Peregrinus Orior

by Robertson, John

  Both Eli and the general were responding calmly, objectively and reassuringly, as Jim knew they would. Eli was a well-known, respected and trusted face of science, having participated in numerous public education discussions. General Montgomery was a new face, though one that would be increasingly familiar in the years to come, but he was solid, pragmatic and optimistic. Both had been thoroughly scripted over the last few days on a range of probable questions and the agreed upon responses, approved by the president.

  The media questions were somewhat moderated by a written media briefing that had been made available two hours before the president’s announcement on an embargoed basis. Nevertheless, the questions ranged from insightful to amusing. For example, one reporter asked, “Is there a risk that people could be swept off into the sky by Peregrinus?” All questions were treated with the same respect and logical response. It was too soon to know how Americans were going to react, much less people in other parts of the world, many of whom would be affected even more profoundly than most Americans.

  It had been a busy three weeks since the consequences of Peregrinus’s passage through the solar system had been first laid out. Jim had been tempted to delay for a few more weeks to allow a little more time for the preliminary response plan to be developed. However, as the severity of the global cooling became clearer, he came to feel that the American people had a right to know what lay before them as soon as possible. So, as soon as a rough outline of the response plan was in hand, he set the date for a presidential address, though initially the date was not publicized.

  Jim had changed one thing in the sequence of notifications he had originally laid out. As the global cooling picture became clearer, he decided that he had to give the leaders of the most drastically affected countries more lead time to grasp the situation and at least sketch out their own response plans. Even before that he took a few selected cabinet members into his confidence, including the secretaries of state, energy, homeland security and defense.

  He was going to need the secretary of state and her department to coordinate the dissemination of whatever information could be provided to the governments of the rest of the world to assist them in their own planning. The Department of Energy would likewise need some forewarning to plan how best to secure the United States’ access to energy, the resource that had always been — but which was about to become even more — the world’s most precious commodity. The president hoped that the roles of the departments of homeland security and defense would not need to change appreciably, at least to begin with, but he wasn’t entirely sure what sort of havoc Peregrinus was going to wreak on global political stability. All of these and their key staff members were drawn behind the top-secret veil of the Peregrinus file.

  One week before his planned public address, having already gotten his own country’s preparations underway behind the veil of secrecy, James Rushton began to contact the leaders of the world’s major northerly countries. The list included America’s northern neighbor and staunch ally, Canada, the United Kingdom, Germany, France, the Scandinavian countries, Italy and Japan. The president had even contacted the president of Russia and the premier of the People’s Republic of China, though the former had responded pugnaciously as if suspecting some sort of ploy. However, before contacting any of these, in fact within a few days of learning of Peregrinus’s climate change consequences, Jim had spoken with his southern neighbor and friend, Luis Lopez, president of Mexico. It was a conversation that spanned several subsequent calls, some secret work by the attorneys general of the two countries, and a brief visit to Washington by President Lopez, ostensibly for further discussions on their joint fresh water project, which was in fact part — but not all — of what they discussed.

  The morning after the briefing with the full cabinet and congressional leadership, James Rushton addressed the nation. He advised Americans that a large planet was approaching the inner solar system from the far reaches of outer space and would pass by Earth about ten million miles away in a little less than two years. He made it clear that there was absolutely no risk of a collision. He further explained that there would be no sudden or cataclysmic effects on the Earth, in fact no noticeable initial effects at all, even though this planet will appear visibly larger than the Moon when it reaches its closest distance to Earth. However, the Earth would gradually and smoothly be drawn very slightly farther away from the Sun, to an average distance of about ninety-five million miles compared to the present ninety-three million miles. He didn’t get into the nuances of the other orbital changes, though that information was to be made available.

  The president calmly advised that even such a minor change in the Earth’s distance from the Sun was going to have a cooling effect of several degrees on the Earth’s average temperature, with an even more pronounced effect on the northern hemisphere. He went on to say that in time the cooler temperatures would result in a gradual build-up of ice and snow in northern latitudes, unless counteracted by human intervention, with year-round ice coverage eventually extending as far south as the forty-second parallel, though not for many decades.

  President Rushton went on to say that the federal government was developing extensive plans to cope with the changes in the environment and would be coordinating closely with state and municipal governments. He emphasized that there would be two years in which to marshal the nation’s energy resources and make other preparations before the temperatures began to fall, and probably several decades if not centuries before permanent ice extended down as far as the country’s northern border. However, he did say that eventually most of the population of Alaska and the northern tier of the contiguous states would likely wish to move to warmer climes in Hawaii and the southern United States. Fortunately, the climates of Florida, Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and southern California would, if anything, become more pleasant on a year-round basis, and several of these states had large swaths of undeveloped land available for new cities and industries.

  The president closed his remarks with the statement that Americans, working together, had the technology, resources, ingenuity and determination required to surmount this challenge. He called for calm, cooperation and patience as plans and preparations were developed and communicated. Lastly, he called for sympathy and support for the many northern countries that would be more seriously affected than the United States. It would be an overstatement and a poorly chosen figure of speech to say that all hell was breaking loose at that moment in many of those other countries, as their peoples began realizing what a grim future they faced.

  Jim knew he had to focus primarily on readying his own country for global cooling. However, he was not a person to turn his back on a neighbor in need, and he believed most Americans weren’t either. His northern neighbor, Canada, was among those facing a grim future. Canada had not been just a neighbor, but an ally and friend. The two countries were closely interwoven economically, by language, culture and shared democratic beliefs.

  There were pragmatic reasons not to let the Canadians freeze in the dark. Canada had vast energy resources, which a cooperative effort, including U.S. capital, could tap in time to benefit both countries, supplementing the ample but not inexhaustible U.S. domestic supplies. Jim had spoken at length with the Canadian prime minister over the last week about how the two countries could work together. He had even confided with the prime minister on the ace he was holding up his sleeve, while insisting on absolute secrecy.

  As Jim relaxed with his family after an intense morning and mused on the initiatives he had set in progress, the irony of it all was not lost on him. Many of the new programs he was initiating were largely counter to the direction that he and his predecessor had been following during his tenure in public office to date. However, James Rushton was a pragmatist, not an ideologist. He knew by historical precedent that species that failed to adapt their ways in the face of climate change were at risk of extinction.

  Chapter 24

  Friday, April 15, 2028


  Lakeview, Oregon

  It was seven thirty at night. John Kirk was relaxing on one of the twin beds of the small motel room he and Carlos were checked in to. He had unfastened his shoulder holster and placed the sidearm within easy reach on the bedside table. Carlos, who was working on maps and compass headings at a small desk, still wore his. They had just registered and picked up their race packages and then had a light dinner with their teammates, Fiona, Helen and Kevin; had appointed Carlos as team navigator; and agreed to reconvene in the women’s adjacent room for a route briefing in two hours, at nine thirty. Kevin would be their van man and had elected to sleep in the team van rather than pay for a room. The other four needed a comfortable sleep if they could manage it.

  At six o’clock the next morning they would launch into the 125-mile California/Oregon Spring Classic Adventure Race, a thirty-hour test of endurance, navigation and strategy. They would need to be up by three thirty to grab a quick but hearty breakfast and have enough time for the long winding drive out to the start line. They would be carrying all the food and drink they needed until noon the day after.

  All five were members of the Santa Rosa Police Department and were good friends, though only John and Carlos were members of the tactical team. There was even a romantic relationship between them. Fiona and Helen had been dating for four years. Carlos and Kevin had long-term girlfriends outside the police circle, and John was between relationships. The women were solid police officers, but more importantly for present purposes, they were extremely fit and well experienced in all three of the adventure race disciplines, mountain biking, running and tandem kayaking. The race format required teams of two men and two women. Fiona and Helen were marathoners and John and Carlos, who didn’t usually run such distances, hoped that they wouldn’t be run into the ground by their lighter, lither teammates on the twenty-seven mile running segment.

  The police team had registered for the event several months ago. Following the president’s announcement of the coming passage of the planet Peregrinus, and its anticipated cooling effect on the planet, they had conferred as to whether they were still up for the challenge. Santa Rosa was far enough north that they would eventually face some pretty cold winters as best they could tell, though it should remain livable, at least for quite a few years. They knew they would have to buy some warmer clothing and probably weatherproof their homes, but it seemed like there was plenty of time to arrange all that. They felt that the government had things under control and would let everyone know if they needed to do anything more. For the time being, like most other Americans, they were all planning to just carry on with their lives. They had trained hard for the Spring Classic Adventure Race and did not want to miss it.

  The route planning decisions that Carlos put in front of the group were pretty straightforward. The initial seventy-five-mile mountain bike course started on the Oregon Timber Trail near Morgan Butte and followed that trail south until it connected with Crane Mountain National Recreation Trail #161. The route continued south on either of the two trails, which paralleled and crisscrossed each other nearly all the way to the transition point to the run segment, just over the state border and into California. There was little to choose between the two trails and many places to switch from one to the other.

  The elevation at the start line would be about 7,200 feet with ups and downs but generally descending down to 5,000 feet over the first twenty miles, then ups and downs with no real trend for another fifteen miles before climbing steeply back up to 7,000 feet over the next five miles to the connection with the Crane Mountain Trail. From there the trail would descend to as low as 5,500 feet before the brutal climb to the peak of Crane Mountain at 8,450 feet, which was accessed only from the Crane Mountain Trail and which included a mandatory checkpoint. The last ten miles to the running segment transition point was an easy descent, which would allow a little recovery of cardiovascular and leg muscle systems.

  These trails were well-traveled and would be easy to follow in the daylight, which meant they didn’t require any difficult navigation. The team simply needed to keep track of their progress. Carlos had marked his map with various landmarks and distances, so he would be able to keep the team informed. Of course, no electronic navigation aids were permitted in the adventure racing format.

  There were three optional checkpoints on the mountain bike segment. These added extra points to a team’s time score. They each involved dismounting and climbing a short but steep slope to a readily visible high point above the trail where a marshal would confirm the presence of all four teammates and sign their logbook. Altogether, they might total one thousand three hundred feet of vertical ascent and descent, which wasn’t much by themselves, but they added a little extra challenge to an already formidable day. Some of the teams would skip these scrambles, but it would be difficult to score in the top ten without the extra points from the optional checkpoints.

  Carlos had laid a rough route up to each of the three, and the team concurred that the extra points were worth the effort. But they all knew they could adjust this plan. One of the key factors in successful adventure racing was the ability to react to circumstances as you encountered them, including the physical condition of all the teammates, and adjust the plan accordingly. Fiona would be the team’s checker and would lead any plan revision discussions for this competition, though decisions would be by consensus.

  By ten thirty that night, the four members of the team were in bed with the lights out.

  It seemed to John that he had only just closed his eyes when his wristwatch alarm sounded. Kevin was already up with coffee, pancakes and sliced ham ready to go on a propane stove behind the van. Each person’s backpack had been prepared and checked the evening before and contained a two-liter camelback filled with water, three extra liters of Gatorade, and various high-protein, high-energy food bars and gels. Each of them had a sleeping bag for warmth conservation in the event of a problem, as well as a rain jacket and a medium jacket, which they were wearing for now, and warm gloves. It was right on the freezing mark in the parking lot and would be a good eight degrees Fahrenheit colder at the start line. They would shed the jackets at the first planned break at the low point of the route, about an hour into the race. By ten after four in the morning, they were in the van and heading out for the hour-and-a-half drive to the start point. All side arms were chain-locked to an anchor point in the floor of the van.

  At shortly after six thirty, the starter waved them onto the trail. For safety and sanity, the starter was releasing teams at three-minute intervals, starting with those with the fastest predicted times based on a combination of past performance and self-evaluation. This was the police team’s first thirty-hour event, so they were released twelfth of the twenty conforming teams. Nonconforming teams, with fewer than four members or which lacked the specified male to female mix would be released last. Race rules required an overtaken team to pull off the trail and allow an overtaking team to go past. It would not be uncommon during the first couple of hours for teams to trade places back and forth several times before reaching a steady state riding order.

  The police team was planning to push the pace hard to begin with, risking a fall in order to try to gain some open space. It seemed that most other teams had the same strategy. During the first two hours, they were able to overtake three teams and move up to ninth. They were overtaken themselves by one two-man nonconforming team that pounded down the trail as if intending to test the medical aid stations positioned along the route at several access points.

  Throughout the morning the team stuck to their planned steady pace, working hard but maintaining reserves. They took the breaks they had agreed on at the map points that Carlos had suggested. They made sure they stayed hydrated. With the cool temperatures they weren’t losing much to perspiration, but they were exhaling a significant volume of water vapor. They also made sure to eat small amounts at each break. Fiona kept a close watch on everyone’s condition, but they were also all keeping
an eye on each other.

  As they tackled the long ascent up Crane Mountain some fifty-two miles into the race, they were feeling pretty good. Their pace dropped to an average of four miles per hour, about the same as what they could sustain if they were running up the grade. During the three-hour climb, they stopped for five minutes on the half-hour and ten on the hour. The climb was taxing, especially after nearly six hours of strenuous activity, including the forays to the optional checkpoints, all three of which they had signed off in their logbook. It was not a race that just anyone could take on. In fact, they had all had to qualify at shorter events in order to register for the Spring Classic. They were, however, exceptionally fit, both physically, but, even more importantly, mentally. They also benefited from being a close and mutually supportive group.

  On the uphill stretch they overtook three more teams, each of them stopped and off their bikes. Two of the teams were ministering to one of their members who had collapsed. In each case the downed team member was wrapped in a sleeping bag and was eating and hydrating. One was having his calves and thighs massaged to work out cramps. A team was required to stay together, which was why it was so important to keep an eye on each other to make sure a weaker member wasn’t inadvertently run into the ground by stronger teammates.

  There was always one member who was the weakest or slowest on any given day, but it wasn’t always the same person. Anyone could have an off day. The police team was well balanced to begin with and made sure to watch each other for early signs of exhaustion. They briefly hailed each team as they passed and inquired if they should send back medical aid, which was refused in all cases.

  The third team they overtook looked almost entirely blown. They may not have had a weak member, but they had committed the classic error in a long-distance event of adopting too aggressive a pace at the beginning, using up all their reserves and burning themselves out. They might have had one of the fastest paces as far as they got, but with an hour or more required to recuperate, they would now be near the back of the pack, if they could finish at all. The police team pushed on, hoping they could hold their sixth place spot, or maybe even improve on it.