“They’re also going to need food,” added Pamela, wondering where that was going to come from.
“See if there is anything we can send them to help,” responded Mason. He knew Vesta normally kept a large stock of food supplies on hand in case of an emergency. “Also, contact Lawrence and see what they can find to send up to Luna City, both in the way of food as well as building materials.”
“I’ll get on it right away,” Drake promised. The list of things they needed to do was growing daily. They had a mountainous task ahead of them.
“What about Mars Central?” asked Mason, satisfied that Mayor Silas was doing everything he could to accommodate more survivors.
“They’re not going to be of much help,” Pamela replied as she recalled her recent conversation with Professor Alex Scott who was in charge of the large Mar’s exploration base. “They currently have slightly over fourteen thousand people on the base and he believes that with their available resources it could be expanded to hold around twenty thousand. He also estimates it would take four months to finish the additional expansion.”
Mason let out a deep breath of disappointment; he had hoped that Mars Central would be able to hold many more. “That’s six thousand more survivors,” he said after a moment of thought. “Perhaps later, we can expand the base even more if we can find the resources that we need. What’s the latest from Jornada?”
“Lawrence is working closely with General Wainright and General Pittman,” Drake reported. “General Pittman is from Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado and has placed himself under Wainright’s command. General Dreland at Cheyenne Mountain has placed general Wainright in overall command of all surviving U. S. military forces.”
“Any additional word out of Cheyenne Mountain?” asked Mason, knowing that General Dreland would have been high up in the military chain of command. He waited patiently for Drake’s answer.
“No, there’s a volcano close by that has erupted and the entire Cheyenne Mountain complex, as well as Peterson Air Force Base, is being buried under ash. That’s why General Dreland turned command over to General Wainright.”
“What about White Sands; is that where the military is evacuating to?” Mason had spoken to General Wainright a few days previously about another matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind. A lot had changed in the last day or two.
“Seems like it,” replied Pamela, looking at some data on one of her screens. “General Wainright and Pittman have ordered nearly every surviving military asset to make for the testing grounds. They are also bringing in a tremendous amount of supplies as bases around the country are evacuated.”
“We’re going to need those supplies at Jornada and Luna City,” Mason said as he thought about everything that needed to be done at the spaceport and on the Moon. “Contact Lawrence and see what he can work out with General Wainright.”
Just the logistics of what they were attempting was overwhelming. For the last week, Mason had gotten very little sleep as he worked with the others trying to get everything organized. How could he afford to sleep when people on Earth were dying? Susan had even come by and told him that he needed more sleep. Mason knew his sister was worried about the pressure he was under.
“They’re bringing in military troops as well as their families,” Pamela continued as she read through the data on her screen. “At last count they have nearly eighty thousand people at White Sands alone, and that doesn’t include the two military bases that are close by.”
“How much can they help Lawrence with Jornada’s refugee problem? I know they’ve been helping out some.”
“General Wainright has sent a large number of self-contained military tents to the spaceport and they are setting them up on the south side of the complex. The tents have air filtration systems since they were designed to be deployed in the deserts of the Middle East. Lawrence estimates that, between the tents and the two large hangars they’re converting, they’ll have room for close to sixty thousand survivors.”
“That’s not a lot,” said Mason, disappointedly, hoping they would have been able to accommodate more. He knew there were millions of survivors scattered around the country.
“General Wainright has brought in some military construction people and they are in the process of building additional permanent barracks. He is still bringing in supplies from all over the country,” Drake added. “They have some large transport helicopters that were designed specifically to work in the sand of the Middle East, and they can fly through the ash fall if they’re careful.”
“Those might be useful for gathering other survivors,” Mason commented as he thought about some of the people he would like to locate and bring to Vesta. There were scientists, doctors, and engineers spread out all over the country that he would like to attempt to find. They had already located a few, but many more were still missing.
“I agree,” responded Drake, knowing Mason wanted to rescue as many key people as possible. “Wainright and Lawrence feel they can greatly expand the holding area for survivors and be able to keep a large number safely for a considerable length of time, even in the deteriorating conditions. Lawrence also reports that thousands of survivors are arriving daily and a large tent city has sprung up just south of the spaceport. They are processing the new arrivals to see if any qualify for immediate evacuation; the rest will have to wait until later.”
“What’s the latest status on other survivors?” asked Mason, knowing that there were still probably hundreds of millions of people alive on the planet. He couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be trapped on Earth knowing there was no hope for the future.
“Not good,” Pamela responded in a slightly strained voice. “General Wainright is trying to set up a second survival center just south of Amarillo in the Texas Panhandle. The earthquakes and volcanoes have pretty much destroyed the East and West Coasts, and the eruptions at Yellowstone are taking out the northern half of the country. We have also had massive tidal waves on all the coasts, including the Gulf of Mexico. Holbrook Station has been broadcasting non-stop instructing survivors to stay in their homes and try to ride it out until they can be rescued.”
“What about other countries?”
“Canada, the U.K., Germany, and Australia have all set up survival centers. The U.K. reportedly has several shuttles available and will be launching them from Lakenheath airbase in Suffolk. That’s also where they are gathering their survivors. The same in Germany; they are concentrating their survivors around Ramstein Air Force Base in the hope that we can eventually send in shuttles to pick them up.”
Mason nodded; it was hard to think about the hardships the survivors were going through. “I need to go meet with Sean and Ethan at the Phoenix. Keep me posted if anything new comes up.”
Drake watched Mason leave the Control Center; he suspected that Mason hadn’t been getting much sleep over the last few days, not with trying to organize saving as many people from Earth as possible. It was easier for Drake as he had his wife Larcy and their daughter Madison to go home to at night. Letting out a deep breath, he knew he needed to meet with Keith Davis and Lori Wright about the new construction going on inside Vesta.
If they were going to save many people, they would have to be brought to the asteroid, and in order for that to happen they had a massive amount of construction work that needed to be done. Then later on he had a conference call scheduled with Mayor Silas, Darren Kirby, Lawrence Henderson, and General Wainright. Drake knew it was going to be another long and tiring day.
-
Mason reached the spacedock and stood gazing at the Phoenix. The ship was five hundred meters long and nearly ninety meters wide, containing twenty decks, which added a height of fifty meters to the massive ship of exploration. Mason breathed out a heavy sigh, knowing now the Phoenix would never be used for that. It was going to have another new and deadlier purpose, one it had never been designed for. Looking at the main hatch, which was open, he saw Sean and Ethan both standing next to
it in animated discussion.
Gazing around the large spacedock, Mason could see four of the three hundred-meter cargo ships currently being refurbished to carry survivors from Earth. There were also six of the fifty-meter prospecting ships going through alterations. One of them was the Raven, the ship that belonged to his sister’s husband, Michael Kirby.
After a minute, Mason reached the Phoenix and saw that both Sean and Ethan were looking at him expectantly.
“How soon before the first cargo ship is prepared to handle passengers?” he asked, wanting to begin ferrying survivors between Holbrook Station and Vesta as soon as possible. Currently, survivors were being taken to Luna City but they could only handle so many until the facility was expanded.
“Two more days and the first will be ready,” Sean replied in a tired voice. He had been up for nearly thirty straight hours showing the engineers what needed to be done to the cargo ships as well as the smaller prospecting ships. “By the end of the week, we will have the first four done as well as the six prospecting ships that are in here.”
Mason nodded, knowing they were doing the best they could. “Let’s take a walk through the Phoenix.”
Mason led them inside and quickly made his way to the engine room, which took up nearly six decks in the stern of the ship. Inside were the newly installed sublight engines, which would allow them to travel anywhere in the solar system in a matter of a few days. Several of the crew were busily checking ship systems and calibrating the new engines. Everything looked new and modern.
“The Phoenix won’t be going to another solar system anytime soon,” Mason informed the other two as he turned around to face them. He folded his arms across his chest, and his face took on a very serious look. “We need to be more concerned about what might happen if the alien ship returns.”
“I don’t understand,” Sean responded with a look of confusion on his face. “What makes you think they will return?”
“I don’t think we can take the chance that they won’t,” replied Mason, grimly. He hated what he was about to ask them to do. “If they do return, we need to be prepared.”
“You want to arm the Phoenix!” Ethan said in dawning comprehension his eyes growing wide at the thought.
“Arm the Phoenix?” Sean echoed in astonishment. “With what? We don’t have any weapons on Vesta!”
“Railguns and missiles to start with,” responded Mason, evenly. “We can get the railguns from Earth as well as the missiles. I have already spoken briefly with General Wainright, and he can get us what we need. They have a large number of new experimental railguns at White Sands.”
“Railguns,” repeated Ethan, nodding his head in thought. He knew that railguns depended on sheer velocity to do their damage. A number of U.S. navy warships were currently equipped with them. They would make an ideal weapon to put on the Phoenix. “How many, and will we have to modify them?”
“Wainright is already having the engineers at White Sands modify them so we can use them on the ship. They will be sending us twenty-four of the railguns. Four of them are quite large, and we will mount them in the bow as our primary offensive weapon. Each one of the four is capable of launching a three thousand pound tungsten round at a speed of over 22,000 feet per second.”
“What about heat buildup in the barrels?” Ethan asked. He knew that the sheer velocity of the railgun rounds generated a tremendous amount of heat. It was the biggest problem with a railgun.
“These railguns are made out of a special alloy that is more heat resistant,” responded Mason, recalling what General Wainright had told him. “Even so, the main railguns can only be fired once every twenty seconds.”
“At 22,000 ft/sec that would give us an effective range of approximately forty miles on a moving target and over two hundred on a stationary one,” mused Sean as he did the math in his head.
“The general will also be sending us a company of marines to help defend Vesta as well as some specialists that are familiar with the weapons we want to install on the ship,” Mason added. “As soon as they get here we need to start on the modifications. We don’t know how soon the aliens may be returning to make sure their missile did its job.”
Ethan was silent for a long moment before he responded. “I guess I can see why arming the Phoenix needs to be done, though I don’t know if the weapons would be effective against the alien ship. That ship was huge!”
Mason nodded in agreement. “They may not be, but they might be effective against their smaller ships or other aliens that might show up. I seriously doubt if the aliens that attacked us are the only ones out there. From now on I want us to be ready.”
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.
-
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.
-
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 an
other 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.
Galactic Empire Wars: Destruction (The Galactic Empire Wars) Page 9