by Hylton Smith
*
Seeing the live rats scurrying around the cages in the young researcher’s quarters conferred a different experience to that of looking at still images. The absence of a language to factor into the scene intensified Eugene’s ambivalent discomfort. The mother appeared to be totally unaware of her offspring resembling tiny dinosaurs. Nevertheless, he had to establish a way forward which would not become a divisive force if his father succeeded in his celestial challenge. Society was already fractured in a number of ways. He challenged the young man’s regard for this aspect.
“As the director of this research I have to look beyond the scientific elegance of your work. One such responsibility I must respect is that of ensuring there is no danger to public health. So, tell me, how have you addressed this in your experiments?”
The shrug of the young researcher’s shoulders was indication enough.
“As I feared, you haven’t even considered it have you?”
“Of course I did, but I was more concerned by arousing anyone’s suspicion. And, as you are well aware, I would have needed to justify time on the specific lab equipment, thus exposing the nature of the work I had undertaken. But now those checks can be done.”
“How can you be sure that you haven’t already created that very risk at the same time as the new sub-species? Rats are one of the most effective means of spreading infection. What I’m really trying to get into your head is that your work is a very long way ahead of where we need to be right now. The guiding principle of the project is and always has been to identify a means of reinforcing human resilience to our environment, whether it changes drastically or not. I want you to allow these specimens to be terminated with immediate effect. Perform post-mortems in private and let me know the results, before we talk more about what can and cannot happen next. We need to extract as much value as we can, even though it will be retrospective, from your unilateral breach of our code of practice. This is the only way I can allow you to remain in your post. There is no room for discussion.”
The young man was about to protest.
“Don’t,” snarled Eugene, “your undoubted talent will simply be wasted unless you accept that safeguards aren’t just for other people. Decide now or I’ll have you escorted from the building. Such a summary dismissal would require me to inform your colleagues how you have discredited their work by flagrant disregard for the rules. They will be tarnished by association, as will I. That’s how it works, and don’t pretend you didn’t know this, especially since you failed to declare you had previous with your last employer. We can get back on the right track if you do as I say. If you can’t respect the project guidelines and my authority to enforce them, I fear you may never work again.”
*
Bondarenko was back and advised Julien that the IT people he’d brought with him should be interrogated before they were allowed to mix with any VB Aerospace personnel.
“I had the chance to study their behaviour in response to the TV pictures on the flight. They all seemed to be just as shocked as I was, but then if one of them was involved in the launch it could be a rehearsed reaction. I want to question them one at a time. I could not do that on the plane or since we arrived.”
“I agree. What I can tell you from our observations is that the missiles are on the heading we would have chosen ourselves if we’d launched at this particular time. Which brings me to what I propose to do next, with your help. Rather than wait until we had planned to launch our own deflection force, I suggest taking a calculated risk. If you can reconfigure our control system to achieve Mars orbit, we can have each warhead primed to act, in the event of the Soyuz fleet either detonating too early or hitting the target and causing fragmentation. If we launch as soon as this can be done, our fleet will arrive long after that of Soyuz. So, we can be more certain of how many targets we have to track, where they are heading, and hit them before they disperse out of range. It would mean that we need more tailored control of each missile and I know that brings complexity, but such flexibility is needed if we require different detonation times and coordinates. There seems to be three scenarios. The asteroid breaks up without any terrestrial interference and the fragments spiral away from us or they just keep coming at us. Secondly, the Soyuz fleet causes an explosive break up which has more chance of dispersing the remnants. And thirdly we have to recognise the probability that the Soyuz fleet will have no effect for whatever reason. If we don’t launch our fleet until we know the outcome, we allow the asteroid to come closer before we can affect its path. You should know that I’ve asked the management team to take some time off so that we can cut down the relentless speculation, and replace it with hard facts. In truth, I wanted to give you time to make these alterations and keep that between the two of us. So, let’s get these damned interrogations underway and out of our face before business as normal is resumed.”
“You expect me to reconfigure the interfaces of the entire fleet myself? Just me? That’s impossible.”
“Alexei, that isn’t a word we can entertain. Do one missile at a time, and launch them as they’re ready. Think outside the box. Look, just get started with eliminating your IT people one at a time and when they’re cleared, get them to help you with the reconfiguration. I don’t want to use any of our subordinates. Somebody must have leaked Kolorov’s death. If only we’d had the flight deck up and running again, we may have been able to eavesdrop in Siberia.”
“That was not an option, Julien. I saw how tight the security operation was over there. Remember, Ivan built the place after he saw Volker Brandt’s espionage system.”
“Yes, but he was also convinced I had destroyed it.”
“Ok, first the interrogations, then the interface reconfiguration process, then we can reboot the flight deck.”
*
The post-mortem results were somewhat ambiguous. Eugene pointed to several slides which showed irregular behaviour of tissue samples.
“This is exactly what I didn’t want to see.”
The young researcher could only manage his acknowledgement by a nod.
“I’m referring to these ‘zones of conflict’ for the want of a better expression. In your zeal to create a new pathway to DNA manipulation you discounted the long term force of gradual evolution. Scores of generations are required to cultivate natural response to environmental stimuli. And as long as the stimuli remain, there can be resistance to other invasive attempts to alter course. Viruses have faced this challenge over aeons and have had considerable success, but only as far as step one, infiltration. Killing the host is counter-productive for them, and they have to adapt. They are making gradual progress, and like bacteria, are responding to change. Antibiotics are all but spent as an efficient means of treatment. We need to harness the virus infiltration capability without creating a secondary rejection scenario. The rats are a perfect example. The crude intrusion of wings into an already designed spinal system lacks accommodation of the effects of growth. The wings have caused both micro and macro deformity and the rejection is evident. It’s now more difficult to determine whether there is lower immune protection to further viral attack. I would assume that to be the case, and unless we can be sure there isn’t, we have to close this line of research and begin again. I’ve decided that you should present the idea to our entire team as if you haven’t started the process. We can debate the principles of the technique again and perhaps define more modest objectives, with more checks and balances in place. We’re a team, get that through your head and you may just get broader support for your concept.”
Another sheepish nod enabled Eugene to set up a session for the entire group, to chew on which doors could be opened by this technique, and which ones could be closed again, if deemed necessary.
Chapter 38
The interrogations were intense, exhaustive, and extremely enlightening. Without being able to collude with one another, every single IT technician threw scorn on Bondarenko’s assertion that Kaputin was scientifically illite
rate. He was unanimously portrayed as one of the leading plasma propulsion experts in the world. And Kaputin was in fact his little known middle name. Introducing himself as Sergei (Kaputin) Shevchenko would have given the game away when Bondarenko first phoned the Siberian plant and asked to speak with the director. It was a well-rehearsed ploy which had been used with all suppliers to the assembly line. Kolorov’s influence could be seen in this spider’s web. Attracting unwanted interest after the disaster with the first fleet was to be avoided at all costs.
Some of the more senior technicians were adamant that not only did this outward deception become the operational bible of the place, but reinforcement had been relentlessly pursued by making cosmetic changes to the director’s appearance. Finally, all contact with the outside world projected the man as merely a facilitator. Hence the high wages and no time off for the staff until the project was complete. All of those interrogated were extremely confident that the missiles would succeed in their quest. The senior group also insisted that Kaputin would have all the codes and the capability to launch the fleet unaided, and even more certain that if he’d ever suspected that Kolorov had encountered any misfortune which prevented his ability to instruct Kaputin, the latter would be primed to act.
This effectively meant that Bondarenko could now turn to the task of making the VB deflection fleet control interface capable of instructing each missile independently and simultaneously, if that was required. Julien Delacroix was, in Bondarenko’s mind, surprisingly unsurprised. Julien calmly acknowledged the news and told him to press ahead with the plan. Privately, he wondered how Kaputin found out that Kolorov’s life had expired, and whether it was by natural causes or by a decision to switch him off.
One Month later
Although Ivan Kolorov himself could not rise from the dead, his legacy was not bound by such mortal constraint. The resurrection of the flight deck eliminated one further line of investigation. There was no window into the shadowy world of Soyuz Siberia, however, there was also good news. Even if the telemetric evidence had to be tempered with caution, Kolorov, via Kaputin had successfully conspired to get the fleet beyond Mars, and remarkably, still on course for an altercation with the asteroid.
Bondarenko’s progress with the reconfiguration programme was nothing short of remarkable, and much of that achievement was down to seamless cooperation between the Siberian and VB Aerospace IT staff. The fleet would be ready within seventy-two hours. This had been, in no small way, assisted by Julien’s people voluntarily returning early from their proposed two week break. There was an atmosphere of optimism, one of finally believing the balance of probability was moving in their favour.
The Chilean images kept on coming and indicated that the fissures in the asteroid had not widened significantly. One consequence of this was the gradual stabilisation of the distance between the detached cometary fragment and its mother. Both the gravitational force of the asteroid and the repellent influence of its tail had diminished to the point of being eliminated as a variable in the cosmic equation harvesting.
Eugene’s mediation regarding the Zika virus research tributary paid off handsomely. Exposing the success of only the infiltration step fired up a waterfall of lateral thinking. Consensus was reached to study the mechanism rather than work on the basis of actually employing the virus and its attendant risk. The resultant outpouring of options to progress this approach led to the convergence Eugene felt was so important. Team ethic began to flourish again.
Quality of the Delacroix family life was also on the rise. It felt as if they had forgotten, if only temporarily, the weariness of confronting only bad news. Could it be true? Was the worst case scenario somehow receding of its own accord? Picnics by the sea, flotillas of windsurfers, the odd kite, and seasonal flocks of seabirds, helped to blur the negative thoughts which had assaulted human endeavour over the last few years.
*
Julien’s hand hovered over the launch controls. His was a symbolic role, setting in motion the sequence for those delegated to take over the countdown process. Nevertheless, he felt a lump in his throat, and he found himself transported back to that fateful day at the Osaka conference. The sheer number of kinks in the road since then had seriously worn him down. For the first time since that conference he was drawn to the attraction of full retirement. He glanced over to his family and was met with tears of pride masked by unbridled joy. Nobody was thinking of failure any more. He wondered whether he should bring forward the disclosure of Dr Villeneuve’s diagnosis. He was in urgent need of a heart bypass procedure. There had always been a better time to concede. Not now, he thought, perhaps after he truly accepted he was in denial. Broken promises to oneself didn’t seem to weigh as heavily as those made to others, especially if those people depended on him. Perhaps pushing this button would be the catalyst to unburdening himself.
As the missiles were absorbed into extra-terrestrial space, and the applause died down, Julien glanced sideways and his gaze was met by Dr Villeneuve. She nodded firmly. He acknowledged the signal and left the throng to share the moment with his family. He asked Eugene to drive them to the house and open a bottle of chilled bubbly. He casually celebrated the moment and told them he had to discuss something with Dr Villeneuve.
“It won’t take more than a few minutes, I promise.”
*
Julien entered the office.
“Mr Delacroix.”
“Dr Villeneuve.”
“I assume you are finally ready to make the appointment for your bypass procedure.”
“I am. I was thinking of next month, by then we’ll know if the Soyuz fleet has any further part to play.”
“Have I been wasting my breath for the last fifteen months? You are at serious risk of cardiac arrest, even as we speak. I can’t believe such an intelligent person can be so stupid.”
“If I remember correctly, you only picked up my problem during a yearly medical check-up. I didn’t have any symptoms to report, and apart from feeling tired now and again, I still don’t have any discomfort.”
“That’s all very well, but if we had found signs of cancer or a possible embolism, you would have immediately opted for early treatment to head off later complications. The scans don’t lie, Mr Delacroix, that’s what they are for, to pick up things we can’t see in any other way. It’s called prevention rather than cure. I strongly advise you to submit to this procedure within days. Have you considered that you may not be here to see the outcome of all the hard work you’ve invested on behalf of humans and all other living creatures? Surely that should be a factor in overcoming your obstinacy. Another consideration is your age, you are entering the sector of the population for whom it is not advisable to undergo such surgery. It’s up to you, I’ve said all I can to you, but I don’t feel as if I should honour my pledge to you about keeping your family in the dark. I want to hear your decision now, not tomorrow, not next week – now!”
“Very well, but how long will it take me to recover? I will have to return to work in the coming weeks.”
“You should be thinking in terms of a minimum of eight weeks, and that would not be for a ‘hands-on’ role such as you have now. You need to begin to delegate immediately.”
“Fine, let’s get the damned thing over with. I need to tell the family, as you suggest. How about the end of the week?”
“Excellent, I’ll make the preparations and give you a more precise time by tomorrow morning.”
*
Julien expected a backlash from his wife and daughter, but they were utterly dumbfounded by the news. Sophie broke down as she tried to find words of sympathy. Her stuttering melted into a clinging hug. Elise flopped down on to the nearest chair and just stared at the floor. Geraldine couldn’t help feeling like an intruder, excusing herself to use the toilet.
It was left to Eugene to pick up the mood. He instinctively thought his father needed a hefty dose of pragmatism.
“These procedures are pretty routine these days. I�
��m not saying they’re without risk, but not the same risk as just leaving things to take their own course. Listen, Dad, I’ve just overseen a new line in research and I’m kind of surplus to requirements at this stage, so I can help to keep an eye on things to do with the asteroid strike fleets. You’ll definitely have to rest up after the op, so if you give me a list of things you’d like to keep up to date on, I’ll work with Bondarenko and report back when necessary.”
Sophie didn’t like this, Elise merely shook her head, and Geraldine invoked the cure-all recipe, tripping off to make everyone a cup of tea. Eugene ignored the prickly atmosphere and asked his father when the operation would take place.
“It looks like the end of this week. If you’re sure you have the time to work with Bondarenko that would ease my mind, Eugene. In fact, I’ll make sure he defers to you if there are any contentious issues. The last thing we need is a vacuum of decision-making at the most crucial time of the programme. I trust you implicitly, son. Dr Villeneuve indicated that I might need a few weeks to recover fully, so I want to put your mother and sister’s mind to rest about me getting involved again too soon.”
Julien visibly relaxed and pulled everyone together. “Now, where is the rest of that champagne? You’ve all deserved this celebration for supporting me over the years. And before anyone else says so, I’m going to have mineral water. There will be another time for life’s indulgences.”
*
During Julien’s briefing of Bondarenko regarding his impending surgery and Eugene standing in for him, the Russian had some news of his own.