Prometheus and the Dragon (Atlas and the Winds Book 2) (35 page)

Her satphone beeped, interrupting her replaying of the conversation in her mind. She looked at the caller ID. The Japanese Center for Environmental Studies. The time was close to midnight. Why would they be calling at this hour?

“Hiroko Tamami,” she said, clipping the headset over her ear.

“Dr. Tamami, this is Jason Yakamoto,” he said, like she should recognize his name. “I’m sorry to be calling you at this late hour, but we’re tracking a substantial cloud of radiation that will be arriving at the Osaka Launch Center in about seventy-five minutes. Can you get to your ship and clear out before then?”

“A substantial cloud?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”

“Not enough to be immediately life threatening by any means, but enough to be of concern for those expecting to live more than a few more weeks,” he said.

She blinked in surprise. “Where did it come from?” she asked, standing up.

“One of our nuclear plants was compromised,” he said. “Apparently the Director decided to commit suicide rather than face Antu. In the process he vented the main steam line into the atmosphere.”

“Is there going to be an evacuation?” she asked, heading into her room and grabbing her bag from under the bed. She started throwing clothes into it and then stopped herself.

“What’s the point?” he said. “The only ones we’re evacuating are colonists. Everyone else won’t be alive by the time the radiation starts to have any effect.”

“That’s a cold-hearted thing to say,” she said, anger flashing into her tone.

“I didn’t make the decision,” he said. “I’m just relaying the message.”

She bit down on her rage. Of course it wasn’t his place to make the call. Somebody higher up would have to make that kind of determination. “Sorry,” she said, guilt commingling with anger and softening her tone. “I’ll be there.”

She dumped her clothes out of the bag and started refilling it with pictures and other mementos of her life. She stripped the walls and the shelves quickly, and shutting off the light, she slipped out. She scrawled a note on a piece of paper and left it on a countertop where they would see it in the morning. “I love you, I’ll call you when I get there.”

She glanced around and saw something else she should take. She walked over to the cabinet where her great-grandfather’s sword sat in the same rack it had been in since before she was born. Beneath it was the handwritten journal of his life as an Imperial Guard. She hesitated only an instant before she slipped the leather-bound book into her bag and tucked the sword under her arm.

Opening the door, she scanned the room once more, knowing this was the last time she’d ever see her childhood home. With a heavy sigh, she shut off the light and closed the door on her past.

From here on, she only had one direction for her life; forward.

***

New Hope Colony, Plato:

“We’ve got an inbound Chinese lander asking for clearance,” Randy Markham said, twisting over his shoulder to look at General Marquez.

“Excuse me?” he said, breaking off his conversation with Susan. “A Chinese lander?”

“Yes sir,” he said. “It’s a small three-man skimmer. They identified themselves before we had them on radar. They’re moving very slowly so we have time to respond before they look threatening.”

“Did they say what they want?” Marquez said. He looked back at Susan and shrugged. They’d been discussing trying to talk to the Chinese, so it seemed strange they’d be showing up as if on command.

“Negative sir,” Randy said. “The woman identified herself as Becki Czao, and she was hoping to meet with our Base Commander.”

“Czao? The Prefect’s wife? She did all the media work during the
Zhen-Long
launch,” Susan said, joining them.

“Should I clear her to land?” he said.

“Sure,” Marquez said. “Have Dr. Anthony join us at the docking facility. This should be interesting.”

***

South of Plato:

Becki sat staring out the window at the gray landscape. This was her first trip out of Chang Er since she’d arrived on the moon. She fought to control her excitement, but at the same time she struggled with her realization that this was what her future would be. All of it. For the rest of her life.

Beside her, Lin-Tzu sat staring out the opposite side of the small craft. She’d been outside several times, but seemed as interested in the lunar surface as she was. Perhaps it was because she’d never been this far from home. “What’s that?” Becki asked, pointing out her window toward a pile of construction materials. Several dozen astronauts were working to assemble something substantial.

Lin-Tzu leaned over and shrugged. “It appears to be a tower of some sort. It is too massive to be a radio repeater.” Several of the pieces looked vaguely familiar, and ominous. Almost like weapons.

“Madam Ambassador, they have cleared us for landing,” the pilot said. “They will have an official delegation waiting for you at the airlock.”

***

New Hope Colony, Plato:

The hatch on the Lander did not mate up with the US connecting tube, so the Chinese delegation had to suit up to make the transfer to the airlock. It wasn’t surprising, most everyone on the lunar surface had learned to live with the idea that their hardware was incompatible with everyone else’s.

As the two women cycled through the lock, Carter arrived. He’d been asleep when they’d called for him to meet them, and he’d barely had a chance to get dressed, let alone comb his hair and brush his teeth. Susan looked at him and grinned. “We’re about to make history, and you look like you’ve been up all night.” She winked, and he blushed in spite of himself.

He was trying to come up with a snappy comeback when the inner door opened, and he suddenly wished he’d taken a little more time making himself presentable. “Hello, I’m Becki Czao and this is Lynn Sue Yao, the head of our colony’s Security Division.”

“Hello Madam Prefect,” Susan said. “I’m Governor Winslow, this is General Marquez and—“

“Dr. Anthony,” she finished, offering her hand. “I attended one of your astronomy workshops at the Palomar Observatory. I was a student at UCLA then, and found your presentation on NEO’s fascinating.” She shrugged. “Almost prophetic now that I think about it.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “I thought I detected a California accent in your English.”

“I studied there for six years,” she said. “It’s hard to learn English in California and not sound like you grew up in the Valley.”

“Fer sure,” he said. They both laughed at his exaggerated knock-off of the cliché valspeak catchphrase.

“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Susan interrupted, trying to put them on track, “to what do we owe this visit?”

“Of course.” She smiled casually. “I need to be right up front and tell you we’re here in an informal capacity. My husband and the pilot who brought us here are the only ones in our government who are aware of this little visit.”

Marquez shot Susan a significant raised eyebrow. “We’re here to discuss how to diffuse the present tensions between our colonies, and to keep them from escalating. We’d also like to explore ways to open the channels for future discussions between all the people here on the lunar surface. A time is coming when we may very well represent the entirety of our respective governments, and we have a responsibility to our people to live in peace. The actions we take need to be correct for us, and not reflect our previous political prejudices.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Susan said. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere more appropriate. If you want to get out of your suits, there are coveralls in the locker room. We’ll wait for you at the end of the hall.”

“I have a terrible favor to ask,” Becki said. “You don’t by any chance have any way to make a pizza do you? I haven’t had one of those since I left Hollywood.”

Susan laughed. “We’ll see what we can do.”

The two women had just disappeared through the doors when Marquez said, “Are you buying this?” He didn’t sound skeptical, more awestruck.

“I hope they’re sincere,” she said. “But I don’t know what we can discuss until Washington sends Dick Rogers up here to talk to them.”

“It can’t hurt to listen to what they have to say,” Carter said. “Find out what they’re selling, and then tell them we’ll think about it.”

“That’s going to be hard to do, and you know it. She’s as American as apple pie, and as sweet as ice cream on a hot summer day,” Marquez said, sarcastically.

“What bothers me is I remember that workshop, but don’t remember seeing her, and I’m sure she would have made a real impression on me.” Carter grinned.

“Come on Horndog,” Susan said, grabbing his arm and turning him toward the door. “Maybe she didn’t have boobs and wore braces back then.”

“And you have to remember she’s sleeping with the enemy,” Marquez said. “Maybe she is the enemy.”

***

Bangkok, Thailand:

The
Archangel
Gabriel
sat in the middle of a soccer stadium on the outskirts of the city. As with all the flights of the Archangel Mission, it had arrived without fanfare, without publicity, with only a whispered message sent to several orphanages, and word of mouth to announce its presence.

They’d come in after dark, landing and setting up temporary barricades around the ship. By morning the field was jammed with thousands of people, and the guards that traveled with the ship were in place, watching the crowd with tired but wary eyes. They’d all done this for months. They knew the process.

Begin with the medical screening, then post the lists of who passed health criterion. From there, whittle it down to children in family groups, with a special emphasis on the four-to-sixteen age range. Each mission, the focus age shifted a bit to make sure the right demographic balance was maintained in the colony. The ship’s AI ultimately made the decisions on who got the ticket based on a whole range of objective data. It kept the emotional bias of the team from crushing the life out of them.

It was still brutal work, having to stare into the hopeful faces day after day, week after week. How do you tell a mother that her child doesn’t get to live because she’s not the right age, or because she had a childhood disease that still slumbered in her body? Look into the eyes of a father-to-be and try to explain that his young pregnant wife can’t go because she’s carrying a genetic defect that will make her child, and their future descendents, blind?

No single member of the intake team had been with the mission from the first day. The tears they all cried eroded their souls until all had fallen by the wayside. New medics and clerical people slipped into the seats, and the Archangels kept flying, damming the tide of refugees, and allowing only a trickle of hope to flow onward.

No one, not even the ship’s crew, who never came in direct contact with the public, slept a whole night without waking in a cold sweat, staring into the face of madness, and seeing a child’s eyes staring back at them. Glen Warner was no exception to the nightmares as he struggled to keep an emotional distance between those children he was to be carrying to Sentinel, and his own feelings. He and Sophie had no children, not because he didn’t want them, but because they never had time. Now he wondered if he had a right to want children of his own. There were so many out there, in every city of the world, who had a right to live, and would never get the chance.

He tried to focus on the report on the screen, a news update from the Colony. More than a gossip rag and less than a formal newspaper or broadcast, it was usually an interesting read. Today the latest info from Sentinel seemed distant, almost as far as the moon had seemed a few years ago, removed from his reality by an impenetrable void.

In the background, his First Officer was listening to the security com traffic. Talia Goldstonne was a strong woman, the kind that would have intimidated Glen if he hadn’t already been married to a strong woman who had taught him to stand his ground. Talia stood almost six feet three inches tall and looked like the embodiment of a Norse Valkyrie. She was a good woman to have at your back, but sometimes Glen wished she was a little less determined to be perfect in her job.

Giving up on reading, he closed the file and walked over to the windows to look out on the field. “It’s a hell of a job, isn’t it?” he said, not really expecting her to answer.

“Some days,” she said, walking over and leaning against him casually. They’d never been intimate, but if she’d wanted it, he’d have been willing. Sophie had been with other men often enough for him to be comfortable with the idea that it wouldn’t have an impact on their relationship. Today as she leaned against him, it felt more like she was wrapping an arm around him, and protecting him from the world outside. They were all worn to an emotional edge that made them more than crewmates, but for now they let it happen. They’d sort it out later, when they got through to the other side.

Suddenly she tensed, crushing him against the wall like a startled horse. “What did he say?” she asked, jumping to her console and turning up the volume.