End of Days (19 page)

“Everything seems to be your area of interest and expertise,” Billy noted.

“You have to find lots of things interesting when you’re trying to build a new world.”

“How much time is there until the next launches?”

“The plan is for a thirty-minute interval, so we won’t have long to wait.”

“They seem so confident that if they can get all those ships into space and explode all those bombs, they can save the planet. But you don’t think it’ll have any effect?”

“I’m sure it will have
some
effect,” Fitchett said.

“But not the effect of stopping the asteroid from hitting Earth?” Billy asked.

“There’s always a chance it might work. But it could have other, negative effects. Do you understand the law of unintended consequences?”

Billy shook his head. Joshua Fitchett was always trying to teach him things, and he was always trying to understand. Over the past months the two of them had spent large parts of each day together. Sure, Fitchett was teaching him about “leadership,” but more than that, there was a genuine connection between the two. Fitchett had told Billy that he found the other children “unsettling” in many ways and boring in others—perfection
was
rather boring. In Billy, though, he saw not only the potential but the raw edges, the pieces of him that made him rough but real. He even saw a little bit of himself, he said. Fitchett knew what it meant to survive.

“In its simplest form, the law of unintended consequences states that when we attempt to seek one end, we can create results, either negative or positive, other than those we initially sought. In practical terms, it refers more to the negative consequences.”

“So by trying to do something good, you could end up doing something bad instead,” Billy said.

“Exactly.”

Billy was glad he understood. Sometimes what Fitchett was saying was just too technical or complicated—at least at first. Billy wasn’t shy about saying he didn’t understand something. He always made sure to have Fitchett explain until he did understand. The older man never seemed to mind, never seemed frustrated. He had once told Billy that if you can’t explain something in a way that a seven-year-old can understand, you really don’t know it yourself. Through the months, through their time together, through their discussions, Billy had learned that Fitchett
did
seem to know everything. That was reassuring, because everybody’s life depended on it.

It was also reassuring in a different way. For years Billy had had to rely on himself for his very survival. And on top of that, there had been hundreds of others depending on him. Here he just had to
be
, and he was taken care of. He could understand how this might lull you into complacency. He’d wondered if the mere fact of being here would take away the qualities that had led to them bringing him here in the first place. He kept those doubts to himself.

Billy also couldn’t help but wonder about those he’d left behind. He knew that they had more food and water
and resources—Fitchett had kept his word on that score. But still, in some ways that only made them a target for those who didn’t have enough. In a flash, he understood in his gut the law of unintended consequences.

“But what they’re doing, trying to destroy the asteroid … I don’t see how any unintended consequence could be worse. How could anything else not be better than what’s going to happen, the world being destroyed?”

“Ah, that’s where you’re having difficulty, because you’re working with the wrong premise. It is a 100 percent certainty that the asteroid will
not
destroy the world.”

“It won’t?” Billy said. “But you just said that what they’re doing probably won’t be successful.”

“I’m saying both. On its present course, the asteroid will hit the world, killing almost all its life forms, but it will not destroy the
world
. Simply the vast majority of all
life forms
on it.”

“Including all of us.”

“Probably not you and me or the people in this project specifically, but most certainly all higher forms of flora and fauna, including the remaining nine billion people on the planet.”

“So how could what they’re doing cause anything worse to happen?” Billy asked. “It isn’t like everybody can be killed twice. Either it hits Earth and everybody dies, or it misses Earth and we all live.”

“Again, a faulty premise. If they change the course of the asteroid, but only slightly, then it could result in a glancing blow to our planet, causing an alteration of Earth’s orbit.”

“What does that mean?”

“Most likely it would result in Earth being nudged closer to the sun, which would cause massive climatic changes, probably resulting in the planet becoming too hot to sustain life on the surface. We’re equipping the subterranean world to survive a temporary change in Earth’s atmosphere so that our people can eventually reclaim the surface. Under that scenario, the alteration of the orbit, those underground will never resurface, and all of our efforts will have been wasted.”

Billy felt a shudder go through his entire body. It had taken three months for him to even entertain the thought that life—that
his
life—could go on below ground, and now even that prospect was in jeopardy.

“So we’d be better off if they just left the asteroid alone,” he said.

“We’d be
best
off if they could cause it to miss Earth completely. After that, the possible consequences of their efforts, the unintended consequences, might not be in our best interests,” Fitchett explained. “Let’s just hope they’re successful.”

“So there is a chance, right?”

“There are so many variables that are beyond our control, it’s hard to provide anything more than a guesstimate.”

“And your guess?” Billy asked.

“They’ve already overcome tremendous odds to get this far. Personally, I never thought they’d be able to coordinate the work of countries around the world. Somehow they were able to convince governments—even traditional enemies, those with conflicting ideologies and values—to work for a common goal. Then, under the leadership of a remarkable
team of scientists, they were able to devise a functional plan. Again, almost impossible. Finally, they built the ships and armed them with nuclear devices capable of generating a force sufficient to effect an orbit-altering change to a planetary body. And they have managed to do all of that despite the efforts of a worldwide movement, Judgment Day, that is dedicated to stopping them and thinks nothing of killing scientists or destroying the facilities they need to complete their job.”

It wasn’t just the Aerospace Institute program that Judgment Day was hindering, though. Without even knowing Fitchett’s project existed, they were endangering its efforts as well. But Billy wasn’t worried. Fitchett kept finding ways around what they were doing.

“And today,” Fitchett continued, “they have already successfully launched half the fleet. With each step, the odds continue to tilt in the institute’s favour.”

“So you think the chances are increasing that Earth—I mean,
life
on Earth—can be saved?” Billy asked.

“I’m saying that they now have a much greater chance of initiating an
attempt
. Will that attempt be successful? I don’t know. I would say they have increased the odds from virtually none to 1 or even 2 percent. Not the kind of odds I’d bank on for my survival.”

“And that’s why you’ve done all of this,” Billy said, gesturing around him. “Everything you’ve worked for, planned, created is based on the assumption that all efforts will fail and that Earth will be hit.” Billy paused. “Or is all of this … all of
us
 … are we just a backup plan in case they fail?”

“Maybe
they’re
my backup plan, in case all of this fails,” Fitchett said.

“But if they
are
successful, if the asteroid is pushed off its collision course with Earth, then all of the things you’ve done, all this work, all the planning, will have been unnecessary. All of this will mean nothing,” Billy said.

“It will mean far more than nothing. We have catalogued all life forms, provided a library able to reproduce the entire fauna and flora of the planet. Over the past two decades, as society has degenerated, we have catalogued and preserved the things necessary to help civilization return again from the anarchy into which it has descended. In any event, civilization will have to be recreated, and we will be at the forefront of what needs to be done.”

“But what about all of the people … all of us?” Billy asked.

“You will all be free to live a long and normal life,” Fitchett replied.

“Normal? Is anybody here normal?” Billy questioned.

“Is anybody anywhere normal?” Fitchett replied. “Even if this asteroid misses the planet, it has already altered humanity, caused a massive decline in civilization. There will be both a need and an opportunity for a redefinition of mankind. Why couldn’t that spark for the rebirth take place right here? These young people will possess all of the skills and knowledge necessary to create a renaissance of mankind. And you will be the leader, helping to make that happen.”

Billy didn’t know what to say, but he knew that Fitchett probably didn’t expect an answer. Besides, his attention was
captured elsewhere. The screens that surrounded them had become, one by one, filled with scenes of the seven launch sites. Billy was tired from thinking about what
could
happen and instead needed to focus on what
was
happening.

“Could we …?” Billy pointed at the screens. Fitchett nodded in agreement.

Fitchett again pushed a button and the room was filled with sounds and voices. Simultaneously, checks and countdowns were taking place at seven sites with different languages or accents. From the two English-speaking sites—in the United States and England—enough could be determined to know that the launch of the next rockets was about to happen.

Billy leaned in closer to Fitchett. “Could we just hear the U.S. launch so it isn’t so confusing?”

Fitchett pushed another button and the sound dropped dramatically in volume. He’d cut out not just the announcer but the background chatter and the sounds of the rockets from six of the seven sites.

“Fifteen seconds to launch. T minus 13 … 12 … 11 … we have commit … 9 … 8 …
7
 … 6 … we have ignition … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … we have liftoff.”

Simultaneously the seven ships started off the ground. Billy felt a pressure in his chest, as if the rockets were pushing against him, or as if, somehow, his effort would help them make it.

“It has cleared the tower … 34.5 million newtons of thrust … it has cleared the tower.”

Fitchett leaned in close so he could talk. “The first
thirty seconds are the most critical,” he yelled in Billy’s ear. “If anything is going to happen, it will happen then.”

The ships gained speed and elevation. The camera followed them up into the sky, and Billy silently counted along in his head, thinking that once he reached thirty all would be good.

“Altitude 0.8 kilometres … trajectory is good … launch is good.”

Sixteen … seventeen … eighteen … nineteen … he was almost two-thirds of the way to safety and—

“Oh, dear God!” Fitchett screamed out.

There was no need to ask what he was reacting to. One of the ships was now a brilliant ball of orange flames, and projectiles, large and small, flew out in different directions from the blaze.

The other six rockets continued to soar skyward, oblivious to the fate of their sister ship as she fell back to Earth in a million fiery pieces.

The screen showed the rocket rising up into the sky. Everybody in the room knew what was going to happen next, having seen the images replayed dozens of times. Some had a bizarre belief that maybe this time it wouldn’t explode, but delusion would soon give way to reality. Others just hoped, on a subconscious level, that they were watching one of the other thirteen rockets, those that had launched successfully, rather than the one that had been destroyed.

“Freeze the image, right there!” a man called out, and the rocket become static, just a few seconds before the explosion. “You will notice that up to this point it was a successful launch.” He walked up to the screen. “There is a perfect trajectory, and not even a hint of a breach in the superstructure or integrity of the ship.” He ran his fingers along one side and then the other of the rocket. “Roll forward at super-slow-motion speed, please.”

The image seemed frozen in place, but then there was a slight flutter in the flames from the ignition.

“Stop!” The image froze just as a small orange dot appeared on the side of the rocket. “This is where the explosion erupted,” he said as he touched it with his outstretched hand. “This is the midsection, an area that has no seals, rings, or joints. It is well clear of the booster rockets and should not be experiencing either internal or external forces to account for this reaction. Forward again, in super-slow-motion.”

The dot turned into a thin line of orange, and then the whole side of the rocket blew out, leaving a gaping hole, and a micro-second later the entire ship was nothing more than a large orange fireball. Sheppard averted his gaze—even after twenty viewings, it was still unnerving for him to watch.

“We do not believe that this was the result of a malfunction within the ship itself,” the engineer said.

“Then how do you account for it?” Sheppard asked.

“We believe that a foreign element was introduced to the ship.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Sheppard demanded.

“We have insufficient data to predict the exact nature of—”

“I think I have an explanation,” Parker said, cutting him off. He stood up and walked to the front of the room. Behind him the fragments of the exploding ship were still firing into the sky.

“Can we turn that off?” he asked, gesturing to the screen. “None of us needs to see it any further to know the results.”

The screen quickly went blank.

“We looked at all the available closed-circuit security camera tapes. It appears that one of our agents entered that ship during the final inspection and then failed to leave the ship prior to launch,” Parker said. “It is believed that he had with him a quantity of plastic explosives, probably carried strapped to his person and sealed in such a way to avoid tripping monitors equipped to detect explosives. Once the ship was airborne this device was detonated, either by remote or by means of a timer, or perhaps he trigged the explosion prior to blacking out.”