Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2) (13 page)

BOOK: Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2)
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Chapter 23

 

 

I need to go see Sofie. Since we met, we have been running from one horrible disaster after another. I suppose that having the end in sight will be a relief, regardless of how it plays out.

Walking across the campus, I cannot stop thinking about navigating outside of our own universe. This cannot be the first time it has ever been considered. It seems like a topic ripe for a Ph.D. thesis and dissertation. There was probably a grant from NASA or some other agency that would have funded research. Seems like an ideal opportunity for a nerd looking for theoretical work.

Approaching the dormitory, I see Grace and Remmie walking out of the infirmary. Remmie is holding something I cannot make out and Grace appears to have a bag slung over her shoulder.

Her head is hung low. Grace does not see me coming and I wonder if she is even paying attention to Remmie. Bad news has been the only news lately, but she looks like a tragedy has just transpired.

“Grace!” I yell when I am close enough.

She stops walking and I can she her shoulders shaking. This is something other than finding out that we don’t know how to get to our new solar system.

I jog over to her and wrap my arms around her tightly. She sobs into my shoulder. My first thought is that this is the old Grace, falling to tears over the slightest emotional thing. Then I think about how much she has grown. In the days since the end of the world as we knew it, Grace has hardened faster than any of us. This must be serious.

“The twins are sick,” Grace pants out between sobs.

There have been a couple of upset tummies among the three littlest survivors, but nothing that caused concern. The twins share DNA and survived the initial virus outbreak of their own accord. Their parents didn’t make it and neither did their sibling; I think it was a brother.

“Is it…?” I don’t have the heart to finish the question.

“Probably,” is the only response she can muster.

Annette, one of the survivors from McMurdo, has been developing a test for the virus. I have been contributing blood samples daily for a while now. I wonder if they had the kids giving samples also or if it was too unpleasant for them.

“Have they been giving blood samples to Annette?” I ask. I feel the need to know if our test for the virus is accurate.

“Yes,” Grace says, still holding me tightly. “Sofie is up there now taking samples from them.”

Sofie had been very reluctant to take the vaccine. Part of me thought that she was secretly skipping her treatments. When I approached her on the topic, she confessed that she had been avoiding the inhaler. She only agreed to take the treatment when I explained that it was more selfish of her to skip it. If any one of us were to get sick, it would have a negative impact on the whole group.

“Is she?” I can’t even speak the word ‘sick.’

“I don’t think so.” Grace’s breathing has slowed and she is calming down.

We need to quarantine those twins. No one should be allowed to visit them without a respirator. But how could anyone do that to a pair of 7-year-olds who had already lost their parents? I know it is the right thing to do, but I can’t bring myself to suggest it.

I think back to the day they came here with Dad. Remmie had been doing well with Grace and Sofie, but there was no spark. We had assumed it was just the sadness of missing his mom and dad, a sadness that spread to my sister. When the twins arrived, it was like they completed a circuit. Remmie perked up almost instantly and Grace and Sofie found a new bounce to their step. The five of them became very close, very fast.

I doubt that the school program they devised would ever have come about without the twins’ arrival. The schooling of these three little kids became such an integral part of all our lives. Dinner conversation was frequently dominated by what they had learned during the day. If they have the killer cold, we will all suffer their loss. More sadness when rays of hope are so close.

Just then the door flew open and Sofie came bursting through. I can see that she has two vials in her hand while she skips the last two steps, running down the stairs.

“I have to get these to Annette so she can test them. Can’t talk,” she says, never slowing her pace.

I want to comment to Grace that the speed with which Sofie delivers the blood samples will have no impact on the results, but I hold my tongue. Sofie and Grace both need to hold out hope as long as they can. Part of me thinks that Grace is able to will the twins back to health, but the scientific mind in me knows there is no cure for what ails them.

“Seamus, can you blow ‘dis up for me?” Remmie asks, handing me a beach ball.

Absentmindedly I grab the deflated ball and bring it to my mouth. As soon as it hits my lips, I realize that it is soaking wet. Looking down at Remmie, I see that the front of his shirt is wet as well. He must have been trying to blow it up while Grace and I talked. If he is carrying the morphed virus, there is no doubt that I now have it, too. As it is too late to matter, I bring the valve to my mouth and inflate the ball.

It had been a brand new ball. Perfectly folded and collapsed into a tiny package. While I exhale, I watch as the seams expand and separate from one another. At first it reminds me of a globe and I imagine two cities growing further apart while the ball expands. Then it hits me.

“Grace, I have to get back to the lab, but when you see Sofie please tell her I would like to see her whenever she’s free. Even if I’m working, she can interrupt me,” I say. The two thoughts are disjointed but of equal importance to me. In the lab, I need to work on creating a sphere simulation that incorporates the relevant planets. For Sofie, I need to look into her eyes and let her know that I am there for her. We can laugh or cry or hug or do nothing at all. Being near her now is important.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve solved the navigation problem. While I walk across the campus, I mentally drift to the seating chart discussion from the other days’ breakfast. Initially, I dismissed it out of hand because it seemed petty. Now I realize that there may be more to it. While it isn’t really my place for input or brain cycles, I can’t stop my mind from going there.

We are bringing three craft across the galaxies: the space plane and two C-5 Galaxy heavy transports. The team from McMurdo wants to have their own C5 so they can stay isolated. Mom thinks we need the diversity of skills they possess to be distributed between planes, the obvious reason being to cover our bases in the event of a crash, but mom won’t say that.

At the very least, we could use one of their pilots. I love Dad and have been totally impressed with how quickly he took to flying, but landing on a new planet likely will not be the same as touch-and-go’s here in beautiful Northern California.

Even with respirators for safety, I have not met the whole team. I know from the files they shared with us all there are at least four Air Force veterans. If I had my preference, there would be two manning the space plane and one in each of the C-5’s.

Dad has been asking if he and Liam can man the space plane and split the Air Force people between the C-5’s. His claim is that this gives us the best chance of getting the most people on the ground at the new planet. I know, as does mom, that this puts he and Liam at the greatest risk. He’s not suicidal, but this is pretty close to it.

We’re still discussing how things will proceed after the warp jump. The C-5’s both carry sensor arrays that should be able to detect oxygen and water in general. We’ll use those sensors to decide if the planet is even worth further investigation. We will probably have a general idea of success within 30 minutes of completing our warp jump.

If the results look positive, the space plane will go in for a closer look. The general idea is that it will dip into the upper atmosphere of the new planet and get a visual reading. If they see water or even the hint of a hospitable atmosphere, they will run a battery of sensors to see if it would be friendly for humans.

The visual inspection is important. If we can’t see water, we can’t get water. Sensors could show plenty of water present, but it could be frozen or gaseous or even underground. It’s most definitely not the right way to approach planetary investigation, but it’s the only option we have right now.

It’s also a very risky proposal for the crew of the space plane. Depending on many factors in addition to the gravitational mass of the planet and the energy in the atmosphere, the space plane may not be able to pull itself out of orbit. If that happens, they will have a few seconds to conduct an emergency procedure that involves a warp jump to the next target planet.

Dad and Liam are remarkable people, but they are not trained to deal with that type of emergency. Pilots and military personnel in general are trained to act and react under pressure. Not only do they have experience to sense an emergency before it is evident, they have the developed reflexes to take care of the crew, the craft and themselves.

Trained professionals should take the maximum risk. It just makes sense.

Chapter 24

 

 

This is the worst possible time for me to lose motivation. The twins are sick and it is definitely the sore loser virus. They will only live for another 12 to 20 hours. That also means that the virus is adapting to defeat both natural and manmade immunities. We likely have no more than two weeks to leave the planet.

I spent most of the last day working on the simulation environment for the navigation sphere. While keying in the code, I have been making absent-minded comments to both Jane and Cassandra about my thoughts on the topic.

If we set the model up so that the Earth is on one seam of the beach ball and our target planet is on the next seam, we can easily measure the fold needed to bring the seams together. Jane likes to refer to the target planet by is numerical designator, J25-N374, but I prefer to call it ‘target planet.’ If the first jump does not yield success, there will need to be another jump and another target.

My motivation is gone because I can’t decide which direction to orient the bulk of the beach ball. Cassandra says it won’t matter because the amount of warp required is the same regardless. I agree with her, but it is not helping me make a decision. I am paralyzed from taking the last step out of fear.

I need coffee, fresh air, a walk.

“Guys, I’m taking a break before the morning meeting,” I say on my way to the door. “I’ll get back at this later today, but right now I’m fried.”

Neither Jane nor Cassandra respond. They are both buried in the same display, typing and talking. It’s like they have a secret language known only to them. I’m not sure if they have a navigation idea or if they are reviewing possible planets. Whatever it is, I’m not going to interrupt.

Sofie never came to see me. Grace and Remmie brought sandwiches by at some point and said that Sofie was refusing to leave the twins’ side. The reason she ran the samples over to Annette was not in the hopes of curing them, but with a desire to leave them alone for as short a time as possible.

Grace is understandably deflated. Losing the twins and having Sofie at risk is taking its toll. Remmie asked her if she was sad because she lost, and she hugged him tight nodding yes. When I pressed her on what she lost, I found out that she and Sofie played rocks, paper, scissors to see who would stay with the boys. Grace lost or it would have been her putting herself at risk to keep the twins comfortable.

I should walk to the twins’ room and talk with Sofie. Our futures can be tied together for good or bad. But I don’t; I just walk around the block towards the gate to the compound. I cannot sacrifice everyone here because I am infatuated with a girl.

On a bench in a remote corner near the entrance, I see mom. She is sitting alone and looking out past the fence. Her shoulders are slumped but her body is still. There are probably 40 minutes until the morning meeting. Is this how she prepares for getting us all organized and moving forward?

As I walk up a few feet behind her, I can see that she is breathing in short quick breaths. I wait for a cough and a sign that the twins are not the only ones who are sick. Nothing comes for what feels like an eternity.

“Mom?” I speak tentatively.

“Seamus!” She straightens and the backs of her hands wipe across her cheeks.

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you,” I say softly. “I was just out walking around when I saw you sitting here. I can leave if you want.”

“Don’t be silly. Sit.” She slides to the side of the bench and pats the spot next to her. “As crowded as it feels here, no one else seems to have found this spot. It’s my favorite place on the whole campus.”

“Were you crying?” I’m not sure what to say to her, and this doesn’t feel right once it’s out of my mouth.

“No. I may not have any tears left,” she says and shakes her head from side to side. “Today, ‘out there’ means the other side of the fence. Soon it’ll mean another solar system and galaxy. I may be a little too old for space travel.”

The truth is that she is perfect for space travel. We need maturity and composure if we are to have any chance at surviving this thing. Mom is not old; she’s risk averse and would rather take chances here where she is comfortable. It will likely be her leadership that not only guides us to a new planet, but also helps us establish a colony where we can survive.

“Did we do right by you?” she asks me after some silence.

I have never thought of that before. Seeing my parents as people who owed me something did not occur to me. They just sort of there.

“You never really got in my way, so yeah I guess you did right by me,” is all I can think to say.

“But do you feel like a good person? Leaving you alone may not have been the right thing; we should have helped you to become the best person you could be.” She has clearly thought about this for some time.

“Well, I didn’t turn out like Cassandra,” I say, I can’t help but smile. “Not that she’s bad, but you know what I mean.”

We both share a laugh at that. A good person is measured differently in every family. In our family, the bar felt like it was pretty low; maybe that was a way of making it extremely high.

Mom puts her arm around me and I lean into the embrace. She’s hasn’t hugged me in a while and this feels nice. We sit like this for several minutes in silence.

Before we can move and get up, a commotion arises behind us. People are yelling to one another; a search is being coordinated.

As we both rise and turn to look at the heart of the campus we see Randy walking hurriedly up the sidewalk. Once it is clear that we see him, he starts waving his arms animatedly.

Mom and I close the distance to Randy somewhere between a walk and a run. We are out of breath when we arrive.

“What is it?” Mom asks between panting breaths.

“We found the warheads,” Randy replies, but not with any optimism.

“Excellent, we can discuss it at the morning meeting then.” Mom starts walking while she talks.

“There’s bad news,” Randy says. He does not fall in step with her. “The countdown was already started.”

It’s not his fault but Randy seems to be taking responsibility. He stands on the sidewalk paralyzed with fear and regret.

“Let’s discuss it with everyone else. I’m not going to shoot the messenger, Randy,” Mom says, showing that composure I know we need.

The three of us walk in silence back to the lab building and the conference room that houses the daily meeting. It is a gorgeous morning, making it difficult to be afraid of anything.

Most everyone is already in the conference room when we arrive.

“Well, this will be the first meeting that kicks off early,” Mom addresses us all. “I guess the news is big, and not a secret. That’s good.”

“Either our prodding or some other event seems to have triggered the sequence for nuking the planet,” Roger says, not waiting to be called on.

“I’ve been wondering if we could fly around to the warhead locations and manually take action?” Dad asks, spit-balling another of his crazy ideas.

We are not all on the same page; I have no idea what action needs to be taken. The news may not be secret, but the details are not common knowledge. There needs to be a baseline before we can constructively move forward.

“Why don’t we make sure everyone is up to speed before we start brainstorming solutions,” Liam says. My brother speaking logically must mean the end of the world is near.

“We have located virtually all of the warheads needed to plunge the Earth into a nuclear winter,” Roger says, speaking slowly and clearly so that there is no room for misunderstanding.

Jane shifts uneasily in her seat. She may know what Roger is talking about or she may just dread what he has to say.

“There was an obscure agency known as Interplanetary Defense,” Roger continues, unfazed by Jane’s movements. “It operated somewhere between NASA and DoD. It looks like they actually had a loose relationship with a similar agency in Russia.”

Looking at Roger, he suddenly appears drained. I had thought he was so strong before. I realize how little I know about the survivors from McMurdo. Did they have families that were left behind? Was the time in the Antarctic a stopover before a big career jump that no longer exists? They have been through a different set of trials than we have. No less stressful or crushing to their spirits.

“They have responsibility for the Star Wars missile defense system. They also have the capabilities to divert an asteroid the size of Rhode Island if there was the chance of it slamming into the Earth,” Roger continues. “Needless to say, there is quite a bit of firepower up there.”

“So Paddrick, no, we cannot fly around to the missile locations and take a manual action,” Randy says, focused on what we cannot do. “We haven’t done an analysis to determine who started the countdown, but it was started and there does not appear to be an off switch.”

I visualize a computer monitor in a bunker somewhere, counting backwards with hours, minutes, and seconds on the screen. The time counter is more likely a field in a larger and more complex display, but it doesn’t matter. Time is flying fast and there is nothing we can do to stop it.

“Annette confirmed that the twins have sore loser anyway,” Grace says, staring blankly at the table.

“How much time do we have?” Mom asks. She wants concrete answers.

“About 80 hours,” Roger says, giving a nice round number even though every second counts.

 

BOOK: Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2)
7.35Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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