Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (7 page)

“I’d ask why, but I’m sure the answer would involve more incomprehensible scientific jargon,” Tom said. He was the only non-scientist in the discussion.

“So if we can’t stop it, can anybody? What can be done?” Viki asked.

“Not very damn much,” Cole said.

“That’s not entirely true,” Danielle said. “Several years ago, Carter and I circulated a plan to deflect large asteroids by using a series of timed nuclear detonations.”

“That’d be damn complex,” Sophia said. Her eyes were dancing on some distant mental screen, doing calculations of explosive forces.

“The problem is that even if they decide try that, they’ve only got a few months to get it launched,” Danielle said. “There’s a window when the asteroid makes its first pass and after that, our choices are limited.”

“Do you think they can do it?” Daryl said.

Cole shook his head. “It’d take a lot more finesse than Washington’s usually got, and I don’t think they’ve ever understood using delicate force.”

“Point taken,” Tom said. “So what’re they likely to do?"

“Unless Carter gets them to understand, they’ll probably opt to blow it up,“ Danielle answered, “and that’d only make it worse.”

“Where does that leave us?” Viki said. She felt herself sinking into mental quicksand.

“Getting out of the way,” Cole said.

“Everybody?” Viki asked.

“Not everybody,” he said. “Just enough of us to make sure that when the dust settles we can start over.”

“There’s no place on Earth that’s going to be safe,” Danielle said.

“He never said we’d be staying on Earth,” Daryl said.

***

ISS Alpha:

“Roger, Alpha. Thanks for the hospitality.” The radio carried the voice of the shuttle pilot to the station.

“Any time,
Freedom
,” ISS Mission Commander Scott Rutledge said. “We show you clear and free to begin translation maneuver. Have a good run downhill. The bird is all yours.” The hand-off was the critical moment when the station’s Automated Docking System passed flight control over to the
Freedom
. The shuttle had cleared any potential entanglement with the station or its cloud of orbiting supply caches and was back under the management of its own flight computer.

“Copy, Alpha. We’ll see you in a few months. We’re over to Houston to begin OMS sequence.”

Susan Winslow hung beside Scott in the Docking Control Module watching the silhouette of the shuttle diminishing in the distance. Below the station, the
Freedom
rotated into position to start its de-orbit burn. She watched the tail of the shuttle light up as the HSRB’s fired and the slow ballet ended with a shocking plummet. Falling behind the station, the shuttle vanished from view within seconds.

By replacing the solid fuel cartridges before they left the station, the new shuttle design dropped most of its speed well above the atmosphere. It was far safer to slow down under power and eliminate the need for atmospheric braking and its fiery descent through the incinerator of hell.

“Pretty boring wouldn’t you say?” Scott said.

“Not at all,” she said. She’d seen it a hundred times on video during her training, but this was different.
It was right outside the window
.

The
Freedom
would be home in two hours, and she’d finally be on her way.

She was laying over at Alpha before heading uphill to the Promontorium Heraclides and the tiny outpost of the Lunar Resource Station. Once there, she’d start a nine-month tour as the youngest expedition commander in NASA’s history. Even though she was more than qualified as a geologist, some of the astronauts she’d trained with still resented the idea that she’d inherited her ex-husband’s project when he washed out of the Corp. The stress of her getting to live his dream had been a large part of what had ended their marriage, but at this moment even that seemed a small price to pay.

“Come on, let’s get you settled in,” Scott said, pushing past her. “You may only have a few days until you ship out, but you’re out of uniform for the time being.” NASA hated anyone staying on the station who wasn’t part of the crew, so for now she had been given the position of Mission Specialist at Large.

“Sure,” she said, shoving away from the window to follow him into the station’s cramped interior.

Expanding the station had always been the goal of the original NASA engineers, and it was finally living up to its potential, with more than twenty new modules added in recent years. Dozens of nations had signed on to the Extended ISS Agreement, each constructing new pieces for the orbital complex. NASA had kept the effort marginally this side of chaos, and it showed in the interior of the station.

Threading their way through the maze of experiment racks, Susan tried to match the commander’s easy grace. Crewmembers hung almost out of the way near their lab stations. Several times, they stopped as someone asked Rutledge a question. It took almost ten minutes to work their way to the Bunk Module.

“It seems a lot more crowded than last time,” she said, hauling her bag of personal gear out of a locker beside the hatch.

“It is,” he agreed. “We’ve doubled the supply missions since your last flight."

“That’s got to make maneuvering outside a real trick,” she said, yawning.

“No joke, we’re updating the ADS program all the time. Fortunately you’re taking a big pile of junk with you when you leave.” He helped her un-cinch a hammock and stretch it to the bulkhead mount. She’d been living on the same schedule as the LRS so she was already done for the day, even though the rest of the crew was still in their morning.

“It’s the biggest equipment run they’ve ever made with the trans-lunar shuttle,” she said, “and it’s not junk.” He drifted back while she slipped the shuttle uniform off her shoulders. Raised with four older brothers, she changed clothes without a hint of modesty.

“I read your mission profile,” he said, averting his eyes and turning to face the wall as she twisted past him to grab an ISS coverall out of the locker. “I think I need to be in the Command Module now,” he added, blushing.

“Why?” she asked, distracted by how hard it was to put the jumpsuit on in microgravity.

“I wouldn’t want to start a rumor.” He glanced over his shoulder in her direction. She tumbled toward him, a tangled mass of skin and fabric. He closed his eyes, reaching out to stop her wild spinning. He didn’t look at what his hand snagged, but it was soft and squishy and definitely feminine.

“Thanks,” she said. “I guess there’s a reason they assigned me to the LRS. Gravity is my friend.”

***

Over New Mexico:

“
Automated background retrieval. Subject: Colton Taylor. Cross Reference: Stormhaven,”
his Terasystem recited in its synthetic voice.

Douglas Shapiro tried to concentrate on anything except the turbulence that rattled everything in the Gulfstream’s cabin. The same jet he’d ridden from Tucson was now taking him back to the desert, this time to Gallup, though the pilot had warned they might be diverted to Phoenix because of a winter storm over the Four Corners region. Apparently the reality of global warming hadn’t reached the outback of Arizona yet.

“
Colton Taylor is the Chief Executive Officer of Stormhaven, a multinational conglomerate of private companies and offshore trusts. Although it is impossible to accurately assess his personal wealth, it is believed that he is one of the five richest individuals in the world.

“
Mr. Taylor achieved financial success through the deployment of a technology colloquially known as the Broadcast Power System. Although not widely known, this device is a miniaturized generator that directly converts inertial field energy to electricity.”

Shapiro shook his head. He’d seen the devices everywhere, but like everyone else, he thought they worked like Wi-Fi for electricity.
“The explanation provided by Colton Taylor in the sealed patent documents states that these generators operate by exploiting the transient quantum field that exists when action and reaction are non-simultaneous. The mathematical postulate—"

“Pause,” Shapiro said, knowing the science was likely to go over his head. “Is this relevant?”

“
Unable to formulate response,”
the computer responded.

“Skip it,” Shapiro said. “Limit recitation to Colton Taylor and Stormhaven.”

The computer paused to reprioritize its recitation
. “At twenty-two years of age, Mr. Taylor completed the work for a Doctorate in Quantum Physics at Arizona State University, but was denied his degree after the University staff determined the underpinning of his thesis was an unproven assumption that gravity had a propagation rate in excess of the speed of light. As this stands in contradiction to the generally accepted principles of relativistic law, the University refused to endorse and publish his work.

“
After several years of independent research, he developed the Broadcast Power System and brought it to market after the Eastern ConEdison Blackout of 2019. The urgency of the electrical grid crisis allowed Mr. Taylor to rally the support of the commercial electrical utility to promote his device as a way to prevent future grid-wide collapses. Tomas Stevens, Stormhaven’s legal director, negotiated a worldwide licensing agreement for this technology although as part of a DHS imposed secrecy-order, the scientific principle behind this device remains classified.

“
The DoD established a research program unit at Camp Mars, Utah to analyze other potential applications of his theory, however development is ongoing and any results are classified beyond the scope of this report.”

The pilot interrupted over the intercom. “The weather just closed Gallup so we’re being diverted to Phoenix Deer Valley Regional. It’s the nearest airport guaranteed to be open so it’s going to add about an hour to our flight."

“Damn.” Shapiro shook his head and pointed to his coffee cup. The flight steward raised an eyebrow but brought him another anyway.

“
Unable to formulate response,”
the computer said.

“Careful, sir,” the steward said. “It’s going to be rough between here and landing."

The agent nodded, waving him away. “Ignore previous comment and resume."

“
After the deployment of the Broadcast Power System, Colton Taylor retired to North-Eastern Arizona, where he established what has become the headquarters of Stormhaven. The facility functions as a private think-tank and retreat for company personnel. No accurate assessment of the resident population exists and little data is available about the operation of the community of Stormhaven, but the viability of the facility can be extrapolated from the fact that they have been granted 22,316 international patents to date. Additionally Stormhaven operates marketing, manufacturing, and service subsidiaries in every industrialized nation of the world.

“
Stormhaven also oversees, through sixteen international trusts, the distribution of over one-hundred billion dollars a year to charitable and relief NGO’s.”

“What do we know about Taylor’s political affiliations?” Shapiro asked, feeling the plane bank to the left like a bad rollercoaster ride.

“
Although Mr. Taylor’s political views are unknown, he is considered to be socially progressive. He has been known to express moderate anti-government sentiment. State Department Intelligence assessments indicate a low likelihood that he has any ongoing communication with, or obligation to, a foreign power. He has traveled extensively throughout the Asian Pac countries, yet DHS analysts have put the probability of any government having influence over Stormhaven, or Mr. Taylor, at near zero. His companies maintain a strict policy of refusing military development contracts regardless of national origin. However it may be relevant to note that many of his scientific and engineering staff members are former military contractor employees.

“
Analysis of his psychological behaviors indicates that he is adaptive and creative. When faced with a no-win situation, he will strive for unconventional solutions. His only known intelligence assessment occurred when he was fourteen and placed his IQ at 187+ on the Stanford Standardized Test."

“What are the odds I’ll be dealing with Taylor when I arrest Dr. Cavanaugh?” he asked, expecting the computer lacked the sophistication to estimate things at that subjective level.

“
Approaching certainty,”
it said
. “All assessments on file regarding Mr. Taylor’s behavior indicate he is likely to interpose himself directly, as he has been known to do so on multiple occasions.”

“Isn’t that great?” he said, as the plane lurched sideways, sending his coffee cup sailing into the air and all over the seat beside him.

“
Unable to formulate response,”
the computer said.

“Yeah me too,” Shapiro said.

***

Chapter Five:

A Rock and a Slick Place