Authors: Allen Charles
CHAPTER 31
Carver’s Transport, Space Walking.
The four figures floated near the hull of the transport, the only indication that they were not in atmosphere were the darkened faceplates extruded by the youniforms. They each had a small oxygen replenishment pack on their utility belts.
Young and Hannaford were hauling at a long fueling hose that was coiled into the hull. Their task was to fix the hose outlet at the center of gravity of the transport facing directly into the oncoming fragments. Any deviation from this fix point would cause the jet effect of the high pressure water to impart a spin on the transport. Instead, this rocket effect would add to the velocity away from the fragments. On Air Force One which was still coupled to the transport, Fuller and Shaw were doing the same thing with the jet fuel, however their nozzle was an improvised spray head.
“Are you ready Hannaford?”
“Yes sir. We have secured the hose to a docking pylon that is close to the centre of mass point. Ready to open the valve on your command.”
“Shaw, you have the calculations. You give the order.”
“Sir.” There was a moment of silence. “On my count release on three Felicity. You will shut off at my call and I will release the jet fuel exactly fifteen seconds later. Starting count. One, two, THREE.”
Felicity pushed the manual valve lever and a solid jet of water shot straight out into the void. A fine mist of particles dispersed around the edges of the nozzle and gradually formed a slow moving cloud that shrouded the glistening shaft of water which became a fine line in the distance and then vanished from view.
The fifteen seconds flashed by and Felicity pulled back the lever on hearing “CLOSE NOW!” from Shaw. Instantly a new stream appeared, not as a solid pillar of liquid but as tendrils of noodles and buckshot, all gradually spreading out as they charged towards the oncoming anti-matter coated fragments that used to be earth.
CHAPTER 32
Inside the Iranian Bunker fragment.
“Zardooz, tell me what is going on. What can we do?” Arjmand was hyperventilating upon the realization that Zardooz was in no way joking with him. The reality and finality of the destruction of the earth was too much for anyone, and certainly so for the unstable Arjmand.
Zardooz was holding himself into a chair, knees jammed under a computer console, doing nothing. Just staring at the snowing screen. Thinking.
A pen slowly drifted past his hand. He poked it with a finger and it started to spin away. His analysis of their situation led him to believe that at least two of the corridor blast doors had maintained their integrity as he could see their green safe indicators on the panel. It could be that others had held but the electronics were damaged.
He grabbed the errant pen from the air and pulled a note pad from a drawer, sending a shower of paper clips into orbit. He started scribbling figures and calculations and drew a diagram of what he believed the fragment would look like. As he had designed the bunker, he had a good handle on the geology of the area. He had put the bunker into the core of the hardest single mass of granite he could locate.
The blast doors were one hundred and fifty meters apart, so he had at least three hundred of meters of rock in that direction. Assuming some symmetry to the fracture and integrity of the granite node, Iran now consisted of an orb about six hundred meters in diameter. The problem he faced now was how to get some eyes working on the outside to see where the fragment was located and where it was heading.
“Arjmand!”
“Huh? Yes. What?”
“I need you to do something so we can see what is going on outside.”
“But I don’t have any training in this. What can I do?” Arjmand was visibly shaking with fear.
“You just have to go down the corridor and look through the view port at each blast door. You will see a green light at each door indicating that the next section is intact. When you reach a door that has a red light or none at all, you need to look very carefully through the panel and report back to me what you see. Here, take this flashlight with you. You may have to shine it through the port if the segment power is out.”
“Why don’t you go!” Arjmand demanded.
“I have to stay here and monitor the corridor segments. I can warn you if there is any danger ahead. Like you said, you have no training in this. I helped to design it all.”
“Send one of the girls.” Arjmand was trying to assert himself while his knees knocked together.
“No, I need you to do this. You may have to follow some precise instructions when you reach the dead section. What you do could mean life or death. Do you really want to give this over to one of the girls?”
Arjmand’s eyes were swivelling from side to side in panic, like a trapped animal. His breath came in short sharp gasps. “I.. I... I’ll g... g... go.” he at last stammered.” He took a deep breath and calmed down. There was still a vestige of presidential strength of character deep within him, probably the last particle he possessed, but he dredged deep, getting up from his chair gingerly and grabbing available protrusions as hand holds.
“You will have to angle off the walls using any joins to move yourself forward. Be careful not to go too fast.” Arjmand just nodded and pushed off in the direction of the door. He had slipped the flash light inside his shirt to free his hands, the robes he wore drifting and billowing out around him.
His first flight left him holding on to the top of the door frame as momentum swung his body through the opening. Strung out facing the wrong way and holding on tight, he squirmed his body around and calculated his next jump, a long one down the first corridor segment. There were few hand holds in sight, and none he could grip to get a push off.
Zardooz watched on the security camera as Arjmand worked into a squatting position and placed his feet on the wall next to the doorway, ready to push off. “Not too hard now.” Zardooz murmured to himself.
Arjmand grimaced and then pushed off, much too hard for his first attempt. The angle of thrust was all wrong and he bounced and caromed like a billiard ball, the knuckles his hands over his head for protection getting skinned and leaving bloody streaks on the walls.
He finally came to rest floating near the first lock, curled into a ball, shaking and whimpering. Over the speaker system Zardooz coaxed him.
“Come on now Arjmand, you need to get hold of yourself and do the job. There is no danger to you if you think about the next step. Come on now.” The unusually gentle goading by Zardooz began to have an effect. Arjmand stopped his whimpering and peeked out from his protective arms, like a kitten from under its paws. He saw he was stationary and where he was supposed to be, perking up immediately and unfolding from his protective ball. “Go look through the window and tell me what you see.” continued Zardooz. “You are looking for lights on in a normal corridor and green indicator lamps on the air lock console.”
Arjmand puffed out his chest and worked his way to the view port. Everything looked normal, so he signaled to Zardooz with a thumbs up.
“OK Arjmand. You need to open the air lock and move into the next section. Do exactly as I tell you.”
Once again Arjmand gave the thumbs up, not realizing he could use the intercom system by the lock.”
Thousands of miles away Fuller and his team of cadets prepared to launch a water fuel bomb towards the approaching earth fragments. Contrary to all the laws of probability, the Iran fragment was the leader of the fragment pack heading directly at Fuller’s transport, with the US President on board.
In another quadrant of space, the whiplash of the severed Skyhook was flailing its way like a trapped snake as it trailed the Terminus which was now a tangential missile heading towards Space City, its trajectory being controlled at whim by the Skyhook tail that itself was being consumed by the anti-matter like a stocking being rolled up a leg.
On Space City the people were visibly frenetic, but disciplined as they rushed to load and board the transports. There was enough room for everyone, but time was the issue, not space. They knew that the Skyhook Terminus was hurdling in their general direction with a follow up of anti-matter coated fragments.
Altogether, not a fantastic moment for the remnants of humanity.
CHAPTER 33
Aboard the X3 Transport.
The air rushed out of the lock dragging at the pilot’s body as he clung on to his precarious hold. With a loud crash the escaping atmosphere stilled as the object blocking the outer lock was sucked out into space and the lock slammed shut, the dogs fully engaging.
The pilot released his death hold with a gasp of relief, unable to move or react for a few moments. He recovered enough to cling to the view ports and peer through to the outer port as the black of space was replaced by a gray, uniform glow. With a shout of alarm he realized what he was looking at.
He keyed his communicator to the co-pilot, “Go! Go! Blast everything we’ve got. The Hook is coming. MOVE!” He was screaming now as he watched the pulsating gray bear down. The sudden acceleration of the transport pulled him away from the port and he scrabbled about to regain a hold and a view of the oncoming menace.
The other transports had fled minutes earlier and were out of immediate danger. Just X3 was left in the Skyhook kill zone.
The pilot peered over the edge of the view port as he dragged himself up against the thrust. He could make details on the Skyhook surface as the carbon filament Tsunami rolled inexorably towards X3 despite the gallant attempt to outrun it.
“Oh God!” He gasped as he saw the end seconds away. “Oh God save us!”
“Hah! Thirteen thousand credits to my account you meteoric turd!”
“OK, you win you black hole.” came back a grudging reply. “I never expected he would invoke the Deity Clause. Where did he get placed?”
He and the rest on that ship were saved to a category three stasis. There was some wreckage left to keep things going. These ones take the first thirty positions of Saved for Game Seven.”
“Can you believe it. Game Edition Seven. This was one of our longest running Games. Five thousand eight hundred of their Earth years. That’s gotta be a record.”
“Wanna bet on that?”
“Oh go vaporize yourself. You’re addicted to this betting.” There was a pause in the thought stream. “What odds?” There was a babble of thought noise in the network as bets were placed across the galaxies. “Quiet down you lot! I haven’t finished here yet! What are the rules now? Its been so long since the last destruction that I forgot what the play is.”
“By gosh, you have the intellect of moon dust. Post destruction rules are that all survivors are classified as conditional winners. We don’t interfere until they are about to die and then we save them to stasis and rank their position according to the time frame of being saved. If any two are saved at the same instant we flip for the ranking. Last two standing are the Grand Winners. Got it?” “Yeah, got it. Wanna put something down on the Iranian fragment against the US Transport? I’ll give you five to one that the Iranians win this one.”
“They’re your credits sun zit! I’ll take it and your bet on the time record.”
The galactic channels buzzed once again with wager and counter wager.
CHAPTER 34
Aboard Carver’s Transport.
Fuller and his small team made their way back into the Transport and strapped in. Carver checked all security and systems then announced, “Everyone brace for maximum acceleration. We’re getting out of here!”
The immediate thrust pressed everyone back into their seats at three time Earth normal gravity. Faces distorted as cheeks tried to flow back in faces. Breathing became difficult with the pressure and eyeballs felt like they were being squeezed out of their sockets. Raising an arm took major effort and standing was impossible. Fuller’s normally 200 pound frame now weighed the equivalent of six hundred pounds.
The youniforms and buddies could partially compensate for the extreme artificial gravity by adjusting pressures across the body and assisting breathing, but there were now passengers aboard, including the President, who did not have the added protection.
Fuller was watching the President closely. He could see the physical distress and was keeping Carver informed.
“John there is nothing I can do about this. If the fuel bomb doesn’t work and we don’t outrun the anti-matter we are all dead.”
“I hear you. How long until the bomb hits the fragments?”
“Approximately three minutes. Is the President good for that?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t look too good right now, but none of us do. Wait a second!” He peered around the edge of the seat back in front of him, as far as he could move. There was movement in the aisle.
“Janine, Hannaford has somehow got herself roped up to a wall brace and has managed to lower herself and an emergency aid kit down to the President. She is giving him oxygen. She must be weighing in at six or seven hundred pounds. Amazing kid. I can see the President is responding. He is signing her to help others if she can.”
“Great John. Two and a half minutes to impact.”
The one hundred and fifty seconds ground by so slowly.
“Fuel bomb impact in ten seconds. Nine... eight... brace! Brace! four... three... two... one... IMPACT!”
The cloud of water spray engulfed the surface of the fragments coming directly at the Transport. There were some visible sparkles and a grey fog of dissociated hydrogen and oxygen molecules formed a mini atmosphere. Nothing more happened.
“What’s happening Janine?” John gasped out.
“Nothing yet. Wait. Wait! The fuel has just hit. I can see flashes. Ouch that was blinding, even with the youniform. The whole surface has ignited. My doppler radar tells me the fragment has slowed a little relative to the former velocity vector. The explosion must have been quite a kick.”
“Has it affected the anti-matter?
“I can’t see yet. Everything has gone dark.” Carver checked herself. “Hang on. If it is dark and I cant see the silver of the anti-matter then maybe we just killed it? My radar tells me the fragment is still there, although the profile has changed. Actually it is constantly changing. I think we not only slowed it down but we also put a spin on it.”
“How is the relative velocity? Is is still gaining on us?”
“Yes it is gaining, but at about a third of the previous rate. I can take our thrust down to one G to maintain our escape and keep it at a distance. We can’t veer from this course because of the other fragments.”
As the heavy acceleration throttled back to one G and Earth normal gravitational effect, people started moving, rolling over and groaning with pain from bruised and cramped limbs. Carver issued instructions for everyone not providing aid to others to stay strapped in.
Fuller clambered across and up the seat backs to check on the President. Hannaford had settled in against the seat frame and was quietly checking the President’s vitals with a BioMeter. She smiled at the President, “All looks good sir. You just need to rest now.” She looked over to Hayes. “May I check your vitals Mr Hayes?”
He looked at her gratefully and held his arm out across the President’s lap. The President turned his head slightly. “Aw Chuck. Didn’t know you cared!” The three of them started laughing until Hannaford looked up and saw Fuller.
“All in order Colonel. Mr Hayes is looking good.” She took the BioMeter and packed it away. The President nodded at Fuller. “You have quite a team of young lions here Colonel Fuller. I understand that they are our best High School graduates with no formal space training and yet here they are taking over our survival. The young man behind us with his fuel bomb and reaction mass conservation, and Miss Hannaford here keeping us out of trouble a few minutes ago. Congratulations Colonel. An outstanding effort.”
“Thank you Mr President. We all have to look out for each other now. You and your staff were at quite a disadvantage without youniforms and buddies. We will have to rectify that as soon as we can. Please try and rest now while I go and check on the rest of our passengers.”
The President and Hayes, both recovered from the ordeal, were quietly talking. Shaw, sitting directly behind, could not help overhearing their discussion about the failure of the Anti-matter device. Neither the President nor Hayes had the scientific background to accurately analyze the catastrophic outcome and determine a reason for the calamity. Shaw reached over the seat back and touched Hayes on the shoulder.
“Excuse me sir. I don’t mean to be eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I have a theory as to why the AMD caused the effect, not that it really matters now. May I explain?”
Both men half turned to see Shaw. “Go ahead cadet... Aren’t you the young man who devised the fuel bomb?”
“Yes sir.”
“OK. Let’s hear your ideas please.”
“Mr President, Mr Hayes, can you think back to the days of terrorist threats of dirty nuclear bombs? This is before my time of course, but I have read about the concept. It is not a nuclear explosion in a real sense, but a conventional explosive used to scatter deadly radioactive material over a wide area, causing slow radiation sickness and devastating the population and land.
Now to the AMD. The Laws of Conservation state that the energy produced when matter annihilates anti-matter is defined by the Einsteinian equation of “Energy is equal to the mass times the square of the speed of light.” In theory the amount of energy release is huge and absolute with no radioactive fallout, but it is finite. The explosion should happen and finish.
In this case, the first time an AMD has been tested and unfortunately in real use, we have had a design flaw and ended up with the equivalent of an AMD dirty bomb.
I believe that the reaction between the matter-anti-matter masses was too slow and that equal particles of both matter types were dispersed into the atmosphere. The matter was inconsequential however the interspersed anti-matter particle cloud was the danger.
Anti-matter exists is our universe in infinitesimal amounts, but clearly enough for our scientists to have gathered mass for the AMD. There is a theory, which now seems to have been substantiated in the worst possible way, that anti-matter is created and constant in the universe. Every time one particle is destroyed, a new particle “appears”. The physics behind this theory is challenging and I could not begin to explain it here, but it supports the concept of “creation from nothing.” Sounds like magic but it is real. Any questions so far?”
“Please go on Mr Shaw.” The President said.
“The constant creation theory could not be tested at this time as we still have no idea where the replacement anti-matter will appear in the universe. Furthermore, conservation of energy dictates that the replacement anti-matter must maintain the energy balance and take in energy equivalent to half that released at the point of annihilation.
Sirs, I believe that the silver cloud we see is the creation interface of anti-matter replicating and absorbing energy from the surroundings, thus the lightning flashes. The anti-matter interface should be at extremely low temperature, possible close to absolute zero, as the energy is converted back into anti-matter.
What puzzled me the most is why the creation front kept growing. Why didn’t it stop? It appears that the anti-matter is increasing and not staying constant. I have a theory about that based on statistical particle physics. There appears to be a sympathetic reaction between subatomic particles that defies our conventional idea of space time relationship. Experimenters over 20 years ago were able to strike a particle with a gamma particle and the particle pair in a remote location would emit a photon at exactly the same instant as the photon emission from the target particle.
Based upon these real observations, I am postulating that the concentration of the AMD explosion has caused a nexus in our universe that attracts the sympathetic reaction of remote anti-matter destruction throughout the universe. We have attracted all the anti-matter in creation like a magnet attracts iron filings. Past this point there is no projection as to where things will go. That’s it Mr President.”
The President took in a breath and looked at Shaw in astonishment. “Pardon me for asking, and I do not doubt you Mr Shaw, but how old are you?”
“Eighteen sir.”
“And how did you reach this level of knowledge and capability that people twice your age do not achieve?”
“Sir, only because you ask, my assessed IQ is 195. The tests did not cater for my level of IQ and eidetic memory. I have a God given gift and I intend to use it. My associate Felicity Hannaford is not far behind me sir, and the rest of the cadets are all the top of their schools. We have no shortage of intelligence, just a lack of experience.”
“Well Mr Shaw, I guess we are all in the same boat as to experience right now. I am grateful that we have you and your group as survivors. Maybe we have a chance.”
“Thank you sir.”
The President scratched his nose in thought for a moment. “Mr Shaw, I didn’t miss your comment of “thank God”. Did God do this to us?”
“Mr President, we had a society based upon belief in God that had its roots stretching back thousands of years. We believed in the Bible and the stories of the Flood, the Exodus and all the miracles that accompanied this theology. Why should we stop believing now? This is as valid in human existence as were the Ten Plagues in Egypt or the splitting of the Red Sea.
There are no half measures. One either believes or does not. I choose to believe that our situation is God’s will.”
“All the population of Earth destroyed? God’s will?”
“Sir, He made us, He can do as He wants with us. It remains to be seen if the population was destroyed or sent to a better place. Your questions reveal self doubt and internalization of this catastrophe. See I used a negative word, catastrophe. It is one from our perspective, but we are like fish in a goldfish bowl. We can’t even imagine what is outside the bowl. A net comes in and scoops up some fish. The others run away and wonder if those lost are cat food. In fact they are in a much larger tank with great freedom. Who knows? So I choose to follow the belief in God that is supported by a philosophy of non-interference unless absolutely necessary.”
“And you don’t see this as necessary?”
“I am not God Mr President. Neither are you sir.”
“The President looked back at Shaw with a smile.”I hope I never have to run against you for President Mr Shaw. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
Shaw grinned and then turned suddenly at a cry of distress from behind. It was Amy Young who had been going around checking the presidential staff. She was clinging to the aisle seat frame next to the Secretary of State. “I need emergency care here. Oxygen and defibrillator. I do not have a pulse and my BioMeter is telling me thirty seconds to brain death.”
“Amy!” Shaw cried out, “Do exactly as I tell you! Put your fingers in her mouth and pull her jaw open!”
Amy clambered over the arm rests and secured herself precariously, taking precious seconds. “OK I’ve done that.” She called out.
“Put your mouth over her mouth and pinch her nostrils closed, then blow into her mouth to inflate her lungs. Let the air come out naturally. Do this three times quickly.”
Amy frantically applied the breath transfer while trying to fight the acceleration drag. “Done!”
“Pull your youniform hood over her head and apply the breathing again. Felicity is heading your way with a HeartStart. What is the BioMeter saying now?”