“Mr. President, I’ve been asking myself that, too. We need more information. Was I the target? If so, they blew the wrong part of the building. What in that wing would have been their primary target?”
“All good questions, Donovan. Listen, I have to get going. You rest up. Let that pretty girlfriend of yours take care of you for a couple of days. Save The Species needs you back on your feet, you got me?”
“I do, sir. Thank you. Goodbye.”
He reattached his oxygen mask and began to think. One year since the India attack and the government had no idea who orchestrated it? He found that very hard to believe. How could anyone stay hidden in the twenty-second century? Not for an entire year, surely. Did Foster know more than he was saying? If so, why hide the truth? Liam served his country for fifteen years and that service is why he landed the job. If he couldn’t be trusted with the truth, who could? No, there must be something else. Who funded them? Where was their base? Two attacks on two sides of the world a year apart suggested they had patience—a plan.
Working for the STS commission, his role basically boiled down to making sure everyone on his campus did their jobs. He saw now that he needed to take a more authoritative role in overseeing security operations. Something got through. He thought their security protocols were proficient. Clearly, he had been wrong. That pissed him off.
After years in the service, he was used to coming under attack. Scientists, engineers, and office workers should never be forced to deal with such atrocities. He needed to look into his past, back to his military days, and implement some new strategies. Maybe bring in some old friends.
The STS, per its founding charter, was not a military operation, but instead a worldwide collaboration between seven nations. He wasn’t sure how the commission would handle it if he offered the protection of the United States military to help guard the bases in other countries. That would require more thinking and planning.
Through his hospital window a small light glided across the beautiful night sky drawing his gaze. The Linwood. Six months ago the first of eight STS ships finished assembly in space and became the first of the fleet to be one hundred percent operational. Several of the other ships had also begun the assembly process in orbit, launching pieces at a time. The Linwood was ahead of schedule by a year, well ahead of the commission’s goal to have the entire STS fleet operational by 2131.
Liam’s ship, STS Five, The Hawking, would launch its final piece for assembly in eleven months. One hundred and eight pieces required for each ship were launched atop the most powerful rockets ever conceived. STS Two, The Christensen, had only one assembly launch left. Once all the ships were complete, a skeleton crew would handle the daily operation until the remainder of the personnel, along with thousands of citizens per ship, joined them.
The ship’s lengths inspired awe, each one a mile long and providing enough living space for everyone to be comfortable—cramped, but comfortable. The fleet represented mankind’s greatest achievement as the result of its greatest failure. The irony was not lost.
The work he and his team had accomplished on The Hawking filled Liam with tremendous pride. They all put in long hours and sleepless nights making sure each piece was perfect before being launched for assembly. He thought to himself that if they get back on schedule after this terrible tragedy, the commission should give him and his team a raise. But then again, what was the point? Money seemed superficial. New forms of currency became more popular. Drugs and alcohol, once regarded as recreational, now filled a necessary need for some people to help dull their pain; to kill the knowledge of the truth: Earth would be unable to provide for human life in forty-six years—give or take.
The brink of collapse hadn’t come overnight. Rising sea levels began wreaking havoc in the early 2050s. That was the start. Some nations built sea retention walls to keep the water out, but it was a useless effort. Global temperatures climbed too rapidly and the walls failed to keep pace with the melting ice caps.
Over the next four decades people around the world abandoned coastal cities and left them to ruin. The inland cities became overcrowded and unable to house and feed the millions of refugees. Disease and starvation in the hastily constructed camps left many dead.
Toward the end of the Relocation Years another nightmare unleashed itself on the world. In the Siberian Tundra, a long dormant virus found fresh life as it was freed from the melted ice. The Orlov virus spread rapidly and without mercy. Countries set up quarantines and curfews, but might as well have been trying to soak up a lake with paper towels. The relentless virus held a seventy-five percent mortality rate. It took researchers three years to develop a cure and another two for the virus to be completely eradicated. The global population had been cut in half.
Simultaneously, extreme weather conditions continued to worsen with each passing year. Droughts became commonplace. Fresh water disappeared around the world. Many once-fertile farmlands dried up. The wealthier governments began constructing indoor farms with desalinated water from the oceans, but that took time and too much of it. Millions more starved to death during the Great Famines. Things weren’t just bad for humans, either. Countless animal species starved themselves into extinction.
In the year 2098 the United Nations secretly commissioned a study to determine the long-term effects of the changing world. A UN employee took it upon himself to release the results to the public. Earth would be unable to continue sustaining human life by 2175. Civilization broke down. The suicide rate tripled right off the bat. There were massive riots, looting, and lawlessness. Hope was a forgotten word and wouldn’t be remembered until two years later when the Save The Species commission formed.
Back in 2089, a woman named Dr. Sandra Linwood out of England developed a functioning EmDrive capable of space travel. The drive would allow a ship to reach the nearest star in one thousand years. At the time world governments had more pressing concerns and chose not to pursue that technology. Once formed, however, the STS commission immediately recruited Dr. Linwood with the plan of building generational ark ships. The idea was simple enough: design and construct massive vessels where generations of people could live until they found a new home.
The commission looked to our closest neighbor, the Alpha Centauri system, and selected the planet Proxima b, orbiting the red dwarf star Proxima Centauri, as the chosen candidate. The fleet of life-saving ships would travel there and investigate. If Proxima b proved to be uninhabitable, the future crew could simply choose a new destination. Work began immediately designing the ships.
Meanwhile, the STS commission recruited another brilliant mind. An engineer named Gene Christensen helmed a top secret project called Hibernation Over Long Distances (HOLD).
Leaders around the world protested that putting thousands of people on a spaceship for a millennium was not an ethical thing to do to human beings. Some on the commission agreed so they created a team led by Christensen to research and develop long term hibernation with the idea that the crew who leaves Earth would guide the ships out of the solar system, fall asleep, and wake up a thousand years later in another star system.
HOLD suffered failure after failure while Dr. Linwood’s generational ships began the initial stages of construction.
At long last Christenen had a breakthrough. With the right combination of chemicals and body temperature he found a way to keep a person asleep and alive, yet not age. He refused to test it on anyone but himself. On his forty-third birthday in 2103 he laid down in his self-constructed hibernation pod, said goodbye to his family, closed the hatch door, and flipped the interior switch. A gas composed of a chemical concoction flooded the pod and his lungs. Simultaneously the temperature inside fell well below freezing. Within two minutes he was asleep.
Two years later, on his forty-fifth birthday, the timer on the pod’s computer interface counted down to zero. The temperature rose and another form of chemically laced gas flowed through the pod. Minutes later Gene Christensen awoke and released the hatch
. Unpredictably, he had no memory of where he was or what was happening. He nearly attacked his poor wife who stood outside the pod waiting on him. His family was forced to restrain him until his memory returned an hour later. The commission declared his long trial a success.
The public announcement that HOLD existed lifted humanities spirit. People felt better knowing they weren't condemning generation after generation to grow up in a giant metal tin can. The masses rallied around the STS. Unfortunately, this meant the under construction generational ships had to be scrapped. Dr. Linwood took the news in stride. What could be salvaged from the partly completed ships would be, but a vast amount had to be redesigned to accommodate the hibernation pods and the lifestyle centers since people would only be active on board for a few years instead of a thousand. Lucky them.
Only a kid when HOLD went public, Liam never dreamed of one day being on one of the ships sleeping amongst the stars. He understood the privilege granted to him and was thankful.
He went into military service to help protect the idea that the people left behind would go out peacefully with their heads held high—not fighting like children. But people aren't built like that. Instead of keeping the peace, he found himself an instrument of dying governments squabbling over who gets what for the waning years of humanity’s time on this rock.
In the hospital bed, he followed The Linwood as it flew beyond the window’s view. Whenever he saw it up there like an angel watching over them, hope inspired him. People weren't finished yet. Whether on Proxima or elsewhere, the long reach of humanity would extend beyond the solar system. Colonies would flourish on unimaginable planets.
No longer would people face the threat of extinction. They would learn from their mistakes. They would learn to live in peace. They would have to learn these things before greed and power corrupted their ways again.
In conflict with his warrior past, he always reserved a place for pacification in his heart. One day he hoped to never worry about someone taking up arms against him. In his mind he imagined that human infighting would be left to die on Earth. But he’d seen too much to be that naive. It would follow them like a cancer in remission. It may disappear for a while, but in the end it would make a violent and terrible return.
Ann came back into the room pulling his thoughts of potential futures back to the here and now. She had a way of doing that to him—keeping him centered, present. Her long dark hair flowed midway down her back and worked perfectly with her petite short frame. Her dark eyes accentuated her beauty. Together they appeared mismatched. Liam’s height put him a few inches north of six feet. He was well-built and bald. But outside of the physical differences they complemented each other in ways neither could fully express. He admired her as she sat next to him. She told him to leave the oxygen mask on and rest his voice. He did and they enjoyed the silent company, each glad the other had survived to witness another sunrise. Only so many were left to see.
Chapter 2
TWO MONTHS SINCE the unknown terrorists attacked and the wounds were only beginning to heal. The dead long buried and new hires brought on board in their place to continue the project.
Liam shifted his weight as he stood on a dais along with other senior staff members behind the president. Foster spoke to the crowd and the media at the memorial ceremony on the STS Five campus in front of the scorched remains that once housed his office and where one hundred and thirteen lives were lost. They decided to clean up the debris, but leave the remaining structure standing as a show of support for those whose lives were taken. Also, with a ticking clock on the world, the time and effort to take it all down seemed pointless.
For ten minutes President Foster had been speaking, naming each of the deceased along with a quick note written by their family members.
It was now late spring and the Orlando temperature was practically setting fire to the air. Not for the first time that afternoon, Liam wished NASA moved their location to a place like Minnesota after Cape Canaveral and Houston flooded instead of fifty-five miles inland.
Sweat rolling down his cheeks, he stood diligently in his military dress uniform looking down at Ann who sat near the front row. With a ping of jealousy he watched her take a drink of water. Beside her sat his old friend, Percy Alvarez. He and Percy fought alongside each other during the African Water War. Percy came to visit him soon after he got home from the hospital, saying he saw the explosion on the news and knew he had to come check on him. Liam immediately recruited him to help lead his new security efforts on the campus and his friend jumped at the chance to join the team.
Together, they revamped security; adding multiple checkpoints to even get on site, a two fence system with landmines in between, a specially trained K-9 unit, and a slew of other new security protocols that did nothing but annoy many staff members. Entering and leaving the premises required a full body scan and pat down for all personnel.
After the ceremony concluded, the crowd—sans President Foster—retreated to a nice, cool air conditioned atrium. Friends and family toasted to the deceased and the alcohol did its best to turn a somber event into a cheery one.
“No drink for you, my friend?” Percy approached Liam who’d been sitting alone at a table sipping on water. He took his own seat while taking a drink of a beer.
“Ah, no I’m afraid not. Haven’t touched the stuff in nine months. Long story.”
“To be heard another time. Listen, not to sound disrespectful, but was there a reason we couldn’t have just had the memorial ceremony inside? Here? In the AC?”
“Foster. He wanted the photo op of the remains of the building behind him as he spoke. Said it would play well to the cameras.”
“That son of a bitch,” Percy said with a smile. Years ago both Percy and Liam served under President Foster—then a military general—in Africa. That connection helped Liam land his current job with the STS.
“Yes, he is. But neither of us would be here without him. We can’t forget that. How’s your new apartment coming? Get settled?”
“Settled enough. With this gig I have a guaranteed seat on The Hawking so it’s not like I’ll be here long. Couple years max.”
“Are you going to miss it here? Earth?”
“Do you mean am I going to miss government rationed meals and a hundred degree days in fucking January? Honestly? Some of it I will. Some of it I’ll be glad to never think about again.”
“I know what you mean. I took a vacation a few years back. Went north to Alaska to do some camping. Temperature dipped cold one night. I was freezing. I didn’t know what to do because I definitely didn’t pack for weather that cold. I layered up in a few shirts. Two pairs of pants on. Percy, I saw snow. It didn’t last long, only about an hour and it was gone. But I tell you, it was the most amazing thing. There is still some beauty in this world. I’ll miss that.”
“You think there will be snow on Proxima?”
“From our best guesses on the habitat there? No. Remember, it’s tidally locked. One side of the planet is a hot mess. The other frozen. We just got to find that sweet spot right on the edge. Unfortunately, there’s a good chance the ozone layer on that planet is destroyed. Proxima is just our first stop, don’t forget. If it’s a bust, we just pick somewhere else and go back to sleep.”
“Do you think it will be a bust? I mean I’m along for the ride either way. But you’ve been here for what—five years? You should be an expert.”
“Ha. No, not my area of expertise. The astronomers chose Proxima b as our first stop. They’re the ones who know all there is we can know about that planet and star system. I just make sure the ship gets built. I’m no astronomer, or engineer, or any of that. But, if I had to be real, based on what I’ve gleaned over the years, I do think it will prove to be a bust. Like I said though, that’s just stop number one. When you only age when you’re awake you have a lot of time to travel the galaxy.”
“Well, I suppose anywhere is better than here. I made the mistake of telling my barber where I
worked the other day. I thought he might stab me with the scissors. The media says people are behind us a hundred percent, but I don’t buy it. Have you been out there lately? The jealousy is real and it will only get worse as the reality sets in for these people that we’re leaving them behind to die. Especially when they don’t get picked for the lottery.”
“You think it will be bad? They have to know the odds of getting chosen in the citizenship lottery are slim to none. Twenty-five thousand per ship. Ten thousand of which are crew and pre-selected experts. People who are really needed. Only fifteen thousand can be chosen in the lottery. I wouldn’t put my eggs in that basket.”
“Me neither. If you hadn’t asked me to join security, I was thinking of going to find a cabin somewhere where it can still get cold every once in a while. Just going to ride out the end of the world in peace and quiet.”
“I would almost envy you. It’s going to get bad here. Real bad. Did you know the birth rate last year was down another fifty percent? Children inspire hope. Without children all that will be left are angry, depressed adults fighting for the last can of beans.”
“It won’t be long before those adults are fighting at our gates. And I’m not talking about the terrorists. I’m talking John and Jane down the street.”
Liam nodded. He understood exactly what Percy meant. They saw the same thing in Africa fighting back rioters crying out for the last drops of water. Percy must have read his facial expression.
“You’re thinking about Africa. I’m not going to lie, I’ve been having the same thoughts. What we did there—Liam, I’m scared we’ll have to do it here. But I’m a realist if nothing else. It’s not a matter of if but when there will be mass riots on the other side of that gate.”
Proxima Page 2
