by Andrew Gates
Baltir turned to face the room and subtly waved. Arrogant twit. He did not even look professional. He wore ragged clothes, just like Sanja. I have an excuse, she thought. What does he have?
“How long will we have control of the weapon?” another voice asked, this one female.
“It’s hard to say. We have control of the weapon so long as the structure on the surface has power,” Baltir answered.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Yavenna,” Commander Grey said. “We’re accessing it remotely through a server located in that facility, so the fate of the missile is tied to the fate of that generator. I’ve been in contact with one of the survivors, Greyson Georgopolis. He has inspected the generator up close and predicts they have about two days of power left.”
The room was silent as they processed this information. A room full of the military’s greatest minds had two days to use one of the most powerful missiles in existence or risk never using it again.
Damn, I miss out on all the fun parts, Sanja thought. It pained her to be silent right now. She would have loved to be part of this decision making process. But for now she supposed she was just glad to see it unfold in person.
“The most logical use for this missile would be as a retaliation effort against the UBEs,” the commander explained.
“How would we possibly do that, Commander?” the female voice asked.
“That is a good question. For that, I will now turn the floor over to Dr. Gosling, who has conducted thorough research on the current state of the surface.”
Commander Grey turned to face one of the large monitors on the wall behind him. The President moved aside as the commander pressed some sort of button. The monitor lit up. A strange map appeared on screen. It was not like any of the ocean maps Sanja had ever seen before. She studied it more carefully and suddenly realized that this was not an ocean map at all. This was a map of the surface.
Two large landmasses took up the left side of the screen, connected by a thin strip. To the right, a much larger collection of landmasses took up most of the screen. These continents were represented in white. Empty black spaces surrounded them. These must have been the oceans.
Dr. Gosling walked out from the crowd and faced the room. He was shorter and older than Sanja remembered. His hair was whitening and his teeth were crooked. He wore large thick glasses and a tie that looked far too tight for his thick neck.
“Thank you, Commander,” Dr. Gosling started. He turned to face the monitor. “This is a map of the surface as we understood it at the time of the Descent. The white represents land. The black represents water,” he explained. He pointed out various parts of the map. “As many of you know, in response to theories proposed by surface historian, Iris Vitneskja, I recently headed a research project to determine the age of our planet’s soil. My team and I concluded that the soil outside the FCP was in fact thousands of years older than the soil gathered in the same place from pre-Descent samples.”
Sanja had already heard this story. She just wanted him to get on with it already.
“What this means is that thousands of years of tectonic movement has occurred, leaving it highly likely that the map you see here no longer accurately represents the actual continents of the Earth.”
Another hand went up.
“Yes,” Gosling said, pointing.
“Excuse me, I don’t understand. How could the map be wrong?” a male voice asked.
Tectonic movement, you idiot. Aren’t you listening?
“Over time, underground plates shift and move. This process is slow, but it leads to the eventual reformation of various continental shapes,” Dr. Gosling explained to the moron who seemed to know nothing about science. Part of Sanja was glad she was not the one answering these stupid questions. “Given that thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of years have passed, it is likely that some shifting has occurred.”
The white-haired man turned to face the monitor again. He walked up to the desk and pushed some buttons. A red X appeared on the screen and the map zoomed in around the X shape. The word Guatemala appeared next to it.
“According to data gathered by surface survivor Daniel Georgopolis, the UBE mothership is in geosynchronous orbit at roughly 16 degrees latitude, negative 89 degrees longitude at an altitude of 420 kilometers above sea level. Putting those coordinates in layman’s terms, the ship is currently hovering over what would have been surface era Guatemala. Again, to reiterate, it is possible that the continent beneath it may look different today, but with these coordinates, the physical look of the planet does not really matter.”
This information was fascinating. Sanja had never felt more jealous. She would’ve given anything to conduct that research.
Another hand went up. Sanja practically groaned watching it lift in the air. She could not stand to hear another stupid question.
“What is the purpose of all this information, doctor?” a female asked.
“For that, I will turn it back over to the commander,” he said. Dr. Gosling stepped back into the crowd and turned to face forward.
Commander Grey stepped back up front.
“Thank you, Dr. Gosling. To answer your question, Mrs. Epstein, this data is important because it allows us to effectively destroy the UBE mothership, should we choose to do so. We have a solid estimate of the height and geographical coordinates of the ship and access to a missile we can only fire once. The question now becomes, should we use this power to destroy the UBEs or not?”
The room was dead quiet for an instant, but then it exploded with furious debate. Sanja practically had to cover her ears to avoid going deaf.
“Quiet, quiet!” Peter Skylar yelled, trying to silence the room.
Jordan Grey waved his hands in the air like a teacher dealing with unruly children. Slowly the room started calming down.
Sanja wanted nothing more than to see that mothership explode. The UBEs had destroyed everything for the Federation and forced her into this hellhole. For her own sake, she wanted revenge. It pained her to know she had to remain quiet and hidden.
Dozens of hands went up at once.
“Yes, Mr. Gunter,” Jordan Grey said, pointing to a man in front.
The man walked out from the crowd in attendance. He was nicely dressed, but not nicely groomed. His patchy beard looked awful and his long brown hair came down past his shoulders.
“I find it appalling that we would retaliate with so little information. For all we know, this ship could be unaffiliated with the UBEs. What hard evidence do we have that this is linked to them?”
“Who else would it be?” a voice shouted from the crowd.
“Order! There will be order! No speaking out of turn. Those are the rules,” Commander Grey said, addressing the room.
Another hand went up.
“I would like to agree with Mr. Gunter, but for different reasons,” replied Mrs. Epstein from earlier.
“Alright, the floor is yours,” Commander Grey said, motioning for her to approach.
The woman stepped forward. She looked frail and weak. Her stark black pantsuit looked redundant when paired with her already dark complexion.
“Let’s think strategically here. For the moment, we are at peace. The UBEs are not attacking us in the FCP. Maybe they don’t know where we are, maybe they don’t care. But either way, they’re leaving us alone and they aren’t snooping around. If we attack them, we reignite that aggression. They’ll come looking for us again. Do you really want that to happen?”
Sanja had to admit, this woman had a good point, but it was not enough to change the fact that she wanted nothing more than to see that spaceship fall from the sky.
“I hear your point, Mrs. Epstein, but from a strategic standpoint, I have to disagree,” Commander Faulkner responded. She walked her way through the crowd and stood out front. “This is not the Atlantic Station. This is the FCP. The station was situated atop the seabed. You could physically see it if you swam over us with a strong enough light. The FCP is built un
derneath the seabed. We’re inside the rock. You can’t see us here. We’re undetectable.”
“Still,” the woman continued, “you can find anything if you look hard enough.”
Why is she arguing with a naval commander? Sanja shook her head. This woman should have learned to quit while she was ahead.
“Any other points?” Commander Grey asked, moving the debate along.
Mrs. Epstein and Commander Faulkner both rejoined the group as another hand went up.
“I say we attack. If anything, our secrecy gives us a strategic advantage,” a male voice responded. He walked up to the front of the room so all could see. To Sanja’s shock, this was no ordinary man. This was Elected Official Andre White, newly appointed Chairman of the Defense Committee.
Sanja stood up tall to make sure she got a good view.
“The UBEs attacked us. They are a threat. If we can hurt them, I say we do it,” he said. His point was short and direct. Sanja liked that.
“Mr. Chairman, if I may, how long did it take from the moment the UBEs intercepted the Cassidy submarine, to the moment they led the attack that destroyed the Atlantic Station?” a different woman asked, holding her hand high as she spoke.
“About four months,” the EO replied. He played along, though Sanja could tell he did not know where she was going with this.
“And how long has it been from the moment the UBEs destroyed our city to now?” that woman continued.
“About two months,” he answered. “What’s your point?”
“My point is, don’t you think this is a little fast? The UBEs gave it twice as much time before they destroyed us. Yet here we are, rushing into it.”
This woman has given the worst argument yet. What a fucking trog.
“We can’t wait, Ms. Scott,” Commander Grey added, answering before the Chairman even had a chance. “Remember, once the power runs out in the structure, we lose all ability to fire that missile.”
“Then hold off,” the woman named Scott suggested. “Wait until we have more intel first. We don’t want to rush into things and waste our shot.”
“We might not have another shot, don’t you see?” the EO explained. He threw his hands in the air and started pacing around. “Listen, everyone, listen!” The room came to a silence.
He sure knows how to command an audience, Sanja thought, once again impressed by this man.
“We have been granted a rare opportunity here, a very rare one,” he continued. “We all know the UBEs destroyed our city. Most of the people I love are dead now. I know everyone here has lost everything. We are all that is left.” Andre pointed around the room. “They took our world from us. I think a lot of us came to accept the fact that there was nothing we could do about it, that there was no way we could possibly get back at the monsters that did this. But now... now things have changed! This missile changes everything!”
The EO turned to face the President now. They locked eyes for a moment. Ortega nodded and White nodded back. It was as if he were waiting for his approval. He turned back around again to face the room.
“We have been granted that chance, that moment we were all waiting for, a chance to avenge those who died. We can finally show those bastards up there what it means to attack the Atlantic Federation!” he exclaimed and held his arms high above his head.
“White is right! Those bastards killed my son!” someone hollered.
“And my parents!” yelled another.
“My wife!”
“Calm down, calm down,” Commander Grey said. He held his arms out again. “I don’t want to keep reminding you that we must be orderly and calm.”
The room slowly quieted down.
“Thank you, Commander,” the EO said. He was in control now. “I think I’ve made my point.”
Andre looked around the room one last time before he lowered his head and walked back into the crowd.
Then it was quiet.
“Would anyone else like to speak?” Commander Grey asked.
Nothing.
How could anyone top that? Sanja wondered. Most people here were probably too intimated to follow White’s speech.
Commander Grey looked around the room, searching for anyone who might have something to share. When it was clear no one else would speak, he slowly nodded his head and turned to face Ortega, who had remained relatively motionless the entire time.
“Well, Mr. President, you’ve certainly heard some compelling arguments here. Ultimately the decision lies with you,” he said.
It was strange hearing Jordan speak up to someone else. Jordan was a man who led things, not a man who took orders. But when it came to the President, nobody else came first.
Sandra turned to face her boss. Her face showed signs of worry.
“I advise against a missile strike, sir,” she said.
Of course you would.
“Any potential diplomatic ties with the UBEs would be severed instantly,” she explained. “It would be a diplomatic nightmare.”
“There are no ties with the UBEs,” Ortega replied as he adjusted in his chair. The room grew quiet the second he opened his mouth. “Nor do I expect there ever will be.”
Sanja watched as the President got up from his chair and took a few steps forward. He adjusted his suit and stood resolute before the room. Everyone adjusted themselves to stand tall and straight for him. It was as if he had a magic power over everyone here.
“This is not an easy decision,” Ortega started. He began to pace back and forth. “I understand our data may not be accurate. I understand we may be escalating a situation. But I also understand that the more UBEs exist in the world, the greater the risk of attack. For the safety of everyone here, I have to agree with Chairman White.”
Ortega stood still now and faced the room. He took a deep breath. Sanja was practically on her toes, waiting for the President to say the words.
“I authorize the attack. Destroy the mothership,” he said.
“When would you like us to proceed?” Commander Grey asked.
“I see no point in delaying our retaliation. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of the facility running out of power. I say we do it now.”
Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m seeing this.
“Roger that,” Commander Grey said. He turned to face the crowd. “Baltir Yavenna, if you would join me.”
Baltir stepped up. He seemed nervous. His body trembled.
“Can you activate the missile from this terminal?” he asked, pointing to the monitor.
Baltir simply nodded his head. He did not say a word.
“Good. Then do it. Connect to the server and launch.”
The sloppily dressed half-breed walked up to the desk. Everyone stepped aside for him, even the President himself. The whole room watched as he tapped buttons on the control panel below the monitor.
Sanja did not know what was happening on the screen, but numbers glowed and changed with every press of a new key. Baltir was working his computer magic, whatever he was doing. After a few moments, he paused and turned back around. He gulped, as if he were nervous.
“What are the coordinates?” he asked.
Jordan turned to face the room. He looked like he was searching for someone.
“Dr. Gosling?”
The doctor stepped forward.
“Here,” he said.
“Coordinates, please.”
“Specifically, 16.451 degrees latitude, negative 89.413 degrees longitude,” the white-haired man replied.
Baltir tapped some more buttons. Sanja could see the numbers appear in some sort of algorithm on the screen.
“And the altitude?”
“420 kilometers above sea level,” replied the doctor.
“Exactly 420?” Baltir questioned.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Are you sure? Was the measurement made from sea level?”
“The measurement was made from the Pentagon,” the doctor replied. “We factored in the elevation o
f the land based on pre-Descent surface data taken from that region.”
“That elevation may have changed over time. It probably increased given that-”
“We accounted for that too,” the doctor interrupted. He seemed impatient.
“Okay, just making sure you covered your bases,” the cocky half-breed replied.
Baltir tapped more buttons. Sure enough, the number 420 was entered into the algorithm on screen.
“Is everything ready?” Commander Grey asked.
Baltir stepped away from the console and nodded his head.
“It is, sir. All you need to do now is press this button,” he replied, pointing.
The room was quiet. With just a touch of a single little button, the Federation now had the power to destroy an entire city.
The President slowly moved toward the keyboard. He stopped in front of it and stared down at the controls. He hesitated. Sanja did not know what passion gripped him in that moment, but it was not the same passion that gripped her. The President seemed frozen, like he could not go through with it.
Amidst the total silence, Sandra Walter stepped forward. She pressed her hands against the President’s back and leaned forward. Her mouth neared his right ear.
“Think about what you’re doing,” she quietly said, though Sanja could hear the words even from the far corner of the room.
“What am I doing? I’m avenging our people. I’m keeping us safe,” the President replied. He held his right hand out over the button. He was ready to press at any second.
“Keeping us safe? Maybe. That cannot be ensured. But what is ensured is that we’ll be killing others. They may not be human, but they are intelligent life. If you do this, we are just as bad as them. If you do this, we become the monsters.”
What the hell is she doing? He already made up his mind. Don’t change this, you kunda!
“Just as bad as them?” Ortega repeated. His hand shivered above the button.
No, no, no! She can’t do this!
“Put it away,” she whispered. “Don’t become the monsters. We are better than them.”