Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (71 page)

Like survival, for themselves and maybe for all of humanity.

Everyone was crowded into the galley when she walked in. Crammed would have probably been an understatement. The LRS had a nominal crew capacity of six, and there were thirteen of them. Eight new ones since she’d left. She knew them all from Astronaut Training, at least on a casual basis.

“Before we get started,” she said, slipping through the bodies, very much aware of exactly how close they were packed in. “Has anybody heard a theory about the quake the other morning?”

“A flying saucer crashed into the moon?” Greg Olson said, deadpan. He was obviously trying to grow a sense of humor. She rolled her eyes and groaned to let him know he still needed more fertilizer.

“How about a
real
theory?” she asked, pointedly not looking in his direction so as not to encourage him.

“It was obviously an explosion,” Owen said. “A big one.”

“On the order of fifty gigaton, maybe more” Greg said.

“We can tell what the Chinese are thinking about when it comes to taking out that asteroid,” Tony said.

“No kidding,” Susan said. “That explains why they didn’t respond when we asked them for their seismograph data.”

“They haven’t been talking to us at all,” Tony said.

“That might make it a bit tough to ask for help if NASA can’t keep us fed,” Susan said. The grim expressions around the small table told her that they already knew as much.

“So we all agree that we’re pretty much on our own until Houston can figure out what they’re doing?” she said. Everyone nodded.

She pulled her epad out, “Then this is what I’m thinking we need to do.” She linked into the screen behind her and let them all look over her notes. “It’s going to be tough, and we’re all going to have to really suck it up to get it done, but I think we’ve just been promoted from Ugly Plan B to the Last Best Hope.” The expressions around the room uniformly told her they agreed.

“We’ve only got five days of sunlight left, so we can’t make it back over to Plato before we’re out of power in the MPL. That gives us three weeks to rig a way to extend the range of a surface rover and to enhance the life support capabilities of the lab.”

“You can’t be serious,” Tony said. “This looks like you’re planning on setting up a base of operations over there. Without any support from Earth.”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning,” she said. “Just because we’re on our own, doesn’t mean we’ve got to sit around waiting for the food to run out.”

“I don’t know about you,” Cindy Carpenter said, “but I’d rather die trying, than hiding."

After that, no one else raised an objection.

***

Tokyo:

The functional capital of Japan may have moved to Osaka after the Great Earthquake, but the Emperor held Court and the ceremonial business of government was still held in Tokyo. Colton had flown into this city more than once, but this time it was different. Instead of arriving in the corporate jet, he sat in the command seat of the
Phoenix
, and rather than flying into the airport, he’d been instructed to land outside the Jindai Botanical Gardens, in Chofu City.

Kuromori had taken care of the arrangements to get Stormhaven clearance in both the United States and in his home country. No one had asked whose arms he’d broken to make it happen, but they’d been granted a conditional license for this one ship, as long as they didn’t try to enter the restricted space above 300,000 feet. It had been tempting to push his luck, but Tom had talked him out of it.

The newly built Hyundai Conference Center stood like a glass steeple rising ninety stories above the Jindai Gardens, casting a narrow shadow across a ring of streets arranged as a sundial. They put the ship down at precisely solar noon, lining the shadow of the huge carrier up with the spire and settling silently on the top deck of the parking structure. Crowds of people stood on the streets below, watching in amazement.

The ceremony was a celebration of the new Independent Space Alliance, since the documents had already been ratified and adopted by Memorandum of Understanding. Even though Colton usually hated ceremony, he was looking forward to this one.

A small group of dignitaries stood on the top deck of the garage, well back from where the ship landed. Through the screen, Cole could see the awestruck expression on several of their faces.

“Japan extends its most sincere welcome to Colton Taylor and the crew of the carrier
Phoenix
,” Ambassador Kuromori’s voice came over the comlink. “We humbly request permission to come aboard.”

“Of course,” he said. “You are always welcome, my friend.” Cole met them outside as they approached. Kuromori lead the entourage, and Colton recognized Takao Mito and the Japanese Prime Minister Hakkido Tashahari, along with Sayo Itaki who had accompanied him on his visit before. The three others were familiar to Colton by reputation only: Wilhelm Schmidt, Jonathon Merrill, and Fahmi Sidra. Cole hadn’t expected any of the other space agencies to be represented at the ceremony, so he was surprised when they were introduced as being here to officially represent their respective agencies and governments.

“Their participation in this ceremony is my gift to you,” Kuromori said, bowing deeply. “I wish for all the world to benefit from this Alliance, and with their help, your vision will become a reality.”

“I should have brought more ships,” he whispered, turning to Dave, who nodded and winked.

“Mr. Taylor, this is the most amazing vehicle I have ever seen,” Wilhelm Schmidt said. “Would it be possible to have a tour?”

Colton looked at Tashahari, as the ranking official, who nodded. “Please, Mr. Taylor. I may not be as scientifically literate as my companions, but I am also fascinated by your ship. I would very much appreciate seeing more of it.” His English was heavily accented.

“It would be my pleasure,” Cole said, in Japanese. He’d picked up a street level understanding of the language several years ago before he came to the Kobe University Robotics Symposium, and still practiced it occasionally with the Japanese residents in Stormhaven. He was sure his command of Japanese was no better than the Prime Minister’s of English.

They spent several hours touring the ship, asking questions, especially about the engines, which none of them had noticed. “They’re integral to the ship frame,” he said, calling up a schematic and specifications on one of the bridge workstations. He pointed at the protruding structures in four places along the sides. “The airlock access halls actually run through the center of the engine assemblies.” He highlighted them specifically. “There are four engines in each axis, in each assembly."

“What is its cargo capacity?” Director Schmidt asked.

“In theory it’s in the neighborhood of one million pounds,” Cole said. “Each engine is capable of generating the equivalent of 100,000 pounds of thrust, and the ship itself weighs in at just under 300 tons. But the carrier truss assemblies are rated at 300 tons a piece, so the real load you can carry is dependent on how fast you want to get where you’re going."

“I’m confused,” Prime Minister Tashahari said. Dr. Itaki explained, in Japanese so rapid that Cole barely followed, how the engines were not like rockets in that they created an artificial inertial charge and then pushed against it. Therefore when the engine output equaled the load, the ship would not accelerate, but any time the force generated was greater than the load, the ship would accelerate. He still looked confused but smiled, and returning to English said, “If you say so.”

“Obviously the Doctor here’s got herself a bit of a head start on us, eh?” Jonathon Merrill said, his eyes wide. He’d apparently followed what she said, or if not, he at least understood enough to appreciate a good explanation when he heard it.

“Perhaps we should make our way to the Imperial Palace,” Ambassador Kuromori said, reminding them that they still had the ceremony to attend.

“Would you like me to drive?” Dave offered, grinning at Cole and giving him a thumbs up.

President Mito looked at the Ambassador and Colton, his face positively exploding in smiles. “Would that be possible?”

“Parking might be a bit difficult,” Cole said, looking over at Kuromori and shrugging.

“Actually, there is a large lawn behind the gardens,” he said. “I am sure the Emperor would enjoy the opportunity to see the
Phoenix
.” He borrowed Mito’s satphone and told the limousine drivers to meet them at the Palace.

“Can you find it?” Cole asked.

“We’re already under way,” Dave said, to the amazement of everyone. He’d made sure that the liftoff was subtle enough that no one had noticed the motion. Kuromori and Colton were the only ones that did not turn to the windows to confirm they were in flight.

“I’m sure this will make it easier for me to present my gift to your people as well,” Colton said to the Ambassador. Kuromori turned toward him and cocked his head. “This ship. You have done so much for us that I fear even this is inadequate to express my gratitude.”

The noble old Japanese statesman then did something that surprised Colton and everyone else on the bridge.

He wept.

***

Washington:

“We’re alone now,” Dick Rogers said, standing beside her at the graveside ceremony for Al Stanley. It was tough. Almost as tough for her as when she’d stood in the snow beside her husband’s casket six days before she’d been elected President. She’d known Al almost as long as she’d known her husband, and they’d faced so much together, even staring into the reality of the end of the world together.

She’d given the eulogy, said her part stoically, gritting her teeth and determined not to weep. Now, standing here in the open, knowing what hung over them, she felt her emotions tangling together. She was angry that the universe had thrown this weight on him. Had crushed the life out of him. Had destroyed the one man she knew she could trust to make the right decisions, without regard for political consequence.

She looked at her Vice-President, who stood beside her. A strong man, a good man at heart, but someone who’d been changed by the events around him. No longer someone she knew, but hopefully one that could still balance her and keep her on the right track. If not, she had no one else.

The priest finished the prayer, and the President looked over at Al’s widow Catherine, tears flowing down her cheeks, crying like Sylvia wanted to cry. She felt the heartache, envying her the privilege of letting her emotions go. She swallowed hard and walked over to where she sat holding the flag that had been presented her by the Marine Honor Guard.

Bending to hug Catherine, she didn’t know what to say. Finally she whispered, “We all loved him. He’ll be missed ...” The words ended in her throat and she couldn’t say more. But there was nothing more she could say. She let her hand linger a moment on the woman’s shoulder, and then taking a deep breath steeled herself to walk away.

Six Secret Service agents dropped into formation around her as she headed back to her limousine alone. They waited while the Vice-President and the Secretary of State gave their condolences and joined her.

“That was hard,” John said quietly. She only nodded.

“That is the second one we’ve buried,” she said. “There are nine more over the next few days."

“There are liable to be a thousand more,” Dick said. He wasn’t meaning to be harsh, but she took his words as a condemnation. “I’m not meaning to sound hard, God knows I’m not, but we’re throwing ourselves against the millstone of eternity. We’re a fragile creation. There are going to be more who will face that wheelwork and come home in boxes. It’s a job in which we cannot afford to fail.”

“What makes us human in all this, is that we hope that it never gets easier, even when we wish the hurt would just go away,” John said. “When we grow callous, then we’ve lost what we’re hoping to preserve."

A single tear rolled down her face, she wiped it away with the back of her hand. It was the only one she’d allowed herself. She had no time for it, and her heart ached from the strain of holding them in.

After several minutes of silence they arrived at the White House and when she stepped out, her mask was in place once more. Secretary Worthington met her outside the door to the Oval Office.

“Good morning, Madam President,” he said, standing as she walked in.

“Not really,” she said, glancing at Janice with a
bring me coffee
look.

“Of course,” he said, following her into the office. John and Dick stopped and waited for her invitation.

“Come on, we’ve obviously got business,” she said, holding the door open for them. She threw herself down in her usual wingback chair and watched as Janice brought in a coffee urn and four cups. John poured and handed one to her.

“So what’s first?” she asked, looking at William and sipping her coffee.

“Roscosmos issued a statement several hours ago that, while the tragedy at the ISS is indeed a loss to the whole world, it was not the result of their negligence, nor will any effort to rebuild the station be something in which they will participate,” he said.

“They’re hanging this on us,” John said.