by Jay Allan
It pained Mason at what he was getting ready to do to the Phoenix. He had always dreamed of leaving the solar system to discover new worlds and possibly friendly alien races. Now those dreams had been shattered, and the Phoenix and her future sisters would become the solar system’s first battlecruisers.
-o0o-
At Jornada, Lawrence Henderson and General Wainright watched as another shuttle rocketed up toward Holbrook station. They were evacuating all non-essential personnel from the base as well as Jornada city. Everywhere around the base, military personnel were prevalent. A number had been assigned to the Operations Center to help with the shuttle launches.
The shuttle launched like a normal jet airplane using the spaceport’s long twelve thousand foot runway. Once airborne, it activated its powerful rocket engines and was propelled on a pillar of fire up into orbit.
Once in orbit, the shuttle would rendezvous with Holbrook Station and its passengers would then be transferred to one of the Luna City space liners to be taken to the Moon. The Fantasy and the Princess had already made several trips back and forth with survivors.
Lawrence looked up into the darkening sky and shook his head. It had been several days now since he had seen any blue. A very light rain of gray ash was falling from the distant erupting volcanoes, and he hoped it didn’t get any worse. Twice a day all the runways at the spaceport were cleared of the dark gray ash and hauled off in dump trucks.
“We have more people arriving every day,” General Wainright commented as he turned and looked toward the south.
Just south of the spaceport over two hundred massive tents stood, holding thousands of refugees. Behind the tents, construction was ongoing on several long rows of new barracks. The barracks were being equipped with special air filtration systems, which should keep out the worst of the contaminants that were becoming more prevalent in the air with each passing day. They would also be heated and air-conditioned. Wainright hoped that would be sufficient to keep Jornada operating long term.
“How’s the site south of Amarillo coming along?” asked Lawrence, knowing they had an immense task in front of them.
“Slowly,” General Wainright replied with a heavy sigh. “General Stockton is leading the effort and is in the process of setting up tents and building barracks. We should be able to start processing survivors toward the end of the week. We wanted to set up another one in Georgia, but the conditions are just too bad. Colonel Perkins is going to try to assemble survivors at a former air force base, but I don’t know how successful he will be.”
“Lawrence, you’re needed in the Operations Center,” Marsha Trask spoke as she walked up to the two. “Darren needs to speak with you.”
Lawrence nodded. He knew that Darren was concerned about the worsening conditions and how much longer they could safely launch the shuttles. The Earth’s atmosphere was becoming more turbulent each day, and the shuttles had not been designed to operate in such conditions. They were going to discuss some possible modification to the shuttles to make them more aerodynamically stable.
-o0o—
Captain Stevens looked along the long row of recently finished wire fencing that stretched in front of his position and currently ran five miles on each side. The fence was eight feet tall and consisted of eight strands of barbwire with a coil of razor wire on top. Directly in front of the fence another coil of razor wire lay on the ground and up against the fence. It made passing through the fence virtually impossible. Army construction personnel had been working for two days to get the fence built, and construction was still on going since plans called for the fence to completely enclose the spaceport.
“I feel safer with the fence up,” Lieutenant Griffith commented as he stepped outside the small command bunker and gazed up and down the long row of fencing.
The bunker had been dug into the ground with dirt piled up on top to keep the people inside cooler and help keep it protected from any incoming weapons fire. Inside were several bunks and a small communications center to allow them to keep in touch with the marines spread out across the three miles of the fence they were currently responsible for. They had originally been responsible for a five-mile long area, but as additional marines and army troops had arrived, their area of responsibility had been reduced.
Stevens nodded as he looked up and down the section they were guarding. He had ten Light Assault Vehicles at his disposal, and six of those had been positioned along the fence to ensure security. He also had two full companies of marines under his command to patrol the three-mile stretch of wire.
“More people are coming every hour,” Lieutenant Griffith said as he stared at the thousands of small tents and even a few RVs that were encamped on the other side of the fence.
“Let’s take a jeep and go up to the main road,” ordered Stevens, wanting to check on the marines that were stationed there. This flood of refugees was turning into a torrent, and if there were any problems, it would probably be at the main gate.
The two climbed into the waiting jeep and were soon bouncing across the rough road that had been graded out on their side of the fence. Looking ahead, they could see what looked like thousands of vehicles lined up on the road trying to gain admittance to the spaceport, survivors seeking a way off the dying Earth. Even from here, they could hear numerous horns honking as their impatient drivers wanted the line to move faster.
Reaching the main checkpoint, Stevens and Griffith climbed out of the jeep. The checkpoint had been covered with a large metal roof to allow the soldiers beneath it to stay out of the falling and blowing ash as people were processed. Four more of the Light Assault Vehicles were stationed there, with their weapons aimed at the main gate. Forty of Captain Steven’s marines were on duty ensuring that no one pushed through without permission.
The checkpoint was open twenty-four hours a day as they attempted to process all the people seeking entrance. There had already been several unfortunate incidents when people had been told they could not enter but would have to wait outside. In one of those instances, two marines had been killed. Currently only people with a useful or needed skill were being allowed inside. The majority of the vehicles were being turned around and sent to the growing tent city outside the fence.
“My wife and kids arrived yesterday,” Griffith commented with obvious relief in his voice as he gazed at the turmoil outside the gate.
He had been frightened for their safety, knowing they had a long drive from Albuquerque to reach Jornada. He had managed to get a hold of them just before the phones quit working. They were now safely in one of the large tents just south of the spaceport with other military families awaiting evacuation.
“I’m glad,” Captain Stevens replied. He knew a lot of others hadn’t been so fortunate, though helicopters from White Sands and the nearby air force base were being sent out hourly to bring additional military families in as well as important civilians.
He was just about to add something else when he saw a scuffle suddenly break out between two marines and four rugged looking men. A moment later, gunshots rang out and both marines fell. The four men started running, heading toward the distant spaceport. Instantly one of the machine guns on one of the Light Assault Vehicles swung around and opened up, taking the four out. All four men dropped to the ground and lay still. Additional marines raced out to check them as medics rushed over to the two fallen marines.
“How are they?” Stevens demanded as he ran quickly over to his fallen marines.
“They’re dead,” one of the medics answered with a frustrated look on her face. “They were shot at point blank range with armor penetrating rounds and never stood a chance. The rounds went right through their body armor.”
Lieutenant Griffith came up and shook his head; he had gone to check on the four men that had murdered the marines. “All four of them are dead,” he announced. “At a rough guess it looks as if they were drug dealers that thought they could buy their way in. When the marines refused, they shot them.”
“Let us in!” a woman screamed.
“What right do you have to keep us out?” an irate man’s voice yelled.
“Open the gate or we’ll tear it down!” threatened another.
Captain Stevens looked at the gathering crowd that was quickly turning into a mob. The gate had been closed after the shooting. “Lieutenant, call headquarters and tell them we’re going to need reinforcements at the main gate. Tell them about the shooting and that things are about to get out of hand.”
“Yes, Sir,” Griffith replied as he sprinted toward the communications shack that was nearby.
Stevens then ordered all of the civilians that had been busy processing the new arrivals to move back and he had his marines take up positions facing the gate with their weapons at the ready. Looking at the growing mob, Mark estimated they were facing several thousand people with more joining every moment. If they attempted to rush the gate, he would have no choice except to open fire. It would be a bloodbath, as he knew the machine guns on the four assault vehicles would be deadly at this close range.
Several tense minutes passed as he watched the mob grow; a few were throwing rocks at his marines as the demands for entry grew. Hearing a noise behind him, he saw with relief that reinforcements were coming down the road. Another six Light Assault Vehicles, as well as four heavy tanks, led the way. Behind them came a full company of army rangers.
The civilians, upon seeing the tanks, quieted down and backed away from the fence. Major Anderson jumped out of his jeep and came up to Captain Stevens. “Report,” he snapped, not liking what he was seeing.
Mark quickly explained what had happened and why he had called for reinforcements.
“You did right, Captain,” Major Anderson replied as he quickly assessed the situation. He then walked over toward the gate and picked up a microphone that was hooked up to a number of large public address speakers.
“I am Major Anderson and I expect you to listen. We have limited space inside the fence, and only those we feel are essential to our survival are currently being allowed admittance.”
“What about the rest of us?” a woman shouted. “Are we just going to be left to die?”
“No,” Major Anderson responded in a steady and commanding voice. “We are going to try to save everyone we can. Right now we are being overwhelmed with refugees.”
“What about food and water?” another man demanded in a loud but calmer voice. “We’re running out; our children are hungry.”
“We are aware of the situation,” Anderson replied as his eyes swept across the crowd. “Starting tomorrow, we will be setting up a number of mess halls outside the fence to furnish food and water. It won’t be anything fancy, but you should be able to get by. We’ll also be setting up several medical facilities as well as more processing stations. One word of caution; all of these facilities will be well protected, and I will not tolerate any threats to the military or civilian personnel that will be manning them.”
“You’re going to take all of us?” the same man who had asked about food and water spoke.
“Everyone we can,” Major Anderson promised. “You just need to be patient, and we will do everything in our power to keep you safe.”
The mob seemed to calm down and began to break up, with many going back to their vehicles or tents. A number stood around talking and then after a few minutes even these left the vicinity of the closed gate.
“Keep the gate closed the rest of the night,” ordered Major Anderson, turning around to address Captain Stevens. “I will return in the morning with more soldiers and we will address the growing problems outside the gate. Most of these people are just frightened, but it only takes a few malcontents to cause problems and we need to try to weed those out. If necessary we can set up a detention center for those with criminal records.”
“Yes, Sir,” Mark replied, glad the situation hadn’t gotten any worse. He watched as Major Anderson climbed back into his jeep and headed back toward the spaceport. Then, turning to Lieutenant Griffith, he began giving orders. “I want those tanks positioned to cover the main gate. Spread those other Light Assault Vehicles out across our perimeter.”
“Where do you want us?” an army ranger captain asked as he stepped up next to Mark.
“Place your men one hundred yards east and west of the main gate,” Mark ordered. “I don’t think we will have any more trouble, but a good showing of force will help deter any thoughts of attempting to get over the fence or through the gate.”
“I’ll deploy my rangers,” the captain replied as he turned and walked toward his outfit.
“That was close,” spoke Lieutenant Griffith, shaking his head.
“I know,” replied Mark, letting out a deep breath. “But I guess we can’t blame most of them. They’re frightened, and the world they know is ending. Many of those people out there are just families trying to survive. If we were in their shoes we might be acting the same way.”
Griffith nodded. He knew that the captain was speaking the truth. He himself would have done anything to save and protect his own family.
-o0o-
Mason was at his sisters meeting with his brother-in-law Michael Kirby. The two children, Candace and Karen, were outside playing with friends.
“I can’t believe this has happened,” spoke Michael, shaking his head in disbelief.
“So many people have died,” Susan said with sadness in her eyes. “The alien’s attack has left billions dead. It seems so strange not to have any Earth media stations broadcasting.”
“How many are we going to be able to save?” asked Michael, leaning back on the sofa and gazing inquiringly at Mason. “Where are we going to put them all?”
“Those are difficult questions to answer,” responded Mason, taking a sip of his coffee. He put the coffee cup down on an inn table and gazed over at Michael. “We’re going to try to put as many as we can inside the new habitat we’re building here on Vesta.”
“How many?” asked Susan, knowing that it would take years to finish the new habitat. “It isn’t even close to being ready.”
She knew how long it had taken just to build Smithfield; three generations of their family had worked on it. Their parents had died in an accident shortly after Smithfield had been completed. She wished they could have lived so they could see how it looked now. They would have been so proud of what all Mason had done.
“We’re putting all of our resources into it,” responded Mason, knowing the herculean task that was in front of them. “The new habitat, when completed, will be able to hold nearly two million people.”
“What about the Moon and Mars?” Michael asked. “Surely we can expand Luna City and Mars Central?”
“Luna City for sure and eventually Mars Central, but it might take us years to get everyone off the Earth.”
“Do we have that much time?” asked Susan, glancing at Mason and feeling glad that all of her family were on Vesta. She tried not to imagine the horror others were going through who had family either missing or trapped on Earth. She knew what the local media stations were reporting and the news from Earth wasn’t good.
“We’re going to try to build some facilities that will allow people to survive until we can get them off the planet.”
“I watched the news broadcast tonight,” Susan spoke with a heavy frown. “The weather on Earth is getting bad, and they say soon the air may not be breathable.”
“We’re seeing to that,” Mason replied, gazing at his sister. “General Wainright is working with Lawrence, and they are building some new barracks and other facilities that will enable people to survive for quite some time, even in the bad air. The military has a lot of breathing masks that they can hand out if needed.”
“Just what are the plans for the prospecting ships you’re having modified?” Michael asked, finally getting to the question he was most curious about.
He had a suspicion he wasn’t
going to like the answer. He had been aboard the Raven earlier and seen some of the modifications being made. Entire sections of the interior hull were being ripped out. It had pained him to see his ship being torn apart that way.
“There are a number of people on Earth that could be invaluable to our continued survival,” explained Mason, leaning forward in his chair. “Only the prospecting ships have engines powerful enough to safely land on Earth and take off again. We’ll be sending the prospecting ships down to try and locate these people. Then later, we may need them to salvage whatever supplies we can find off the surface of the planet.”
Michael nodded; he had suspected something of this sort. “We’re going to become scavengers. That could be dangerous,” Michael said as he thought about going down into Earth’s now polluted atmosphere and the steadily worsening conditions.
“Mason, you’re not asking Michael to do anything unsafe, are you?” Susan asked accusingly, not wanting Michael to risk his life in the endeavor that Mason was suggesting.
“We will take every safety precaution possible,” Mason assured her.
Susan heard the alarm on the oven in the kitchen sound, indicating the roast she was cooking was done. She stood up to finish setting the table and get the rest of the food ready. At least tonight, they could all have a decent family meal together. Later, she would have a long talk with Michael about this new mission that her brother was suggesting.
-o0o—
Mason was walking down the sidewalk toward his small home a short distance away from his sister’s. It was twilight in the habitat, and he could hear a few birds calling in the distance. He was in a residential neighborhood and children were out playing and laughing. Everything seemed so normal; it was hard to believe the disaster that was still unfolding on Earth. Mason stopped at a small park and watched a family playing on one of the swing sets and slide. The father was pushing his young daughter on the swing, listening to her squeal in delight each time he made it go higher. The young mother had her son over at the slide, encouraging him to slide down and promising to catch him at the bottom.