Fable Hill

by Christopher Uremovich

  “Wait . . . what?!” Dr. Hyuk said. “Missiles?!”

  “Evacuate your people at once!” the submarine commander ordered.

  Dr. Hyuk hung up the phone and looked over at the others.

  “Sir, we're getting nothing from Arctowski.”

  “Radar won’t pick up the missile launches if they are coming from China, they have active stealth capability. Only satellites will find them.” Dr. Hyuk walked over to the PA system on the wall.

  “Attention, this is Hyuk. All personnel must seek immediate shelter in place. I say again, all personnel, seek immediate shelter in place.” Dr. Hyuk switched to his radio.

  “Air Traffic Control, this is Operations,” he said.

  “Go for Air Traffic Control,” came the reply.

  “I want all birds in the air immediately, we have missiles inbound with no ETA.”

  “Roger,” said the tower.

  The titanic hangar doors opened with a frenzy as alarm sirens blared. Propeller-driven transports and jet engines roared to life, splintering ice and debris from their propellers and fuselages. Crew chiefs and team members retreated into hardened shelters. The pilots created an orderly escape from windswept runways.

  “All aircraft, this is the air traffic control tower. Circle around the facility until the all-clear is given.”

  Inside mission control, only Dr. Hyuk and his team remained. They had not received any more updates from the Japanese submarine, and waited in anticipation. Air crews began radioing in warnings of low fuel from being airborne so long.

  “Computer, activate Vixen,” Dr. Hyuk said.

  “Vixen online,” the computer responded in a heavily-synthesized voice, accompanied by on-screen wavelength lines.

  “Vixen, interface with all available aircraft and extend fuel life to buy us more time,” Dr. Hyuk said.

  “Yes, Director. Interfacing with sub-routines.”

  Dr. Hyuk was picking up the phone to contact Nagoya headquarters when he saw the television broadcast cut to an emergency alert system: “Military emergency in this area. Seek shelter now. This is not a drill. Government of Japan.”

  •••

  Frank monitored Delta-2’s flight path to Fussa Station. Enemy missile stages had all burned up but the ordnance itself was still traveling at a faster rate of speed than the capsule.

  “Is there nothing we can do?” Renee asked, exasperated. The crew sat in silence and brainstormed possible ways out of their current situation.

  “I have an idea,” Mia said. “We can seal the crew compartment and use the airlock to jettison trash or something.”

  “Like chaff,” Frank said.

  “Exactly. I’m not sure about the specifics, but it makes sense I think,” she said.

  “All we have is our personal items. I doubt a couple nylon duffel bags and Frank's religious memorabilia will stop missiles,” Alexei stated.

  “We would need something metallic and heavy enough to cause a premature detonation,” Frank said. Roland looked around the crew compartment for anything not bolted down to throw out the airlock.

  “Alexei, do you have your tools on you?” Roland asked.

  “I'm not throwing my diamond-tipped tool set out the airlock, Captain, you . . . ”

  “You’re going to choose your dumb tools over our lives, Alexei?” Mia chastised.

  “Quiet!” Roland shouted. “We're not throwing Alexei’s tools anywhere. We can use them to disconnect the secondary communications module. That alone is a few dozen kilograms.”

  “We have ninety seconds left, Captain,” Frank said.

  “Quick!” Roland shouted.

  Alexei rummaged feverishly through his belongings, searching for his tool kit. Pulling out a shiny new socket wrench, he went to work on the communications module, disassembling it in record time.

  “Thirty seconds until impact.”

  The crew ferried the module into the airlock and sealed the bridge as the countdown hit ten seconds. Keiko and Renee braced each other as Frank made a quick sign of the cross.

  “Press the damn button, Frank!” Mia and Roland shouted in unison.

  “I am pressing it . . .” he replied.

  “It’s not decompressing!” Mia lamented in horror.

  “Oh god, no . . .” Renee cried.

  CCTV showed the missile gaining at incredible speed until finally two small satellites impacted each missile projectile, causing dual explosions that grazed the Sakura capsule. Everyone took cover but Frank, who watched without flinching. Light from the detonations filled the capsule, then died down to a flicker as the capsule pulled away in seconds.

  “Delta-2, come in, Delta-2.”

  “Go for Delta-2,” Frank said calmly.

  “Thank god you are alright. We saw the flash but couldn’t make out anything else,” the Fussa controller said.

  “Was that you?” Frank asked.

  “You're damn right. We used Yamada's coil gun.” Frank and the others could hear celebratory voices between each transmission. “Oh . . . by the way, you're gonna be down two weather satellites.”

  “This is Roland Chartier, Captain of Yamada. Our lives are in your debt.”

  “Now we just have to figure out how to decelerate you, Captain. We may have an idea.”

  “We’re ready to hear it, sir,” Roland replied.

  “Using the coil gun again, we will send a payload of hydrazine gas in a trajectory similar to yours on an even axis. You will have to have someone go EVA at your airlock and use the Sakura’s robotic arm.”

  The team conceived a plan to capture the payload from Fussa Station. Mia positioned herself just outside the airlock, a high tensile cable coupling her to the craft. Alexei manned the robotic arm from inside the Sakura capsule.

  Roland gave the signal and Frank vectored the last of the onboard fuel. The payload was slightly obscured by light reflecting from the day side of the Earth.

  I can barely see it, Mia thought to herself as she extended the cable out a few more meters. The robotic arm unraveled itself from the body of the capsule and extended just past Mia. “I’m ready whenever you are, Alexei.”

  Alexei toggled the robotic arm with a small joystick. He used a targeting rangefinder which highlighted the payload in holographic red or green crosshairs, depending on distance.

  The robotic arm clamped down hard, scraping the sides of the payload and finally crushing it almost in half. Venting gas sent the robotic arm into a tailspin around the Sakura capsule. Alexei grappled for control of the arm as it swung wildly around the spacecraft, putting immense stress on internal ball bearings.

  “Can you get it under control, Alexei?” Roland asked.

  “Mia, get back into the airlock, I’m going to attempt something dangerous,” Alexei said.

  Mia winched herself back to the airlock, but instead of going inside she flipped herself underneath the belly of the capsule.

  “I’m ready,” she called.

  Alexei cranked the joystick hard left, counteracting the inertial motion of the arm. He then pushed down hard on the inverted controller, pressing the release button for the jaws right before the arm snapped into three pieces and floated into space.

  The gas canisters floated safely into the airlock, still hissing small amounts of hydrazine. Mia flipped herself back into the airlock and uncoupled the damaged canisters.

  “I’m counting eight total. Only two are still intact.” She discarded the ruined tanks and exited the airlock once more to fill up the thrusters. The airlock decompressed and Mia returned unharmed, removed her helmet, and collapsed from adrenaline-induced exhaustion.

  “Good job, Mia,” Frank congratulated. “Those two tanks should be enough to decelerate us and be captured by Fussa.”

  “Keiko, we need to make contact with mission control, give them a status update,” Roland said.

  “If anyone’s still alive down there.” Keiko gazed solemnly down at the Earth as Delta-2 entered the dark side of the planet.

/>   Chapter 10

  “Prepare for docking,” the maintainer said.

  Sakura Delta-2 made its final approach to Fussa. The station was relatively small, with three columns of interconnected modules arranged perpendicular to one another. Each column had an attached row of solar panels that were each larger than the station itself.

  Frank prepared all necessary steps for docking the Sakura capsule with Fussa. Sitting next to him, Roland stirred from sleep, waking up the other astronauts. He viewed live footage of docking procedures and his jaw dropped.

  “Look at her!” Keiko squealed with excitement.

  The Yamada came into view of the exterior cameras. At 300 meters long, she utterly dwarfed the servicing space station that held her.

  “That’s our home, ladies and gents,” Roland said.

  “Ten years it took to build, the largest spaceship ever constructed by man,” Alexei pointed out.

  The Yamada lay attached to two adjacent airlock cupolas. Her stern alone, which housed the reactor and engine, was larger than Fussa; her midsection, an amalgamation of interconnected modules, connected by a large, cylindrical centrifuge.

  An aluminum scaffold encased her midsection and housed the electrical grid. Nagoya made sure to keep interior hazards minimal to reduce the chance of catastrophic fires. The centrifuge, centerpiece of the Yamada, attached to two large habitat modules where the crew would spend the majority of their time in transit to Mars. The Yamada’s nose, heavily insulated with lead-bismuth eutectic, shielded the bridge and communications modules from deadly gamma rays.

  The main attraction, however, was the thirty-five meter long coil gun, deployable from the main hangar and could swivel 360 degrees.

  “God, I cannot wait to fire up that Nexus engine,” Alexei said as docking completed.

  “We have secure connection and lock. Decompressing airlock,” Frank said.

  A general sigh of relief accompanied the crew as they each took turns congratulating Frank and embracing each other. After years of grueling training they had made it to space—to the Yamada.

  Double airlock doors hissed and metal screeched, unhinging the circular door, revealing a cramped, wire-infested station. A man by the name of Devin Edwards received them, gently levitating above the floor.

  “Welcome. I would help with your bags but there are only three of us here and we’re behind schedule. Right this way please,” Devin said.

  He escorted them through the cramped corridors of the station. Small windows lined aluminum walls with views of suffocating space. Frank stayed behind with Alexei to offload luggage. They took turns pushing weightless bags onto the station.

  “I used to be a baggage handler at an airport in St. Petersburg,” Alexei said.

  Frank chuckled. “Yeah? How did that work out for you?”

  “Where was zero gravity when you needed it?” Alexei replied.

  Devin led them to a small room, a tiny cylindrical centrifuge. One man and one woman manned computers with several wires and hookups connected to a rat’s nest of surge protectors.

  “I’m confused. I was under the impression everything was ready with the ship,” Roland prodded.

  Devin introduced the crew to his coworkers and then addressed Roland’s inquiry.

  “Major construction is finished, but we had problems interfacing the AIs with the ship,” Devin said as he reached for a soda can.

  “So what’s the problem?” Roland asked.

  “Budget constraints mainly. Nagoya couldn’t field another smart AI, so we are uploading a standard bot instead,” he said.

  “A data bot, perfect,” Mia said sarcastically.

  “Does everything a smart AI does, just doesn’t give you your daily dose of feel-good bullshit,” Devin said. “It will run the background systems just fine, alert you to any problems.”

  “So, what’s the damage?” Roland asked.

  “You will have to do more manually. You know, like normal people,” Devin said.

  “What about the settlement AI? I was promised a digital assistant for the medical wing,” Renee asked.

  “Oh, your settlement AI is a different story entirely. Nagoya blew their load into its design—more human than ever,” Devin said with a snark smile. “The program will be installed manually. It’s on that server over there.” Devin pointed to a tower-like server wrapped in layers of bubble wrap and cellophane.

  “Any news from Earth?” Keiko asked, concerned for her father.

  “We received an encrypted message from mission control before you arrived. Everyone is meeting in Geneva to broker yet another ceasefire,” Devin said.

  “Is my father alright?” Keiko asked.

  “I’m sure your father is fine,” Devin said as he spoke with his assistant programmers, Diane and Russell.

  “How do you know for sure?” she asked again.

  “Look, I’m more worried about how the three of us are going to make it back to Earth,” he said with anger.

  “She’s just trying to see if her father is alright. You can have a heart, you know,” Renee defended.

  “Just like your bastard father, right?” Devin said.

  “Hey!” Mia shouted.

  Frank and Alexei returned from unloading the capsule, feeling gravity again on their feet as they entered into the cramped centrifuge room.

  “What’s going on?” Frank asked confused.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on. We have been up here in this rickety-ass space station for the last six months, reprogramming this money pit of a ship with no pay.” Devin got wild, pointing his finger in Keiko’s direction.

  “No pay?” Roland asked.

  “Yeah, that’s right, half this damn company hasn’t been paid in months because of her father’s mismanagement,” he said. “Do you know what six months of being up here does to your body?” he prodded. “Do you?!”

  Keiko shook her head meekly. She had no idea Nagoya employees were not getting paid.

  “Then why don’t you quit? No one is keeping you from quitting, or anyone else for that matter,” Mia questioned.

  “Easy for you to say, you haven’t been stuck on a fire-prone, twenty-five-year-old hunk of metal for half a year. Next time I’ll make sure to open the hatch and fall back down to Earth to stand in the unemployment line.”

  Diane, who remained quiet during the conversation, stood and escorted Devin out of the room. “We have been under a lot of stress. He just needs time to cool down,” she told them.

  A heavy awkwardness hung over the crew as they were blindsided by the sudden outburst of the lead programmer Devin. Roland ordered them to board the Yamada and begin the pre-flight preparations. He scurried away to find Devin, taking Renee with him.

  The last programmer in the room, Russell, took the crew to Yamada. Frank, feeling the urge to relieve himself, tracked down the station’s restroom. Inside was a small toilet like you would find in an airplane. Frank used handles on the walls to pull himself into the cramped space.

  The others entered the Yamada through the station’s main airlock. Once inside, they followed Russell as he explained the layout and they explored their new home.

  Frank entered through the open airlock door. The ship was vastly different from the rickety old space station. Sleek floors and white paneled walls offered an uplifting atmosphere, which was much needed.

  Using metal handles on the walls, he gave himself the motion needed to roam around the corridors of the ship. Digital screens laid in plastic decorated the hallways. They depicted scenes of Earth, with rainforests, cityscapes, and sea life, vibrant and animated. Frank noticed there were no depictions of deserts.

  The recessed halogen lighting was inviting and energy efficient. Control panels on the walls managed consumption levels and spectrum. LED strip lighting lined the ceilings for low power modes.

  Frank turned the corner of the airlock’s foyer, revealing the vast main passageway of the ship. It stretched from the bridge at the nose to the engine ro
om at the stern. Pressurized doors threaded each module together with secondary gangways hugging the sides.

  The famed fighter pilot rejoined the others in habitat modules Alpha and Bravo, the two loft-style living quarters for the crew on their journey to Mars. It was the only area of the ship where artificial gravity was present, made possible by an annular centrifuge.

  Inside the living area was spacious and lively. Each module housed bunks, a kitchen, and bathroom. A spiral metal staircase gave access to sleeping areas. The floor was compartmentalized for personal belongings and linens. A door in the kitchen led to stores of food and water, enough to sustain the crew for 120 days with urine recycling and rationing.

  “Computer on,” Russell commanded as a blue LED, connected to an intercom and control pad on the wall, turned on.

  “Say or enter your employee passcode.”

  “One two zero six,” Russell replied.

  “Running diagnostic to scan for malfunctions,” the computer said. “Operating system online. Artificial intelligence employee name: Sarai, activated. Sarai online. Hello, Russell,” she said.

  “Hello, my sweet Sarai,” he replied.

  Mia rolled her eyes at the remark.

  “Sarai, power centrifuge,” Russell said.

  The ship whined as metal shifted. The centrifuge came to life by monopropellent thrusters. Slowly, the crew descended from limbo and feet touched down on faux wood floors.

  “Shall we continue the tour?” Russell asked.

  •••

  Communications were restored with Nagoya Mission Control and the all-clear was given for launch. The crew took their seats on the bridge, fastening harnesses. Frank sat at the forefront in the pilot’s seat, with Alexei controlling cameras, Keiko on comms and Mia on navigation to the left. Renee filled a vacant passenger seat and Roland sat in the captain’s chair, centered and slightly elevated above the rest.

  The main viewscreen displayed a star map, with trajectory information and an image of Mars. Sarai’s wavelength image appeared below the star map. Her processors were hard at work preparing all systems for launch.

  “She doesn’t talk much,” Alexei commented on Sarai.