Rogue Command (The Kalahari Series) (12 page)

The room fell silent at the realisation of such a catastrophe. The feeling was one of mourning but also helplessness – the distances involved, the planning, the investment, and the human tragedy. Bryant held his head in his hands. He knew only too well the consequences. The impromptu woe was interrupted by muted, but impassioned conversations emanating from the visual display. Presently General Roper spoke: “Can the Science Federation delegate hear me, please?”

“Yes, I’m here, I’m filing a report. This is so difficult to believe – when should we give up all hope?”

General Roper remained on screen, but it was a voice carrying Indian overtones that came over the speaker.

“That time has already passed, sir,” Brian Grant replied sombrely. “We explored and exhausted all avenues before requesting this meeting. I’m afraid there is no hope. However, there is one other course of action that we can take – perhaps the only one that will confirm the fate of the
Hera
. Arrangements are already in hand.”

“And what is that!” barked Roper.

“The deep space probe
Arius
is returning from almost twenty-three years in space where she explored and photographed the outer regions of our solar system. As luck would have it she is about eight days from Jupiter at her present velocity. I have requested an acceleration and course change from the mission control centre in Strasbourg. We hope for a close fly-by later next week. But again, the probe will need to clear the planet’s electromagnetic field before relaying the data. It could be the end of next month before we receive any images of Io’s surface.”

“A month!” Roper barked again.

“General, the best we can hope for is a plumic wormhole. They develop occasionally in the plasma torus – the name given to the field of electromagnetic energy that surrounds Io. We see them from time to time, but we don’t know the mechanics behind these phenomena and so they are impossible to predict. Otherwise, yes, it could be a month.”

“You will need to be mindful of debris in close orbit; there will be a belt of contamination.” Richard said.

Grant nodded. “The fly-by will be as close as possible consistent with safety. There may be enough fuel for one orbit, but that has yet to be calculated.”

The room fell silent again until General Roper spoke. “I’ve just had this week’s report on the Kalahari crystal function. The document comes from the International Energy Commission, so you must already be in receipt of it. It’s not looking good, Gentlemen. The power output from the three satellite reactors is falling month by month. Not only that, the primary crystal in France is apparently showing signs of stress – possibly due to surface fissuring. Without being hardnosed about this, the loss of the
Hera
will be felt in more ways than one. Without the crystals she was supposed to retrieve, the world grid will suffer a catastrophic electricity shortfall as early as August next year. That’s a little over eight months from now, people. This is our wakeup call! The directorate is stating that demand must be moderated. Individual states will need to impose further cuts, bring back rationing. William, what’s the UK’s stance on this?”

“Oil and gas are all but depleted here, General. It’s the same throughout the region. The UK is almost totally reliant on electricity from the world grid. Continental Europe will close down at the same time as we do. Civilisation as we know it will not be sustainable – subsistence living for those who are underground will be the best we can hope for. I predict a return to the Stone Age!”

“In many quarters the rule of law and order is already breaking down,” threw in the Home Secretary. Nodding his agreement with William Bryant’s appraisal he looked at Admiral Hughes. “There may be a necessity for military intervention. News of the
Hera
’s loss could be a catalyst for unrest the world over.”

“Then from a security stand point I suggest we put a block on this, at least until we receive the imagery from the probe. Then we will know one way or the other. I strongly recommend Level Five.” Rothschild looked directly at the visual of General Roper. “At the moment, I suggest selected Heads of State only – we cannot afford any leaks.”

Roper understood Rothschild’s reasoning and his diplomacy. “Let’s think positively about this Gentlemen. We need a plan to present to the forum and quickly.” He checked his watch. “We also need to move forward with the plutonium outrage. Clearly, we are dealing with the worst kind of criminal intent – one where human life means nothing. We need to get some undercover work going here, maybe get Interpol involved. I’m going to authorise a CIB investigation immediately, and Peter, I want MI9 in on it too. There is a lot at stake. God-damn-it, I’m getting a bad feeling about this!”

“General, with all due respect,” Richard said forcefully, “there are only two ways that a nuclear warhead could have been deployed against the
Hera
. First, the device was placed aboard during the modification work that took place when she was docked alongside Spaceport Two – system upgrading that was essential for the extended mission to Jupiter. That way she sailed with the bomb already on board! In my view and knowing the security and screening measures that are in place for all space programmes, this scenario is extremely unlikely. Second, and I think most likely, the warhead was delivered by a long-range interplanetary probe . . . a missile! Never done before, I agree, but entirely feasible considering the technical abilities of certain conglomerates around the world. These are unscrupulous companies that have used their industrial and financial advantage before, and come very close to gaining control of world energy supplies.” Richard leant towards the monitor; his body language pressed his point. “General Roper, sir, there is a clear motive. The crystals we have in service are about to run out of steam. Consequently, there will be a massive electricity supply shortfall and accordingly, as a resource, it’s going to become very, very, expensive.” He paused to take stock. “We are talking a power vacuum on a global scale, sir, and the conglomerates, one way or another, mean to fill it.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Commander, but to get a long-range missile into space without being detected is impossible. Past our satellite ring, the detectors . . . no, it’s just not achievable.”

“Sir, Tongsei Heavy Industries pulled their interplanetary mineral barge out of mothballs at the beginning of this year. Then they commenced a six-month renovation period in high orbit. Permission was correctly applied for and it was duly approved by the ISSF – so no legality questions. What followed was an extensive refit. I know because I flew past the vessel on a weekly basis and watched its progress. They also added capacity by increasing its length. Pre-formed sections of superstructure, materials and spare parts were constantly being delivered from Earth. All this was approved by the Federation because the barge was to resume essential mineral trading with the lunar colony. It would have been easy to construct a spacecraft inside the hull during that period and let it drift off into space for a few thousand miles before igniting the main drive. I’d say it was the perfect cover . . . entirely feasible. What worries me is what else they have in mind!”

“You are overlooking one important fact, Commander,” countered General Roper, “and that is that essential information would be needed relating to the
Hera
’s programme in order to make good any contact. Timings, orbital coordinates, manoeuvring details, landing profiles . . . gaining that information would entail a major security breech. And anyway, such a missile or probe would need to be remote-controlled from Earth; pre-programming just wouldn’t work, there are too many variables. Such control would be impossible because of the electromagnetic interference zone around Io.”

Richard looked at Peter Rothschild for support on the security issue. Rothschild was reluctant, but he said: “You know my thoughts on this subject, General. I’ve been convinced for some time that we have security problems with SERON.”

General Roper looked off screen momentarily and then back at Rothschild. “Well there is no breach at this end – I can assure you of that!” he scolded.

Richard interrupted. “Sir, what if the craft was controlled by mechanicals? The Humatron series was initially developed to relieve humans on extended space missions and perform repetitive command and control tasks on orbiting space vessels. The HU40 model is Level Seven, self-aware and fully capable, as we know. I’m aware that all the remaining units were destroyed and further production banned in 2050, following their illegal use by Epsilon Rio and Spheron operatives, but who’s to say that these corporations aren’t up to their old tricks again?”

Rothschild put a hand on Richard’s arm and leaned towards him. “Let’s not go down that road just yet . . . there is no proof.” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“I said, General, that there is no proof as to the wrongdoing of the former conglomerate trio. As far as the international community is concerned they are operating and trading within the law. However, I do feel that an investigation into their activities is in order – including Epsilon Rio’s facility in Brazil.”

Roper nodded. “Very well, but it is not a priority as far as I am concerned.” He looked at Professor Nieve. “Professor, what do you think – would such a mission to Jupiter’s moon be possible, and if so why?”

“The science of robotics continues apace, General, and it would be naive of us to think that all advances remain within the jurisdiction of the New Geneva Convention . . . In my opinion, such an enterprise is entirely conceivable, although why anyone would wish to sabotage a consignment of crystals arriving here is another question entirely. Greed . . . power . . . yes, I can see that.”

Richard’s eyes widened. There was another motive, another reason, and he went to speak, but felt Rothschild’s restraining hand on his arm again. He looked across, Rothschild shook his head, and Richard remained silent.

Laura Bellingham, who had stepped outside in order to take a telephone call, returned looking somewhat alarmed. She closed the door quietly behind her and joined the group, pulling her seat up closely behind Rothschild so that she could whisper into his ear. Richard, who was listening to William Bryant give a more specific appraisal of the UK’s energy reserves, caught the look of panic in her eye.

General Roper looked up from his notes. “What is it Peter . . . something we all should know?”

“Er, yes sir, I think so. We have the Duty Manager at the ALMA submillimetre deep space facility in Chile on the red line. He has been patched through with a Code One prefix.” Rothschild paused and looked anxiously at the faces around the table – they stared back at him in anticipation. “Gentlemen . . . he is calling for
Icarus Critical
. We may need to go public!”

CHAPTER 7

Beginning of the End

The air was filled with heated conversation. More people had been alerted and they now crowded the room.
They’ve all climbed out of their boxes; the entire building’s population seems to have arrived,
thought Richard. They stood and discussed and agreed and disagreed. Some raised their voices and some jostled for a better position for seeing the screen. Essence of anxiety permeated the gathering. Richard shuffled closer towards the table in order to avoid another elbow in the back of his head. Presently, Rothschild, who was still sitting on Richard’s left, finished a telephone conversation so engrossing as to make him oblivious to the scale of disorder. He replaced the telecom in his jacket pocket, stood and raised his hands in order to quell the unease. The commotion subsided. Admiral Hughes, who was a head above most in the room gave a hand signal for Grenville to shut the door, who did so with a loud clunk, resentful to be shutting himself off from the action. A wave of restlessness crested again.

“Gentleman – Ladies and Gentlemen – quiet please,” Rothschild begged. “We need to establish the facts. We have patched the facility manager through on Line Seven. He is live from Chile . . . on screen now. Some quiet please!”

A central dividing line instantly split the large screen in two halves and relegated General Roper to the right-hand side. On the left appeared a dark-haired man wearing white coveralls over a dark blue roll neck pullover. There was an embroidered badge with an insignia over his breast pocket. The man had a Mediterranean appearance and heavy black stubble. His eyes had the look of a long night – one staring at computer displays and analysing data. The background was brightly lit; a large facility with pristine electronics that looked the business.

“Mr Grillo, can you hear me? This is London calling.”

“Yes I can, yes, no problem . . . it’s a good signal.”

“My name is Peter Rothschild. You are through to an International Space and Science Delegation that includes Washington DC – Level Three security clearance. We are in receipt of your Code One message. You have initiated the
Icarus Critical
protocol. We would like some facts before mobilising national governments.”

“I understand, Mr Rothschild. Be assured that we have ticked every box and have fully complied with procedures. There is no doubt; something is coming this way and it’s coming in fast.”

“Be specific, please . . . How big? How fast? . . . When?”

“We can’t see it yet, sir, it is too far away. We are seeing the distortion that it makes in the space continuum. Liken it to a bow wave in front of an ocean-going vessel. That’s what we are tracking, only in electrophoretic terms . . . by that I mean the movement of charged particles in the ‘fluid’ of space.

“So how big, Mr Grillo, how big is it?”

“We are confused about that at the moment, the sums are not adding up. We have another submillimetre facility in Australia checking our calculations – they are as confused as we are . . . sorry.”

“Give me an indication, Mr Grillo.”

The man paused as he tried to set his measurements and his theories into layman’s terms. He knew the repercussions that would follow if he was right and if he was wrong. . . . “It’s the kind of disturbance we would expect to see in front of a comet – a large shockwave that disturbs the unified flux of space. An asteroid doesn’t do that . . . I think, sir,” he said, with a voice that trailed away, “. . . that it is a comet!”

The crowd instinctively gasped. A wave of mumblings rose to a crescendo.

“And it’s damn well coming this way?” interjected General Roper from the screen.

The room fell silent.

“This is what we can’t understand. There is no angular displacement . . . no apparent diffraction – not that we can measure. No gravity-biased curvature to its trajectory, or any indication of a long-cycle elliptical flight path that we would expect with a comet. To put it simply, it is moving directly towards us – no deviation. Like a missile, right on the nose!”

Rothschild raised his hands to quell the ensuing furore. “How far away is it? How long do we have – your best call?” Rothschild’s expression was grave.

Grillo bowed his head for a moment, as if embarrassed by his science. He looked up slowly. The room in Whitehall brimmed with troubled anticipation. “Normally we can measure the speed of a body in space quite accurately, even if it is moving directly towards us or directly away from us. We do this by measuring the effect – the reflection if you like – that the body has on its surroundings, its influence on matter in the near vicinity. Or at great distances we can triangulate, take fixes, using stars that are so distant as to appear perfectly stationary. This object is like nothing we have seen before – it is not conforming to the normal laws of physics.”

“Can you be more specific, please?” asked Professor Nieve, who was clearly conversant with the methods the scientist had mentioned.

Augusto Grillo, who was apparently looking into a dual camera and monitor system, acknowledged the Professor. “Professor Nieve, I’m honoured, sir,” he said respectfully. His face tightened and he looked back at Rothschild. “At the moment this object is extremely distant; our sensors only detected it a few hours ago. It was on the limits for something of that size. To be more precise, it’s approximately four light years away. But . . .”

“Then there is no threat,” interrupted Professor Nieve, looking surprised, “a comet moving at a nominal two hundred and eighty thousand kilometres per hour will take approximately . . .” He did a calculation in his head. “. . . fifteen thousand five hundred years to get here.”

“Normally, that would be correct, sir. But this object is moving much faster than any known comet, and that includes short-period comets that are influenced by stellar gravity – we’ve not tracked anything travelling at this speed before.”

“Go on,” invited Rothschild.

“What we are seeing is a disturbance in the universal equilibrium – a distortion, if you like, in the fabric of space and time. As I said, liken it to the bow wave of a ship at sea, a wave of water that eddies back from the pinnacle – a wedge-shaped deformation. We are seeing this disturbance intermittently at the moment, about eighty per cent of the time. When we do, we have measured it travelling at the speed of light itself – give or take a few thousandths of a decimal point.”

“There must be some mistake,” protested Professor Nieve.

The remark instigated a number of mumblings and was followed by noticeable unrest that seemed to well within the gathering.

“There is clearly an anomaly in your calculations, Mr Grillo,” concurred another man, his voice originating from the screen. The speaker had a strong French accent and the words
Doctor E Taminiaux – Deputy Chief Scientist ISSF
appeared in large font.

“There is no mistake, no anomaly, Gentlemen; we have checked our work meticulously and have run several simulations,” explained Grillo cautiously. “Although it is true, there
is
something happening here that we do not fully understand.”

“Is it something to do with the intermittency of contact?” enquired Richard, speculatively.

Grillo nodded, grateful for an ally. “Yes, we think so. You see, we are only able to track the disturbance when it is travelling at sub light speed. Intermittently, we measure a small acceleration that results in light speed actually being achieved. At that moment the disturbance, and the object that creates it, just disappears. And then there is serenity in the space–time continuum again; as if a tear has been simultaneously repaired. When we next see the disturbance it is, by nature, at sub light speed again – only fractionally, but nonetheless, apparent. The object appears to ride on the cusp of light speed, like a surfer on the crest of a wave. However, and this is of prime importance to us, during the period when the disturbance is not visible, it traverses vast distances . . . millions upon millions of kilometres. That is why I have instigated
Icarus Critical
. I cannot say for sure when it will arrive in our solar system because we cannot predict its progress accurately.”

Professor Nieve rubbed his chin. “I guess you have a theory, don’t you Mr Grillo, but it’s steeped in theoretical science and not one you consider relevant to this briefing?”

Grillo nodded. A woman came into the picture frame, she wore a similar uniform and she passed Grillo an electronic tablet reader. “Thank you Marijs,” he said. He read the report and looked up slowly. “We have it currently at a little over three light years away,” he reported, clearly surprised at what he was relaying. “I can only reiterate – no comet, asteroid or meteorite has ever been tracked travelling at such a speed, not anywhere in the universe!”

“Is it being pulled towards us by the sun?” someone asked from the crowd.

Professor Nieve shook his head emphatically. “No gravitational effect can achieve such a result. Not even that of a white dwarf. Not even from a black hole. To fly at such a speed requires a propulsion system. To fly such a course requires a navigation system . . .” He rubbed his brow thoughtfully. “To control such a trajectory requires a deep understanding of the laws of physics.” He looked up. “Mr Grillo, you are considering Einstein’s Unified Field Theory, am I not right?”

Grillo shook his head almost apologetically. “Hayden’s Second Law, to be absolutely correct, Professor, although elements of the Field Theory have been utilised and also of course, Newton’s hypotheses on momentum. As you are aware, Hayden’s work twenty years ago greatly progressed, amongst other things, the concept of
parallel dimensions
. It is theoretical, Professor, and perhaps this is not the time for theories, but yes, I think we are seeing these effects in practical terms.”

Rothschild raised his hand to attract Grillo’s attention. “For the layman, if you please, what does this law postulate?”

“Hayden’s Second Law relates to travel at light speed; it theorises the forces at work during such an occurrence. It states that ED equals MT divided by TTP squared, where ED is Equivalent Dimension – in this case the fourth dimension – and MT is the Metric Tensor and TTP is the Topology of the space–time paradox – like a time constant.”

“And what does that mean exactly?” questioned Rothschild impatiently.

“Hayden speculated that travelling at light speed and above would cause friction within the interactive fabric of space and time. This in turn would cause energy distortions and possibly tears in the natural flux of the universe. You see, normally there is an energy constant in space – we call it a
flux value
. A lot of factors contribute to it – gamma radiation, solar winds and matter distribution, to name a few. Perhaps
tear
is too harsh a word . . . maybe an opening, a portal, a door, if you like. Hayden hypothesised that by passing through such a door another dimension could be reached . . . the fourth dimension! Within that dimension the laws of physics are not the same. The concept of time is different for one thing: years could appear as seconds, centuries as minutes – there’s no correlation between the two realities. We know that jumps in time have already occurred. Take, for example, the first proven time traveller – the American astronaut Tom Race. He’s in the history books.” Grillo looked at Professor Nieve for confirmation.

Professor Nieve nodded. “Yes . . . proven beyond doubt. I was there myself, when we discovered the anomaly.”

Richard interrupted the conversation by raising his hand. “What you’re saying is that this object, as it sporadically obtains the speed of light, drifts into another reality, and that’s why it keeps disappearing. And this reality is one where there is a different time reference. And because distance travelled is directly related to time . . . in this case the time reference of the fourth dimension . . . then huge tracts of space can be covered in what to us here on Earth is a relatively short period.”

Grillo nodded.

“So three light years could be peanuts, right? I mean such an enormous distance, trillions of miles, could be travelled in . . . months or weeks, or days even?”

Grillo nodded again. “Controlled excursions into the fourth dimension could enable this opportunity, yes. It may be the key to travelling to other galaxies in a man’s lifetime.” He took a breath and put a hand behind his head for a moment. “What I am trying to say is that travelling at the speed of light appears to challenge the established mass and energy premise. That is, it actually seems to defy Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.”

A voice interrupted. “The reality in question here is that if this object smacks into us at the speed you are describing – and even if it is relatively small in size – we are curtains.”

Rothschild turned to the gathering with a frown of disapproval.

“Gentlemen,” Grillo continued, impassively, “be in no doubt that this disturbance, this body, is on a collision course with the Earth. The sun has no influence. By whatever means, it has both speed and direction; the resulting velocity vector allows us no hope and no luck. Although there are signs of a general deceleration, because it appears to be spending more time when it is visible to us, our simulations show a direct hit. As to where, exactly, the impact will occur on the surface of this planet, it is too soon to say.” Grillo breathed a deep sigh. “I am sorry to pass on such news,” he concluded.

The room fell ominously silent. Rothschild rubbed his brow and ran his hand over his head. Another catastrophe loomed. “Mr Grillo, please,” he said, sombrely. “If this delegation is to instigate the Icarus protocol and inform the heads of state at the forthcoming conference, then we really need to know how long we have got . . . as close as you can . . . your best shot. We know the situation and the limitations you are faced with, but please, give us something to hang our hats on.”

Grillo referred to his tablet reader again and checked the latest data. The figures updated automatically. “Based on current parameters,” he said pensively, “and the latest simulation . . . we have calculated what seems to be an average velocity. I have my reservations and the closing distance is now one point eight light years. That in itself is incredible. My best shot – as you call it – taking into account the apparent deceleration . . .” He paused momentarily. “I would say we have nine days – plus or minus twelve hours.”