“There will be a press briefing next week to announce the results. I recommend tying up loose ends,” instructed the official on his way out.
Aki worried that her heart might be beating erratically. She took a deep breath. When she came to her senses she realized what he meant by tying up loose ends. He was suggesting that she say her goodbyes.
That weekend, Aki visited her parents at their home west of Tokyo for the first time in over six months. She arrived at the station to find all the nearby shops closed. On the twenty-minute walk to the residential neighborhood where her parents lived, she thought she saw people that she recognized, but they neither waved nor smiled. More tired than she had expected from the walk, Aki found her mother working in the vegetable greenhouse in the backyard.
“Where is Father?”
“He bought two cases of dried horse mackerel online. He went to Shimizu to pick it up and will be back soon.”
Retail had collapsed by degrees. Now food was usually sold in bulk by auction over the Internet. While in the garden, trying to coax life into the vegetables that could subsist in diminished sunlight, Aki’s mother brought her up to date on her remaining relatives and the neighbors. Rice, meat, eggs, now even milk, were being rationed across the Pacific Rim. Unlike the black market after World War II, farmers in rural areas were suffering just as much as the rest of the country—food was scarce for everyone now that the days were dimmer. Fish was likely to be rationed next. Shorelines had retreated and ocean currents had become sluggish and irregular, both body blows to the fishing industry. The sudden, drastic changes in weather also caused more accidents at sea. Industrial-grade products that could combat the harsh environmental changes were selling well; maybe survival gear was the only thing keeping the economy afloat. What would her parents do when the limping market collapsed? She worried that she would be too many trillions of kilometers away to be of help when her parents’ electricity was cut off.
Her father came home just after dark. His face was ruddier and hollow now; he had been healthy, even handsome, when he had worked as a manager at an electronics company.
“Let’s grill these up until no one is hungry,” he said as he put a pile of fish on the table. “Let’s ask the neighbors over too. They have not seen Aki in years.”
“They’ll smell the grilling meat and come running whether we tell them or not,” Aki said. “Let’s get the coals going first.”
The three of them sat down at the picnic table. Aki’s parents asked everything they could think of about the Ring. None of the questions were tough. The subtext of the conversation was clear, even though Aki had not told them yet. Aki smiled when she considered the idea that this discussion might not be any worse than the nights when they had encouraged her to get married or move back home.
“When are the Americans sending up that spaceship?” her father finally asked.
“It’s not American. It’s an international collaboration, but being run by NASA,” Aki said, remembering that the dinner conversation was atypical after all. If she was going to break the news, now was the best opportunity she was going to get.
“Actually, since you brought it up…I was afraid to say anything. I am going to be on it.”
“On it?” her mother asked. It was obvious that she did not comprehend.
“Yes. Aboard the spaceship. When it goes up. I found out on Thursday that I have been selected.”
She showed them the letter. It was in English. They did not understand the letter any better than they understood when she told them out loud in Japanese. The reality of the situation eventually began to sink in.
“When will you leave?” asked her mother.
There were no words of protest. Aki was surprised. She had always made her own choices. They had rarely been supportive and had always tried to give guidance that usually ended up being misguidance. She hoped that they did not realize that the chances of the mission being a one-way trip were unfathomably high—it would be best if they could remain ignorant of the dangers to Aki’s safety.
“We will be in training for two years until the ship is ready. Once the mission starts, we will be on board for about eleven months.”
“You will be gone for three years?”
“I am sorry and ashamed. I know that it would be better for me to be here with you with all that is going on, but living in Houston is mandatory for the training. We are allowed to bring our families, and I would like you to come.”
Her parents looked at each other without knowing what to say.
ACT VII: JANUARY 2018
HOUSTON, USA
WHEN AKI HEARD
that the accommodations would be next to Clearwater Lake, she did not imagine a grim view of a desiccated lakebed. The bottoms of abandoned boats and fishing ships were belly up and exposed skyward. The shoreline of the Gulf of Mexico, not far from Houston, had also dried up, and the water had retreated a previously incomprehensible distance from the shore.
As long as Aki had what she needed to survive and prepare for the expedition, it did not matter how bleak her surroundings were. She had a maid to clean up after her, a car with a driver, and even a bodyguard at her disposal. Some felt that putting so much time and energy toward fighting what seemed inevitable, trying to stop the Builders, was not worth it, but Aki had everything she needed. She was committed to the cause. Compared to most of what was left of society, the consortium of governments provided her with enough luxury that it felt excessive.
Her parents decided not to come with her. Rather than live in a country that would feel foreign, they preferred the comfort of their own home and wanted their friends and neighbors close. She had tried to convince them, saying that their relationship with the neighbors might become strained as the environmental situation became more difficult and commodities became scarcer. In return, they had promised to join her if their relations with their neighbors began to degenerate, but she did not believe them. Aki had made her choice and they had made theirs.
If all went as planned, Aki would return from space in three years. Her parents had few doubts that she and her team would destroy the Ring and come home safely in the end even though most everyone else expected the Ring to destroy them instead. It was not something that she let herself focus on. The mission was what mattered.
It was a twenty-minute drive to the Johnson Space Center. Aki had predicted that her daily schedule would involve flying fighter planes, spinning in giant centrifuges, and enduring grueling survival training that included expeditions to the mountains and the sea. That was not the case. She underwent some physical training and occasional simulations, but most of her time was spent in classrooms.
Her training had begun when she first arrived at Johnson. That day, Aki and the other three members of the crew, all male, were gathered in a small meeting room. Then the four crewmembers were divided up into two pairs: the military team and the scientific team. An assistant instructor started the class by saying, “Today, I will not be teaching you. I have asked our two crewmembers from the navy to give some background information instead.”
The program had been designed to have the crewmembers teach one another in order for them to gain familiarity with each other’s specialties. Aki presumed that the instructors also chose this method so that the crew could learn to trust each other before they actually embarked on the mission. The two military crewmembers appeared not to have been told that they would be presenting. They looked at each other quizzically and shrugged their shoulders. Eventually, the older one stood and went to the front.
“I’m Alan Kindersley. I’m fifty-one, and I’ve worked as a ship’s commander for almost as long as at least that one has been alive,” he said, pointing at Aki. His silver hair, Vandyke beard, and overall countenance suggested that he was good-natured but stern.
“Mark and I have been in a navy branch called the silent service. It’s a colloquialism that means we’ve been living in submarines.” As he started talking about cruising speed, Aki thought he sounded so accustomed to giving orders that he didn’t feel compelled to put much authority into his voice. She realized that it would be her job to do what he asked even if it did not sound like a direct order.
“…two kinds of submarines—strategic and assault. A strategic nuclear submarine is a portable missile base. Attacking a submarine is no easy feat. There’s a certain security in serving aboard one because even if all the land bases are destroyed, submarines can remain in action and retaliate. With a sub, you know that you are going to get your revenge.”
Per Jonsson raised his hand. Per was an astrophysicist and planetologist. He and his family took refuge in the U.S. about a year earlier when his native country, Sweden, became completely uninhabitable. He looked almost as old as Kindersley. His facial expressions betrayed tiny moments of despair, a trait common among refugees forced to flee the deadly, and spreading, climate changes. Thankfully, when given information to dwell on or put together, a spark of curiosity would light in his eyes.
“I have always wondered why those ships are called ‘strategic,’” Per said.
“The word describes the level of military action the submarine is capable of participating in. The distinctions among the different levels mean different things to different people, but in order from small to large, the levels are combative, tactical, operational, and strategic,” Commander Kindersley said. “A battle on the strategic level would be an all-out conflict large enough to eliminate a country or two.”
“Interesting. So that is how you saw it, commanding on the strategic level, holding the fate of nations in your hands?” Per asked.
The commander smiled indulgently at Per. Aki wondered if her original assessment of how he commanded was incorrect.
“The sub I commanded was nuclear. The greatest enemies for a nuclear sub, because they are usually far from land, are assault submarines. They attack nuclear submarines. It is what they assault.”
“Fascinating. No weapon is ever big enough to prevent people from getting shot at. What is the point then?” Per interrupted. Aki could not tell if Per lacked social skills or if he was just getting frustrated.
“That’s somewhat correct. The job of an assault submarine is to protect ally strategic subs and destroy enemy assaulters. It’s rare to actually bring those beasts into a battle, but we have to be on our toes, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Radio waves and light are distorted underwater. We rely on sonar to find the enemy. Then we close in gradually. We can’t just rev our engines and head toward them at full speed. If the propeller spins quickly, it causes cavitation, turbulence in the water, that exposes your location and eliminates the element of surprise.”
“I understand why you were selected,” Per said. It was as if he were stopping to make it clear that he understood Commander Kindersley’s authority. Aki had seen older men have these roundabouts before. She hoped this particular tussle was coming to an end.
“I’m glad it makes sense. What I’m trying to tell you is that, when she’s done, our spaceship will have more similarities to my subs than our ship will have to any aircraft. Subs and this spaceship are both propelled by nuclear power and require the crew to live in isolation for months on end while tracking the enemy carefully and quietly. Now I’ll have Officer Mark Ridley explain the daily duties on board an assault submarine. He is one of my most outstanding. I’m happy to work with him even if he’s going to seem a little impulsive to you. The floor’s yours, Mark.”
Mark Ridley moved to the front. His dark hair was cropped close to his scalp, and he wore a look of fearless determination. According to the dossier that Aki had been given, he was thirty-one.
“Thank you, Commander. Uh, I’ve been working as the chief engineer on nuclear subs ever since I was originally stationed on an old Ohio-class strategic sub. After that, I was transferred to an assault sub. I’ll be the engineer on this mission. I think the job of an engineer is pretty similar no matter what kind of ship he’s on. I’ll constantly monitor the nuclear reactor and keep it running, and she’ll be my baby, unless somebody cuter comes along.”
“You will be hard at work manning the control rod and keeping an eye on the status meters?” Per wielded his stylus as if it were a control rod as he asked, getting a good laugh from Mark. Aki liked the way his nose crinkled when he chuckled.
“Yes, spaceships and nuclear subs are highly automated, but the nuclear reactors are critical systems and there’s a lot to stay on top of. At the end of the day, an engineer does what his duties require whether he likes it or not.”
Mark glanced around the room and then exhaled. Aki wondered what he was not saying. Then Aki wondered if anyone else could tell that she was feeling slightly flustered by Mark’s presence.
“The reactor doesn’t turn the propeller directly. It works as a generator that powers a steam turbine, and the turbine actually spins the propeller. The reactor also provides the energy needed to run the electronics and circulate the air. On the ship we’ll be using NERVA III engines that will propel her by blasting out what is the equivalent of steam on a nuclear sub. Our reactor will also power the generator for the electronics, just like on a sub.”
Mark looked at Aki. “This making sense to you, Ms. Shiraishi?”
“Yes, it is clear. Thank you.”
“Good. You’ve been quiet. I wanted to make sure you were following.”