With Joe's attention focused heavily on the data at hand, it’s Andrew that first notices the 3D view.
“Umm Joe,” says Andrew slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. “Did you say this was picked up by our detection or collision systems?”
Joe looks up wondering why Andrew is just standing there fixated. He follows his eyes to a single screen and then to the offending terminal. Beep... Beep... Beep…
“Oh shit! collision!” Joe says loudly.” We gotta make some calls....” The two engineers, however, can only stare in bewilderment at the screen now just ablaze with hundreds upon hundreds of dots, “Lots of calls, we’re gonna wake some people up tonight mate.”
“Andrew, who do we call?, I mean who do we call first? This is big, really big!”
“Well mate,” he replies with real concern in his voice. “We should call our Prime Minister, America, Europe, hell we gotta call everyone on the books.” Andrew gets galvanized into action, as he rips his eyes away from the blazing screen. “I am going to call AOC first, find out if the yanks have spotted this yet, see what they think.”
Moving the array has interrupted quite a few projects causing some members of the various science teams to become very annoyed. A few of these scientists head for the control room to confront Andrew and Joe. Others join them, though more out of curiosity than annoyance, as it's not like these folks to brazenly interfere as they have done. All are dumbfounded as they enter the control room to see both men almost frantic as they move quickly from terminal to terminal. One terminal is beeping, another has a screen ablaze with moving dots, others display incomprehensible data. It takes a short time for the magnitude of what is happening to sink in. Jaws drop as those watching begin to realize that every single dot is an incoming asteroid or smaller meteor.
In the coldness of space, thousands of objects hurtle closer and closer to Earth. Where these dense rocks originated from is unknown, as they seem to have just appeared out of nowhere. In all of history there is no record anywhere of a meteor shower of this magnitude, and they are all heading here, to Earth.
Location:
Array Operations Center (AOC)
80 KM West of Socorro, New Mexico
Ring.... Ring.... Ring....
“AOC, Director Barbara speaking.” She says formally, flicking her shoulder length auburn colored hair back away from her face. She does not like to be bothered by unannounced calls.
“G'day Mate. Ugghh, I mean, G'day Miss, this is Joe,” he says a little embarrassed, “We need you to point your array at something we found. It’s, well it's a lot of objects, we're going to lose them soon and you need to...”
Interrupting a now stammering Joe, Barbara continues quite formally as she narrows her pale grey eyes, the way she does when annoyed at an interruption. She almost glares at the telephone as she unleashes a little wrath in her voice. “Is this some joke? Where are you calling from? How did you get this number? Do you know that I am the director of a very busy facility? I do not take kindly to pranks or demands. You have seconds before I report this intrusion to the authorities.”
Joe takes a deep breath and says, “I am calling from Australia, ASKAP to be exact.”
“Oh”, says Barbara a lot more relaxed. “Our Aussie mates down under, well why didn't you say so?” she continues as she sits back to recline and rock comfortably in her executive chair.
Joe, talking a little slower now continues on. “We don't have much time. About twenty minutes ago our alarms went off, our collision alarms. There are no less than two thousand meteors and some seventy or so asteroids about five meters in diameter, due to impact in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Joe, Joe, Joe,” She says quite motherly, “five meters, that makes them what, about sixteen feet in diameter? All they will do is create a light show as they burn up in the atmosphere. Surely you guys know that, and the smaller ones, well, what could they possibly do? Hmm. Besides the array is booked solid for months. We can't just point it at some curiosity you folks down under have found.”
It is now Joe's turn to get annoyed at Barbara's condescending tone. “Listen up, these readings I have here show that these meteors and asteroids are unusually dense, and not following a parabolic trajectory. Just point your damn array at them will ya? We are about to lose tracking.”
Getting annoyed at being lectured, Barbara speaks with surety. “Now I know your joking, not parabolic, just coming straight at us, and twenty-four hours out. The odds of that happening are billions, no trillions to one, and you say there are thousands of these objects.”
A rustling over the line is followed by a pause then some whispered voices. Barbara considers hanging up as the seconds drag on, but her curiosity has been aroused by this unexpected call.
“Director Barbara, my name is Andrew. I am the Deputy Director of ASKAP. Our world is in trouble. Our collision software tells us that a lot of satellites are in the path of this mix of meteors, and asteroids. I have already woken up our Prime Minster, who is as we are speaking calling your President. We don't have time to waste. Please, just point your array at the coordinates we have for you, and pray that we are just a victim of a massive software glitch, or even a hacker. Hell, I would take being hacked over these readings being real any day. Time is a luxury we do not have. Good day.”
The click of Andrew hanging up irritates and perplexes Barbara. Putting the phone down in annoyance, she flicks through an old style rolodex. None of these computer based directories for her, she quickly finds, and stops at ASKAP. Deputy Director Andrew Jensen and Chief Engineer Joe Fields are two of a few names that stare back at her. A small chill works its way up her spine as she picks up the phone again, to make her own calls, just to be sure. Maybe they have found something, probably space junk, she thinks.
Within an hour, many of the world’s government controlled arrays and telescopes now point at these incoming objects. Leading scientists gather data, plans are set in motion, but time is short, as thousands of objects hurtle, unabated toward planet Earth.
Closer and closer they come, and yet no alert has gone out to the public. Newscasters around the world are focused on other concerns, such as the latest posturing by North Korea, and the rise and fall of various stock markets. This is the biggest news story in history, and the media is completely oblivious to the approaching threat.
As more questions are raised than answers are found, additional scientists are assigned to the many concerning questions. Will they burn up or not? And if not, where will they hit? Where are they from? Why are reports of their density such an issue? But mostly the concern starts to focus on other more compelling issues, such as repairing or replacing lost satellites, casualties and rebuilding should any asteroids impact. Also, why did we just discover these meteors and asteroids now? So far though, no one seems to be considering the bigger picture or asking the right questions.
Meanwhile these objects get ever closer to Earth in what promises to be an unforgettable event for humanity.
Location:
North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD)
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs, Colorado
The DEFCON status board switches from blue to green.
“Sir, all stations report DEFCON Four readiness.” The young lieutenant is quite energized by the increased alert status.
General Walker, at fifty-four years of age standing his full five feet five inches, looks around the control room, his blue eyes gauging everyone. He is a heavy set man, but he exercises regularly, and still carries some decent muscle tone.
“Very well, I want all senior staff in my office immediately.”
He watches as a number of uniformed men and women leave their stations and head to his office. He knows that department heads are being summoned from other parts of the base, thus, he has a moment to consider his words. Those left behind can only wonder what has caused this increase in status as the senior staff head out. A few moments later, the General also leav
es, his face a stern emotionless mask below his short graying hair.
General Walker looks around the room at his ensemble of men and women, all sitting quietly. They too are wondering what is happening. The betting pool is heavily in favor of this being simply a drill. He was not supposed to know about the betting pools, but none the less, he wishes that it were true. With a stern commanding voice that makes people listen, he begins;
“About three hours ago, the Australians detected a large number of small objects on a collision course with Earth. Many of these objects are reportedly going to collide with some, if not all of our satellites in orbit.”
He pauses to let that information sink in, again his style, let the facts be absorbed if you want your people to really listen and understand. He makes eye contact with as many in the room as is possible. Having everyone's undivided attention he continues;
“Ordinarily objects of the size detected, would harmlessly bounce off our atmosphere or burn up upon entry. However the folks down under have convinced our folks that these objects are more dense than usual, therefore, ground impacts are likely from the larger objects.”
He pauses as small folders are handed out to all. They contain every shred of information obtained, a few scant pages.
“This one is real folks, we have been called in to see about options, and folks we do this now, no breaks. The first impact is in about twenty hours. Read the file, it’s short, too short.”
The rustling of pages and quiet voices fill the room as everyone looks at the data sheets. The information is discredited at first, but as time goes by, discredit turns to alarm. There is much debate over the figures presented. They talk and talk about the validity of the data, then the accuracy of the trajectories. They continue to talk, letting precious time slip by. Finally, after many hours the group comes to a consensus.
Reconvening the meeting the lead scientific advisor, a younger man of the group, has been selected as the spokesman. He looks about the room as he stands, not completely sure of himself.
“General Walker, sir, if this information is correct and not some joke or test, we may have a real problem. We don't even know if nuclear weapons can stop them.” The speaker looks at his colleagues for supporting gestures and gets them. “But sir, we feel that we should at least try.”
General Walker is pondering these events himself, sorting the various facts in his own mind. An impending day-long massive meteor shower, just discovered, with the first impacts expected in less than twenty hours. He wonders about the odds of this being a natural event over something else. How did our deep space tracking satellites completely miss this? His military mind has already made its decision regarding his recommendations to the President.
“Very well, I shall give the President our recommendations. You are dismissed.”
Once the room is empty he makes the call to the President, setting in motion a chain of events that could have far reaching consequences.
Location:
KGB Headquarters
Minsk, Russia
The meeting room is filled with men that wield political power like a weapon. Most of them sitting at a huge wooden table watching as Igor and Pavel once again have differing views on today's issue. These two hardly ever agree on anything and are known to antagonize each other almost as though it were a sport.
Igor, a short fat Ukrainian, is so worked up that flecks of spittle escape his mouth as he shouts. “Are we seriously going to let the Americans launch all these missiles without us even, as they say, 'batting an eyelid!' Where is common sense, what do they take us for, fools? Who are they really targeting, huh? Who?”
Pavel, the taller, slimmer, and more centered of the two responds calmly. “Igor, Igor, we have also been tracking these little asteroids as well. The westerners say they are tough little rocks, no? And yet our own scientists are trying to postulate the origins of these interlopers. It matters not to me where they come from, but more importantly where they are going? Can our scientists at least give us that?”
“My old friend, you are being deceived, we are all being led like fools. This is a deception, I say we strike while we can.”
“Strike at…” Pavel is interrupted as the large double doors to the room are fully opened, a breeze seems to follow in the wake.
“Who dares..?” Igor's powerful voice suddenly fades, he blanches when he recognizes the intruder. He continues on quite subservient now. “My humble apologies Mr. President, I had no idea you were coming when we spoke earlier. I would have made plans for...” He is quieted by a single small hand gesture from this newcomer. The President’s cloak is still flowing from the speed of his entrance as he walks quickly toward the table. The men around the table all stand in respect for their leader.
“Please, be seated.” The President’s voice is calming, yet there has always been a hint of something more, some intangible power, behind those cooling dark eyes and calming tone. “I come to you to show how important it is that we act quickly and decisively.”
Sitting down himself he looks around the room. He sees Igor ready to wage war at someone, anyone. There is his constant opponent, Pavel, as always seeking more information before he commits to a decision. The others well, as in all politics, some side here, some there, some for power, some for justice. This will be a tough day, but the President continues to speak with conviction.
“We will not go back to our old ways and must coordinate with the Americans for a full strike against these asteroids, and quickly lest we hit them too close and suffer from our own radiation. It has already been eight hours since the facility in Australia detected this threat. China has been informed, as has the European Space Agency, and various other governments. Gentlemen, the facts speak for themselves. We must work together or we die together. So what is it to be?”
“Really,” scoffs Igor, “Mr. President I must speak candidly. Are we to just trust them?” His finger making little swirls in the air as he speaks.
“I have spoken with the American President and the Australian Prime Minister and believe them to be sincere. The Australians and Americans have given us the data they have collected, including a classified brief from a meeting at NORAD. Our own observations support the data presented.”
The Russian President stands, leans down on the table with his knuckles whitening as he says.
“I will not let Mother Russia be destroyed by some stupid little rocks from space. Give me your decision within the hour. We have that long before we need to act, if we are to assist.”
The President retires to leave the debate, and perhaps the fate of the world in the hands of a few power hungry men. “Politics,” he sighs. “There should be no waiting for approval by a committee.” He mutters to himself. Sometimes even he wishes for the 'old days' to return, just sometimes.
The discussion is short, as the decision was already made the moment the President of the second most prolific nuclear power on the planet walked through the doors. Instead, the men discuss losses, and make plans within plans which are then set in motion.
Before the hour is up they give the Russian President their unwavering support, whilst at the same time activating every national reservist. Based on the data which provides the location of possible ground strikes, aircraft start rebasing to new locations. Naval vessels in port recall all crews and prepare for immediate departure. A few facilities across the nation are even given orders to evacuate. Though this is out of the ordinary, all that receive the evacuation order immediately comply. The sudden increase in activity won't go unnoticed for long. The most noted decision, however, does get passed without any other nation even noticing, at first anyway. All nuclear powered submarines that are in port get refitted with fresh batteries and new nuclear fuel rods. All others are ordered to various ports for an immediate refit. These refits are conducted with unusual haste and seemingly little to no regard for safety protocols.
The Russian President has a few more calls to make, as he ponders the events unfoldin
g. He has a long discussion with his counterpart in America.
While the politicians talk and the military might of Earth makes plans, the incoming meteor shower gets ever closer. Precious time gets whittled away as the world rotates bringing the morning sun with it. People wake up and go about their daily lives oblivious to the incoming threat. The morning news carries nothing of the objects in space, not in any country as this new day arrives. This won't last for long however.
Location:
North American Aerospace Defense Command (NORAD)
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado Springs, Colorado
General Walker puts the phone down slowly. Stepping into the control room he looks about at the men and women of his command. At the sight of the General just standing there, some of his subordinates stop their activities as they focus on what their respected leader has to say.
“Go to DEFCON Three, cancel all leave, and recall essential personnel. Folks, pretty much every country in the world will be increasing their alert status or its equivalent, and probably mobilizing forces. It is our job to do what is expected and make preparations for an attack. Be vigilant, be alert.”
The defense readiness switches to yellow, illuminating DEFCON Three. No one speaks as the seriousness of the situation sinks in.
“I want all our long range missiles ready to accept new coordinates. Make it happen people.”
With that, the General retires to his office to once again do battle with the phones. During a brief respite he realizes that his whole career now comes down to a few decisions. Looking at the latest brief from Director Barbara of the New Mexico array, he considers the ramifications of the information at hand. Having never married and with no children he pauses to reflect on his life, and the lives of those under his command. His military training is heavily ingrained. He is not sad for himself, but more so for the unsuspecting public. The casualties could be horrific if this turns out to be the real McCoy, he ponders, very troubled.
First Contact (Terran Chronicles) Page 3
