, more noir, bizarre, and violent in its subject matter. There’s a lot of evidence now that personality can be influenced by a person’s DNA. Irregularities which cause conditions like Autism and Asperger Syndrome have been linked to genetic defects without much fuss in society. But people don’t want to think about this reaching as far as temperament, or being self-centred. I gave up trying to help because Mum was so stubborn. I know Sophie needed medication to control her addiction, but we need to look at what caused her submission to drugs. Enough, this sounds like a sermon, what happens next?”
“A lot of what you’ve just said actually resonates with me. I persuaded Mum to take Sophie back to Geraldine’s for a while, and we’re there now. I also suggested taking her back to Guiana, to re-unite her with nature. You know, solitude when it’s needed, but the family can be there whenever there’s a wobble. We’ll decide tomorrow.”
“Well, well, I can’t believe it. That’s exactly what Sophie needs right now. Listen, Dad, I’d like to come out to see what you get up to in Guiana, but I can’t take the time off just yet. How about the end of the summer? I might be able to squeeze a couple of weeks’ vacation then?”
“I’d love that, Eugene, I’ve never asked you because I thought it would isolate your mother even more. I hope you can understand.”
“I’d figured that out already. Anyway, you’ve got my support one hundred percent, Sophie needs to be out of that zoo. Speak to you soon.”
Chapter 7
Elise had been up half of the night, researching anything she could about Guiana. She wasn’t convinced it was right for her daughter and aired her concerns at the breakfast table.
“When were you going to mention the oppressive climate, Julien, and all the…compulsory vaccinations against tropical diseases?”
“After we decided whether reuniting the family would help Sophie with her problems. I thought that was the priority.”
“Maybe, but I’ve read that a current yellow fever vaccination is mandatory… even for… entry into the country. Protection against malaria is definitely recommended, and the same applies to tetanus and… sodding polio.”
“I know all that, Elise, but it’s under control, unlike drug addiction. And yes, it’s hot and humid a lot of the time, but accommodation is absolutely top class, and the city of Kourou isn’t far away. It’s a tropical environment, with advantages and drawbacks just like any other place. But the vivid colours and the night sky are truly something to behold.”
Elise was about to bring up the question of crime when Sophie gripped her hand. Then she rounded the table and hugged her father, with tears streaming down her face. Beckoning Elise to join the embrace, Sophie’s voice was barely audible. “I want us to go, Mum. What’s to think about?”
Geraldine had to excuse herself, unable to control her emotions. Elise just sat still, as if paralysed. Julien was pulled to his feet and guided around the table by his daughter. The three of them joined hands, as Elise saw a light in Sophie’s eyes which had been missing for several months. They called for Geraldine and it was decided.
*
Having cleared all the medical requirements and packed the maximum allowance of life’s necessities for the family, all remaining arrangements at the other end were authorised by Julien’s call to Volker Brandt. They also briefly discussed Julien’s suggestions following his trip to Chile.
“If we narrow down the options of deflecting the asteroid to only one technique and one last resort, it would give us the opportunity to alter the initial Mars objectives. I realise that if we fail with diverting Chocolate Orange, the chances of surviving on Mars more than a few years would be unlikely, but we just don’t know what we might find there. Also, if we do knock the asteroid off collision course, we’ll know by then exactly what the situation is on Mars.”
There was no comment.
“Hello, Volker, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m just processing what you said. I’m not sure about leaving a crew on Mars without back up missions to begin the programme of self-sufficiency. All my drive over the years has been to that end. I appreciate your point that we can’t push forward too many concurrent projects, but if Earth dies, so will the Martian crew, unless habitat and food propagation has been fully established between 2033 and 2039. I need to think this through again, especially as you have said on a few occasions that we should stockpile supplies on Mars at the expense of scientific programmes, including food propagation. We can talk again when you get here.”
*
Volker Brandt, unknown to Julien, had many agents embedded in other organisations. He’d never have survived thus far if this hadn’t been the case. Virtually all so-called ‘World Bodies’ had reason to want him to fail. His vision was pin-sharp, and his resultant intense focus, meant he had to achieve things rather than merely talking the talk. The latest round of intelligence gathering pointed to Russian backstabbing. During the days of Arianespace, Soyuz Aerospace Industries had been able to use the spaceport, but it was now in the hands of Brandt. The Russians were originally shareholders of some influence and repute. However, in the last few years, they had terminated information sharing, eventually leading to a revival of ‘the space race’. They would never openly speak about their admiration of the old Soviet Union, and its inspirational attempt to beat the United States to the Moon, only because it had failed. But modern day Russia had the technology, the finance, the dedication, and crucially, a truly hard-nosed motive to win this time around. Their confidence lay in the skewed growth of anarchical trends around the globe. They had by far the least virulent protests of any ‘state’ on the planet. Brandt’s moles were constantly feeding back confirmation of Russian intent to claim sovereignty over Mars. They already had plans to ‘fix the race’. Brandt had to take this scenario into his evaluation of Julien’s proposal, without even hinting that his refusal to move the Mars mission back from 2033 was underpinned by this Russian threat. Disclosure, even to people he trusted could ultimately blow his double agents’ cover. And there was then the more delicate task of knowing if he had spies or double agents in his midst. Knowing was important, whether or not counter-measures were the order of the day. Planting a flag in the red Martian dust was all that mattered, everything else was subject to sacrifice.
*
Sophie had a new friend. Angelina was introduced as Doctor Villeneuve, but as well as her physiological qualifications, her main function was the psychological health of the personnel in the spaceport. Working for years on end in such a ‘bubble’ had its challenges, especially if there were personality clashes. And there was a veritable reservoir of egos looking for the next step up the ladder.
Under Angelina’s care were several patients who’d not been able to handle personal failure, and had fallen prey to the easy access of drugs. Volker Brandt had foreseen such temptation, and from his position, viewed them as potential defectors. It was better to keep them in rehab than allow them to evaporate into the fog of cyber war.
It didn’t take lo
ng for Angelina to make her initial diagnosis of Sophie. The first recommendation was to change her medication, as in her opinion, the side effects were counter-productive to long term stability. She wanted Sophie to feel she could regain control of her life and kick-start her artistic creativity again. The first step was to integrate her with others with whom she had two things in common. First of all, fighting her addiction was going to make more sense to her by getting involved with friends who’d already been there, and were now in stage two – and able to offer constant appreciation of her efforts, simply by being in the ‘same team’. Invited to be involved in their projects, and offering cooperative contribution to the group objectives, brought shared self-esteem. One such example was the creation of multi-faceted entertainment productions for the research personnel to enjoy in their free time; it gave everyone a real buzz. Music, theatre, art galleries, satirical interludes, sculpture, culinary surprises – anything and everything was encouraged.
Sophie took to Angelina immediately, the chemistry and belief were there already. Elise and Geraldine couldn’t believe how quickly her demeanour had changed. She still had bad spells, but a friend was always on hand to tell her what to expect next, and stay with her throughout, to bolster her mental fortitude. She trusted these people.
*
Brandt beckoned Julien to enter his office, which was more like a technology hub. He seemed to be connected to everywhere on the planet at the same time. He blacked out every screen with one touch of some master controller. He didn’t want the links to go down, even for a second.
“How is your daughter doing? I know she’s only just got here but I hope she has settled in.”
“Yes, she has, Doctor Villeneuve has really struck a chord with Sophie. I’m mildly optimistic. So, anyway, have you had further thoughts about my proposal?”
“Indeed, I’ve thought about little else. I approve of your deflection technique being despatched from Earth, the far space option worried me and I’m glad we agree about putting it on the back burner. I’m also as comfortable as I can be with the only other investment being nuclear warheads. I need to see updated calculations on precisely where these strikes will take place, and more importantly, when. That information will enable me to sign off on the Mars launch date…or not. This will also have a bearing on the decision regarding priority of the crew’s objectives when they get there. Self-sufficiency or survival. I’m afraid the jury’s out on that until I have your progress report. Spare no detail, you have more need to push on now that we’ve cut down the options.”
Julien picked up on Brandt’s declaration of not being in favour of far space diversion strikes at the asteroid, and thought better of exposing the principle of near space monitoring as part of the Mars programme. There would be a better time.
“I can’t argue with that in principle, my next task is as you said, to decide exactly where the nuclear option will strike, then the pattern, and the variation in payload. When preparations for that are under way, I’ll shift our emphasis to the exact diversion coordinates. This has to take as long as it takes, simply because the fall back option is far less controllable. Having said that, the longer we can wait to launch the diversion projectiles, the lower the margin of error. I’ll ready the vessel carcasses pretty soon, but I want to wait to see what developments in electronics come forward in the coming years before we commit to inferior systems.”
“Good, I look forward to the report. I’m gone for two weeks as from tomorrow. I’d like to see this progressed by the time I return. Come on, Julien, we’re talking preliminary plans, not the finished article.”
Brandt had been very accommodating with Julien’s time off in France and allocated one of the best doctors in the complex to help Sophie, so he declined to say two weeks wasn’t enough.
As soon as Julien left Brandt’s ‘flight deck’ the video streamed back to every monitor. Everything Volker Brandt saw added to his conviction that time was of the essence, he needed to push for even more effort. Just sticking with the original deadlines equated to going backwards. The evidence in front of him had to be translated into words which technical people could identify with, and react to positively. His two weeks away would provide an opportunity to sculpture such a rallying cry.
*
A freedom group in southern Germany made world headlines. They’d taken over the office building of a national newspaper. Reports were coming in continually, many of which indicated that more than sixty heavily armed individuals had managed to secure four of the five floors of the building, and crucially the top floor, together with the entire management team. As yet, no demands had been made, and the police were reluctant to tackle such a well-organised bunch of anarchists or terrorists, whichever they were. Nothing on this scale had been seen before, such cells usually numbered ten to twelve individuals.
The army had been called in and were expected within three hours. This kind of insurgent action was becoming a trend which worried those who clung to power, and sixty well-trained operatives would present a formidable challenge. Also, the police forces around the civilised world were being slowly drained of recruits, most of whom were heading in the other direction, becoming highly paid mafia-style enforcers.
Apparently, nobody in the building had lost their life as yet, and remarkably, the evening edition of the paper was being distributed as normal. The front page headline promised a further bulletin regarding another government cover up of the truth, specifically false information relating to the asteroid killer programme; it would be in the next morning edition. It also stressed the need for any law enforcement personnel to stay away. This was being portrayed as a civil protest. No affiliation to any known group was claimed. It had the hallmarks of a new vigilante agenda.
However, it wasn’t handled with any kind of sensitivity. Tanks rolled into town and raised their guns at the same time the message was delivered. ‘Release the hostages and throw down your weapons and we can discuss your concerns. You are surrounded, there is no way out’.
An awkward silence preceded the first group of hostages walking out of the building fifteen minutes later. This piecemeal release of the newspaper staff continued for almost an hour, when finally the chief executive emerged. He asked to see the commander of the armed forces, and nervously conveyed a message from the leader of the ‘squatters’. It stated that all hostages were free, and that no arms would be surrendered until all civilians were evacuated from the immediate vicinity. The commander acknowledged this, and at the same time prepared his units for a street battle to the death. He then ignored the chief executive of the newspaper, who’d claimed that the perpetrators had harmed none of his staff, and only wanted discussions with government representatives. Another thirty minutes ticked by, and then suddenly charges were detonated from within the building, causing it to crumble rapidly. Much of the falling masonry crushed the first line of tanks in an instant; the commander had ordered them into an offensive crescent around the front entrance. Flying debris accounted for at least thirteen soldiers. There were no survivors from inside the entire office block. This military-style mass suicide during the occupation of a leading media publication was the first of its kind, in which the participants had decided to make the ultimate sacrifice whilst trying to avoid others being killed.
However, the main message they delivered was on behalf of those whose young lives were going to be terminated in ten years, without knowing if there was any hope of a reprieve. The occupiers had merely wanted to know what was being done, and what they could do to help stem the tide of lawlessness. The willing forfeit of their lives proved to be a landmark strategy compared to any other form of protest.
The ripple effect forced all state-sponsored asteroid-killer organisations to get together and begin dissemination of progress on a monthly basis. NERO, NASA, Beijing, Moscow, and Delhi complied. As a privately owned entity, VB Aerospace had a choice. Brandt deliberated over the pros and cons of joining the clique or going it alone for a while longe
r.
Chapter 8
June 2030
Volker Brandt had always been a patient man when considering any collateral damage he could deliver to other people and organisations. This was in stark contrast to his impatience with missed deadlines in his own company.
The leaked video footage which hastened the resignation of Sir Ian Waverly two years ago, had been pretty much unanimously attributed to his enemies within NERO, he was disliked intensely. However, since Brandt had been the architect of Waverly falling on his sword, by calling in a favour from a mole in NERO who’d pulled the trigger, he felt it was now time to reap the harvest of sowing that particular seed. Having decided in 2029 to officially remain outside of the international clique charged with destroying or bumping the asteroid off course, the moment was now perfect to strike. Other than Julien Delacroix comparing notes with the members of the clique, regarding the trajectory of Chocolate Orange, VB Aerospace was seen as solely concentrating on the Mars mission.
Brandt chose to make an announcement, exclusively within VB Aerospace, which would ultimately provoke accountability protest against those organisations officially responsible for Earth’s survival beyond 2039.
He summoned Julien to his flight deck.
“I know we’ve all been working to the original launch date of 2033, but something has come up and we need to think again.”
“You mean to delay it until we are more certain of the asteroid impact location?”
“Perhaps that is how it should be perceived, but the driver behind this is somewhat more sinister.” He switched on one of the video screens and Julien watched in amazement, as he recognised the speaker, but not the environment.
“That’s Ivan Kolorov….”
“Shh, just listen.”
The Soyuz facility in the background was one of the most closely guarded installations on the planet. The video feed was from some previous internal presentation, recorded for preservation and posterity, but with ‘eyes only’ access. Kolorov had altered the original voice-over.
