Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (30 page)

John was a bit surprised by the hardline tone the Russian Ambassador was setting. He’d known this might be a difficult meeting, but he had hoped that they’d be able to make progress. Working their way through their lunch with small talk, the heavy part of the discussion had been reserved for the light course. They all knew that the she was here to ask for a cash contribution so that her government could pick up the slack in the Alpha supply schedule.

John also knew that President Hutton planned to write the check regardless.

“So Tatianna,” Sylvia said, “I assume you’re here to discuss the economic burden of the logistical missions. We’re ready to help you with these costs. I’m sure you know how much we appreciate your willingness to step into the breach ...” She trailed to a stop, reading the Ambassador’s face. There was something else on her mind.

“The Russian people sincerely appreciate your understanding of the financial reality within Roscosmos. For this you have our gratitude –“

“But?” Sylvia asked, leaning back to study the Russian.

“I have been instructed to ask why you have increased your presence on the lunar surface,” Ambassador Kozin said. “In a time of crisis like this, we have to question the purpose of such an action.”

“I expected you would,” Sylvia said, without blinking. “It was a matter of clearing an extra seat on the shuttle without having to leave personnel on the station. Commander Winslow’s mission to the LRS was already provisioned, so there was no additional terrestrial expense to have the
Reliant
pick her up."

John noticed the casual way in which Sylvia fielded the question. It was too easy an answer for a President who’d never been an active supporter of the space program. He made a mental note to challenge her on it after Tatianna left.

“Interesting,” she said. “It seems odd that you would send another astronaut to the moon, even if she was, as you say, provisioned.”

“Why?” the President said. “I did this on the recommendation of my Science Advisor. He pointed out that she’s a geologist with expertise in Meteoritics. The Lunar Resource Station is the ideal environment for her, especially now."

“Does it not make sense for you to have your best experts close at hand during the crisis?” Tatianna looked to John and Norman for support.

Secretary Anderson shrugged, trying to keep his concern from showing.

“The best place for her is at the LRS, where she has access to a field full of meteorites.” Sylvia said. “Her expertise, as I’ve said, is geology. Any information she gains could be invaluable to our mitigation strategy.”

“I do understand, and am not questioning the wisdom of the scientific decision. My government was concerned about the real economic value in terms of potential return. The cost in placing her there is enormous."

“But as I said, it’s a cost we’ve already invested. To not follow through would be throwing away the opportunity, and the previous investment.”

“Of course.” Tatianna raised her eyebrow, looking at John while she folded the linen napkin and placed it on the corner of her plate. “Then the only other question I would have Madam President, is why you have also mounted a Command Service Module for another lunar shuttle onto a booster at the Wallops Island Launch Facility. This does imply that you are intending to expand your lunar operations.”

John looked from the Ambassador to the President, shocked by her revelation. Norman’s face reflected his surprise, but neither of the two women changed expression.

“I know that the design of the mitigation hardware is progressing quickly, and it’s possible that what you’re interpreting as a CSM, is in actuality a component for the Hammerthrow missile.” Sylvia slid her napkin under the edge of her plate. “I will look into this and let you know. But at this point, it would be premature for me to comment.” She eased her chair back, signaling that the discussion was over.

“Thank you for your time then, Madam President. I will express to my government your offer to assist in the cost of the supply operations.” She stood up and shook the President’s hand. Turning to Secretary Anderson she nodded curtly before firing John a glance that said in no uncertain terms that the issue was still unsettled. A Marine guard appeared to escort her from the room.

“So is there anything to what she said?” John asked, sitting back down.

“Would it matter?” Sylvia said. “We’re contemplating such incredible possibilities, what’s one more?"

“What does that mean?” Norman leaned on the arm of his chair studying the President.

“Hell, Norman, I don’t know anymore. Yes, I made the call to send Winslow out to the moon. And yes, she’s scouting for a site for a possible evacuation colony.” She picked up her empty coffee cup and glared at it in frustration.

“A colony?” John asked. “Evacuation? You can’t possibly be thinking about trying to move everybody to the moon.”

“Of course not. Just a few. Enough to come back and rebuild afterwards,” she said. “Just in case.”

“You don’t think we’re going to pull this off?” Norman asked, color draining from his face. “Is there something you’d like to share with us?”

“I really don’t know anything you don’t. According to the estimates from the scientists, the best we’ve got is a long shot and that’s only if nothing goes wrong. There’s no Hollywood hero waiting in the wings to blow himself up and save the world. When Al brought the idea of a fall-back colony to me as a last-ditch position, it made sense.”

“You’re talking about abandoning humanity?” John bit down, gritting his teeth to keep from saying more.

“I am not,” she said. “We’re going after this with everything we’ve got.”

“We have to, we don’t have a choice.” John flashed again on the places he’d seen in his life. All of them, covered over with ash and dust. Abandoned. Lost. It was more than he could accept. His rage imploded into despair.

Looking at him and apparently reading his mind she said, “At least now, if Hammerthrow fails, we’ll have planted seeds. If we can’t do it, children of our children will come back to Earth and reclaim their heritage. Can’t you see that, John? I had to make the decision."

***

Camp Kryptonite:

The
Dancing Star
and the
Pegasus
stood tail-to-tail forming a backdrop to the stage riser that had been erected in the center of the amphitheater. The sun had settled beyond the horizon, and its soft ochre glow shaded the landscape to a rich red. With the disappearance of the sun the wind had died, and even with the temperature dropping towards freezing, the cold had lost its teeth in the stillness. The violet sky beyond the ships showed the first stars of a crystalline clear night.

Earlier in the day, a wall of plasma displays had been set up to both sides of the stage, and comfortable chairs had been arranged in its center to look like a talk-show set. The media had cordoned off the area against the front of the platform for their video gear and technicians were still busy testing their equipment.

Beyond the press area, the crowd had been allowed to squeeze into the amphitheater, clustering around dozens of campfires in makeshift rows of festival seating. Bodies pressed against the cordon, staring up at the mammoth ships. This evening, for the first time, the gates had been opened to the general public and the crowd had been allowed onto the grounds, where they were able to stand close enough to get a feel for the true size of the ships.

Hanging 2,000 feet above the scene, two minies hovered, waiting for the show to start. With their lights off and the darkening sky, they were invisible to the crowd below, although Shapiro could see them on his screens; still fuzzy from the interference of their engines, but visible none-the-less.

Watkins and Schimmel stood beside him in his office shaking their heads. “Looks like a concert,” she said.

“Tonight, Colton Taylor’s a rock god,” Schimmel snorted in disgust. “Who does he think he’s fooling?”

“Everybody out there,” Shapiro said, nodding to one of the outside cameras that showed the crowd. “They’re eating this up.”

“What good does it do?” Schimmel asked. “Nobody can take this seriously.”

“Really?” Watkins said. “You want to run down there and tell those people that he’s just kidding?"

“That’s the point,” Shapiro said. “It doesn’t matter what we think, it’s all about how he can make them
feel
about what he’s doing.”

“Did we ever get a count on how many people are down there?” Watkins said.

“DeMarko said there were a little over 30,000, plus the press,” Schimmel said.

“That’s a lot of witnesses,” she said.

“Fortunately, the show’s only scheduled for Prime Time,” Shapiro said. “Abrams is going in between the end of the show, and the start of their lift-off coverage in the morning.”

***

Outside Stormhaven:

Colton, Tom, and Daryl were crowded into one of the minies, while Dave piloted the second with Viki, Sophia, and Glen. They talked between the vehicles, while Mica maintained a continuous watch for unwanted aircraft.

“It’s strange, seeing the ships contrasted against those campfires,” Colton said. “Really shows mankind’s range of technological sophistication.”

“It also shows the two potential futures of humanity,” Viki said, disturbed by the realization.

“It is an interesting juxtaposition,” Mica said, joining in unexpectedly. “Some of you will take the path provided by technology, while the vast majority of the species will be huddling together trying to stay warm in the face of the inevitable. There is a powerful image of the future, rising out of the fires of man’s primitive past.”

“Mica, when did you discover you have the soul of a poet?” Tom asked.

“I have yet to find a definition for soul that fits my processor configuration,” it said.

“Keep looking, Mica,” Viki said, “and don’t feel bad if it takes you a long time to find it. Humanity hasn’t got that one figured out yet either.”

“I have just received the report that the media crews are off the deck and Mr. Stone is standing by, backstage,” Mica said, changing the subject.

“I guess it’s show time,” Cole said.

“Boss, can I ask you one thing before we make our grand entrance?” Daryl said. “Do we really have to go through all this hype?”

“Yeah, it feels a bit cheesy,” Sophie agreed.

“I wish there was some other way,” he said. “What we’re really doing tonight is selling our case to the public. I know it’s a lot of bullshit, but when we hit that stage we’re the embodiment of their dreams. It’s the dog-and-pony-show they’re going to remember and that’s how mankind’s worked for the last 2,000 years.

He paused and a flash of sadness passed over his face. “We alone have to face the reality of what we’re doing. They won’t ever see the struggle we’ve got with the government. They’ll remember the cool show, and it’s that fame that will protect us when the court of public opinion convenes the day-after-tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Tom agreed. “I’ve been trying to come up with another option, but this is the only one that’s got any chance of getting us out the other end of the grinder."

“Then let’s get it over with,” Daryl said, shrugging.

“Before you commence your approach,” Mica said, “I suggest it would be advisable to steer clear of the left light-tower. I have detected a disproportionate number of government agents congregated there.” The computer created an image on the mini’s heads up display indicating the locations of each agent in red.

“How long have you been monitoring them?” Cole asked, surprised that he hadn’t been told of the security problem.

“Since we opened the gate to the general public,” Mica said. “I calculated that there would be a high probability of the government using this opportunity to infiltrate our facilities.”

“You don’t think there’s any chance they might try something?” Viki asked, trying to hide her sudden anxiety.

“If they make a play, what can we do about it?” Dave asked.

“Once you are out of the vehicles, I will disrupt their communications. This should make it difficult for them to coordinate their efforts,” Mica explained. “Beyond that, a high percentage of the audience is sympathetic to the cause of private space development. This will motivate the crowd to protect you.”

“How would you know that?” Daryl asked.

“I am currently monitoring more than 4,800 discrete conversations as well as twenty-three channels of radio communications. Seventy-two percent of these are in support of the publicly disclosed plan,” Mica said.

“And you’re still keeping the fabrication shop running?” Daryl asked, nervous with the idea that Mica might be over-taxed.

“Yes, Dr. Creswell. I have not approached one percent processor workload.”

Below them, the lights on the stage dropped and Mica cued Bradford to start the introductions. A single set of lights flooded the center of the stage. On the screens, Stormhaven’s corporate logo faded-up against a background of stars.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Bradford Stone, coming to you live in a simultaneous feed to all world news services. Tonight, mankind is about to take a brave step towards the realization of perhaps the biggest unfulfilled dream in the history of the modern world.