The Unearthing (55 page)

“Oh, bugger,” She muttered, halfway out of her pantyhose.

She reached for her headset and slipped it into her ear. “Whoever this is you’re between me and a hot bath so this had better be good.” She barked into the phone, dipping her free leg into the water. She’d not give up her bath and the promised relaxation lightly.

“More’s the pity,” came the flat humourless reply. She recognized the voice immediately: the American Chairman, Joint Chiefs.

“Mister Chairman. How can I be of assistance?” she asked, knowing full well it was Committee business unless the United States was bombing another Third World dictatorship again.

“I’m afraid I’m the bearer of bad news,” The Chairman said, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet: MI-6 is dead.”

The surviving members of the Committee gathered in the Italy offices within three hours. Full representation on almost no notice; difficult to pull off, though not impossible. The chair that MI-6 had occupied for the better part of twenty years stood vacant; his absence a shadowy void. The traditional ceremonials to open the session were finished and a ponderous silence hung over the conference. They were none of them of a young age. MI-6 had been drawing close to his hundredth and had been by far the eldest on the Committee; his death still served to remind them the time they had remaining was short. It was well and good that life expectancy was approaching hundred and thirty years, and well and good that the degradation of the aging process wasn’t noticeable until the last fifteen or so of those years, but the old were generally still dying in their eighties and nineties. The Canadian Minister of Natural Resources was perhaps the youngest member of the Committee, at fifty-three. And although at fifty-eight, the British Minister of Defence still had the smooth skin and supple body of her middle years, she was keenly aware of the time remaining to her; her own mother had not lived to see ninety and her grandmother had died at seventy-nine. Time grew short for them all. And the solemn duties of chairing tonight’s meeting fell to her.

“Very well,” She said, her voice echoing through the paneled chamber, “There are two matters on the table before us: The first and most pressing one, evidently, is to review the candidates that the PM will be looking at to replace MI-6 and secondly, whether or not the Committee will require operatives to be aboard the Ship when Operation Shipflight commences.”

She toggled a switch on her console and six faces appeared on everyone’s screens. “I have the PM’s ear on matters of this nature, though it should be noted that I am not the only one. Ultimately the decision is his, though I think I can help persuade him to a certain extent,” She looked at the faces on the screen.

Only the oldest among them approached her in years. Hard to believe that any of these young faces were qualified to run MI-6.

“Of these candidates I would suggest we push for one of the last four,” She said, “I know the first two on the list and although they would certainly be trustworthy with regards to the Committee’s secrets I doubt they would last long as the head of Six.”

“How long before the PM moves to fill the void at MI-6?” the Canadian Solicitor General asked.

“We expect him to wait at least a week after the funeral,” The British Ambassador said, “So we can safely assume anywhere from ten to fourteen days, from now.”

“In the meantime we will be redistributing MI-6’s responsibilities to his subordinates and to other members of the Committee Executive,” The British Minister added, “We should take that time to study the files on the candidates to replace him and come up with the best selection possible. Although contrary bastard that he is, I don’t know that the PM will even likely listen to me.”

The Canadian Defence Minister was engrossed in the choices for MI-6; particularly that it presented him with an opportunity to gain a little more influence on the Committee; he would no longer be the junior-most member and he would also have a new potential ally in the new MI-6. The Minister frowned; he could influence the Solicitor and Natural Resources easily enough; his fellow Canadians recognized his ambition to do the right thing and keep the Committee on a moral course. And the Curator of the Smithsonian was partial to the Canadian position on the Committee. That would give them enough votes at least to select the candidate the Committee would endorse to the British Prime Minister. The winds of change were blowing; the question would be whether they would be favourable to the Minister, or not.

♦♦♦

The Ticket-holders had all been notified and they had all sent in their confirmations. Five thousand primaries backed out making room for one tenth of the drawn alternates. A second alternate draw of ten thousand was planned in the event that more people backed out. The lottery results were made public as was the Ship’s scheduled launch date: July Seventeenth. The passengers would begin arriving in the World Ship Preserve for pre-flight training within a week.

The final crew manifest was being prepared, Colonel Bloom now confirmed as the mission commander and assisting in the selection of the crew. They would be moving very soon into the Ship which was even now concluding preparations with the Human engineers to the passenger and crew accommodations, medical facilities, the command center and other amenities and necessities for the well being of the Ship’s Human cargo. The Earth’s entire cultural database was being loaded into the Ship’s computers and select works of art and relics of historical and religious significance were being brought aboard as well; Holy relics from the world’s religions; treasures from the Alexandria Library; some original copies the writings of Kierkegaard and Chuang Tze, Aristotle, Sartre and Socrates; original works by Shakespeare, Tennessee Williams, Mark Twain, Chekhov, Dickens, Poe and Tolstoy; and classical compositions by Bach, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven, Brahms; works of art by Rembrandt, Monet, Michelangelo, Warhol, Dahli, Picasso, Vanderdonk; an original draft of the Magna Carta, the US Constitution, the original Treaty of the World Council and a thousand other pieces of Human history and culture. A living Human culture would be aboard as well. No less than nine motion picture directors nearly a hundred actors from around the world, three superstar music acts as well as other members of the performing arts were signed aboard as passengers, along with computer game designers, sixteen authors and playwrights, four composers and eleven artists who worked in different creative media. Nor would the regular members of the Ship’s society lack for things to do: there would be shops to run and the Ship would accommodate small industries to provide the citizens of Habitat with all the amenities of home. There would be work and leisure aboard the Ship, with schools for the children and even a university planned, open to any who would go there to learn.

♦♦♦

Allison had to stop several times while reading over the centimetre thick “brochure” sent to her by the World Ship Summit; information overload. The information was supposed to assure passengers that every aspect of their life, every possible need they might have would be looked after once aboard the Ship. It wasn’t that the manual was complex; she and every other member of the passenger and crew list would be given several weeks of full training before the Ship launched. It was the volume of information that made it such a challenge. Much of it, including technical specifics about the Ship, the works of art and pieces of historical and cultural memorabilia that would be found in the “Earth Museum”, the religions represented aboard the Ship, by whom and how, access to the alien archives aboard the Ship and other similar minutiae Allison found could have been summarized or left out, altogether. The journey she was about to take was both thrilling and terrifying; Allison understood that the brochure was meant to be reassuring, but it wasn’t. She would be leaving behind everything she had ever known for an unknown and unknowable future. And yet she felt…she
knew
that this was a journey she must undertake. Her bags were packed, all her personal business taken care of. She had given away many things to her friends and surviving family and she was looking forward now to these last two days’ time to spend with her closest and dearest friend over the last couple of years, her sister-plus, Laura Echohawk.

The past week Laura spent with her mother, who would be full into her command duties aboard the Ship by the beginning of next week. This weekend would be their time, Allison’s and Laura’s and theirs alone; they would likely as not never see each other again and Allison wanted nothing but wonderful memories of the woman who’d shared an apartment and two years of her life. Tuesday, Allison would be flown to the World Ship Preserve and not long after she would be gone from Earth altogether. Her last months on Earth had begun.

TWENTY

PREPARING FOR DEPARTURE

Nearly a year had gone by since Professor Mark Echohawk came to Laguna and discovered the Ship nestled beneath the desert floor. In that long, incredible terrible and tumultuous year, so much had happened. So much more was still happening. The last several months had been spent preparing the Ship for Human habitation and training its passengers and crew in the rigors of space travel. Now those preparations were nearly complete. The Seventeenth of July was fast approaching. The time to begin sequestering the crew aboard had come.

Colonel Bloom ran around the track overlooking the Ship listening to the Shipsong and the sound of her footfalls and breathing as they mingled like lovers with the alien harmonics. She was drenched in sweat, her lungs burning, her knees, spine and feet screaming. Bloom was taking her last run around the Ship. After today she would only be able to run
inside
the Ship. In a way she was saying goodbye; not to the Ship but to its siren call, to the New Mexico desert and to Earth. Her last run; working her body as hard and as mercilessly as she could; running like a madwoman, as if making love for one last time to a lover she would never see again.

♦♦♦

Bloom supported herself against the walls of the shower stall with her arms. Her legs were still shaky and she was still breathing hard after ten minutes under the hot spray. She’d washed herself clean of the sweat from the morning’s run and after rejuvenating herself a little with the soothing, hot shower spray Bloom dried herself off and changed into her new duty uniform.

The new uniform was made exclusively for the military and support personnel of the Shipflight and today was the first day the uniform would be worn; the day that the crew finally embarked. Ostensibly, it was themed after the Ship’s own colour scheme. It was a heavy cotton material made into a dark mustard (gold) flight suit consisting of cargo pants and a cargo jacket worn over a black half-neck tunic. The piping on the pant legs and the rank and ID insignia were done in blue on black. The uniform was military cut all the way, but Bloom found it strange, new. On the plus side she had more pockets than she knew what to do with; Bloom was of the school of thought that one could never have enough pockets. She looked at her reflection a long moment. The uniform was cut to fit her but it looked strange. She was used to her Air Force uniform and this was just not it. Bloom imagined that with time she would get used to the Black and Gold. Tugging at the hem of her jacket and undoing the brass fasteners that held it closed Bloom left her quarters for the last time. Her bags were packed and within the hour would be loaded into the Ship.

♦♦♦

Space readiness training of the civilian population of the Ship was nearly done and Allison McQuire couldn’t have been happier. It had been an exhaustive ten weeks of physical conditioning and emergency preparedness training as well as drills on the survival techniques necessary for spaceflight. The World Council had done things on an epic scale; an entire campus had been established with over two thousand trainers, teachers (many of whom had also been selected in the Lottery to sign aboard the Ship) and translators working to ensure that the two hundred and ten thousand people (Ticket holders and their families) selected as primaries and the fifty thousand alternates would be adequately prepared for any space-related emergencies that might occur. Today, classes had been suspended because of the embarkation ceremonies being held to honour the crew of the Ship.

♦♦♦

When the Ship opened to the world, the ring of pyramids below opened and huge gantries extended from the Ship to the Ramp and to the walls of the Ship’s canyon. Now a fleet of transport vehicles stood waiting to take the ten thousand-strong crew of the Ship on to their new home when the ceremonies had concluded.

The crew, civilian and military alike were assembled on a vast parade ground on the far end of the Ramp. They sat grouped according to their divisions; the heads of each division sitting just ahead of their groups. Of the Ship’s crew only Colonel Bloom and her Executive Officer, Major Jack Benedict sat in the reviewing stands with the dignitaries and delegates and speakers at the ceremony that was about to begin.

It was a long, solemn affair. Bloom’s people were saying their farewell to the world and to those among their friends and family that would not be joining them aboard the Ship. Most of the crew of the Ship would be accompanied by their closest loved ones, almost everyone was leaving many more dear hearts behind. Bloom thought of her own sacrifice: Laura was staying behind and Bloom couldn’t help feeling that she’d never see her daughter again. She realized with sudden horror that not once since Mark’s funeral had she been to visit his grave. Tears filled Margaret Bloom’s eyes and she wiped them quickly away with the backs of her index fingers. Mark…He’d be thrilled to see what the SSE had accomplished. But Bloom wondered if he’d have lived and chosen to go aboard the Ship, whether Laura would still have stayed behind. Bloom doubted it. As much as Mark would have loved to have been part of the Ship’s Alien Studies department he wouldn’t have left without Laura. Not even
if
his daughter had told him to go as she had told Bloom.