by Taiyo Fujii
“Kazumi,” said Lintz. He was almost choking the words out. “Do we give up on the Smarks?”
“No,” Kazumi replied. “We will save Ronnie and Judy. But we need the help of the United States to do it.”
“What sort of help? Anything NORAD—hell, the whole air force—can do, we will.”
Kazumi looked up at the ceiling, then back into the camera, then over at Chris and Bruce.
“Colonel Lintz,” he said finally, “Chris. I have a request that must be asked of the highest-ranking person in the United States. I want the US to move the Earth.”
The room fell silent. Even Akari looked up from her mountain of Raspberry Pis.
“Move Earth?!” she said. Then, after a pause: “Ah, I see!” She leaped lightly to her feet and approached the whiteboard. She touched the diagram of a space tether Daryl had drawn, then moved her finger to the network he had sketched out. The flow of information went from Jamshed in Tehran to the D-Fi base stations, then on VHF waves up to the tethers. Finally her finger came to rest on a picture of a satellite.
“These?” she asked.
“Correct,” Kazumi said.
There was a short silence before Bruce whistled. “You two are on another level,” he said. “That’s perfect. Tell me, everyone, who do I need to explain this stroke of genius to? Leave the coordination to me—I’ll get the whole CIA on the case if I have to.”
Daryl pulled two keyboards together and brought up a mass of data on the display atop the table.
“NORAD can run Ozzy’s radar,” Daryl said. “If the Oregon control center could handle Operation Seed Pod, they can handle this too. Correct?”
“Correct,” said Fisher from the NORAD screen.
Lintz rose to his feet beside Fisher. His hands disappeared under his belly. “I’ll call right now,” he said. His hands reappeared holding a BlackBerry, so old that the color of the plastic was fading. Bruce glanced at the screen and whistled again. Chris let out a short cry of delight as well.
“This, Kazumi,” said Lintz, “is a hotline to the president. It’s supposed to be used by NORAD to report nuclear missiles headed for North America. I’ve had it fifteen years but haven’t used it once. Never thought the time would come so close to retirement.
Angling the BlackBerry so that the camera could see, Lintz punched in eight zeros and hit the dial button. Then he raised the phone to his ear.
“Mister President,” he said, standing to attention. “This is Colonel Claude Lintz, chief of Orbital Surveillance at NORAD.” He gave a brief summary of the failure of Operation Seed Pod. “Yes, sir. We can save the Smarks. We’re going to secure orbit for good. But to do it, NORAD needs control of some of America’s global infrastructure for the next three hours. I’ll take full responsibility for whatever happens.”
Chris rose to her feet. She was about to clap for attention when Kazumi stopped her. This was something he had to say himself.
He stepped before the camera, back straight, chest out.
“Well, everybody,” he said. “Let’s get to work!”
Panjshambe, 27 Azar 1399, 04:38 +0330
(2020-12-17T01:08 GMT)
Tehran Institute of Technology
The corridor was dark, with only faint emergency lighting to guide them as they advanced.
Seeing the light coming from under the door ahead, Kurosaki tried to settle his nerves. He recalled the videos of a calmly chatting Jamshed that Chris had showed him.
He placed one hand over his coat pocket. He had no idea how to use the gun he had taken from Sekiguchi, but its heft gave him a feeling of security anyway.
Alef opened the door. Kurosaki started to follow Sekiguchi inside before instinctively drawing back from the strange space. Yellow walls? No, sheets of yellow paper hung from the ceiling. Too many to count. Seeing the notes scrawled on the sheets, Kurosaki realized what they were: Jamshed’s handwritten calculation aids.
Through a gap between the papers and the wall, he saw a man rise to his feet and look in Sekiguchi’s direction. He had seemed larger in the video calls.
“You,” said Jamshed. “I just stopped using that Iridium you gave me. It will not connect anymore.”
Behind Jamshed, Kurosaki saw a phone connected to a USB cable.
“Well, Professor,” said Sekiguchi, “that’s because you’re trying to bring down the Wyvern Orbital Hotel and Tiangong-2.”
Jamshed’s eyes went wide. “How did you know my—ah. Kazumi. He has predicted this.”
“Yes, and also your next two targets: the Hubble Space Telescope, and then KH-12.”
“The Hubble?”
Jamshed frowned. He glanced at a yellow sheet of paper on the desk before him, then picked up a pen and scribbled out a few figures.
“Amazing,” Jamshed said. “It is true. After Cloud eats Tiangong-2, I can simply nudge its orbit to put it on collision course with Hubble. And then KH-12 … This power of Kazumi’s is most impressive.” He shook his head, pen still in hand.
“We came to ask you to stop,” Sekiguchi said.
“Stop? Stop what?”
“All of this,” Sekiguchi said, pushing aside a swaying sheet of paper as he took a step forward. “This is not the way to realize the Great Leap. If you need a place to exercise your talents, I can arrange that. I’ve been authorized to offer you asylum in the US, if you want it. You haven’t done any harm yet. You can still be Jamshed Jahanshah, brilliant rocket scientist.”
Alef had closed the door behind him after entering. Now he stood behind Sekiguchi, listening to the conversation quietly.
“If you don’t like the free market, you could start a venture in China,” Sekiguchi continued. “There are regular flights to Tiangong-2. Couldn’t you launch your space tethers from those? I can make it happen, Professor.”
Jamshed picked up the smartphone behind him and tapped out a number before holding it to his ear. “How comfortable it must be in countries with functional economies,” he said. “My envy knows no bounds. Professor Ryu, were you asleep? I have decided. Come down.”
Sekiguchi’s face hardened. “Ryu … a Korean?”
“Yes. Try your speech on him. You will see how effective it is on us have-nots. Me, I have decided to go to North Korea. That was where Shiraishi turned my research into reality. I will continue his work.”
Sekiguchi was about to speak again when Kurosaki interrupted. “You can’t fill Shiraishi’s shoes, Professor,” he said.
Jamshed looked at Kurosaki for the first time. “What?”
“I knew Shiraishi well,” Kurosaki said. “We worked together.”
Jamshed’s brown eyes narrowed. There were dark bags under them from overwork, but the gleam of intelligence in his piercing gaze was undimmed.
“He could do anything,” Kurosaki continued. “Good enough at hacking to join the intelligence services. Comfortable with both IT and engineering. Had business sense too, apparently, although I didn’t know it at the time. He spent all his time using these abilities to help others. Always sticking his nose into other people’s projects, just like the Great Leap—helping them, encouraging them, making announcements on their behalf …”
Hearing the door open behind him, Kurosaki fell silent and turned to see who it was. A man in a drab suit stood in the doorway, eyes wide.
“Professor Ryu,” Jamshed explained. “Now, about Shiraishi? Continue.”
Ryu began edging around to stand behind Jamshed, hugging the wall to keep as far from Kurosaki and the others as possible.
“Well, here’s the truth,” Kurosaki said, “And it hurts. The fact is, everything Shiraishi did was second-rate. Kazumi uncovered his space tethers. Akari detected his hacking. Orbital engineering was supposed to be his career, but his achievements don’t even rival yours, Professor. He was a jack-of-all-trades, but a master of none. That’s why he thrived i
n North Korea, where there’s never enough of anything.”
Jamshed was listening to Kurosaki with unblinking intensity.
“Can you do everything yourself, Professor?” asked Kurosaki. “Managing people, obtaining materials, even using computers—that’s all outside your comfort zone, right? Not to mention the politics. Shiraishi took all of that on. He ran himself ragged doing everything for everyone. And then … he died.”
Kurosaki turned his gaze to Ryu, who was trying to hide behind Jamshed.
“Let me ask you, Mr. Ryu,” Kurosaki said. “Are you willing to hand over the entire space tether program to the professor here? Will he have a budget? Staff? Is North Korea really prepared to take space tethers seriously again after Shiraishi’s failure?”
“Do not insult my homeland,” Ryu said weakly, not meeting Kurosaki’s eyes.
“Just look at him, Professor,” said Kurosaki. “He can’t offer anything you need.”
Jamshed shrugged. “I know they are nothing but weaklings and cowards,” he said.
“Then you must also know how draining it is to deal with people like that,” Kurosaki said.
“Let me ask you a question,” Jamshed said. “How much use would I be in America? As you say, I cannot even use a computer. I have no right to claim a place among you who can.”
“You’re wrong, Professor,” Kurosaki said. “Kazumi gave me a message for you. He says the possibilities for the space tether drive are infinite. You saw the light field, that live video of the Earth, and that’s just the beginning.”
Kurosaki told Jamshed about the plans Kazumi had found in Shiraishi’s papers. The space tethers weren’t only usable in low orbit. Their ability to attain high orbital velocity without fuel made them ideal for all sorts of tasks. Even Kurosaki could understand the appeal.
“He wants to work on this with you, Professor,” Kurosaki said. “He told me so. What do you think? Sounds to me like it’d be right up your alley.”
Jamshed’s mouth fell open. He blinked several times. “He … Kazumi told you all this?” he asked. “And you understand it?”
“Huh?” Kurosaki said.
“As for me, sadly, I understood less than half,” Jamshed continued. “Kazumi learned of space tethers only three days ago but already has surpassed me.” He closed his eyes and turned his face toward the ceiling.
Everyone in the room froze. Only the light cast by the computer monitor flickered as strings of coordinates scrolled past, proof that the space tethers above were slowly wending toward the orbital hotel.
Ryu moved suddenly, yanking a sheet of paper hung from the ceiling and throwing it to the floor. Jamshed opened his eyes again at the sound and slowly shook his head.
“Yes, it is clear to me now,” Jamshed said. “I have no place beside Kazumi. I will go to North Korea.”
“Professor—” Kurosaki began.
“Understood,” Sekiguchi said, taking a step forward. “Though very unfortunate.” He pulled a pistol from his coat pocket and pointed it at Jamshed.
“Sekiguchi!” Kurosaki said.
But wasn’t he carrying the pistol himself? Kurosaki reached into his pocket and felt something rubbery. Pulling the heavy object out, he saw that it was a phone charger and cable, duct-taped into the shape of a pistol. Sekiguchi must have made the switch.
“What are you doing?” Alef cried, leaping at Sekiguchi.
Sekiguchi opened his stance and kicked Alef in the knee. Alef fell to the floor clutching his leg. Sekiguchi glanced at him, then took a step away and aimed the pistol at Jamshed again.
“Give us control of the Cloud, Professor,” he said.
Jamshed shook his head. “Shiraishi gave it back to me. The space tether drive is mine.”
“Don’t, Sekiguchi, please!” groaned Alef from the floor, still holding his knee.
Ryu pointed at Sekiguchi from behind Jamshed. “Do … do you think a foreigner can get away with something like this?” he demanded.
Sekiguchi disengaged the safety with his thumb. “These things have a way of working out,” he said. “Professor, I’ll say it once more. Give us control of the space tethers.”
Jamshed thrust out his chin, contempt in his face. “You are no different than agent from North who killed Shiraishi,” he said.
Sekiguchi’s index finger entered the trigger guard and came to rest on the trigger, trembling slightly.
“No, you idiot!” Kurosaki cried, striking Sekiguchi’s hand from behind with the taped-up battery charger. He closed his eyes at the sound of the gun firing. The smell of blood filled the air.
Cautiously opening his eyes again, Kurosaki saw Sekiguchi down on his knees before him, gritting his teeth as he applied pressure to his thigh. A pool of dark blood was spreading beneath his feet.
Alef shoved Kurosaki aside, sending him staggering backwards into a desk. Jamshed pushed away the chairs nearby to make room for Sekiguchi to lie down.
Sekiguchi was shivering in shock as Alef eased him to the floor. Alef pushed Sekiguchi’s hands away from the wound. Fresh blood bubbled through a hole in his already blood-soaked suit.
Without hesitating, Alef bore down hard on the area. “Get me something to cover it and something to bind it,” he said to Kurosaki.
Kurosaki hurriedly unwrapped the tape from the battery charger and handed it over. Ryu threw them a handkerchief. Alef thanked them, folded the handkerchief into a makeshift bandage, and bound it tightly over the wound with the tape.
Alef slapped Sekiguchi’s cheek to see if he was conscious. “First aid is now complete,” he said to Kurosaki.
Sekiguchi was lucky that the bullet had been low caliber, Alef explained; the wound didn’t look life threatening. He helped Sekiguchi to his feet.
“Looks like he can wait until hospital opens tomorrow morning,” Jamshed said from behind them. “Leave now. Our talk is over.”
Kurosaki turned to see that Jamshed had picked up the pistol. The professor reengaged the safety with practiced ease as he slipped the weapon into his pocket.
“I’m sorry he did that, Professor,” Kurosaki. “But please call off the orbital sabotage. People’s lives are at stake.”
“Shiraishi already lost his,” Jamshed said. “Is death in orbit any different from murder on Earth?”
“That’s not the issue here,” Kurosaki said. “I don’t want anyone’s hands to get dirty. I won’t allow anyone to—”
He took a step forward. In a single, smooth motion, Jamshed reached into his pocket, produced the gun again, and aimed it at Kurosaki’s chest. Kurosaki froze at the sound of the safety being disengaged. Jamshed then pointed the gun toward the computer under his desk.
“One more step,” Jamshed said, “and I will destroy this computer. Space tethers have already been sent directions to orbital hotel. You can do nothing to stop this. I will use Shiraishi’s legacy to honor his wishes. Every satellite in low Earth orbit will be destroyed.”
His brown eyes glared at them unwaveringly, but Kurosaki saw no hint of madness there.
“I can only hit them one by one, so perhaps it will take two—no, three—weeks,” Jamshed continued. “Perhaps Shiraishi would have found a way to knock all satellites out of sky at once. But I will achieve same thing eventually.”
“In two or three weeks, Kazumi and the others will have found a way to destroy the space tethers,” Kurosaki said.
“I suppose so. Someone of Kazumi’s abilities, eventually he will find some way. But until then, I will do what I must. Call it a race.”
Jamshed gestured with the gun toward the door.
“Tell him and his friends I said so,” he said.
Kurosaki realized that Jamshed was smiling for the first time.
“Farewell,” Jamshed said. “And thank you for an enjoyable night.”
“But …”
&nbs
p; If you enjoyed it, come with us. There’s still time. No one will compare you with anyone else. The things Kurosaki wanted to say whirled into his mind before vanishing again.
Jamshed had made his decision. There was nothing they could do. It was all up to Kazumi and his team now. All Kurosaki could do was fulfill the promise he had made.
“All right,” Kurosaki said. “Goodbye, Professor. Take care of yourself.”
Kurosaki spread his coat across the backseat of Alef’s Citroën and pushed Sekiguchi in. Alef handed him a blanket and he wrapped it around the younger man, who had begun to shiver. Then he squeezed into what little room was left in the backseat himself.
“Why … why did you stop me?” Sekiguchi said.
“You be quiet,” Kurosaki replied.
Alef closed the door and walked around to the driver’s seat. “You should give him water,” Alef said. “I’ll turn on the heater. Hold on.”
Alef offered a plastic bottle from the passenger’s seat and Kurosaki accepted it. After a few coughing noises, the engine caught and warm air began to flow around their legs as the heater sprang to life.
“Drink some water, Sekiguchi,” Kurosaki said. “It’ll speed your recovery.” He pulled down the blanket and held the bottle to Sekiguchi’s mouth.
“You have to go back,” Sekiguchi said. “You can’t let him kill.”
“Drink first,” Kurosaki said. “We’ll talk after that.”
Sekiguchi gave up his protests and took a few noisy swigs from the bottle, holding Kurosaki’s arm. “There,” he said. “Is that enough? Now go back and stop him.”
“No,” Kurosaki said. “It ends here. You’re going to the US in his place.”
“The US? What are you talking about? I’m … I could … That’s strange …”
It had started to kick in. Good.
Kurosaki pulled the medication bottle from his pocket and waved it before Sekiguchi’s eyes. “Lights out,” he said. “When you wake up, you’ll be in America.”