by Chris Hechtl
“Tell them to do their best. Tell them … tell them to use lasers when they can. Anything.”
“I'll let them know. Anything else?” she asked.
“I feel so damn helpless,” he muttered.
“Be glad it is happening there and not here. You don't want that sort of busy,” Trevor said from the wall screen. “Trust me on this.”
“Any headway on the virus?”
“No,” Trevor replied simply. “We can't risk a sample without compromising our systems or at least opening ourselves up to it. It's too risky, even with an air gap system.”
“Frack,” Jack said, scrubbing his face with a hand. “Get me someone to talk to in Earth orbit to coordinate the mess there. We'll need a SITREP. Survivors, logistics … get someone on our end to coordinate with them too.”
“Will do,” Roman replied. “I've got the chimp duo on it now. Charlie's here working on figuring out our troop situation. Elliot's enroute to Earth.”
“Good,” Jack replied with a curt nod. “Athena, stop all production in the yards. Get everyone working on the relief effort.”
“There are going to be some screaming going on,” Athena warned.
“Hang the bullshit. Lives are at stake! Tell them to put that shit where the monkey put the peanut!” Jack snarled.
“By the time we get to Earth, it'll be too late for a lot of people,” Roman murmured quietly.
“We do the best we can with what we've got,” Jack growled, looking away. “Athena, tell the L-5 platforms to finish their damage control and then get a laser LAN setup—air gapped of course. And get them to launch tugs for the stations trying to get away as well as the rescue efforts. Have them load up on fuel and Lox for them. They'll need it.”
“Understood. Orders sent, sir,” Athena replied.
<>V<>
August 3, 2200, 4:57 PM, East Coast Time
General Murtough saw the nearby Chinese space elevator station rising, and the tug, the lone tug moving in to help. They didn't hesitate, just moved in. There were no orders, no need for them really. Some coordination would be nice.
The problem was communication. That, and they needed a place to put the people once they got them. He looked about frowning.
“Sir?”
He pointed out the window and then to the radar display on their HUDs. “The pods. People. We need to get organized. Which means we need to communicate, and damn it, we can't with the radios down,” the general snarled.
The engineering tech glanced at him as the co-pilot looked over her shoulder. When she realized he was not happy, she went back to her instruments for a minute. Finally she got up the nerve and cleared her throat.
“Yes? What is it? What else is going wrong?” General Murtough asked.
“Nnnnothing sir, at least I don't have …; anyway, I've um, got an idea,” she said, pointing to another ship. “We can't use our radio because of the virus. And even our voice communications are digital and integrated into the ship's computer system. But we can use a light to flash signals, sir—old Morse code.”
“If they can figure it out, good idea,” the general said.
“They have to see it first,” the pilot said, “which I doubt. They'd have to be looking right at us and close enough to see the light.”
“One problem at a time. Work on that. We need a place to go, and we need to coordinate the rescue efforts. Work the problem.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So we're not going to go to the ground?” the engineer asked dumbly. He shook himself when the general shot him a pitying look. “Sorry, sir,” he mumbled.
“We're not going groundside. Not yet. We don't know where it is safe, and the turbulence from that mess …,” he pointed to the slowly dissipating mushroom clouds. “Hell if I want to fly through any of that,” he said.
“Definitely not,” the pilot said in agreement, shaking his head firmly. “So a station. Which one?”
“Find out what's around us. Who is the closest,” the general ordered. “You've been on the PA to keep the people we've got on board calm. Any ideas?”
“We can reverse course …,” the engineer put in, then shook his head at the general's expression. He ducked his head away. “Sorry, sir.”
<>V<>
“General Murtough is in orbit, sir,” Athena reported. Jack looked up quickly. He had an open line to Trevor, Roman, and the rest. They looked up as well. “He's on a shuttle. They are trying to coordinate the rescue effort.”
“Rescue effort?”
“The three space elevators have been severed. L-10 has broken orbit and is headed for deep space. The Chinese station is twirling around and is most likely going to fall back to Earth eventually without an intervention. The Pavilion platform has been severed about ten kilometers above the base. The pieces fell to the ground with massive loss of life and infrastructure. The remainder of the platform is also headed for deep space.”
“And there are people alive?”
“So far no one has been reported, but my information is sketchy. There is, as I pointed out, no coordination, and communications are almost nonexistent at this point.”
“Damn.”
“Does the general have ideas?” Roman asked.
“Unknown, sir. He has a fully loaded shuttle, however,” Athena warned. “So they can't take on too many people. They need to unload.”
“Sir, L-2 is still in orbit. We sold her to the Hilton, but they are asking for directions,” Athena stated.
“Tell them to coordinate the rescue effort from there then,” Jack said, remembering L-2. Lagroose station 2 was a transhab hotel, one of his first space stations and therefore one of the oldest. He'd rebuilt her many times and had bought and sold her many times over the past century and a half. But wonder of wonders she, like Jack's Junkyard Palace, were still in orbit. More or less in one piece after the last spat of violence. He winced.
“What?” Roman asked, eying him.
“I'm just imagining what it would have been like in one of those transhab pods. Like being in a balloon with shotgun shells going off all around.”
Roman pursed his lips in a silent whistle.
“Not a pretty picture you are painting there, boss,” Trevor said. “But accurate. Shouldn't they climb to a higher orbit?”
“Athena? The situation?”
“I don't have it. Earth is clouded in debris. I don't know what their radar track is, nor if they have the fuel and ability to maneuver,” she said.
“Frack,” Trevor replied.
<>V<>
General Murtough wasn't sure about his own reactions; he'd think about it all later. For now he had to focus. Duty, training … they say it all came to someone in times like this. Hell if he believed it. All he did know was that someone had to be in charge, and he was it. He'd cry for the dead later.
Despite his advanced age, the general had served as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the American defense department for sixteen years. He was neutral to all of the mega corporations, though he had a friendship and history with Jack Lagroose.
There had been a lot of noises made for him to retire. He'd ignored it. It had cost him two marriages, but he was still here, like bedrock, unmoving. Thanks to his genetics and modern medicine, he would be here for a while longer … at least until someone fired his ass. He looked at the ground again. That seemed either likely or moot at this point he thought.
When his shuttle docked with L-2, he made his way through the station's crowded corridors to the command deck. He spent several hours there doing his best to bring order to chaos, tapping his fellow passengers to help. Fortunately, two were on his staff, Lieutenant George Takai and Captain Isis Oleander.
Isis was still adjusting, so he threw her into work quickly. It was ruthless to order her to get her head on straight and soldier, but he needed her services. She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off the family she had on the ground that were most likely ashes. Hell, they all did he mused.
>
George was a good troop, an engineer who could liaison with the other engineers and translate techno babble for lesser beings. Isaac could do most of his own translating, but he was far from up-to-date on the latest industrial processes and such. Besides, he liked George, which was why he put the man on working with the station's damage control teams as well as working out a way to coordinate with the other stations and ships. Those that still survived.
He'd put Lieutenant Portia back on his bus and had him and his crew work with the rescue effort. Major Johnson was doing his best to get the communications' issue sorted out. It didn't help that the stations weren't where they were supposed to be.
It took two long hours before someone put him in contact with Jack Lagroose. Since Jack was four light minutes away, the conversation was a pain in the ass. At least it let him get work done between bits of conversation he thought.
“Jack, we need to get them organized! People are dying here! When their oxygen runs out …”
“I know that.”
“Then why have the stations move, damn it?”
“Because then they are a moving target. They are getting the hell out of the way of the debris fields too. They have a duty to the survival of their own crew first, Isaac. You know this. They aren't good to anyone dead.”
The general paused, sat back with a grunt. “I know,” he finally admitted. I just don't like the idea of retreating.”
“We're not retreating; we're saving what we can as we pull back, consolidating, analyzing, and then we're going back in. We're going to fight smart. But we've got to find a defense against this damn virus, General. Otherwise anyone or anything in orbit will be compromised,” Athena promised.
The general wasn't sure about what to make of the A.I. Obviously he and the human race owed her; without her intervention the virus would have taken space as well. But he couldn't help but get his hackles up every time he heard her voice.
The hotel station he was on was overcrowded with terrified people. The life support was straining. The stink of fear permeated every nook and cranny. Everyone wanted to know what is going on and what they are going to do. Just about everyone was also attempting to contact family on the ground.
Athena and the staff had put a stop to that however. The A.I. had blocked all signal traffic out of the hull other than by laser. The crew had followed that up by physically disconnecting the station's Wi-Fi and radio network. “The problem with all the stations moving around is we don't know where they are to hit them with a laser, Jack,” the general said. “So it's a bitch to coordinate.”
“I know. But it also means they can't be painted by a target by the ground as well. Either with an energy weapon, missile, or heaven forbid a comm laser with that damn virus as the payload.”
“I see your point,” the general said after a moment. They were deaf and practically dumb and blind on the station. They could only see the ground; they couldn't see what was going on below the clouds, however. Already the fallout and debris was spreading to enshroud the planet.
He shivered. He didn't want to imagine what was going on down there, but he knew, he just knew it was bad. He'd done his best to overhaul the space defense network … had it been for naught with the virus? Certainly something had been fighting there!
“I've passed on the order to get to the anchor station and pick up as many people as they can. But to do it cautiously,” Jack said. “We've gotten information on their flight path based on Tao-ling's observations.”
“Tao-ling?”
“A Chinese commander of one of the space stations in orbit. Tao-ling Si. He's actually from Taiwan.”
“Oh.”
“It doesn't matter now,” Jack said testily. Isaac grunted in agreement. “They have supposedly shut down any possibly infected computer system. They are working on ways to run their life support with spares. They've got a primitive laser up. Athena has their orbital coordinates for your people.”
“We've only got the one laser on board. We can't keep bouncing around,” the general said. “We need radio.”
“You can transmit what you want. But if you receive you're dead, General,” Athena interjected. “The virus is still transmitting from all the surviving ground, SETI, media, and astronomy instillations. There is no safe frequency. None.”
“God damn it,” the general raged.
“And it wouldn't matter anyway since no one else is listening, General,” Lieutenant Takai said, coming into the command center. The general turned to look at him and then away.
“That'll make it a bitch. And since we can't use the radios to communicate, even harder. We're going to lose people. They will call and call and no one will be there to answer.” The general rubbed his brow. He was now regretting not retiring. After a moment he continued.”Sometimes that happens. There are casualties in war, no matter how hard you try to avoid them. Friendly casualties as well. The best we can do is all we can do. Get on it.”
“Understood, sir.”
“We're doing what we can from here. I know it doesn't seem like much,” Jack said. “We've got help coming. Not a lot at first, but something is better than nothing. Keep us updated on what you need. Lay a laser on the … wait, you said you only have the one. Damn. Okay, we'll um, we'll coordinate through this end. Damn, what a time lag, but frack it.”
“Gotcha. Jack … Athena … in case I forget later … thanks.”
“No thanks are necessary. Do what you can. Lagroose out.”
“I always do,” the general replied, cutting the circuit.
<>V<>
Valery felt the elevator car spin end over end, which gave it some semblance of gravity for those inside. It was rough though. It screwed up their inner ear, but at least it was something. They all knew their pod had a limited supply of emergency life support. Everyone who had seen out the window had flashbacks, terrified visions of the space stations taking fire and breaking orbit.
Their phones were dead; they linked into the elevators’ Wi-Fi and that was obviously out. Some continued to call out in hopes that someone would be close enough to hear them. So far the radio was in vain; every phone was unresponsive—no signal.
Valery had seen the elevator flying away, like a snake flying off into the outer darkness. It was a bitter pill to swallow, right along with the idea that they wouldn't survive.
Despite that, her nurse had organized the others into packing the dead into the lower compartment. They'd picked through the luggage to find anything of use, then taken turns to look out the windows. Inevitably they tended to look below to the Earth, which was getting closer every hour it seemed. It was suddenly a terrifying thing, to see the dirty cloud-covered ball growing closer, the horizon bigger.
There were fourteen survivors on board, most of them injured to varying degrees. But for some miraculous reason they were alive. Their screams of terror had died down to whimpers and prayers long ago. Now they were quiet, whimpering, and huddled to each other for mutual comfort.
The lights in the pod were on but dim; they were on emergency backup power. So the only bright light came from one of the windows when it faced the sun. They had given up hope of a rescue when something grabbed them, jerking the pod harshly.
The grab was jarring enough to wake some people out of their apathy. “What is it? What's going on?” Valerie demanded, rushing to the window. “What do you … oh my god! Someone's out there! On the hull!” She turned back, all smiles as her infectious exuberance went to work on the other thirteen survivors.
Cheers rang the hull.
<>V<>
“It's odd that he's narrowed his focus so intently. Just space? Has he written the Earth off?” Roman asked.
“I don't know. We don't have what he has. It is odd though. Isaac can multitask pretty well, and I know he can delegate jobs to whoever he has on hand. He's the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff so he has to have some staff with him for heaven's sake!” Trevor said. “It's not like him.”
“He's old
too. Remember that,” Barbie Cole, director of public relations said. She was a blond and a hot number despite her own age. She liked to pretend she was a bubblehead to go with the stereotype but behind those laughing eyes was a sharp mind that just waited for her opponent to misjudge her.
“Isaac is old like me, yes. A few years older actually,” Jack admitted. “And they've been pushing him to retire lately. But he's still got what it takes, and his name alone should garner instant respect and an urge to listen,” he said, eying Barbie. She nodded slightly at the mild rebuke. “As to what he's doing … he's the man on the spot.” He made a flip flop motion with one hand. “We can't armchair quarterback him from 225 million kilometers away.” He shook his head. “In his defense, I believe he's focusing on the tactical situation, getting that under control before he looks to the strategic.”
“I believe, after analyzing his tone of voice that the general is ignoring his psychological trauma due to the events on Earth,” Athena put in. According to the texts I have access to, it is most likely, as you humans would put it, haunting him, but he hasn't stopped his duty to the living.”
“Nor should we,” Jack agreed.
“Funny hearing that coming from a computer,” Barbie spat, eyes glittering.
“At ease,” Roman growled.
“What are we, in the army now?” Barbie demanded, eying Roman.
“We're all soldiers to varying degrees now. Soldiers for civilization,” Roman answered. “Keeping the barbarian, both the virtual and the real world ones in check. Destroying the one while doing our best to … to get the others in check.”
“Now I am the one offended by the analogy,” Athena replied dryly. “But I suppose given the current situation, it is the best my kind can get at this point.”
“If you want me to apologize Athena, you can kiss my ass. I call it as I see it. This virus has to be destroyed.”
“Agreed. But we are going to have to have a meeting of the minds on A.I. and A.I. rights eventually,” Athena stated. “Come to terms with that now. We're here to stay.”
Roman set his jaw and didn't answer. He did turn an accusing look on Trevor for a moment. The cyborg let the look bounce right off.
