by Jason Kent
If the stranger was planning another attack, he was interrupted by a sudden influx of people through the ladder way. The room began filling up with wild-eyed passengers moving clumsily in zero-gee, grasping for hand-holds. The ninth person through was a crew member.
“If everyone could calmly move to one of the emergency lockers, please,” the crew member announced, his voice trembling. “There is no need to panic. If you would please break the seal on the nearest E-E-R-S locker and carefully remove one of the emergency suits, as we went over in the safety briefing just a few hours ago, I or another crew member will be with you shortly to help you don the egress suits.”
Ian realized most of the other passengers were staring at him and Jennifer.
The crew member, Newton by his name tag, followed the passengers’ gaze. A look of relief passed over his face. “As you can see, getting into the EERS suits is a simple procedure. Your fellow passengers are all ready to go…in the unlikely event we shall be required to exit the elevator car.”
Ian smiled back at the crowd and gave a little wave. “Hey.”
After fumbling with a locker, Newton finally got a suit package in hand. He said, “Please begin suiting up. If an evacuation is necessary, follow the white lights on the floor or ceiling to the red lights marking one of the four egress hatches. There, a crew member will assist you in exiting through one of the clearly marked emergency exits.” As he spoke, Newton included a smooth, well-practiced wave of his free hand which took in the small lights set in the floor and ceiling and the exits bordered by thick red hash marks.
Ian pulled Jennifer toward the nearest hatch. It was basically a one-way airlock, allowing quick egress without cycling through pressurization sequences. He looked around at the growing crowd. Some were fumbling with the unfamiliar suit packs. Others were simply hanging onto hand-holds set in the wall or ceiling, staring at nothing, waiting for someone to give more direction.
Three crew members were rushing from person-to-person, attempting to prod each of the passengers into action and helping those who had managed to at least break the EERS pack seals. They were having limited success – either their audience was stunned or simply did not grasp the urgency the situation warranted.
“We’ve got to help,” Jennifer said.
Ian looked from the hatch to Jennifer to the nearest other passenger. The older woman was holding her EERS pack like it might bite her.
Ian exhaled, reached out, took the egress pack from the woman and ripped it open. With one snap of his wrist, he unfurled the tightly packed suit. Moving swiftly and wordlessly, he forced her legs and arms into the suit and was soon zipping up the front. Ian finished by snapping the woman’s helmet in place. He made eye contact for the first time after ensuring the air flow meter on her wrist display was set properly.
The woman stared back at him, her mouth hanging open.
“You’re welcome.” Ian said dryly. He gave a half salute and moved on to the next passenger, a man fumbling with a suit while spinning slowly in the middle of the room. Ian managed to stop the man from spinning and began suiting him up one limb at a time. He looked over and was impressed to see Jennifer was doing quite well herself, having quickly adapted to movement in zero-gee. She moved from one of her self-appointed charges, now fully suited, to the next, always managing to keep one point of contact and carefully planning each of her moves. She smiled sweetly at an older woman, and tried to convince her it was okay at times like this to leave her handbag behind. The woman seemed unwilling to relinquishing the massive bag slung over her shoulder and clutched in a death squeeze under her arm. Jennifer tried to a new tact; explaining how the suit would not fit over the bag.
Convinced if anyone could get the woman into a suit today, it was Jennifer, he moved on to the next passenger.
A few minutes later, everyone had managed to get a suit on. The only exception was a pair of businessmen who reacted violently anytime they were told to don to their suits. One crewman was still trying to persuade them this was indeed a real emergency.
“You’re not getting me into one of those things just so you can throw me out an airlock!” a man with styled salt-and-pepper hair shouted. Ian noticed he was wearing enough mousse to keep his locks in place despite the absence of gravity.
Another man, younger than the first, dressed in a very nice dark suit agreed, “Exactly! I demand to speak to the Captain!”
Another crew member brought over two extra EERS packs to Newton. The unsuited Newton ignored him, focusing his attention on the passengers. “I’m the Head Steward, there is no Captain on this mission,” he said. “We may be about to re-enter the Earth’s atmosphere. These,” Newton snagged the packs from his partner, “are proven safe. Now, as I have said before, it is essential you…”
“I do not want to hear this again!” Salt-and-pepper shouted, swatting the pack away. “I must speak to someone in authority!”
The snappy dresser joined in with renewed vigor. Ian ignored them both and concentrated on running a final check over his last passenger. It was not until he looked through the man’s helmet that he noticed the bloody nose. The man smiled sheepishly.
“See,” Ian said, grinning, “you made it into the lifeboat.”
The man laughed and moved away to help gather up the contents of a spilled purse.
Ian turned to see Jennifer had finished up on the other side of the room. He felt a new vibration building in the car, transmitted through the bulkhead to his hand-hold.
Screens set around the room began flashing a red back-ground with white lettering reading ‘Please Proceed to the Nearest Emergency Exit’.
“PLEASE REMAIN CALM AND EVACUATE THE ELEVATOR CAR!” A recorded message featuring a gentle, but firm female voice announced. The message was repeated in four different languages thru the suit headset and speakers set into the wall.
Jennifer pushed off from across the room and stopped smoothly beside Ian. She laid a hand on his arm. “Now we go!”
USS Bernard Schriever
Earth Space
“Trident has engaged our pursuer,” Mitchell reported.
“Finally!” Pearl shouted.
Trident was a Navy outpost located at the L1 Lagrange point between the Earth and the Moon. Sitting in the neutral gravity zone created by the two massive bodies, the base was able to stay in its assigned position using very little fuel. This was good since the station was massive. Mounting two huge rail guns, Trident’s mission in life was to serve as a last line of planetary defense against small asteroids heading for Earth. In this case the magnetic mass accelerators had been aimed back toward the planet where life and death struggles were underway between human vessels and alien aggressors.
“The squids have drawn their attention,” Mitchell said.
“Bringing us around!” Maytree reported.
“Be ready to fire as soon as you have solution,” Yates ordered. He knew they might only get one shot at the attacking vessel and he did not want to waste it.
“Steady,” Mitchell said, glued to his monitor. “Steady…OCS is seeking target…”
“Reactor Two is on-line!” Pearl yelled. “Full power to offensive lasers…the ones we have left at least.”
“We’re getting emergency calls for assistance from five other ships,” Reeves said, “including the LeMay.”
“We’d be making the same call if we had a free moment,” Yates said. “Engage with all systems.”
The Schriever went into a hard turn as the OCS attempted to align the rail guns with a solid target.
“Lasers discharging,” Mitchell said.
“That got them!” Maytree shouted.
“Yeah, got ‘em mad at us,” Pearl said.
“Lost track with rails,” Mitchell said as the ship rocked from a renewed attack. “OCS is trying…”
“LeMay has been destroyed,” Reeves reported.
“Crap,” Pearl said.
Yates cleared his throat after a moment and ordered, “Get those r
ails in line!”
Bullard Space Elevator
Earth Space
Struggling against the shaking wall, Ian pulled himself to the nearest exit with Jennifer in hand. He wanted to hurry. With the elevator car hitting the upper atmosphere, Ian was not sure how long he and the others had. There was no way of telling how the car’s structure would behave under the new stresses it was now experiencing. He pushed one of the passengers he had helped dress toward the same hatch.
“But the attendant didn’t tell us to go yet!” the woman shouted, her voice crackling over the cheap suit microphones on the proximity net.
“Lady,” Jennifer said as she pulled herself close, “You have two choices: either get in there or I’ll shove you in myself.”
The woman looked from Jennifer to Ian. “Are you part of the crew?” She asked timidly.
Ian and Jennifer exchanged a glace.
“Yes!” They both said simultaneously. As one they pushed the woman through the air-hatch. As soon as her feet cleared the inner hatch they turned for the next person.
After helping most of the passengers and even a crew member through the air hatch, Ian turned to survey the room. Nearby was the man with the bloody nose. The Head Steward, Newton, was still arguing with the reluctant passengers on the far side of the room. “You’re next,” Ian told the man.
The man moved to the hatch and looked back. “Look, I’m really sorry, I…it’s just…”
“Don’t sweat it,” Ian said, anxious to make his own exit. The vibrations rattling through the hull had grown steadily stronger and the suit was growing hot from his exertions.
The man opened his mouth to speak again.
Ian gave the man a push with his foot, sending him through the hatch.
The elevator car shuddered and jerked violently. Ian guessed something big had torn loose.
Without a word, Ian hooked a foot into a bootstrap, grasped Jennifer’s arm and tossed her out the emergency hatch.
“Hey!” was all Jennifer managed to shout before disappearing through the self-sealing threshold.
Ian looked back at the remaining knot of people. His eyes met those of the still un-suited Head Steward. The man nodded tightly then went back to his duty.
Ian bent his legs, readying himself to cross the room. He had a vague notion of knocking the reluctant passengers out with a quick punch then stuffing them into their suits.
The car lurched again.
Ian’s hand-hold tore free. Acting quickly, he kicked off from the bulkhead before he drifted too far and managed to give himself enough momentum to make it to the floor where he fingered another fabric loop.
“Outta time,” Ian breathed as he cast himself toward the same hatch through which he had shoved Jennifer.
The conformal inner seal squeezed around him. Once his arms and head cleared the threshold, he felt the material grasp and pull him forward - like a thousand tiny fingers passing him toward the exit. An instant later, he burst forth through the outer threshold and found himself flung into the vacuum of space.
Twisting, he could see the elevator car, huge for the moment but getting smaller with each passing second.
His spin brought him around to a nice view of Earth.
The home-world looked much too close for comfort.
The small pack on his back automatically fired its tiny gas thrusters, orienting him so that he faced out into space again and mercifully away from the planet he was now inexorably falling toward. Ian recalled vaguely the EERS suits were completely automated - designed to deliver even an unconscious person back to the surface safely. He smiled to himself, glad he had paid attention to at least part of the safety briefing on previous elevator rides. He also remembered one other fact the crewman had thrown into a safety brief to liven up the mood, ‘It may seem crazy but it’s guaranteed to get you home in a blaze of glory!’
Ian imagined himself engulfed in a ball of flame hurtling ground-ward. “Great,” he muttered. “So who’s guaranteeing this drop?”
In his new orientation, Ian again found himself looking back at the elevator car. It was still attached to the tether. But the carbon nanotube ribbon had an uncharacteristic twist indicating it was not taut. Ian surmised the tether was so long, even if it had been cut further up near geosynchronous orbit, it would never bunch up. Instead, it would flutter like a piece of paper under the pull of Earth’s gravity. As it fell into the sky, wrapping itself around the upper atmosphere, the tissue-thin material would burn up before getting close to the surface.
“That’s gonna be a heck of a sight,” he told himself.
The car was a different story, though. Weighing in at nearly thirty-two thousand kilograms, Elevator Lift-Car 47 was nearly twenty meters long and contained five floors. The attached energy converters and power collection panel spread out to the one side of the structure, hinged to the drive cylinders clamped onto the tether. There were several panels missing from the collector surface, probably one reason for the earlier shuddering in the car. The elevator car hung off the opposite side of the roller assembly from the power panels.
Ian turned his head to catch sight of the Earth’s surface. The car was going to burn up spectacularly. He doubted all the components would burn up though. It was the roller assembly, the most substantial portion of the entire structure, which Ian figured had the best chance of surviving the fiery reentry awaiting them all. He muttered, “Wonder what that farmer in Iowa’s going to think when a chunk of space debris lands in his field?”
Ian refocused his attention on the red outline of the emergency air hatches he and the other passengers had just exited.
No one followed Ian.
USS Bernard Schriever
Earth Space
Yates resisted the urge to spit out the blood in his mouth, forcing himself to swallow several times. He realized gagging on the mix of saliva and blood and spewing forth the contents of his stomach into the command module would be just as bad as the first action he was trying to avoid. Luckily, he was able to hold everything down despite the lurching, high-gee maneuvers, and random roll rate commands being executed by the OCS. It was during one of these maneuvers when he had bitten the inside of his lower lip. Not debilitating, but it hurt like hell.
“They got us with that last shot,” Mitchell drawled, somehow remaining calm despite the multiple impacts the ship had taken.
“Copy,” Yates said. Silently adding, figured that out for myself. Scanning his display board, Yates noted they were down to one reactor, now dedicated to main propulsion and attitude control – the system responsible for the wild ride and for keeping them alive this long.
“This evasive stuff is for the birds,” Pearl muttered. He was leaning over his control panels, desperately attempting to get his power systems back online. Arguing with himself, the engineer added, “Course we’d never have made it this far if it weren’t for the armor and, uh, maneuvering!” Pearl stopped talking as his stomach dropped while the ship went into a sharp, pitching motion accompanied by a rapid spin-up in roll.
“Like that?” Reeves grunted.
“Exactly,” Pearl said, straining to keep his eyes on the rattling control display. “Okay, you’re juiced up! Two reactor’s all we’re getting without a major overhaul.”
“The ship has fired a slew of missiles toward LEO,” Reeves said.
“What are they shooting at?” Maytree said, confused. Low earth orbit was the term for anything above the planet’s atmosphere and an arbitrary sphere four hundred kilometers out. “Are they after ISS-2 or what?” The second International Space Station had been built just before the Bullard Space Elevator had come on line. “There’s nothing important docked there.”
“Tactical thinks they’re trying to cut the line again,” Mitchell took the time to answer.
“They already cut it up at Gateway Station at GEO,” Reeves said. The space elevator tether ran from the surface of the earth all the way through geosynchronous orbit out to its counterweight.
<
br /> “Focus on the here and now, people,” Yates said.
“Defensive lasers back on line,” Mitchell said. “There they go.”
The one thing the OCS needed a human for was to release full offensive shots. The system would find a target, decide whether the rail guns or lasers would have the best effect or were in the proper alignment then prompt the weapons officer or the commander, depending on the ROE, rules of engagement.
“Rail guns in line!” Maytree screeched in glee.
“Got it,” Mitchell said.
Mitchell had not been asked to relinquish his control of the fire authority to his commander. Alien attack, although not covered specifically under the current ROE, was certainly covered by the ‘self defense clause’. Since no one was disputing the USS Schriever was indeed under hostile fire, Mitchell acknowledged the OCS target lock, letting the slugs fly from the rail gun.
“Lock maintained, firing, firing, firing,” Mitchell reported coolly.
Even Pearl looked up from his console. “Good Lord, let them fly true.”
The problem with having a good firing solution with an enemy combatant was they also would likely have a good target lock on you.
“Incoming!” Reeves shouted.
“Firing,” Mitchell continued. “Firing…”
Yates felt himself getting sick again as the OCS decided they had held still long enough. The dizzying roll and yaw maneuver was enough to cause blackness to creep into his vision.
“Target vessel has been hit! It’s maneuvering away,” Mitchell reported. “DLS targeting incoming missiles and slugs.”
“Too many…!” Reeves shouted.
“Looks that way,” Mitchell agreed.
“Crud, Mitchell,” Pearl said, looking up at the bulkhead.
“Brace for impact,” Mitchell said, his tone never wavering. He pulled his cowboy hat further down on his forehead and grabbed his console.
“There’s too many…” Reeves shouted before the first slugs tore through the Schriever’s armored hide.
Low Earth Orbit
