2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light)

by Robert Storey

  Steeling himself, he entered an override sequence in the nearby wall console. A six digit number appeared before a small square lit up in neon green to the side of the closed windowless doors. He pressed the button and the obstructions swished open with a gust of air that brought with it a faint whiff of chemicals. Surprised he’d been able to circumvent the security so easily, despite the lack of burly armed GMRC guards, Tyler edged forward, his eyes scouring anything and everything for signs of occupation, information and … danger.

  He wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he was caught snooping around; probably a dressing down by his superiors at the GMRC’s instigation. Worst case, he’d be reassigned to a desk job back on the surface to await evacuation with his family to the United States Subterranean Base located beneath Colorado and New Mexico, also known as USSB Steadfast. Although, he thought, if the Space Programme played its part they might not need the subterranean bases at all, or at least for a much shorter timeframe than envisaged. Tyler wondered what life would be like in the underground complex he was to call home, maybe for the rest of his days, before he forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Opening another door, the odour of formaldehyde washed over him, stealing his breath away and making his eyes water. Under reflex he gasped for air, setting the back of his throat afire and his head to throbbing. Holding his breath, Tyler moved to another wall console and fired up the extractor fans. The fumes in the room dissipated and his breathing eased.

  Remaining alert, he moved forward again and into a room containing an array of windows overlooking a section of the ISS and the Earth beyond.

  A strange noise behind made Tyler spin round.

  Eyes wide, his attention homed in on a plastic sheet which fluttered in the breeze generated by the fans that continued to whir away in the background. Sighing, he returned his scrutiny to the area before him, an area in which he’d witnessed the curiosity that the GMRC scientists had laboured over day and night. The image of the object popped unbidden into his mind’s eye and he shuddered in remembrance. The monstrosity had captivated both his and his captain’s unnerved focus, its plasma field continuously contorting into abstract forms and creating ghost-like faces abhorrent to behold. The thing moved as if alive, almost as if it were aware of those around it who sought its secrets. And it was the audio stream Tyler had accessed to accompany this oddest of visions that had ultimately killed Bo Heidfield, sending his commanding officer into a violent and irreconcilable fit. Medics had rushed to the scene but failed to resuscitate his friend. The GMRC had questioned him to the nth degree about the incident, although for reasons unknown to Tyler they had neglected to initiate any grievance against him for trying to spy on their activities. It had helped that he’d skirted over the fact that he’d actually seen the abomination they harboured in the laboratory complex, only admitting to hearing the sound it had produced. Which was just as well, or else his personal investigation into the matter would have ended before it had even begun.

  Grieving for his dead captain, and after rigorous screening and short term quarantine by the GMRC, Tyler had taken some compulsory R&R on the surface under orders from NASA’s top brass. Why he’d been unaffected by Ares Tyler didn’t know, and neither, it seemed, did anyone else.

  The only reason he found himself back at work so soon was the same reason all four of the world’s largest space stations were now rafted together, and why his presence had been requested on the ISS. Remembering why he’d been passing by the lab complex in the first place, Tyler prepared to leave, but a mark on the tiled flooring made him pause. Bending down, he ran his fingers over the outline of a five-sided shape that wasn’t dirt or any other surface mark, but an outline that had raised the surface of the floor itself. It was almost as if the ceramic composite had melted, or had been drawn upwards somehow.

  ‘Can I help you, Commander?’

  Tyler snatched his hand away from its examination and glanced round. A woman dressed in grey GMRC coveralls and matching jacket stood in the doorway. Tyler knew her as one Ms Sylvia Lindegaard, the person responsible for the GMRC’s integration on Archimedes, and she looked less than impressed by his being there.

  ‘This area hasn’t been properly vetted for NASA personnel,’ she said, her expression as severe as her tone. ‘How did you get in here?’

  Tyler, against his better nature, kept his face neutral. ‘As Archimedes’ ranking officer I wanted to make sure your scientists hadn’t compromised my crew’s safety. Considering the number who’ve already suffered at the hands of your beloved Project Ares I think that was a reasonable motivation to circumvent your security codes, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m sorry about the passing of your captain, Commander.’

  Tyler could hear the lack of compassion behind the words and the anger he’d been hiding flitted across his face.

  ‘However,’ she continued, ‘this section of the ship is still off limits for all NASA personnel and you’d do well to remember it.’

  Tyler let out a snort of contempt. ‘Seems to me like the GMRC’s clearing out.’ He looked around the room, which was void of any equipment, or any other paraphernalia that usually accompanied a scientific research project. ‘Let me be the first to say, good riddance.’

  The GMRC liaison, who was unusually tall, almost freakishly so, raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. ‘Haven’t you somewhere to be, Commander?’ She moved aside to let him pass.

  Tyler stared at her, his hatred undisguised, before he brushed past and on out of the laboratory complex. Muttering to himself and cursing the GMRC, he resumed his journey to the temporary passage that connected Archimedes to the International Space Station. Turning off his mag-boots, he floated through a slowing rotating tunnel with white corrugated walls and moved from partial gravity to the microgravity environment aboard the aging ISS, where he was greeted by a party of two.

  ‘Welcome aboard the ISS, Commander,’ said a man, his accent Russian and smile broad. ‘My name’s Alexei Denisov and this is Astrid-Hélène Pichon.’

  Tyler grunted in response.

  ‘Is there something wrong, sir?’ the man’s companion said, her Gallic lilt and genuine concern bringing him out of his internal stupor.

  ‘No, I’m fine. My apologies. Bad day.’

  The two ISS astronauts exchanged a look, perhaps having heard about the goings-on aboard Archimedes.

  ‘Are you here to take me to the auditorium?’ he said, as he shook hands with each in turn.

  The French woman, Astrid-Hélène, gave him a sympathetic smile. ‘Your comrades are already assembled, as is everyone else. Follow me, Commander.’ She turned and floated off down a corridor.

  With the Russian following behind, Tyler was led through a maze of interconnecting modules and hatches until they came to the hub of the International Space Station, the central node, commonly known as the auditorium. The largest space module ever built, prefabricated on the surface and assembled in space, was a sight to behold. Comprising a flat floor and ceiling, the connecting walls curved outwards, the convex design, if viewed from the outside, appearing like a giant, slightly angular, holeless donut. As Tyler’s guide had said, everyone else from all four space stations had already arrived, leaving only skeleton crews behind to manage critical systems.

  The babble of noise from the ranks of the planet’s finest was an assault on the senses. The quiet calm of life in space and everything that entailed meant gatherings such as this were unheard of. Over a hundred people in one place, in space … even twenty years ago this would have seemed an impossibility, but with the world’s resources channelled into the GMRC’s divisions on an unprecedented scale, the Space Programme had benefited like no other – at least, it had initially.

  Tyler took his place in a seat built into the wall, loose straps over his shoulders ensuring he didn’t float away, and his reception committee, the French woman and Russian, sat down either side of him.

  A sweeping window stretched around half the auditorium and Tyle
r could see the ISS docking ports outside, where two large Sabre transportation crafts had berthed the previous day; emblazoned on their sides was the stark, white lettering of the GMRC’s logo:

  Astrid, following his gaze, touched his knee and leaned closer to him. ‘Don’t worry, Commander, I hear the GMRC are leaving us.’

  ‘Some say for good,’ Alexei said.

  Tyler glanced at the Russian and then turned back to Astrid, whose bright blue eyes twinkled with compassionate intelligence.

  ‘Things will get better now, yes?’ She winked and gave his leg a squeeze before removing her hand and returning her attention forward, where a large wallscreen shimmered into life.

  Tyler gazed at her for a moment before looking, along with everyone else, at the image now on display. A crystal clear picture of NASA’s Control Center, complete with the familiar circular insignia on the wall, filled his vision. Lined up in front of this stood thirty people, wearing a mixture of civilian and military uniforms from various nations, and at their head stood five men. The central figure was NASA’s chief administrator, James Davis Jackson, the highest ranking official for the civilian agency. Resplendent in a deep blue flight suit adorned with various emblematic patches, he stepped forwards to survey the astronauts before him as if they were in the same room, not separated by thousands of miles and the vastness of space.

  ‘My friends, thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedules to join together on the eve of what can only be called the most pivotal moment in human history, perhaps even our planet’s history. On this most auspicious of days, where our combined efforts to conquer the stars has culminated in the space stations that surround you now, we are one nation, one species, one planet, united in a common goal against a singular threat which jeopardises the existence of everything and everyone we hold dear.

  ‘The six asteroids that, even as I speak, draw inexorably closer to Earth, represent a challenge like no other, a test of our resolve and spirit against which we must – and will – prevail, lest darkness descend and life and light be irrevocably, irreparably extinguished.

  ‘Ever since the year of Our Lord 2011, when the harbinger of our doom, the near-Earth object AG5, was sighted by the Mount Lemon Survey, the Space Programme as we know it today was conceived, an inevitability of union as our great nations came together to form an integrated response in a collaboration of resources and knowledge that may never be matched in this life or the next.

  ‘But, let it be known, the Space Programme’s greatest achievement is not the space-craft, computers or specialised equipment we are set to use in defence of Earth, it is the people watching me now, listening to my words – YOU are our greatest advance, our greatest minds, our greatest hope. Without you our technologies would not exist, without you our technologies could not be operated. Without you there is no Space Programme, no hope, no victory.’

  The administrator paused for breath and Tyler felt roused by his words. The hairs on the backs of his arms and neck stood up on end as he was reminded of the magnitude of what he, and those around him, were about to undertake. With his usually calm demeanour chastened, a quick glance around showed him that everyone else was similarly entranced, the hush in the room complete. Astrid’s eyes glistened with emotion, indicating he wasn’t alone in being stirred.

  ‘To paraphrase a famous British politician,’ Jackson continued, ‘never in the field of human conflict will so much be owed by so many to so few. When Winston Churchill spoke those iconic words it was to inspire an embattled nation against Hitler’s tyranny, but a hundred years on our fight is against a far deadlier foe, force majeure, a superior force, an act of God, the ultimate enemy.

  ‘And yet,’ – he looked around at those standing by his side – ‘together we stand, shoulder to shoulder with those present and past. Thousands of years of human advance, every step, great or small, by those that have gone before, has led us to where we are now; the creation of the wheel, the internal combustion engine, electricity, the computer, the World Wide Web, every progression a leap forward, propelling our understanding and capabilities to new heights.

  ‘Look around you now—’ he continued, his arms held out beseechingly.

  Tyler looked to Astrid, then to Alexei, then to those in front.

  ‘—the men and women beside you can help you change the course of history, of our planet’s evolution, of every living plant’s and animal’s evolution; their destiny is in your hands. Yes, we have had setbacks, failures … some say too many—’

  Tyler noticed the defiant tone entering into the administrator’s voice, and the fact that the GMRC had not been mentioned once during his speech spoke volumes.

  ‘—and yet we have persevered despite cuts to our funding in favour of other projects. As the final days of reckoning approach, the next few months will prove to be our best window to action our plans to divert the trajectories of two of the four asteroids due to impact Earth in 2042. I understand many of you, especially my countrymen, will disagree with the decision as to why those two asteroids were selected for deflection over the other two; however, the decision has been made and we must abide by the consensus of opinion. What is more important, if our methods are successful, is that we divert the final two much larger asteroids due in 2045.’ James Jackson made a gesture with his hand. ‘Observe.’

  The auditorium darkened and a glowing orb appeared in the centre of the ceiling. The ball of energy expanded as if ignited by some unseen power and flowed outwards, its tendrils of light activating the giant ceiling screen like a cascade of sparkling jewels. The sumptuous 3D image mapped out the solar system in exquisite detail before its focus rotated to the Earth and Moon, with the Sun moving to the far horizon on the opposite side of the room. Traced onto this living display, six red lines depicted the incoming tracks of the rapidly closing asteroids, and projected onto the end of each of those were the forms of irregularly shaped rocks, each with a data tag attached in the form of a graphical box displaying its designation and forecasted impact date. Blossoming into being close to the slowly rotating image of Earth, four lines of silver arced out to meet four of their red counterparts. Where they met, a circular flash of light turned red lines to green which diverted the asteroids past Earth, leaving only two red lines to realise their original destination on the surface of our world.

  With the show over, the ceiling display faded and turned back to an opaque white, prompting the NASA administrator to continue speaking. ‘You do not need me to tell you that the closer the asteroids are, the greater our chances of success. The first of our manned missions will embark from the ISS in only a few weeks’ time, so let me and my colleagues introduce you to the brave men and women who are the tip of the spear.’

  The head of the CNSA, the Chinese National Space Administration, who stood next to the NASA administrator, moved to the fore and gave a perfunctory bow. ‘Xing hui,’ he said in greeting. ‘May I introduce Wang Bo Shi, commander and pilot of mission AG5–B Alpha Intercept and his science officer, Li Yǔ Háng Yuán.’

  At the front of the auditorium on the ISS, a man and a woman floated to their feet and turned to give a smile and a wave to Tyler and everyone else in the room. The Chinese CNSA administrator then gave introductions for two more pairs of mission specialists, after which his European counterpart introduced their six representatives, each of whom stood in turn to salute or wave to their fellow astronauts.

  After five more teams from the international contingent had been formally named, the NASA administrator took centre stage once more. ‘And heading the United States mission AG5–D Omega Intercept, Professor Andrea Brunel and co-pilot Trent Arnold Moss, Junior.’

  Tyler recognised the names well; years earlier he’d helped train them both when they’d been fresh-faced to the agency. A sense of pride and joy stole over him at seeing the two of them stand to receive their applause; such a moment would stay with him for the rest of his days. Clapping along with everyone else, his mind began to wander as the remai
ning U.S. teams were introduced and the address by his superiors, beamed up to them from Houston, wound down. His thoughts returned to the GMRC and to Project Ares.

  ‘—Commander?’

  Tyler blinked. ‘What? Sorry, I must have zoned out, what did you say?’

  ‘Are you joining us for the reception?’ Astrid said, the screen at the front of the auditorium now blank, the speeches and introductions complete.

  ‘Yes, of course. Forgive me.’ Tyler glanced out of the window again as one of the GMRC Sabre space-aircraft undocked from the International Space Station. He looked back to Astrid. ‘Lead on, Mademoiselle Pichon.’

  Astrid smiled and held out a hand to help him out of his seat. With the formalities behind them, everyone in the room made their way to the ISS living quarters where food and alcohol-free drinks awaited. The auditorium darkened and the sounds of laughter and optimism drifted away, the quiet of space reasserting its power as those that sought to save the lives of billions enjoyed some light relief before the hardest and most dangerous of works began in earnest.

  ♦

  Tyler laughed in good humour.

  ‘No, it’s true!’ an Indian astronaut said to those gathered. ‘If you flip the switch back down, everything comes back up and I mean – everything.’

  ‘Everything? Surely not …’ Astrid shook her head and chuckled. ‘The mess, it would be terrible, no?’