Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (19 page)

“What?” at least a dozen reporters jumped up and screamed in unison.

“Hold on. Certain news agencies do background checks on their staff, and in most cases we will accept those certifications as being sufficient. If any news service or independent journalist cannot provide a qualifying background check, they may submit a request for a new authorization to my office.”

“You’re jerking everyone’s cards?” someone shouted from the back row of chairs.

“No, we’re simply requiring anyone who wishes to retain active credentials be able to provide adequate proof of their loyalty to the United States.” He held up his hands again.

“Please hear me out on this.” He raised his voice trying to shout over the crowd. “We are not targeting any of you. This is a unilateral decision that is absolutely necessary to assure the safety of your government.”

A mountain, in the form of three gorillas pretending to be DHS agents, appeared through the door behind the stage, their expressions grim. “Listen to me. This is not something that we do lightly, and I can assure you that we will lift this restriction, as soon as possible.”

“Bullshit!” someone shouted from the side of the floor. The nearest agent pointed at the reporter and started talking into his hand mic. The implied threat froze the room into an echoing quiet.

“I am sorry, but I will not answer any questions until you’ve submitted the necessary background verification. Until then we’re through here.” The Secretary stepped away from the podium, and without turning, slipped through the door leaving the agents to clear the room.

“Party’s over. Please exit the building immediately.” One of the agents stood by the podium pointing toward the side door.

“Here, take this,” the stranger said to her, reaching out to help her up. In his hand was a card which she dropped into her purse without reading. Since they obviously ran in different circles she knew she’d never call, but she figured it was better to be polite than to make an issue that would cause him to linger.

He walked through the crowd like an icebreaker toward the door, his towering bulk moving forward through the jostling madness of the press corp. She followed in the small lee created by his passing, feeling almost protected. At least by hanging in his wake, she didn’t have to rub up against the pressing walls of flesh.

***

San Francisco:

The round table sat in the center of the small room, surrounded by six of the seven people who made the decisions for the largest international space programs. The heads from Japan, Russia, Europe, India, and Australia sat watching Joshua Lange.

The only agency not represented by its top administrator was China, and even though Director General Jiang had been invited, he’d declined to participate. In his place was Vice-Director Cho. Joshua had never met the man before.

The communication shutdown with Alpha had escalated on several fronts and he knew he was about to give them the answers they needed, but he also recognized that the relationships he’d had with these men had been strained to the point of ruin by the path the President had taken.

Joshua studied the agenda, trying not to meet the eyes of his counterparts. Without looking up he could feel the glares from Wilhelm Schmidt of the ESA, and Takao Mito of JAXA, the two agencies most engaged in the station and its science projects. Fortunately, the Indian and Australian programs hadn’t been as involved in the ISS, or he might have been facing a unanimous lynching instead of a hung jury. Only the Chinese had their program separated from the rest of the world’s space efforts.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Alexander Markovicz of Roscosmos cleared his throat. They would wait no longer.

Looking up and seeing the disappointment and frustration in the faces around him, Lange felt his voice heavy in his throat. “My esteemed colleagues, I wish this meeting were being convened under less dire circumstances.” He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an effort to relax, but the lead weight settling in his stomach made that impossible.

“The information I am about to share with you is considered confidential. I’ve been instructed to inform you that the United States Government and the Russian Federation will consider any public disclosure of this information as a severe breach of confidence. It will result in termination of all economic interaction with any nation who fails to maintain this secrecy.”

The silence around the table deepened until it became a malevolent presence. “I need to be absolutely clear on this,” he said. This was probably the first time such a political threat had ever been leveled against the representatives of such a powerful group of nations.

The Chinese representative, who had a fair command of English, reached for the translator on the table in front of him to make sure that he understood what had been said. He blinked, listening to the restatement of Director Lange’s words, but said nothing.

“This is an extraordinary circumstance, the likes of which have never been faced in reality.” Lange nodded to his assistant, who started handing out a stack of black folders. “This document describes the orbital information for a newly discovered asteroid. This asteroid is on an impact course with Earth. The accuracy of this information is extremely high, and derived from observations with our new Adaptive Radar Tracking technology.” He paused, taking a sip of water, and watched them scan the dossier they’d been handed.

“This is joke?” Cho said in his Mandarin-accented English. “You sound like bad Hollywood story. You expect us to believe?”

“Yes, because it’s true.” Joshua said. “We have provided adequate information for your own astronomers to confirm this.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the table.

“The situation with the ISS and the commencement of the rapid-launch programs by NASA are in response to this discovery.” Watching the administrators study the documentation, he went on. “The US has begun efforts to deflect this asteroid before it arrives.”

“You Americans have a liking for drama,” Cho said. “This is simple thing for our space program. Yet you seem to think that it is necessary for secrecy?”

“Is not a matter of keeping secret from other nations,” Markovicz said. “Is matter of keeping secret from public. To avoid panic."

“Do you not trust your people, Comrade Markovicz?” he challenged.

“Panic is inevitable, given the situation.” Joshua said.

“In your country perhaps. Our people trust government. We do not fear reaction because they know we only tell truth.” He closed the folder and set it on the table in front of him.

“What we’re hoping to achieve,” Lange said, “is a consensus approach to mitigating the threat.”

Cho snorted indignantly, “What you are trying to get is, how you say ... rubber-stamp approval.” He glanced at the other directors, most of whom were nodding.

“I will admit that it may seem US acted somewhat independently, but circumstances should allow a degree of understanding,” Markovicz said. “Given facts, no one can argue they have acted in interest of entire planet.”

“Is not America’s intent. If they seek cooperation, consulting should be first. This is not possible with only one acting,” Cho said.

“He is right,” Takao Mito spoke without looking up from the orbital data in the report. “If it is the wish of the United States to act with the support and consent of the international community, then we should have been consulted before any action took place."

“I agree with all of you,” Lange said, “but the reality is that, in a bureaucracy as big as the US it’s difficult to get everyone moving in the same direction at the same time. We’ve called this meeting now, to bring the entire world’s space resources into the operation”

“Let us be clear. You called meeting to assign places in your plan. The PRC is not second-class nation.” There was a surprising edge of anger in Cho’s words. Standing, he went on, “I do not think we will participate. I will carry this to General Jiang. If he feels we have place, he will contact you.”

“Please, sit down,” Joshua asked, understanding that it could be a huge diplomatic problem if he let the Chinese leave.

Vice-Director Cho held up his hand, cutting off any further protest. “I understand it is not you who make choice, but we will not be dictated to by American government.” He nodded at the other Directors, scooped up the report from the table and walked out.

“I hate politics,” Joshua muttered under his breath as the glaring faces around the table told him the Chinese were not alone in their resentment.

“Did he not seem too certain of his government’s position for minor administrator?” Markovicz asked, leaning over to whisper in Lange’s ear.

“Like, maybe they’ve had time to think about it already?” Joshua said.

***

Stormhaven:

Dave spent several hours working on the simulator and had mastered the basics, at least in theory.

Cole had explained that in order to reduce cross training time, all the consoles used throughout Stormhaven were identical, regardless of their purpose. Consisting of a wrap-around touchscreen monitor with a GUI that would allow an infinite variation in configuration, each station was capable of being used for any activity . The graphic interface took time to customize as a flight control system, but once Dave developed his own setup, he discovered that it worked unbelievably well. Once he got used to the idea that there was no tactile feedback, he learned quickly.

After watching him struggle through the first simulations that Mica set up for him, Colton gave him a bit of advice on adjusting the buffer sensitivities and then left him alone. After a few runs it gelled in his thinking and he felt like he’d been flying one of these ships all his life. He ripped through dozens of complex three-dimensional flight corridors, facing system failures with ever-increasing speed and deftness. Ultimately, the interface became a virtual extension of his consciousness.

It also helped that Mica was an adept tutor, interpreting his weaknesses, and programming each simulation to push him over his rough spots, until he knew there were few issues that he couldn’t actually face in real flight.

Sitting in the adaptive-ergonomic pilot seat, he relaxed thinking about the next set of challenges. Small servos hummed as the lumbar moved subtly to reshape itself to his back. It was a strangely intimate sensation.

Discussing where he felt weakest with Mica, he’d almost forgotten that it was a computer, and not a flesh and blood flight instructor. It could discuss his subjective opinions with a nuanced understanding that made it feel strangely human. He was arguing with the computer about an area where he felt slow, when Viki walked up behind him and snickered.

“I hate to break up your debate,” she said, “but Colton sent me out here to get you to come eat."

“But I’m having fun,” Dave protested.

“He told me I can pull the plug on both of you if I need to.” Her face looked like she meant it.

“That would be unacceptable for a human,” Mica said. “I would simply reboot, but you could be damaged.”

“That’s funny Mica, but I’m self-contained so you don’t have to worry,” he said.

“I understand, although I can deduce that you are in need of nutrients. Your reaction time has slowed over the last several runs.” Adding, in defense of its earlier position, “Even though they have still been substantially above minimum standards.”

“Ok, Mica. I give up. I’ll go get lunch. But when I get back I want to see about getting some real hang time in one of the minies.” He stood up and stretched, realizing that he was actually hungry.

“Come on, let’s get you over to the cafeteria and see if the lunch crowd left any food.” She looped her arm in his and dragged him toward the door. ”The media people still believe in a free lunch, they eat like vultures."

“Media?” He looked confused. “Left from lunch? What time is it?"

“3:15:13 PM Mountain Standard Time.” Mica said.

“That can’t be right. I’ve been here for seven hours?” He looked at his watch. “I need to hurry if I’m going to get any flight time before sundown.”

“I have been instructed by Mr. Taylor to upload your flight control configuration to the
Dancing Star
after you eat.” Mica said.

“Wait a minute. To the
Dancing Star
? I want to fly one of the minies first.” He stopped in the door to finish this discussion.

“Mr. Taylor was very specific. He gave me instructions to code your handscan into the security lock and upload your data there. He made sure that the simulations we ran were for the
Dancing Star
and not one of the smaller vehicles.”

“I’m not ready for that,” he protested.

“The test results say you are,” Mica said.

***

Washington:

“Other than Roscosmos, we’ve got no official reactions yet,” Al Stanley told the President over the videocom, “but the unofficial reaction by the station crew was mutinous.”

“Didn’t their governments tell them what was coming?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.