Dark Alignment

by David Haskell

  * * *

  President Webster sat alone, absorbing the news of the demise of his counterpart, allowing for a few minutes of privacy even though he had precious little to spare. He picked up his tumbler and sipped slowly, raising the glass in a gesture of respect. There was nothing he could do about Zhang now, even if he’d been of a mind to. It was up to Zhang’s own people, and they’d already declared him outcast. That was enough for the rest of the world, including America. Nobody wanted to meddle in the internal affairs of such a convoluted, ancient system.

  Still, he felt a small twinge, the regret one feels when unable to help a fellow human being, even one with whom common ground was hard to find. Zhang had been an interesting adversary, an intriguing ally, and at the last, one of the few friends he could share the weight of destiny with. While Webster might yet have a chapter or two left to his saga, the general secretary had nothing but the final curtain call—one which would play out before the world like everything else had in this surreal, upside-down calamity of a planet.

  Webster thought about his colleague—not quite friend but hardly an enemy—and the very public nature of his demise. If the world could only see what went on behind the scenes, the intensive efforts to save humanity, the dedication of these public servants. Yes, even public servants like Zhang. In the face of their own mortality, and that of their friends and family, none had panicked, and none had fled. All of them did their jobs dutifully, and with pride.

  He thought about the crew in orbit, desperately grabbing at the very last beacon of hope, all riding on the fringe theory of one man, who himself was brave enough to venture into the unknown.

  In that moment, the president realized what he needed to do. He needed to do more than just allow them to finish the job. Even with the odds against them, and destruction the likely outcome, he needed the world to see their heroes doing what heroes do. It might be the final nail in his own coffin, his last, untenable mistake, but he felt deeply that it was the right thing to do. He would link his own fate with those of the heroes up there, and the world could judge them all.

  Webster finished his drink and summoned his advisors back into the room.

  * * *

  There were several security issues about the room the captors needed to address before going to the live feed, and in the interim, Zhang had managed to wrangle a couple of minutes of face time. He asked for an update on the situation between the enemy and the motherland. They had abandoned him, but he felt no anger. He would remain loyal to the last, and he still hoped they would prevail.

  The captor spoke passable English, and informed Zhang that the uneasy truce had held, for now. He also explained that now that Zhang was out of the picture, the leadership had been able to extricate themselves from out of the Russian shadow somewhat, leaving the Russians alone against their neighbors. The passion and the hate had thus been diverted, leaving the Chinese in relative peace. This pleased Zhang, although he’d have preferred to hear a tale of nukes lighting up Moscow. Perhaps one day, he thought, casting the sentiment into the air like a prayer.

  Zhang asked about the fates of certain staffers and loyalists, but the captor knew little outside of his operational sphere. Though he offered to ask around, Zhang knew there was no time for that.

  At midnight, they were ready. Just prior to going live, the room was abuzz with busywork and excited chatter, which Zhang did his best to ignore. He was thinking about his childhood home. He’d grown up in a rather far-flung suburb of Shanghai. It wasn’t a wealthy place by any stretch, but far from the abject poverty of the rural communities. There was a strong sense of brotherhood that permeated that place, of family, of shared history. In his travels, he had seen many a small town that reminded him of home, one way or another, but none ever quite the same. He brought the memory to the forefront of his mind, so as to block out the sights and sounds of the enemy surrounding him. He barely registered their hysterical rantings as they informed the world of their triumph. Just before they completed the act, his thoughts switched from his own birthplace, to a small town in America with much the same qualities. His last thought wasn’t of home, but of that place Joffrey, the people of that place, and all the hopes and the heartache that went with them.

  60.

  Mansfield hit the wall hard, flinging into an uncontrolled spin. He ignored it and called up the flight deck on his portable link. “Colonel, how much more of this can we expect?”

  There were a few seconds of silence. Shane's voice was chilly when it finally came through. “That wasn’t turbulence, commander.”

  It took a few seconds to register. If it wasn’t due to the anomaly, that could only mean that the engines took a hit.

  “Understood,” Mansfield said. “Any way to mitigate the damage from there?”

  “Negative,” Shane reported. “We’re dead on the left maneuvering rockets, sir. I’ve lost thrust control to port. If I don’t get it back…”

  The commander acknowledged the report. Dean looked wildly around the room so as to avoid watching him spin, already beginning to feel sick from it. Jo was in the same predicament, but the commander was closer to a hold—he stretched his arm out to try and grab on, as if he could force it. Dean knew that was impossible, but he also realized it wasn't the commander's intent. He was just getting himself into position so he could arrest his momentum at the earliest possible second.

  “I’ll get down there as soon as I can,” Mansfield called out to Shane, “I’m almost in position.”

  “Negative, commander. I’ve got radiation spikes showing here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “No choice, colonel. Going down now.”

  Just inches away, the commander reached back with his shoulder and thrust out with all his strength, extending his body that extra few inches he needed to catch hold on the next spin. He caught it with a grunt, repositioned, and shot himself downward, his straight trajectory going against the spinning motion of the others and down into the bowels of the ship.

  Dean called down to him, trying to get a glimpse, vertigo holding him in place even though he knew he should go down and help. Looking over at Jo, the expression on her face caused a visceral reaction in his own body. She looked horrified.

  The commander, as if anticipating what they were thinking, called up to them, “Stay where you are, both of you. Just keep working on your level. I’ll deal with the engines and rejoin you shortly.”

  “Commander, come back!” Jo screamed. The panic in her voice told Dean this was no quick repair trip, whatever promises Mansfield made about it.

  * * *

  ‘What’s the story down there commander?’ Shane asked.

  Mansfield didn’t answer right away, getting a good look at the situation before reporting back. The engines were compromised, but at a glance he thought it was fixable, at least temporarily. He wedged himself in good, then reported up. “Flight, I’ve got eyes on the rockets. Nothing I can’t handle. Stand by.”

  ‘Alright, Joseph. Standing by.’

  Mansfield was glad his friend didn’t bother with anything trite like ‘proceed with caution’. He also appreciated the familiarity of hearing his own name. A breach of protocol he could definitely live with, at least when the situation was so unstable.

  He reached up and adjusted the housing of the number three, tapping it with his spanner a couple times to make sure it was sitting well. Then he moved to the next.

  “Doctor, how’s your end working out up there?”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then Jo’s voice came through. ‘Commander, Osbourne. Dean’s got his hands full at the moment, he’s elbow deep in panel components.’

  “Alright, you can be my eyes and ears then. How’s his progress.”

  Silence for a minute, during which time Mansfield finished up on his number two, then slid to the side once more. Last one…

  ‘He’s run into some damage. Severed links behind the boosters, must’ve got fried in the turbulence.’

  Mansfi
eld thought about it a moment, then opened another channel. “Evans, you monitoring this?”

  Systems Specialist Ed Evans called back immediately, ‘Heard every word commander.’

  “Good,” Mansfield said. “Grab a soldering kit and get down there.”

  ‘On my way.’

  * * *

  Evans arrived with the equipment in a flash, and soon he was assisting the doctor, while Mansfield directed them from below. The emergency repairs shoring up the craft in short order, and the turbulence subsiding to a consistent shimmy, both helped restore a sense of order, if not actual calm. Reacting to it, Dean tapped the bulkhead for good luck, wishing he had a piece of wood around to knock on.

  ‘…the last of the severed connections should be just under the housing,’ Mansfield instructed, ‘connect them up, and the solution should be good to go for deployment. I’m tightening up the last of the housings now. I’ll be done here soon.’

  Dean struggled with the guts of the ship, then cross-checked the connections to make sure they were secure. A second later, the malfunctioning panel display lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “It’s all good, commander, board’s green—”

  The jolt this time came from the bottom up. Not enough to knock anyone from their holds this time, but worrisome all the same. A wrenching, screeching sound from deep inside the craft.

  “Commander?” Jo called down, not bothering with the com, her voice echoing down through the fuselage. “What’s going on?”

  The sound of heavy breathing, and the clanging of tools against metal came through the com for a number of seconds. The breathing sped up for a time, then slowed as Joseph Mansfield collected himself.”

  ‘Joseph?’ It was Shane calling. ‘Report, please.’

  One more, deep breath. Then Mansfield called up. ‘Sorry. Had to close up the hatch real quick. Radiation spike. Bad one. I’m afraid I won’t be joining you all just yet.’

  Jesus. Pure dread settled over Dean like the deadly cloud his commander had just closed himself in with. He couldn’t escape without flooding the rest of the ship—trapped and floating in a toxic bath.

  ‘Okay, commander,’ Shane said, ‘we’ll figure something out. Sit tight for now.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Shane,’ the commander replied, ‘keep your focus where it belongs.’

  The statement, clear and final, left no room for argument. Though Dean still hoped the pilot had some miracle in mind, as far as he could see, there was nothing that could be done. The commander’s tone of resignation told him that he could see it, too.

  There was a moment of silence, then Shane’s voice rang out again this time throughout the ship. “Flight deck, all hands. Looks like we bought a few extra minutes. Now or never for deployment. Out.”

  61.

  With the deployment running a line of interference down the gravimetric corridor already, regular communications were restored. The president made an executive decision to let the world in on the secret, and those who still had pockets of power, or batteries to spare, began to watch the mission unfold. Unfortunately the live feed of a spacecraft wall, with the suited arm of a crewmember cutting into the frame, had grown tedious. Payload Specialist Denisova’s explanations thus far had been good television for a while, but even her enthusiastic efforts began to fall flat. The president did his best to keep interest alive, though even he fought to keep the boredom out of his tone after a while. What this show needed was a decent edit, but it was too late to switch gears now.

  Attempting to maintain viewer interest, the president put forth one inane question after another. The latest; “So I take it you folks have grown accustomed to the zero-g environment by now?” He winced inwardly at how stupid he sounded, relieved that the camera was filming up there, rather than on his hunched frame down in the mountain. It occurred to him in an offhand way that most of the world didn’t even know where he was at all. How many had suspected this most obvious of secret locales was the likely base of government operations? Maybe he should talk about that instead.

  He completely missed the answer from Denisova, but did his best to cover it up with a quick ‘Uh huh’, followed by audible cues and nods of interest. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his pollster group setting up shop. He hadn’t ordered any coverage, but one of his staff must have tasked it out. Not that it mattered much where world opinion fell at this point, but it might prove interesting. Or not. At least he could see if everyone else was as drained and drowsy from the tedium as he was.

  Just as they were setting up the links to their remote tracking stations, and the graphs began flashing across the screen—from somewhat negative all the way to extremely negative—the booming voice of someone in command rang out from the feed: Flight deck. Thanks for the assist. Looks like we bought us a few extra minutes. Now or never for secondary deployment, guys. Out.

  In the pandemonium that followed, the camera rotated ninety degrees, offering a view of the payload specialist unstrapping herself, and a blur of motion to either side as her crewmates did the same.

  * * *

  It was difficult to get a read on what was happening, what with the flurry of activity aboard ship, so the president found himself narrating even more while the crew busied about. None of them had a free moment to spare, and Randall Webster had been in on the planning from the start, so he had at least a decent idea of what he was watching. It wasn’t ideal, but he did a fair job of explaining things.

  “Now the specialists have joined Doctor Eckert in the payload bay, where the apparatus is stowed. They’ll go about the task of getting the second half of the so-called ‘solution’ out of the bay and into position. First they need to protect the ship, and from the looks of it that’s something the doctor is taking care of right now. See him there? He’s extending the shielding material, first developed in Joffrey as a matter of fact. Their incredible sacrifice won’t be in vain, our crew’ll see to that! You can see also the equipment bay, the specialists there getting ready. I don’t see the commander yet. That’s a bit of a surprise, I was told he’d be helping. They must’ve made some changes on the fly. There’s also specialist—”

  Webster checked himself just in time. He’d been about to acknowledge Jo. Her face was already plastered on every television in the world, but he had no ready explanation for her presence. She could probably kiss her career in espionage goodbye anyway, thanks to the inevitable publicity. All the same, Webster felt odd calling her out. He ignored the near-slip and went back to narrating the obvious.

  * * *

  In the brief time since the president had announced the mission and turned the world’s attention to space, the live feed had been picked up, relayed, and forwarded to monitors and devices all over the planet. From cracked cellphones in sub-saharan Africa to computer displays and TV sets in rural America to giant-screen solar televisions on the sides of buildings from Tokyo to London. The world held its collective breath and watched in anxious wonder. The military forces, too, so recently at odds with each other the world over, had stopped in their tracks to watch. Nothing else mattered. Even the exodus of humanity ground to a halt. All eyes were set on the heroes above.

  62.

  Directing the payload specialists to remove the moorings, Dean floated up past Jo in order to operate the doors. The timing was crucial. Too soon, and the shear would slice the solution clean off the side of the ship, likely taking large chunks of it along with. A second or two past periphery, though, and they would miss their window altogether.

  With nothing to do at the moment but look on, the faces were tense, and Dean felt all those eyes on him. He disregarded them as best he could, focusing on the timing mechanism and his own, internal event ticker. He spared a glance at the readout panel—all the numbers were lined up as expected. Whatever damage the rough ride had done, it didn’t extend to the all-important deployment.