Terminal Event

by Robert Vaughan

  “No, First Director. As I said, the Plym Stel approach will be visible to every amateur astronomer within a matter of days. Then it can no longer be kept secret. We believe the information would be better, coming directly from you. There will still be panic, but with an official announcement, it will give the people a sense of order. And right now, we need order as much as we need anything else.”

  “How soon do you want me to make the announcement?”

  “Today, sir, right now, as soon as you can arrange a simultaneous break in to every image broadcasting company in Amalon.”

  “I’ll make the arrangements,” the First Director said.

  Back in his apartment, unaware of the gravity of the meeting taking place in the Hall of Authority, Zorlok Cyr had his legs stretched out on the stool in front of his chair, watching the athletic competition on the screen. Biskandal had just put two balls through and was trying to push through the third, which would be needed to bring about a score. Faking out the Kandillia defenseman, the Biskandal captain completed a beautiful pass to the corner attack man. The crowd roared its approval as the corner attack man eluded a tackle and started toward the net.

  “Yes!” Zorlok shouted excitedly as he thrust his arm into the air. “You’ve got it! Go, go!”

  Suddenly, the game disappeared. For a moment, the screen was blank, then there was a red background over which appeared the blue and gold seal of the highest office in the land, the First Director of Amalon. Below the seal were the words, “Special Announcement.”

  “What?” Zorlok shouted, glaring at the imaging screen. “No wonder I didn’t vote for you, you pompous ass! Do you really think anything you have to say is important enough to interrupt the biggest game of the entire season?”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, speaking to you from the Hall of Authority in Biskandal, Amalon, is our head of state, First Director Dolar Lemil,” a solemn voice-over stated.

  A handsome, gray-haired man appeared on the screen. For a much longer moment than normal, Zorlok thought First Director Lemil just stared into the camera. As leader of Amalon, Lemil was the most powerful man in the world. He was well aware of his position, and he worked hard on the impression he created anytime he made an appearance on the imaging screen. He was able to project an expression that walked the narrow line between self-confidence, which was a positive trait, and arrogance, which was negative. He had used these image screen skills with particular effectiveness during his campaign for First Director, winning the office with sixty-eight percent of the vote.

  But today there was something in the First Director’s demeanor that caught Zorlok’s attention. Gone was the self-confidence. Missing was any arrogance. Instead, there was a definite mien of acute depression. And this particular facial expression, Zorlok was certain, was not one that Lemil was projecting for effect. This was genuine.

  “Omo in heaven, what has happened?” Zorlok asked Tuke, rubbing the little dog behind his ears. His first thought was that Korsra had launched a military attack. Twenty years ago, Korsra and Amalon had been uneasy allies during the Great War with Kambye. Since that time a precarious peace had existed between the two most powerful nations in the world. Lately, however, the tensions had been lessening. An attack from Korsra seemed unlikely, and yet, realistically, Zorlok knew that the most effective time to launch a surprise attack would be when it was least expected.

  “Amalonians,” Lemil began. Then he coughed, cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began again. “I have asked the heads of state of the governments of Korsra and Kambye to allow me this time on their imaging screens, as well as the imaging screens in Amalon, so that I might made a simultaneous address to every sentient being. Graciously, First Director Kuloc of Korsra, and First Director Docomonoma of Kambye, having been made aware in advance of what I will be telling you, granted me that permission.”

  Lemil’s face disappeared, to be replaced on the screen by a picture of deep space, filled with thousands of brilliant stars.

  Zorlok was puzzled. Why would they be showing this particular picture during the First Director’s broadcast? Then he gasped.

  “An alien spaceship? Have we actually made contact with an extra terrestrial?” he asked aloud. Tuke looked at him in confusion.

  “This picture was taken one hundred days ago,” Lemil said in a rather somber voice-over.

  A graphic layering of pictures began then, building one picture on top of the other. At first, there seemed to be no change, then Zorlok saw a bright green arc appear in the bottom right hand corner. The arc grew with each picture until it seemed to connect five stars. “This last picture was taken today.

  “As you can see, it looks as if there are five stellar-bodies connected by the green arc,” the First Director continued. “But in truth, there is only one, known as the Plym Stel. But the Plym Stel is not really a burning gas star like our sun, rather it is a solid, rock body. I am told that it is from one-fifth, to one-fourth the mass and weight of our Earth. Unlike our planet, however, the Plym Stel is not in any fixed orbit. On the contrary it is flying, unbound, through space, beyond our own solar system. Time-lapse imagery allows us to see its movement. Our scientists tell me that the progress this object has made in only one hundred days is equal to the diameter of our entire solar system. You can see then, that it is moving very rapidly.”

  On the imaging screen the green arc was suddenly, and dramatically extended. Then, a computer-generated overlay of the solar system was laid down. The green arc intersected the orbital plane of the third planet from the sun. The screen held that image for a long moment, then the First Director’s face returned to the screen.

  “This graphic shows that if the Plym Stel continues along its projected path, it will, in another three hundred fifty-two days, intersect the orbital plane of the third planet from the sun in our solar system.”

  Lemil paused for a moment. “I am sure everyone is aware that we are the third planet from the sun, and, regretfully, I must also tell you that at the time of intersection, we will be in position for a catastrophic intercept. This – terminal event – will occur at 23 minutes past the 14th hour, Biskandal, Amalon time, on 34/3, 5M657.”

  The First Director cleared his throat again, and ran his hand through his gray hair. “So that it is perfectly clear to all of you, I must explain that catastrophic intercepts, and terminal events, are scientific euphemisms that are purposely selected to sterilize the truth.”

  Again, there was a beat of silence.

  “There is no easy way to say this, so I will just come right out and say it. The Plym Stel is going to collide with our world and when it does, all life – ” Lemil paused for a moment. “ – and that means every sentient being and lower order animal – will cease to exist.”

  The blood seemed to drain from Zorlok’s head. He felt as if he weighed twenty times his own weight and he fell back into the seat as he continued to stare at the imaging screen. There was a crushing pressure on his chest and he could scarcely breathe. He thought of the barrage ball game he had been watching but moments ago, and how involved he had been in its outcome. How insignificant it was now. How insignificant everything was, compared to this.

  Zorlok looked at Tuke. The little dog was as carefree and happy now, as he had been five minutes earlier. Without even realizing that he was doing it, Zorlok continued to rub the little dog behind its ears.

  The First Director went on with his announcement.

  “Do not think that we will merely await our fate like animals being led to slaughter. We will mobilize every scientist, physicist, thinker, and resource at our command, not only here in Amalon, but in Korsra and Kambye as well. We are not three separate nations now, with our own self-interests. We are citizens united, truly brothers and sisters as we face the most significant event to occur since sentient beings emerged from the primordial swamp.

  “We are five billion souls and though the three major religions of the world take different paths to the Omniscient One, we are b
ound to each other by the universal truth of one God. Let us now, each in our own way, pray to Omo, if not for deliverance, for indeed that may not be possible, then at least for the strength to bear what must be borne.

  "I thank you, and may the Blessed One bless you."

  Zorlok brushed his cheek then, and it wasn't until that moment that he realized he was crying.

  16

  First Director Lemil poured himself a cup of coffee. He was in the Hall of Authority in his spacious private conference room. Sitting with him around a large, polished, elliptical-shaped table, were the commanders-in-chief of Amalon’s ground, sea, and air military services.

  “Gentlemen,” Lemil said. “Scientists from our country, and from every other nation, have been working on the problem and they may – just may, mind you – have come up with a solution.”

  “And what would that solution be?” the commander of all naval forces asked.

  “We’re going to attempt to blast it out of space,” Lemil answered.

  “Are you serious? How big is this thing?” Flag Officer Balik asked. Balik was not only the commander of all ground forces; he was the senior most officer of all Amalon armed forces.

  “It is approximately one-quarter the mass of our own planet.”

  “And scientists say we can blast it out of space?” Balik gasped. “What is it going to take to stop that thing? Do we have that much power?”

  “They say it will take one hundred thousand megatons to stop it,” Lemil replied. “And to answer your question, no, we don’t have that much explosive power available to us. We have taken a thorough inventory of every thermal-nuclear and anti-matter device in the world. There are a total of five hundred nuclear warheads of fifty megatons each, and one hundred anti-matter bombs of five hundred megatons each. That gives us a total of seventy-five thousand megatons.”

  ‘What about Kambye?”

  “We have included Kambye’s nuclear weapons, though they have a somewhat limited supply of them, and they have no anti-matter weapons at all.”

  “That means we’re twenty-five thousand megatons short,” Balik said. “If the AM bombs are five hundred megatons each, why not just build another fifty of them?”

  Air Commander Tula shook his head. “That wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Why not?”

  “Even if we could get them built in time, which I’m not sure we could, we don’t have enough rockets to lift them,” Tula explained. He looked at Lemil. “In fact, I don’t believe we have enough to launch the numbers you were referring to.”

  “If this discussion had come up in the last quarter I would have agreed with you,” Lemil said. “But it turns out that Korsra has a hundred more launch vehicles than we previously thought”

  “Those sneaky bastards,” Balik said with a snarl. “By treaty, they were supposed to give us the exact numbers of launch vehicles in their inventory. I never have trusted them.”

  “And perhaps, with good reason,” Lemil replied. “But now, nothing is as it was before. We are all in the same boat, and that boat is sinking. We must put aside every prejudice, every suspicion, every fear we have ever had. We are transferring fifteen AM bombs to the Korsran military.”

  “What?” Balik exploded. He stood up so quickly that his chair turned over behind him, and the sea commander reached over to set it back up. “First Director, with all due respect, sir, you can’t do that! You have just proposed transferring enough power to Korsra to destroy all of Amalon!”

  “Yes,” Lemil said. “I’m sure that many anti matter bombs could destroy Amalon. As I am sure the ones we have could destroy Korsra.”

  “Then, why give them that capability?”

  “Our scientists have computed the optimum launch locations to give us the best chance of success,” Lemil explained. “Fifty launches from Laurentia, and fifty from the continent of Gondwanaland. We have sixty-five anti-matter bombs and Korsra has thirty five, which means we must make up the difference for them.”

  “First Director, ever since the Great War we have worked to maintain military superiority over Korsra. It wasn’t until your administration that we started losing ground to them. This is the final compromise of our nation’s security,” Balik said indignantly.

  “Watch it, Balik, you are going too far,” the sea commander warned.

  “When it comes to national security, you can’t go too far.”

  “For crying out loud, Balik!” Air Commander Tula exclaimed. “The whole world is about to be destroyed. Can’t you see that the Korsrans have as much vested in this as we do?”

  “How do we know they’ll launch them as they’re supposed to? I wouldn’t put it past them to hold several back, just in case we are successful. That way, they will have the superiority when all this is over.” Balik replied.

  “Why would they do such a thing?” Lemil asked, confused by Balik’s strange reaction to the problem.

  “Why do Korsrans do anything?” Balik responded. “We agreed, by treaty, to provide accurate numbers on the amount of missiles in our inventory. Did they, or did they not hold back one hundred rockets from us?”

  “They did,” Lemil admitted. He cleared his throat. “As we held back fifteen anti matter bombs from them. Flag Officer Balik, I’m sure that even the most strident nationalists in both our countries understand that the time of bickering is behind us. Our only hope for survival as a species now, is in total cooperation among all sentient beings.”

  “I’m just raising a few questions, First Director, that’s all,” Balik said, returning to his seat. “Far be it from me to keep us from going forward.”

  “Good. I’m glad you see it that way, because I’m giving you the assignment of coordinating the transfer of those weapons to Korsra. Do you feel you are up to the task?”

  Balik’s face brightened. “You mean the Korsrans will have to come through me to get their weapons?”

  “They will,” Lemil said. “And while I do want you to be as helpful to them as you can, it is not my intention that you roll over and play dead. Ultimately, I intend for Amalon to be in charge of this operation.”

  “Yes, sir!” Balik said, his mood considerably improved over that bit of information.

  “First Director, if the scientists say it will take one hundred million megatons of power, and we can launch only seventy-five, what sort of chances are they giving us?” Tula asked.

  “They are still working on the figures.” Lemil admitted.

  “But it isn’t a one hundred percent chance of success, is it?”

  “No,” Lemil agreed. “But there is a one hundred percent chance that all sentient life will be destroyed if we stand by and do nothing.”

  In Timtuco, the capital city Kambye, Flag Officer Klye Mnobonti sat in the office of First Director Docomonoma, the chief executive of the nation.

  “With all due respect, First Director, why are we bowing down to them?” Mnobonti said. “After the great war, we were left to rebuild ourselves from the rubble of nuclear destruction, and neither Amalon nor Korsra helped us recover.”

  “It wasn’t their responsibility to help us recover,” Docomonoma said. “We started the war.”

  “I’m a soldier, First Director; I had no input in the politics that started the war. But I fought in that war and I lost a lot of friends.”

  “Losing friends, and even family, wasn’t restricted to soldiers,” Docomonoma said. “The war came to our homes. We lost twenty million of our citizens who never even put on a uniform.”

  “Amalon and Korsra emerged from that war nearly equal in the number of nuclear weapons, and, since the war, they have developed anti-matter weapons. We have only fifty nuclear warhead tipped missiles available. Only fifty! But now you say we are to surrender control of those weapons to Amalon and Korsra?”

  “Given the circumstances, we have no choice.”

  “Does the national council agree with this?”

  “Unanimously,” Docomonoma said. “Mnobonti, is it possible th
at you aren’t aware of the gravity facing our planet? Every rocket, every nuclear weapon, and yes, every anti matter weapon in the world must be used, if we are to avoid total destruction.”

  “Suppose we give up every nuclear weapon we have, and suppose we do stop the Plym Stel, then what happens?” Mnobonti asked.

  “What do you mean, what happens?”

  “We will be disarmed.”

  Docomonoma smiled. “That is true, Mnobonti. But so, too, will Amalon and Korsra be disarmed. And, without their nuclear superiority, all three nations will be at parity.”

  Mnobonti looked surprised for a moment, then a broad smile spread across his face.

  “Yes!” he said. “Yes, that is true, isn’t it?”

  “I’m glad you see that. So, as we get further instructions as to how we should deploy our weapons, I can count on your cooperation?”

  “Yes, sir, you can count on it,” Mnobonti said.

  17

  Department of Biological Studies, National Lyceum of Amalon.

  Zorlok was grading papers when Professor Lashi knocked on his door. Vilna Lashi was a tall, dark-haired woman with high cheekbones, pouting lips, and dark blue eyes. She was also the most brilliant teacher in Zorlok’s department. Her only drawback was that she didn’t look like a college professor. Rather, she still looked like the artist’s model she had been when she was working her way through school, and because of that, Zorlok believed that she didn’t always get the respect her intellect truly deserved.

  “Come in, my dear Lashi, come in,” Zorlok invited. “I’m just finishing marking these tests.”

  “I’m surprised you have that many papers to grade,” Lashi said. “Since the Plym Stel was sighted enrollment has dropped by well over ninety percent.”

  “That’s true, and I have to confess that most of these papers are from students who have already left school. But I thought I would go ahead and grade them anyway. Would you like some tea?”