Private industry is also gearing up for the inevitable space rush, and there are a handful of legitimate enterprises looking to the asteroids to gather those free-floating minerals. However, there are huge barriers to entry. First, and perhaps most importantly for private enterprise, they need to know the destination rock has materials worth their effort to get out and back. That’s why these recent probes are critical to the future of mining in space.
But there are many other obstacles. You’ll need a launch vehicle to get your equipment into orbit. You’ll need sophisticated vehicles to go long distances to retrieve small asteroids, or you’ll need big vehicles to bring the rocks closer to Earth. You’ll need expensive infrastructure built in space to manage a fleet of ships, drones, and mining equipment. This will also require the training of a whole new breed of astro-miners and their support teams. In short, the expense and uncertainty involved with asteroid mining makes this a galactic-sized financial risk. The rewards seem almost certain, and lucrative beyond imagining.
There is, of course, a flip side, and one that few in the industry would ever want to discuss. In this rush to create the next multi-billion—or trillion—dollar company, there are risks not just to those who would perform the work, but to our very species as a whole. Working with rocks the size of Vermont or Texas can be made to sound easy enough, but the slightest miscalculation in how they’re handled would have consequences far deadlier than any natural disaster that’s happened on the face of the Earth.
When corporations—whose greed has proved time and time again to harm countless innocents—are left in charge of such dangerous, Earth-changing projects, one has to wonder not if the disaster will strike, but when.
And when it does, who’ll be left alive to try and pick up the pieces?
Chapter 1
Yellowstone
“Hello, and welcome to Yellowstone National Park. I’m Ranger Grace Anderson.”
Grace had waited a lifetime to say those words in front of visitors to a national park. Her insides roiled like a pack of kittens had gotten loose, though she fought off the catnip crazies and maintained the expected look of authority on the outside. For her, it was the biggest day of her life, but it wasn’t exactly well-attended.
Bridge Bay was the largest campground in the park, with over four hundred sites. Rows of tents snaked along the pine-filled hillsides next to the pristine waters of Yellowstone Lake. To anyone interested in fresh air, quiet nights, and an escape from modern technology, it was fifty acres of heaven. However, despite being in one of America’s natural treasures, few of those campers had come to the outdoor amphitheater to see her first solo campfire presentation.
A small crowd of about thirty participants sat on the long wooden benches of the rustic, outdoor sitting area. She’d mingled with a few of them as they arrived. One was an older lady traveling alone on what she called a spirit journey. A family from France was notable thanks to the large digital camera the father wore around his neck. And there were five or six teens traveling with a church group from somewhere down in Texas. The rest were mostly young couples with small children. Everyone wore long pants and jackets to ward off the cold in the mountainous region of Wyoming.
The smoky hints of a hundred different campfires and the grating sound of tourists slamming car doors reminded her the amphitheater should have been built another hundred yards deeper into the lodgepole pines. The marks of civilization clashed with the natural ambience of being underneath a sky full of stars. As part of her talk, she had to do her best to make people focus on the majesty around them. “Take a deep breath. Look up. The sights and smells of nature are things you can’t always get at home, can you? I guarantee that no matter where you’re from, you won’t find anywhere in the world as close to Mother Nature as here in Yellowstone.”
Grace was the ranger in charge now, and it was her show. Hearing her begin the presentation, most of the visitors immediately settled down. Even after allowing for a delay, a pair of young children continued to murmur and laugh in the middle row. She was tempted to call them out, but she figured the parents would crack down on their antics before too long. After all, they were the ones who dragged them out late at night to see her ranger discussion.
“I’ve got a special treat for you tonight.” She looked directly at the two small children who were still disruptive. “I have my telescope, though we won’t need it until later. First, we’re going to see something amazing up in the sky; a big meteor shower is coming in just a bit. Do you want to see some shooting stars?”
The boy and girl quieted, and both raised their hands, which made her smile.
Ten years ago, Grace was the little girl sitting out there. Her mom and dad had brought her to a similar campfire ring, though her mom never allowed her to run around wild. Nonetheless, the ranger leading that talk probably assumed she’d be immature and tuned out, too. Instead, the woman managed to captivate the younger Grace, and the experience became one of her most powerful memories of her childhood.
She re-lived the scene like it happened yesterday. The ranger stood there with her wide-brimmed hat, long olive-drab pants, and smart-looking gray shirt. The campfire ring had a small fire going, and the pleasant odor of burning pine remained a powerful imprint from the night. That crackling fire backlit the woman during her talk, though pre-teen Grace mostly focused on the ranger’s golden National Park Service badge as it twinkled in the soft orange glow. From that point forward, she was hooked; Grace wanted to be a park ranger.
Grace reached up and touched the badge on her chest, savoring her journey to stand in the same spot. “Normally, we have more light down here at the campfire circle, including an actual fire. Tonight, I left everything off so your eyes have a chance to adjust to the darkness. That will make it easier for you to see the night sky, including those meteorites. With that in mind, please refrain from using any flashlights or cameras from this point forward.”
She was far from an expert on astronomy, but living in Wyoming made it impossible not to notice the stars. It was an endless land with little or no light pollution from cities. Stars, galaxies, and the planets. They were all right there, seemingly within arm’s reach. Yet, that wasn’t why she chose this as her first campfire subject. She’d selected the meteorite-viewing program, instead of one of the standard talks on bears or geysers, because it would be interactive for her audience.
She inhaled deeply, concentrating on the smell of pines and fresh air. The mixed emotions and nervousness had already gone away; being on Mother Nature’s stage put her needless worries in proper perspective. Her stomach went back to normal, and she didn’t even mind her boss sitting in the back row, critiquing her maiden voyage.
“The first bits are supposed to fall shortly, but before they get here, I wanted to ask if you children have ever seen a shooting star or looked through a telescope?” She’d taken a few steps down the aisle, to further engage with the youngsters, like other rangers often did. For the moment, the kids’ attention was on her.
Both shook their head no.
“That’s okay. You probably live somewhere with lots of ambient light.” She motioned to the rest of the audience. “Any amateur astronomers here? Anyone have a telescope?”
No one raised a hand, which was a bit disappointing. Her father had taught her at a young age to appreciate the sky above, and she felt sorry for people who overlooked the celestial show.
A glare appeared from behind her, casting a faint shadow over the audience. It was most likely someone in the campground using a powerful flashlight, or the headlights of a car. Despite the darkness of the surrounding lands, visitors to Yellowstone always seemed to go out of their way to over-light things near their tents and RVs. She’d have to work around that.
“No worries, my friends. You’ve come to America’s greatest natural playground and I’m going to show you the universe like you’ve never seen it before…”
Grace’s voice faded as the brilliance behind her increased in in
tensity.
“Is that what we’ll see?” a young boy asked with excitement.
The little girl stood up next to her companion. “I don’t need a ’elascope.”
“No, that’s just a light from—” She was tempted to complain about insensitive campers, knowing she had to remain professional. If she could make this a teachable moment about light noise in a campground setting, it would be win-win for her and for them. Rangers were supposed to teach, as well as entertain. “People don’t realize how much light they use. A small hand-held unit is often more than enough to see what you need.”
“No,” the Frenchman replied in accented English, “we see it too. They are talking about that zipping star.”
Grace half-turned, expecting it to have already burned away, but it remained where the man pointed. A streaking ball of light cruised across the sky to the north, traveling faster than any jet plane, and it grew larger as she watched. She immediately thought of those Russian videos from a few years back, showing a meteorite flying almost horizontally across the horizon before it finally touched down.
“What the heck?” she blurted, fighting the urge to cuss in front of the campers.
It became almost as bright as the sun, casting actual shadows on the trees of the forest. She raised a hand to block the light before glancing around the campfire circle. Randy, her boss, was on his feet though he hadn’t moved to do more, which was good. She wanted to keep control of the audience before he felt the need to intervene as the veteran ranger. It wouldn’t sit well if her first campfire talk required assistance from an overbearing supervisor, even for an unusual event such as a meteorite.
“Everyone, please remain calm. I’m sure it will burn up in the atmosphere. They always do.” It was a safe call, because the overwhelming majority of meteoroids never made it to the planet’s surface. She was about to reassure everyone with that bit of science, when new points of light appeared behind the first. Those streaks came from the same corner of the sky, but they didn’t follow the big one. Instead, they seemed to move slower, and were on a course to hit the park.
She was speechless for the next sixty seconds because it was nothing like what she expected from a meteor shower. The first ball of fire acted exactly like the meteor in those Russian videos; it pulled a long, thin tail of fire and radiance as it glided from one end of the sky to the other. The smaller pieces soared right above them, like bright-burning incandescent light bulbs dropped from an airplane.
“Will one of them hit us?” the little girl asked with worry in her voice.
“No, no,” she reassured without looking down at the girl. “That’s not going to happen.”
But two or three of the falling stars seemed to have Yellowstone in their crosshairs. Even she couldn’t deny it. Additional balls of light appeared above, suggesting this was far more serious than she initially thought. With danger on her mind, she glanced again to Randy, to see if he would announce some protocol or safety measure in accordance with park policy. He appeared even more caught up in the light show than she was.
It was up to her. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s play it safe and get down on the ground. We should—” Before she was able to finish the sentence, the nearest streak blossomed into a brightness which took up half the sky. It burned intensely for a second as it approached, then it abruptly disappeared. A finger-snap later, a strong gust of wind blasted through the amphitheater, shoving many people off their benches.
“Oh my gosh!” she blurted, heart lodging in her throat as the wind smacked her on the back and sent her tumbling over one of the empty seats. A sonic boom rattled the ground a second later, making her feel like an earthquake was taking place at the same time. She let herself fall the rest of the way to the ground behind the bench.
The screams of her audience went on for about twenty seconds before they calmed down enough for her to hear what was going on elsewhere. The cracking of tree limbs resonated from deep in the forest and across the lake, as the shockwave travelled away from the impact. While she regained her wits and thought about what to do next, something hit her on the back of the head and knocked off her tight-fitting straw hat.
“Ouch!” she said with a startle. A cool mist fell on her bare head and face, and the sound of a drizzle echoed on the trees and ground all around her. Grace reached over for her hat and noticed a small trout flopping next to it, as if gasping for air.
“What the…?” It could only have come from Lake Yellowstone a quarter mile away. She watched for a short time to see if any of the other falling lights were going to hit the lake, observing the bulk of the light show seem to move off to the southeast, as if chasing the first big one.
The news reports got the timing of the meteor shower right, but they were way off on the scale. The nearby impact was a bit of a scare, although everyone seemed all right, so she took it as a win. It was certainly going to be a memorable campfire talk for the kids, she thought, trying to put a positive spin on having everyone knocked on their backsides.
She got to her feet just as screams and shouting began in the campground.
Kentucky
“Are you enjoying your last day?” Susan asked her husband.
Ezra, not entirely happy about what was going to happen the next day, replied as best he could. “Today has been wonderful, dear. One of the best in all my forty-five years. You were absolutely right about needing to take this last boat ride, and I don’t want it to end.”
He and Susan had been on the pontoon boat since they’d puttered up the lake to the Mooring House restaurant in the late afternoon. After having what would likely be their last dinner in Kentucky, he took his dear wife on a cruise to all their old haunts along Kentucky Lake. The swimming beach. The hidden cemetery in the woods. The private island. Each was packed with decades of memories, which was why they were still out on the lake well past nightfall.
Ezra admired Susan under the soft glow of one of the boat’s signal lamps. The light caught the sheen on her long blonde hair. It illuminated the half of her face on his side, while leaving the other half in shadow.
She smiled at him. “I’ve enjoyed it, too.”
Her words should have shored up his willpower to do what needed done, but tonight he had to cross the lake one final time, and he found himself unable to do it. He pleaded with her. “I know we have to go…I want to wait a few more minutes.”
“Fine,” she playfully pouted, “I know you brought me out here because you want to see the meteor shower. I do, too, but I still have some last boxes to pack, so we can’t stay out here all night.”
It was a Monday, and it was just past dark, so there wasn’t much traffic on the huge lake. He knew enough to stay close to home after sunset, because he didn’t like driving the boat with only running lights to see the way. To minimize the risk, he’d dropped anchor directly across the channel from their property. The lights of his dock and home twinkled on the western shore a mile away, which would guide him to his house on Happy Cove Avenue. The one place he didn’t want to go at that moment. “I won’t keep you too much longer, Suze. Moving is tough, you know?”
He and Susan lived in one of the more modest homes in their private subdivision. It was a three thousand square-foot ranch-style house made of brick, with the huge wrap-around porch his wife had always wanted. It also featured a long, grassy backyard about a hundred yards on each side. He’d made a tasteful path of garden stones right down the middle, all the way to his single-bay boat dock.
Unlike the other homes in his private subdivision, all his interior belongings were currently stuffed in piles of cardboard boxes. His life the previous few months revolved around garage sales, online buyers, and donations to charity, all to get the house prepared for their departure. The movers were scheduled to come tomorrow to collect whatever was left, then it would be adios Happy Cove.
Susan snuggled up next to him on the vinyl seat at the front of the boat. “Don’t worry, dear. I know they don’t have lakes this big in Wyom
ing, but they do have fishing. I’m sure when we get out there, you’ll find a nice quiet place to drop a line and you’ll be happy as a lark again.”
He would miss fishing on the lake, and piloting his boat, and hiking along the shoreline to find lures, bobbers, and other treasures lost by boaters, yet those hobbies weren’t why he was sad to leave. Kentucky Lake was his home; he and Susan had relocated there over twenty years ago, a short time after their daughter was born, and they’d never wanted to be anywhere else.
“Once we move closer to Grace, this will all be worth it,” Susan said with confidence. “I’ll be glad to get even farther from city life.”
“Amen,” he replied, hoping it would make things better again. When Grace said she was moving out of Kentucky to go live in a remote part of Wyoming, he and Susan almost broke down in tears. They always knew she had an interest in the outdoors, and she’d taken coursework for environmental science down at Murray State University, but she’d never been more than thirty minutes from home. Seemingly out of the blue, she’d chosen a park ranger career that took her almost fifteen hundred miles from them.
Grace lasted about two months before innocently suggesting he and Susan move out there to be closer to where she worked. Both of them had careers allowing them to pick up and move, so they jumped at the chance. Even a perfect life on the lake wasn’t worth being so far away from their pride and joy, and he was excited to see her again, so he couldn’t figure out why it was so difficult to start the motor and cross the lake.
He listened to the aluminum pontoons bob on the water while he thought of what to say. “Honey, are you sure you want to do this? What if she decides she doesn’t want to be a park ranger anymore? You know how kids are. Then we’ll have given up this place for nothing.”
Impact (Book 1): Inbound Page 2
