She turned back to look at the gondola. Cobb stared down at her and waved. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.
* * * * *
Chapter 12
Morning, Monday, May 6th
Formerly Classified Genesis Facility
San Nicolas Island
Cobb stood to the side with Kathy, watching and listening. She hadn’t let him out of her sight. Daimler flew the whole Flotilla and Shangri-La to the island of San Nicolas, figuring it was close and a good place to hover after they set the ships down. Turned out to be fortuitous, because it was where General Rose had gone to fight the unknown enemy force.
The Flotilla was set down a short distance from the island’s docks, and Shangri-La took up a position over the island. Admiral Kent’s fleet arrived later in the day, vastly increasing the number of ships and military personnel. A few other ships which had fled also returned. And there had apparently been a reunion between two surviving aliens, First Scout and Nikki.
Cobb was pretty much beyond being surprised. The sails of a pair of Russian nuclear attack subs at anchor just offshore might have come close, though. Frankly, he was glad to see General Rose and an admiral. He was thoroughly out ranked once again. When there was time, he planned to write a full report on what he was forced to do on Shangri-La, hand over command of the troops who’d found refuge there, and retire again. Nobody needed an old, former lieutenant colonel. Well, judging from the look on Kathy’s face, maybe one person did.
He, along with Paul Bisdorf and Clark, were invited to a meeting as representatives of Shangri-La. All the players were assembled in a conference room inside the former Project Genesis facility. A lot of it was shot to shit, and a few buildings were wrecked. Others were in use as temporary detention facilities while the status of the former Genesis workers were sorted out. Still, it was the largest enclosed area they could find.
It needed to be enclosed so First Scout and Nikki wouldn’t be exposed to direct sunlight; it was dangerous to them. Not only had the aliens evolved in less intense light, but their basic biology was different. They needed to avoid too much exposure to Earth’s environment and its contaminants. They sat on specially modified chairs which lifted them to the level of the conference table. There was no sign of the frightening, metallic guardian named Mercury. Cobb had seen it once and didn’t want to see it again, especially after he’d heard from Rose what it could do.
Other attendees were the Russian senior officer, Captain Chugunkin, and his XO, Captain Lieutenant Svetan, Dr. Lisha Breda and Wade Watts, who’d worked out a way to remove Strain Delta from things, Admiral Kent, and Captain Gilchrist. There were also a NASA scientist named Bennitti, a virologist named Gallatin, and another female scientist named Gnox. God help him, but Cobb felt like there should have been elves and dwarfs talking about a ring.
Dr. Breda was talking. “Our new process doesn’t change the overall fact that even with the Februus device, we cannot stay on this planet.”
“I’m not willing to give up the United States,” Admiral Kent said.
“There’s nothing left to give up,” Bennitti said. “With the alien drives, we can do salvage operations, but we’re just feeding off the corpse.” Kent scowled.
“Also,” Lisha continued, “tests I’ve done with the Februus show that it merely neutralizes the nanovirus, it doesn’t destroy it. Introducing an active unit reboots everything.”
“That is in line with how Pandora was designed,” Nikki said. Cobb had heard that they’d decided they wanted their species to be known as Vulpes, which he thought meant “fox.” Fitting. “Once we finish repairs on our ship, I can do more tests. However, Pandora is designed to be self-sustaining.” The little alien shrugged, a gesture it seemed to have picked up from the humans around it. “There is no simple fix. Maybe none at all.”
“Then what can we do?” Kent demanded. “Float around on that crazy city they’re building?”
“Why not?” Bisdorf asked. “We built Shangri-La with a few dozen roughnecks. Given a better labor force and help from the Marines, we could build something 100 times bigger in weeks.”
“Will the drives support it?” Kent asked.
“Easily,” First Scout said. “They were not designed for the uses you have put them to, however we can provide you the field calculations. Considering the low density of your metals, I am confident a single unit will support a structure 10 kilometers long.”
“Holy crap,” Clark yelped. “What about power?”
Cobb already knew some of the answer. Based on some tests, the unit that powered Shangri-La had lost 5% of its total capacity from taking a direct nuke. The engineers were stunned, but he wasn’t. After all, the aliens flew around the galaxy with the damned things.
“Your nuclear power plants are usable,” Nikki said. “I reviewed the designs and—”
“How did you get those?” Admiral Kent demanded hotly.
“They are in the Project Genesis databank,” the alien said, returning the admiral’s glare. “We have full access. As I was saying, I’ve studied your primitive nuclear power system. The overload you experience inside a shield is the result of a feedback loop. It can be easily cured. The shield will enhance some radioactive processes. I believe you have a device called a radioisotope thermoelectric generator? Even a modest one will provide all the energy needed to operate a drive system for hundreds of years.”
“It’s still a temporary solution,” Rose said, getting in between the admiral and the alien. “The animals are mutating under your Pandora. It’s dangerous for us and will get more dangerous.”
“With that sort of power source, there’s no reason to keep the bases Earth-side,” Bisdorf said. People around the table gawked at him.
Clark rubbed the stubble on his chin and nodded. “The device provides a forcefield for atmosphere, gravity, and everything you need. Why not put it in orbit?”
Cobb watched the discussion bounce around and shook his head, glad he wasn’t in the middle of it. He looked at his girlfriend. She was looking at him. “What?” he asked.
“I was just thinking about what comes next.”
“Lunatics are talking about fucking space colonies,” Cobb said.
“No, I mean you and me.”
“Well, I did cross the wastelands for you.”
“You did,” she cooed and snuggled against him. “But I mean…”
“What, should we get married?” he asked.
“Oh, I accept.”
“Hey, I didn’t really ask.”
“Sounded like it to me.”
Cobb felt his face getting hot, and she grinned. That was when he noticed the little lens clipped to her shirt pocket. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Yes, and I have evidence you asked me to marry you.”
“Okay, I’ll admit you’re right. What I want to know is whether you were recording the whole meeting.” She grinned sheepishly. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“Oh, you’ll get used to it.”
“Fine,” Kent was saying. “We’ll start with this Shangri-La and expand it. Rose, who do you want in charge of security?”
“I’m going to tap Brigadier General Pendleton over there, if he can stop smooching with that reporter long enough.”
Cobb’s head spun around when he heard his name. “General, what?”
“I said I want you in charge of Shangri-La’s security while they expand. We’ll put these Heptagon people on your place too. Less chance of losing track of them floating in space.”
“Sir, I was thinking I’d retire.”
“Denied,” Admiral Kent said. “The general staff serves at the discretion of the president, and we don’t currently have one to release you from active duty.”
Cobb was about to complain that he wasn’t general staff, when his mind finally processed how he was addressed. “Wait…did you say brigadier general?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what I said,” Rose replied.
�
��Oh…I don’t know if you can do that.”
“Are you going to tell a general and an admiral what they can’t do?”
“No sirs.”
“Good. Then remember when a lieutenant general and a vice admiral tell you to shut up, you have to listen.” Kent had a tiny grin on his face that Cobb didn’t like at all.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
“With time, other plans could be made. But we’ll have to see.” First Scout said.
“We’ll see,” Rose agreed.
* * * * *
Epilogue
Shangri-La
Low Earth Orbit
Kathy Pendleton watched the ship approach Shangri-La. Docking was still tricky. Even with the alien’s help, balancing the force field as the two came together was tricky. She liked to come out and film ships returning from Earth, not because it made great footage, but because the people loved it. It was heartwarming to know people were still being rescued, supplies were still coming up, and plans were moving forward.
The sound of cheers echoed from East Side where a baseball game was underway. She’d wanted to watch, but this particular ship was important to her. It had once been a nuclear submarine. Now it was what they called a Phoenix. Not a class, but a type. They were airtight vessels that were designed to drop down to the surface to recover groups of survivors. This one’s previous name had been the USS Wyoming, SSBN-742. It was now named the Grange, RS-01. Rescue Ship 01, named after Lieutenant JG Pearl Grange, who was lost on-mission after the collapse.
Six more ballistic missile submarines were in one stage or another of refit in berths at the shipyard. Kathy understood they’d proved ideal for the job. Because of the side effects from the alien force field, a nuclear power plant on a navy vessel could be set in permanent standby mode and still create enough power to run the craft for decades. Maybe centuries.
The next ship was to be the Cartwright, RS-02. She’d interviewed survivors and her husband about the name. She was doing a TV segment for each ship. They were all to be named after people who died trying to save others during the collapse.
The Grange completed her transition through the force field and began to settle into her berthing cradle. Kathy picked up her laptop and ever-present voice recorder and walked toward the yard. Not far away, a crew was using a gravity manipulator to move a tank the size of a 747 into position. It was part of the planned 100-unit expansion of their aquaculture farm. Population growth was straining the algae tanks. Having to maintain strict Strain Delta quarantine didn’t help production. But nobody wanted to start from scratch with clean samples. Another full, atmospheric purge was something nobody wanted to do.
By the time she reached the gangway for the Grange, the sail hatch was already open, and crew were emerging. The contamination dome had been locked down on the aft deck, where nuclear missiles used to be housed, and people in biohazard suits were opening the hatch. She was distracted by the appearance of a handsome man in combat fatigues with a bag over his shoulder.
Cobb trotted down the ramp, stopping at the bottom to salute a flag which hung next to the ship, before stepping back onto Shangri-La. Kathy pranced over and leaped into his arms.
“Oof!” he said, dropping his bag and laughing. “Careful, I’m an old man.”
“Phft,” she snorted. “You look chipper to me, General.”
A squad of Marines marched by and wolf-whistled. Cobb gave them his general’s stare, and they stood ramrod straight as they marched on. Kathy wasn’t fooled, she saw the glint in his eye and the smiles on the men’s faces.
Kathy took his hand as he picked up the bag, and they walked down the pier. The berth next to the Grange wouldn’t be empty for long. It already had a sign saying Cartwright by the gangway. She saw Cobb looking at the sign as they walked by.
“He was a good guy, huh?”
“Yeah,” Cobb agreed. “One of many.” They walked in silence for a while.
“How many this time?” she eventually asked.
“We have 29 on board. It was 30, but one had the bug. The test didn’t pick it up until it was too late. If we’d known, we could have cut the cruise short and come back to hit him with Februus.” He shrugged. It happened sometimes; the test wasn’t perfect. The jury was still out on the treated ones too. The Februus Device was 100% effective for stopping the bug, if you got to it before the brain was messed up. The problem, as Dr. Breda explained, was that the bug wasn’t destroyed. Its progress was frozen in time at the moment the victim was ‘reset.’ If they got even one live bug, it would pick up where it left off in a matter of seconds. It made those who had been infected potentially dangerous.
“We stopped by the seed bank, too, for another load.”
She nodded. The Antarctic seed bank held some of the only pure seeds on the planet. They didn’t show any sign of Strain Delta. Turned out, extreme cold helped slow the virus. On some of the first missions after the Battle of San Diego, people from the Amundson-Scott station at the South Pole were rescued and found to be bug free. They’d stayed on Earth and gone to manage retrieval of specimens from the seed bank. They were already used to extreme cold, so it was a natural fit.
“When’s the next trading mission with Atlantis?” she asked.
“Next week. They want to take the Cartwright to show it off.”
“Looks like the Europeans are moving along pretty quickly,” Kathy said. She’d seen recordings from the first trip to the European version of Shangi-La. It was only 1,000 yards on each side and growing a bit slower. They didn’t have aliens helping them.
One of President Paul Bisdorf’s first acts was to establish formal relations between Shangri-La and Atlantis. They were still evaluating Atlantis’s quarantine procedures, and on the second trip, they delivered a new Februus Device. Again, they couldn’t be too careful.
“I’d like to go.”
“I know,” Cobb said. “Paul says another month of setting up their procedures and harmonizing them with ours, and it should be safe.” Kathy frowned. “The refit of the Pacific Adventurer is almost finished. We’re going to use it for shuttle service back and forth.”
Kathy laughed and shook her head. “A cruise ship in space. Now I know I’m dreaming.” She looked to the west and saw that the sun was about to drop behind Earth. Shangri-La was orbiting to the night side. In order to afford access to the planet, she did two orbits a day. At their altitude, that meant 16 hours of daylight and 8 hours of night, broken up into two cycles per day. Everyone had blackout curtains on their apartments.
“How about Kitezh?” The Russian orbital city was the third in the string. It was the closest in size to Shangri-La and would probably be bigger in another month. Despite a smaller population and some political strife between the various Russian and former Soviet people living there, they worked hard. The Vulpes had gifted them a good number of drive modules and the associated hardware, but they refused to assist the Russians. The Vulpes had a healthy suspicion of them and had only helped the Russians at the insistence of Admiral Kent as part of the overall bargain.
First Scout said he was willing to reconsider their relationship with the Russians after a time, if no more shooting took place.
“You really want to go there?”
“Of course,” she said. “I hear the food is good.”
“If you like beets and sour cream,” he said, and they both laughed. Part of the mutual aid agreement had included instructions for manufacturing Februus Devices. She’d heard rumors that the Russians were trying to reclaim territory back on Earth. First Scout and Nikki had both said it was ill advised, then washed their tiny hands of the matter.
“And what about the Mayflower?” she asked.
“No decision on when to start yet,” Cobb said. “Maybe not for a year or two. Still a lot of survivors down there.”
“The longer we wait, the greater the chance of losing it all up here.”
“Paul knows,” he assured her. “Hey, is that a baseball
game I hear?”
“Yeah, wanna go watch?”
“Sure,” he said, and they changed course. “Oh, hey, did you hear Tango’s girlfriend is pregnant?”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, seems everyone is getting knocked up. You’d think people would be a little more careful. We’ve brought up more than enough condoms, for crying out loud.” He’d walked a few feet before he noticed she hadn’t said anything. He stopped and looked at her. “What?”
“Well…” She felt her cheeks getting hot. Like most men in these kinds of situations, she could see the wheels slowly beginning to turn, like putting a manual transmission in gear with a bad clutch.
“Wait…you mean…you…and me…?” He trailed off.
“Yes, dear, you and me.” She put a hand on her belly.
“But I thought you were on the pill?”
“I was,” she said. “I went to the doc. He said a lot of people are in our situation. The pills are getting old.” She shrugged. “They lose their effectiveness.” He looked flustered. “We don’t like condoms.”
“I know. But damn, baby, I’m almost 50. It’s a little late to start a family.”
“It’s never too late. Why do you think everyone’s getting preggers?” She knew he’d been a bit conflicted when they’d gotten married four months ago. His wife had only been gone for two years. They’d never been able to have children, and he thought it was his issue. A lot of guys came back from the Gulf War sterile. Turned out he was wrong.
“The timing…” he said.
“The timing is what the timing is. Cobb Pendleton, you are going to be a daddy. So, are you going to whine about it or soldier up?” His eyes narrowed, and she winked at him.
Turning Point (Book 3): A Time To Live Page 42