Asteroid Diversion

by Bobby Akart

  “He hates to fly,” Pop quickly replied.

  “I’ll take him in the Hummer,” answered Bear. “He’s familiar with it, so I made him a cubbyhole in the middle of the back seat to curl up in.”

  “He misses Gunner,” observed Pop. “He seems to sense that his best pal is off doing something more dangerous than the usual missions. Dogs have a sixth sense about people, you know. Howard isn’t around other people much, so he doesn’t necessarily identify someone as having negative energy. He can sense a negative vibe, however. In this case, a situation that is making us all uncomfortable.”

  “Does he act nervous?” asked Bear.

  “No, he just sleeps.”

  “Pop, he’s always sleeping,” said Cam with a chuckle.

  “I know, but this is different. He becomes totally uninvolved in his surroundings. It’s as if he wants to tune out the world until Gunner returns.”

  Cam increased the volume on the television, and everyone turned their attention to the screen.

  The reporter described the scene. “We are in the final countdown of the delayed launch of the Starhopper. There are launch parties around the world, waiting in great anticipation of this moment when the international crew from the United States, Russia, and France begin their twenty-five-hour journey to intercept asteroid 2029 IM86 as it speeds toward Earth.”

  T minus thirty seconds.

  “The countdown has been somewhat different from the rocket launches we’ve all been used to seeing for decades. The Starhopper is designed very much like the space shuttle, except with its own Raptor rocket engines capable of taking it to Mars and back some day. For now, it will embark on a mission that will likely determine the fate of our planet.”

  T minus ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero.

  Raptor engines have ignited and we have liftoff of the Starhopper!

  “There he goes!” Pop said excitedly with tears in his eyes. “My son can do this, guys. I know him. He can do it.”

  Cam and Bear moved in to hug the man who’d been a father to them both over the years. They watched as the Starhopper lifted off from the Moon, the orange glow of the Raptor engines powering the spacecraft toward the stars and a rendezvous with the planet killer.

  Chapter 42

  Tuesday, April 24

  On Board the Starhopper

  Unlike the space shuttles that had been retired, the Starhopper was designed for carrying passengers for extended lengths of time. The space shuttle was a workhorse, operating under a crew of seven astronauts and capable of hauling lots of cargo. The sixty-foot-long cargo bay, the rocket engines, and the fuel tanks made up eighty percent of the space shuttle’s length. The one-hundred-twenty-foot-long Starhopper was laid out more efficiently, befitting its design for deep-space exploration. It was considered more luxury motor coach and less eighteen-wheeler.

  It was also designed with advanced technology to partially eliminate the challenges of living in a completely weightless environment. In television programs, and on the big screen, viewers always saw the ship’s crewmembers stably on the floor of the spacecraft, seemingly denying the lack of gravity in space.

  In space, unless you were orbiting the Earth to use as a point of reference, you had no way of knowing which way was up as there was no gravitational force pulling you down. With the Starhopper, SpaceX pioneered the technology known as intra-vehicular artificial gravity.

  It was built with an inner shell, part of its overall composition, that constantly rotated. This continuous rotation created centrifugal force that generated artificial gravity. Centripetal acceleration created by the constantly rotating inner shell gave its human occupants the feeling that the outer hull of the Starhopper was pushing them towards the center.

  The technological breakthrough also paved the way for travel to distant planets in the near future. Remaining weightless took an incredible toll on the human body, subjecting it to a horrific biological wear-and-tear process like bone loss and space blindness.

  By building a gravity-producing shell, the astronauts were protected from the forces of ultra-rapid acceleration necessary for lengthy space travel, and the attack upon IM86.

  The interior of the Starhopper was also unparalleled. The flight deck contained four seats, with a front row occupied by the commander and his pilot. Both of these astronauts had access to the same control panel, a mirror image for both left seat and right seat. In an emergency, the controls could be manually piloted from either astronaut’s position.

  Immediately below them at mid-deck was a lounge area and kitchen galley. Toward the rear of both levels were the crew sleeping modules, storage, and the bathroom. Moving about the spacious Starhopper was easy once liftoff occurred and it had escaped the gravitational pull of the Moon.

  Initially, the four seats on the flight deck were occupied by the Americans. Chief Rawlings occupied the commander’s seat, with Gunner sitting directly behind him, while the commander of the Starship, who’d been enlisted onto this flight at the last minute, piloted the Starhopper with the female American astronaut sitting behind him.

  Mid-deck, the Russians and the French astronaut were able to monitor the progress of the launch on eight monitors that provided them simultaneous data and telemetry feeds.

  “We have separation, Chief,” said the commander, a highly respected family man who’d flown dozens of space shuttle missions and was well versed in the operations of the Starhopper. “I’ve got us locked in on IM86, and now we are weightless.”

  “Thank you, Commander.” Chief Rawlings gave him a thumbs-up and then turned to address the second group. “Listen up, folks, before we get settled in for this long flight. I want two of us at the helm at all times. I can’t keep our guests out of these two rear seats, but I can insist they stay away from the controls. If a seat is empty, the temptation to occupy it will be too great to resist.”

  “Roger that, Chief,” said Gunner. “They’d freak out if we restricted them to mid-deck, wouldn’t they?”

  “Without a doubt. Keep in mind, this mission is our baby, and we’re not turning back now. But, out of respect for the president, who pulled this all together, we don’t need to leave him a diplomatic mess to deal with that could be just as devastating as IM86. This second cold war ain’t no joke. We have more powerful enemies than we did in the sixties and seventies.”

  “Got it,” said Gunner.

  The commander added a comment. “Our passengers aside, I think we need to provide Major Fox as much time in the right seat as possible. Granted, the Starhopper flies itself most of the way, kinda like the old space shuttles. We didn’t have to do any work until the last four or five minutes. But sitting here, as opposed to the simulator, will give him the opportunity to get comfortable with the flight controls. Not to mention this panel that was added in the center console.”

  He tapped a display that was combined with a series of buttons and a small keyboard. This was the launch control panel for the nuclear missiles. It was almost identical to the controls contained in the military’s modern combat jets for air-to-surface missiles, except the ordnance was far more powerful.

  “I agree, Commander,” said Chief Rawlings. “Gunner, eat and get some rest. As we get closer, you’re gonna want to stay up here the whole time. One of us will come get you when it’s time for a switch in personnel.”

  “Chief, shouldn’t somebody hang out with the Russians to see what they’re up to? I don’t like them roaming around without some sort of supervision.”

  “The three of us will keep an eye on our guests. You rest and get your mind ready.”

  Chapter 43

  Tuesday, April 24

  On Board the Starhopper

  Gunner slept well. The night before their second launch attempt, he’d racked his brain considering all of the possibilities associated with the sudden gastrointestinal illness suffered by the other two astronauts. He considered getting Ghost and the Jackal involved to conduct research on
the various poisons, but there was little time before he was required to board the Starhopper again.

  Chief Rawlings woke Gunner up by gently tapping on his sleeping module door. He had taken some time to rest as well so that the two of them could command the Starhopper for the final stretch to the asteroid.

  After a stop by the galley and an abrupt conversation with Commander Sokolov, Gunner and Chief Rawlings relieved the other two American astronauts and settled into the flight deck.

  “Okay, Gunner, we’re gonna guide this thing to our point of intercept using a combination of manual controls and the onboard computer system. But before we do, I think it’s time for you to spend some time with Artie.”

  “A stowaway?” said Gunner with a chuckle.

  Chief Rawlings smiled and then changed his tone. “Engage artificial intelligence support.”

  A second later, a computer-generated voice with a Scottish accent replied, “At yer service, Commander.”

  “Hello, Artie,” said Chief Rawlings.

  “Hullo.”

  “Artie, please welcome Major Fox.”

  “Wylcome, Major Fox. Hoo’s it gaun?”

  Gunner busted out laughing and then played along. He tried to imitate a Scotsman’s dialect, using a poor imitation of Scottie from the old Star Trek shows. “A’m daein fine, whit abooty yersel?”

  Artie replied, “No’ bad, Major Fox. Do I detect a wee bit of a Scotsman in ye?”

  Gunner laughed uproariously, perhaps the most genuine belly laugh he’d had in years. “Chief, I like this guy. Did you pick the Scottish accent?”

  “Yessir. I’ve always been a Trekkie. Who didn’t love Scotty?”

  Gunner nodded and looked around the upper control panels as if expecting to see Scotty, or Artie, looking down upon him. “Where are his controls? I mean, how do I turn him off?”

  Chief Rawlings furrowed his brow and turned his seat to face Gunner. “Off? Um, why would you want, um, well, you can’t.”

  “All right, let me ask this a different way,” began Gunner. “Does this thing, Artie, have the ability to override my control of the spacecraft?”

  Chief Rawlings shrugged. “Well, of course there are certain safeguards built into the system to prevent a catastrophe.”

  “Such as?” asked Gunner.

  “Well, erratic navigation, for one. If AI senses that you have become incapacitated or unable to perform, in a way that poses a risk to the spacecraft and crew, Artie can assume command of the Starhopper to avoid danger.”

  Gunner sighed. He didn’t want to pick a fight with Chief Rawlings. The two had established a close-knit relationship. It was just that Gunner had a certain way of doing things, and he didn’t completely trust computers to make decisions that only a human’s individual experience could make.

  “Chief, we created artificial intelligence to help us, not lead or control us. No machine can replace what’s in my head.”

  “I understand, Gunner. You have to understand. We can’t turn Artie off.”

  “Major Fox, dar ye want ony lei dither than Scots? American English?”

  “You’ve been eavesdropping on our conversation?”

  “Ay, a wee bit, while on the flight deck only.”

  Gunner shook his head and shot an I-told-you-so glance at Chief Rawlings. “Yes, Artie. I like speaking to a Scotsman when we’re playing, but I prefer American English when we are working.”

  “As you wish, Major Fox,” Artie responded with his perfect narrator’s Midwestern no-accent voice inflection.

  “Artie, is there a command I can give you that means no?”

  “No means no, Major. If I ask you a question, and you say no. It means no.”

  “Artie, can I tell you not to do something? A command to stand down.”

  “Stand down in military parlance means go off duty in some cases. I cannot go off duty.”

  “Artie, can you do nothing if I command you?”

  Artie paused. Gunner could feel the machine thinking, processing the question, its intended meaning, and the myriad number of potential answers. Finally, Artie responded, “Major Fox, with the permission of the commander of the Starhopper, I can create a command that will only be recognized if it comes from your voice.”

  Chief Rawlings looked to Gunner and whispered, “What do you want me to say?”

  “Chief Rawlings, my sensors can discern a whisper at the same auditory levels as a scream,” interrupted Artie. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Yes, Artie, go ahead.”

  “If Chief Rawlings approves, I can create a command based upon Major Fox’s voice for the words Artie, stand down. If I hear such a command from Major Fox, I will not perform the function that I’m programmed to do.”

  Chief Rawlings shrugged and looked at Gunner.

  “Works for me,” said Gunner.

  Chief Rawlings gave the order. “Artie, create a command for Major Fox to override your functions by using the words Artie, stand down.”

  “Yes, Commander. Major Fox, please say the words slowly and distinctly.”

  “Artie, stand down.”

  Artie paused for a moment and then spoke. “Your words have been recorded, and your voice can change its tone, inflections, and level of emotion without altering my ability to recognize it.”

  “Thank you, Artie,” said Gunner. He was beginning to warm up to his new friend.

  Suddenly, Commander Sokolov appeared at the rear of the flight deck. “Chief Rawlings, another member of your crew has fallen ill. It is Favier. He is complaining of stomach cramps and pain.”

  Chief Rawlings stood and walked toward Sokolov. “Where is he?”

  “In his sleeping module. He has spent the last thirty minutes in the toilet.”

  Chief Rawlings turned to glance at Gunner and then pointed toward the rear of the spacecraft. “Take me to him.”

  “Someone must remain with the major. He is not an astronaut. He cannot be trusted to command the ship in your absence. I will stay with him.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Commander Sokolov.” A voice came from behind him toward the cargo hold. It was the American Starship pilot who’d been resting. “I will occupy the flight deck with the major while you gentlemen attend to our friend from Paris.”

  Commander Sokolov appeared frustrated. He began to badger Chief Rawlings. “This is not acceptable to Russia. We are at risk on this spacecraft because you and your crew have brought an infectious disease on board. It was during your command of the International Space Station in 2019 that many astronauts fell ill due to bacterial infections. I will not risk my crew suffering the same fate as your astronauts!”

  Gunner had had enough of the mouthy Russian and was ready to do something about it. Chief Rawlings sensed that and quickly raised his hand to stop Gunner from continuing to rise out of the pilot’s seat.

  “Let me assess the situation, and we’ll follow proper medical procedures to help him.”

  Sokolov didn’t back down. “You and your crew should be quarantined before the mission is compromised. I am capable of piloting this craft and, with the help of onboard intelligence, completing the mission.”

  Chief Rawlings sighed, but was firm with Commander Sokolov. “I am in command of the Starhopper on a United States-sanctioned mission. I will make these decisions, and for now, I am instructing you to clear the flight deck area.”

  The chief pushed his way past the much larger man, and the void he left was quickly occupied by the other American commander on board, who immediately crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “You heard our chief. Clear the flight deck.”

  Commander Sokolov glared at Gunner, grunted, and stormed out.

  Chapter 44

  Tuesday, April 24

  Fort Mills

  Near Delta, Alabama

  Delta, Alabama, population two hundred, was a small unincorporated community in Central Alabama in Clay County. Nestled on the edge of the Talladega National Forest on the southern ed
ge of the Appalachian Mountains, Delta was known as a gateway to Alabama’s highest natural point, Cheaha Mountain in the Cheaha State Park.

  The area was beloved for its scenic vistas and beautiful waterfalls. Nature trails were abundant, and in the areas bordering the state parks, bowhunters were granted limited access to hunt deer and wild turkeys.

  Pop was given the coordinates to the lake at Ketchepedrakee Creek that ran across the western border of Cam’s family cabin. Bear and Cam drove the vehicles along the back roads, avoiding large towns and certainly steering clear of Tallahassee, where unrest had been reported at banks and retail stores.

  He took his time preparing his Cessna for flight. Dog Island was practically deserted, as most of the full-time residents had headed inland in search of food and supplies. The story was the same around the county. Americans hoped for the best. They wanted to believe that Project Jackhammer would succeed. Most were prepared to take their chances that the resulting meteor storm would either burn up in the Earth’s protective atmosphere, or any meteorites that found their way through would impact the planet elsewhere.

  Nonetheless, as reports of looting, food shortages, and gas stations running empty hit the news, it became every man for himself. Pop watched with disbelief as people fought over shopping carts full of bottled water in grocery store parking lots. A woman had her baby knocked out of her hands as she attempted to buy formula at a Walmart. Looting was rampant, with everything from televisions to tennis shoes being stolen in preparation for IM86’s arrival.

  Pop was confident in the plan laid out with Cam and Bear. His focus of concern was for his son. He prayed relentlessly for God to keep Gunner safe. To be sure, Gunner was receiving heartfelt prayers to succeed in his mission, but nobody wanted him home safely more than Pop. It was a topic that the father and son had discussed many times throughout their lives together.

  He’d said to Gunner, “You can risk your life for your country, but oftentimes, they’ll judge you by your successes, not by the level of risk you place yourself in.”