Stars & Empire: 10 Galactic Tales

by Jay Allan

  CHAPTER 9

  Mason was inspecting one of the new long tunnels built to house the survivors coming from Earth. The first one was nearly finished and extended nearly a mile into the hard rocky ground of Vesta. It had been drilled into the eastern side of the Smithfield habitat, and already a second and third tunnel were in progress.

  “The tunnel is twenty-five feet in height and sixty wide,” Keith commented as he gazed down it at the two long rows of apartment buildings being rushed to completion. The structural engineer had been spending much of his time in the tunnel trying to get it finished as quickly as possible. “Each apartment has two bedrooms, a small living room, a basic kitchen, and a single bathroom.”

  “How many people can we put in these apartments?” Mason asked as he watched several workers driving down the center of the tunnel in a small electric work truck. Every day, he was receiving calls from Earth, asking when more survivors could be sent to Vesta.

  “Close to four thousand,” replied Keith, glancing over at Mason. “That’s figuring an average of four people per apartment.”

  Mason let out a deep sigh; that wasn’t many compared to all that needed to be rescued. Ten thousand additional survivors had already been brought into the Smithfield habitat, with some living in tents on the outskirts until more permanent structures could be built. Lori and her people had been working to add additional life support systems so the ecology in the Smithfield habitat wouldn’t fail.

  “How many tunnels can we build with our available resources?”

  Keith looked down at the floor of the tunnel and then back up. “We are planning on ten; five on the west side and another five on the east side of the habitat.”

  “That’s enough room for about forty thousand people,” Mason spoke with disappointment in his voice. He knew they were limited in what they could do with their available resources. “What about the new habitat; how is it coming?”

  “We’ve increased the construction pace considerably,” answered Keith as he watched several workers apply a protective fireproof coating to the walls of an apartment. “But it’ll be two more years until we can start moving people in. The biggest problem is going to be getting the ecology in the habitat established as well as the new environmental systems we’re going to need.”

  “What’s the latest estimate of the number of people it will hold?”

  “Two point two million,” Keith responded. “That’s the most our environmental systems will be able to handle with a reasonable margin for safety.”

  Mason nodded. With over two million people that would give Vesta a good population as well as enough people to form a solid industrial base. Many items that had been produced on Earth would now have to be produced on Vesta and at Luna City. Already, much of the land in the Smithfield habitat was being turned into farms to grow food. Even so, he wondered if they could put more people in Smithfield. It was a subject he would talk to Lori Wright about; she was still frantically scrambling trying to set up the new environmental systems needed for the habitation tunnels.

  “Just keep doing everything you can,” Mason added. “Lawrence is having a hard time on Earth with all of the refugees. We have to find a place to put them.”

  Keith nodded in understanding. “I know it’s tough and we’re doing everything we can; I just hope he can keep control of what’s going on at Jornada.”

  “We’re fortunate White Sands and the two military bases were so close,” Mason spoke in agreement. “At least he has the troops to keep the spaceport secure.” Mason took another long glance down the tunnel. At least he could tell Lawrence they would shortly be ready for more survivors. He just wished there was more they could do.

  -o0o—

  Captain Stevens stepped outside of his command bunker and instantly buttoned the top button on his heavy winter parka. It was cold outside, and a light dirty snow was falling. With all the volcanic ash in the atmosphere, the snow that fell was no longer a pristine white.

  “It’s going to be another miserable day,” Lieutenant Griffith muttered as he pulled up the hood of his parka over his head and repositioned the goggles he was wearing to better protect his eyes.

  Mark nodded in agreement. They were both wearing breathing masks over their nose and mouth to protect them from the ash and other contaminates in the air. “Let’s check the processing station first, and then I want to go inspect a couple of the infirmaries in tent city.”

  Lieutenant Griffith nodded as he gestured for a driver to bring the waiting jeep over. The jeep was now fully enclosed to give added protection to the occupants. All the open air jeeps had been retired or refurbished several weeks back. Climbing in, the two took their seats and gazed out the windows as the jeep headed down the road toward the processing center.

  Things had changed considerably in the last few weeks. Small corrugated buildings now stood every one hundred feet along the fence. Large windows in the front of the small, twelve by sixteen structures faced the fence and tent city. Buried electrical lines furnished power for heat so the troops inside could stay warm. A series of bright lights on poles spaced evenly along the fence kept the area lit up so it would be easy to spot anyone trying to crawl through or over the wires.

  Reaching the processing center, Captain Stevens and Lieutenant Griffith got out of the jeep and ran quickly over to the now nearly fully enclosed structure. The temperature was down to around ten degrees with a brisk south wind blowing and no one wanted to be outside for long.

  The new processing center was a long low building with a large roof that enclosed the entire area on two sides. In the front and back there was just enough room for a single vehicle to pass through, but even those two entrances could be closed up if needed. A number of marines were on guard duty stationed close to the main gate. There were also several LAVs stationed nearby with their heavy machine guns pointed in the direction of the entrance.

  Going inside the building, Captain Stevens saw with satisfaction that the dozen marine guards inside were alert and ready to reinforce the main gate if needed. They were keeping a close watch on everything, though there hadn’t been a serious incident for days. Mark knew that the steadily deteriorating weather was helping to deter potential problems.

  “Good morning, Captain Stevens,” Major Anderson spoke as he rose from his desk upon seeing Mark. “Time for your morning inspection?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Stevens replied as he saluted. “We’re gong to check several of the infirmaries today.”

  “Be careful out there, Captain,” Major Anderson cautioned. “We ran additional electrical lines yesterday to get some heat to more of the tents. This cold and snow is making living in tent city nearly unbearable.”

  “How many people do we have now?” Lieutenant Griffith asked. He knew that, in the last week, the number of new people coming in had dwindled to just a trickle.

  “We have eight hundred thousand people living outside the fence now,” answered Major Anderson, shaking his head. “We had less than a dozen new ones show up yesterday. From what they reported, many of the roads are now impassable from the snow and ash, and fuel is almost impossible to find.”

  “How’s the food situation?” Stevens asked. The previous week they had begun rationing, allowing only two full meals a day. There had been considerable grumbling from the civilians when that had been announced.

  “General Pittman’s people found another warehouse full of MREs yesterday at one of our larger military bases that had been abandoned. They are in the process of sending helicopters to move all of them here and to the installation south of Amarillo. He also has been bringing in huge stocks of flour and the cooks at the airbase are in the process of baking massive amounts of bread. We’re hoping that by making the bread available at the mess halls in tent city it will help alleviate the food problems.”

  Stevens nodded. He knew that hungry people could rapidly become dangerous and desperate. “I hope so. We’ll check back in after our tour.”

  The two ma
de their way back out and to the main gate. Six marines from Steven’s unit were waiting for them and they passed through the gate together.

  “Damn, it’s dark out here,” Griffith muttered as they walked away from the lights and into tent city. There were only a few lights as most of the electricity was being used to generate heat.

  The sky was overcast with a light gray snow falling. Even though it was early morning, it was still nearly dark with visibility of only a few feet. Mark knew it was like this nearly everywhere now.

  As they passed by a small tent, a woman stuck her head out and looked at them pleadingly. “Help me please; there is something wrong with my children!”

  Lieutenant Griffith looked over at Mark and then went inside the tent with the woman to check on the problem. A moment later, he came back out holding a small child wrapped in a blanket in his arms and after handing the young girl to one of the other marines, went back inside and came out with another followed closely by the mother. “We need to get these two kids to the infirmary,” reported Griffith, briskly. “They’re both suffering from hypothermia.”

  Looking at the two children in the light of a flashlight Mark could see how white their faces were. “Let’s go,” he ordered as he headed toward the closest infirmary. He hated seeing children suffering like these two were. Tent city was a harsh place to live and getting worse every day.

  It took them only a few minutes to reach the infirmary and once inside they quickly turned the two kids over to a doctor. Without surprise, Mark noticed that the beds in the infirmary were nearly full. At least it was warm, with several large electrical heaters running nonstop to keep the cold out.

  “This cold is kicking our butts,” complained one of the doctors, standing next to Mark, as several nurses and another doctor were busy checking over the two kids. “We’ve had over sixty incidents of frostbite and exposure in the last twenty-four hours. If this cold continues, we’re going to lose a lot of people.”

  Mark didn’t reply. He knew from the weather forecasts issued by Holbrook Station and the International Space Station that the weather was only going to get worse.

  -o0o-

  General Pittman was in the air in one of the large, specially equipped helicopters that could fly in the ash and cold weather. He was on his way to check on the survivor facility south of Amarillo. General Stockton was in charge of the facility and unlike Jornada, people were still flooding into his area. Pittman had arranged for more MREs to be sent to Stockton, but the food situation was starting to become a serious issue. He knew that Stockton was sending out scavenging squads around the local area to bring in everything they could find.

  Looking out the thick protective windows of the helicopter, all he could see was darkness. He knew the distance from the airbase next to White Sands to the facility just south of Amarillo was a little over four hundred miles.

  “We’ll be there in another thirty minutes,” the pilot reported over the com system. “The weather report from the facility indicates a light wind and only lightly falling ash. They have visibility of slightly over half a mile.”

  Pittman nodded. He knew the faculty they were going to had received less ash than most areas. One of the reasons he was going was that General Stockton was becoming overwhelmed with the refugees he now found under his protection. In recent days, Pittman had shifted a few more troops to Stockton’s command to help keep the situation under control. He wanted to make an inspection himself to see if anything else was needed.

  A few minutes later and they were passing over Amarillo. Looking down, the sprawling city looked like a ghost town with no lights and no sign of anything living. It was like this everywhere. Only occasionally did they see any lights on their supply and recovery missions. In a few isolated areas, people still had fuel for generators and whenever any lights were seen, reports were sent in for a possible future rescue.

  “Nearing the facility now,” the pilot reported as the helicopter began to descend.

  General Pittman looked down at the survival facility. It stretched for miles, and even from the air he could see thousands of lights. Just like Jornada, the facility had access to a number of wind generating farms for power. That was one good thing about this part of the country, including Jornada; there were plenty of large wind farms that were still operational.

  From the latest reports, General Stockton had indicated that he had over one point six million people here. Many of them from Amarillo and the Dallas-Fort Worth area. Pittman knew they needed to do some major planning if they wanted to save the majority of these refugees.

  -o0o-

  Lawrence Henderson and General Wainright were inspecting one of the new barrack shelters that had recently been finished. It was in the form of a regular army barracks with a curved roof and walls made of corrugated metal. Thick foam insulation had been added to help keep out the cold. There was a wide hallway running down the center with partitions dividing the sleeping sections to give a semblance of privacy. Each section had two sets of bunks for families and a small table with four chairs. At the far end were a set of restrooms for men and women.

  “How many can this one hold?” Lawrence asked as he noticed the warm air coming out of the ventilation system.

  “Ninety-six,” General Wainright replied as he looked down the length of the one hundred and twenty foot hallway. “This isn’t luxurious by any means, but it’s a bed, the barracks are heated, and there are showers in the restrooms.”

  “How many of these have we built so far?” inquired Lawrence, knowing this would be a big improvement over what many of the families inside the spaceport fence were living in. Responding to Mason’s advice, they were now building more permanent structures.

  “We have built sixty-two of these so far,” Wainright replied as he stepped over and slid open the door to one of the small twelve by twelve rooms, glancing inside. “We’re planning on building another two hundred on the north side of the spaceport, and when we are finished we should have permanent facilities for forty thousand people.”

  “At least it’s warm in here,” Lawrence said, unbuttoning his coat. “How much longer are we going to be able to continue using the tents?”

  “As long as we need to,” Wainright replied. “They were designed for long-term deployment in harsh conditions, and they are hooked up to heat.”

  “What about your people at the two military bases and White Sands?”

  “We’re digging in,” answered Wainright, shutting the door to the small room. “On all three bases we currently have over one hundred and twenty thousand people. Most are military personnel and their families, plus a few civilian contractors. General Pittman feels that, in another six months, we can have everyone safely underground in new quarters and prepared to stay for the long haul.”

  “Let’s get back to the Operations Center,” Lawrence suggested.

  There was a shuttle launch scheduled in another hour, and he wanted to watch it. The shuttle was taking some environmental equipment up to Holbrook Station where it would be loaded onto the passenger liner Fantasy to be taken to Luna City.

  -o0o-

  Deep in the Pacific, a chain of underwater volcanoes suddenly vented their fury, shaking the ocean floor. The Earth’s crust beneath the volcanoes shifted and a massive fissure opened up, spewing forth molten lava. The resulting earthquake caused a nearby underwater mountain range to drop suddenly by nearly a thousand feet. Upon the surface, a tsunami formed and rushed toward the battered west coast of the United States.

  As it neared the coast, the wave rose until it towered nearly two miles in height. Striking the coastline along the California, Oregon, and Washington coasts, it swept away everything in its path. The area had already been hit by numerous tidal waves but nothing of this size and fury. The wave continued on, rolling up against the mountain ranges, but even there found its way into low-lying valleys and through mountain passes.

  The San Joaquin and Sacramento Valleys fell victim to the encroaching wat
er as the few survivors still holding out suddenly saw a wall of water coming toward them in the dim light. In just a few hours, the valleys were flooded and nothing was left living. The wave even made its way into the Mojave Desert. When at last the tsunami began to recede, it left desolation in its wake. Buildings, roads, bridges, power lines, dams, trees, and even rivers had vanished.

  The deep layer of ash had been transformed into a swirling mass of sludge that now flowed in and covered everything. There was nothing left living in hundreds of thousands of square miles as the water flowed back into the ocean, leaving its path of destruction behind.

  Due to the shift in the ocean’s crust, more earthquakes began to rattle the globe as the Ring of Fire around the Pacific let loose in even more unbridled fury. At Yellowstone, there had been six massive volcanoes hurling lava and ash up into the air; now a new one formed directly over the ruptured Caldera. This one was larger than all the other six combined. Burning rocks were hurled up into the upper atmosphere, nearly reaching escape velocity. It would take hundreds of years for the ash from this single volcano to fall completely to Earth.

  The massive wave racing across the Pacific was not through with its destruction yet. Indonesia, Australia, the Philippines, Japan, and China felt its deadly fury. When the waters of the Pacific finally subsided, hundreds of thousands of survivors had lost their lives.

  -o0o-

  Lawrence and General Wainright were in the Operations Center when they felt the massive building shudder as the ground rumbled from an earthquake.

  “Where’s that earthquake’s epicenter?” demanded Lawrence, rushing over to where a group of men and women were bent over a set of computers, pointing and gesturing.

  “We’re not sure,” one of the men responded. “There’s been some type of major event out in the Pacific. We think the West Coast has been hit by another tidal wave of massive proportions. We are also picking up an increase in the frequency of tremors in Yellowstone. We recorded one major tremor there a few minutes ago, and we believe there is going to be another eruption if it hasn’t happened already.”