by CJ Williams
Sadie’s voice appeared in Carrie’s mind. He’s in. He’s just checking with Demeter to verify everything you said. Those two seem to have hit it off.
“I want access to Demeter, even after I’m on Earth,” Morán demanded.
“Okay, but keep in mind, that’s a long way. You’re talking about a ten-minute delay between conversations at the best of times. If you add in orbital differences, sometimes it will be around an hour. Why don’t you talk to Isaac instead? He’s the AI in the Isaac Newton Gateway.”
“I don’t care. I like Demeter.”
“Fine,” Carrie said.
“When do we start?”
“Next week. I’m still trying to work things out with the Chinese.”
*.*.*.*
Carrie stood in the open door of Sadie’s cargo bay as she hovered a thousand feet above the National Mall in Washington DC. Nothing was recognizable. It was a shattered city of debris and broken concrete. The Bakkui had left little standing, in much the same fashion as they had on so many other worlds. She had studied videos of their attack.
Angered by the moon’s decision to not drop their shields, the Bakkui had destroyed the American capital. After murdering the American president, they had bombarded the city from orbit. As Zach had once explained to her, each round delivered from orbit packed a thirty-kiloton blast.
Two dozen rounds had obliterated the US capital. Millions had died, and even now, almost six months later, not all of the dead had been accounted for. For Carrie, those considerations did not factor into her schedule. The Bakkui would not wait on such niceties as family notification and arrangements for disposing of the remains. Neither would she.
She asked Riley Stevens, their engineering genius at Moonbase One, to clear the area for new construction. He designed a series of chained tractor beams. He stood by her side now, to oversee the removal of rubble.
“Everything is in place, Admiral,” he said grimly.
It was not going to be a pretty picture. The National Guard had spent the last seven days making sure everyone had evacuated the area. Carrie crossed her fingers that was the case. Anyone inside the perimeter would not survive.
“Start the removal,” Carrie ordered.
The tip of Riley’s machine operated as a thousand-foot-wide vacuum cleaner. Moonbase technicians sucked up debris in an expanding circle that began at the Washington Monument.
Slowly spiraling outward for a distance of five miles, every loose object, no matter how heavy, was lifted off the ground into a swirling column of rubble that extended out across Chesapeake Bay and the Delmarva Peninsula. Six hundred miles into the Atlantic Ocean where the water was over three miles deep, the tractor beam ended. For the next several days, the moonbase team consigned over five hundred million tons of broken concrete, lumber, and bones to a watery grave.
From the moment the National Guard moved in, there had been a loud hue and cry against the heartless action. Far-off families of those lost in the attack were outraged that more wasn’t being done with forensic science to identify each of the six million decedents, or at least the shredded parts of human remains that were occasionally found. They refused to acknowledge that for most of those caught under the Bakkui’s shelling, there was nothing left; the bodies had been vaporized in the hundred-million-degree heat of nuclear fire. Carrie ignored it all. There was no time to mourn.
*.*.*.*
Five days later Carrie spoke to Sadie. “Take us down.” The destination was the Rocket Garden at the NASA Goddard visitor’s center twelve miles northwest of where the Washington Monument used to stand. A fortunate variation in terrain elevation between downtown DC and the NASA center had protected the Rocket Garden from the Bakkui attack.
The shuttle set down in the grassy area behind the venerable Thor-Able rocket display. Carrie was amazed it was still standing.
Amanda had put out the press release only twenty-four hours ago that Congressman Cesar Morán was returning to the United States. Carrie was afraid that the media’s response would be Cesar who? That wasn’t the case. The number of media representatives gathered at the site exceeded Carrie’s expectations.
A small stage had been erected for the occasion. Carrie had insisted that she would only be an observer at the announcement. The goal was to re-launch Morán’s political career, not put Carrie in the spotlight.
From the moment they stepped out of the shuttle the media began shouting questions. Morán stepped up to the podium and gestured for quiet before speaking.
“Eighteen months ago I opposed the activities of Commander Lucas Blackburn. I thought his operation was an illegal attempt to usurp American leadership in space. That was the past. All of us saw the devastation wrought by the Bakkui, the enemy that Blackburn warned us about. Even now, along with thousands of our fellow countrymen, he is out among the stars battling that menace, fighting for the freedoms we hold so dear.”
Carrie was impressed by the oratory. She didn’t like politicians any more than the Commander, but it was interesting to run across one who could sway a crowd. It was not a surprise that Morán was an effective politician.
Morán continued. “Today, the Milky Way Alliance has agreed to rebuild our historic capital. The machines you see behind me are not weapons of war. They are the same engines of construction the Commander has used to spread American family values throughout the galaxy. Starting today, these machines will put Washington DC back on the map. They will do so as a testament to those same values that I, and all the people of our wonderful country believe in.”
Riley Stevens had arranged to have a dozen of his incredible floating replicators, the same ones he’d used to create skyscrapers on the moon and on Mars, hovering overhead. They were directly behind the stage and in full view of the all-important press conference.
Immediately after the ceremony, the machines would start rebuilding the more visible landmarks, starting with the Washington Monument, followed by the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, and the capitol building. Over the following weeks, downtown DC would be restored.
Morán eventually concluded his remarks with an unexpected introduction. “Commander Blackburn has sent back one of his valiant warriors to bring us a message of hope. I am sure you recognize the pretty face standing beside me. We first saw her during the rescue of our brave astronauts on the International Space Station. She was the one who pulled our astronauts out of that disaster and ultimately brought them home safely. Please welcome Admiral Carrie Faulkner.”
Had Carrie been prepared for the sudden spotlight, she would have expected a polite round of applause at this point. She would have been wrong. The media didn’t waste a second before pouncing.
“Admiral Faulkner, are you the one who recklessly disposed of the remains of so many families loved ones?”
I’ve been away too long, she realized. I forgot the media doesn’t applaud, it attacks.
“Admiral, how do you answer critics that say you should have done more to protect America from the invaders?”
“Carrie, what is the exact nature of your relationship with the congressman?”
“Miss Faulkner, did you even once stop to think your actions might entail unintended consequences?”
The question hit Carrie like a truck. Until that moment, she was actually starting to feel human again. She had enjoyed the coordination for the day’s activities. It was exciting to see the replicated miniatures and watch the plan develop that would rebuild the historic city.
But the reporter’s question pushed all that into the background. Unintended consequences filled her mind every day. Even though she didn’t talk about it, or even think about it, the memories of J99 constantly cycled through her brain. What if, what if.
The question was the last straw and Carrie’s mind came to a stop. She stood motionless on the stage, mute, unable to say a single word.
After one look at her suddenly wax-like expression, Morán tried to quieten the shouting media. He waved away the media’s continu
ed barrage of questions and wrapped up his prepared remarks by talking about NASA’s presence on the Isaac Newton Gateway, on the moon, and at several other locations throughout the solar system, all through the generosity of the Commander’s Alliance forces.
Then he took Carrie by the elbow and led her back to the shuttle. The cargo bay door closed and Sadie departed at top speed for the moon.
*.*.*.*
“I’m fine, I promise,” Carrie insisted for the hundredth time. It was clear that Doctor Owens wasn’t buying it. “I was just caught off guard, that’s all.” Carrie was in Owens’s office because Roth had insisted she see the doctor.
“I’ve been caught off guard before,” Owens said. “Sometimes I lose my temper, sometimes I don’t know what to say and make a fool of myself. But I’ve never gone into a catatonic coma for two weeks.”
Carrie protested at the gross exaggeration. “That’s not fair. I didn’t and it hasn’t been that long.” Her visceral reaction to the reporters taken Carrie by surprise. After the press conference, she had retreated to her Moonbase apartment with the excuse she wanted some time off. She started by sleeping for almost three solid days. After more than a week of isolation Sadie had called in the doctor. This was Carrie’s first visit to Owens’s office since she got back.
“We were all worried about you,” Owens said.
“I’m sorry.” Carrie meant it in more ways than one. The last thing she wanted was more supervision. “But I’m fine now. It was a combination of things. The drugs you’ve been giving me, overwork, getting ready for the press conference.”
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Owens replied. “You need to listen to me and scale back your activities. I think you should start seeing me at least three times a week. Just for a little while,” she added hurriedly at Carrie’s panicked expression.
Carrie decided to change the subject. “How’s the DC reconstruction going?”
Owens contemplated her patient before answering. “Very well. The congressman is quite happy, or at least he appears to be so on the talk shows. It’s pretty obvious he’s going to make a run for the new presidency. He’s sounding more like a politician every day.”
“Should we back him?” Carrie wondered out loud. “Maybe we should fund his campaign.”
“I don’t think the Warlord would like that,” Owens said with a dismissive expression. “He hates the congressman.”
Ever since Carrie had returned to Moonbase, she noticed that people often quoted the Commander’s desires to justify their own opinions, even though most of the current residents had never met the man, and had no idea what he thought.
In the case of Morán, everyone was completely off base. The Commander didn’t even remember Morán’s name. The subject came up once in a conversation and Carrie was surprised that the entire episode had slipped his mind. In the overall scale of what he was juggling back then, exiling Morán to Mars had been a tiny blip on his radar. Their confrontation was simply a forgettable incident during a single unfortunate meeting.
Carrie didn’t want to get into another argument with Doctor Owens so she kept her opinion to herself and changed the subject again. “What about recruitment?”
“US objections are fading, thanks to the reconstruction. It’s going a lot faster than everyone thought it would, but they don’t really understand how fast we move. We can do a lot in a couple of weeks.”
It didn’t seem that long to Carrie, but in any case, she felt better now. She decided to play her trump card to get out from under Owen’s thumb.
“I want to go see my dad,” Carrie said. “I was going to visit him after we got the construction started. I told him I was coming, so he’s got to be worried that I haven’t shown up.”
“We can bring him here,” Owens suggested. “I’m sure he would come if he you invited him. Especially if he knew about your condition.”
“I already invited him but he doesn’t want to. And I’m not going to freak him out by saying I’m sick. I think it’s time to go home for a visit.”
Doctor Owens considered the request. “Well, maybe that would be good therapy. You’ve always said you get along with your dad. But I would want you to keep Sadie close at hand.”
“That works for me.” Carrie stood up to leave. “I don’t even need to pack.”
Fifteen minutes later she was in Sadie’s cockpit, lifting off from the moonbase hangar.
“We’re going to take a little detour, Sadie,” Carrie said. “Where is Congressman Morán?”
“Checking,” Sadie replied. “I found him. He is on a charter aircraft headed toward Iowa City. He will disembark in front of the local general aviation terminal in about thirty minutes.”
“Perfect. I need to speak to the congressman when he arrives.”
“We can do that.”
“No sonic booms, though,” Carrie warned. “Midwesterners don’t have a sense of humor about that.”
Twenty minutes later Carrie watched the charter jet taxi in. “What kind of aircraft is that?” she asked.
“It’s a Cessna Citation Encore,” Sadie replied. “Commonly called a Citation Five. This model is a low-end business aircraft that seats seven. Would you like more specifics?”
“Not really, I was just curious. It seems kind of small for a candidate.”
“That’s true. The other candidates have much larger aircraft. The congressman is not doing well in meetings with his donors. He’s been gone a long time and was never popular with his fellow politicians to begin with.”
As the Citation rolled to a stop, Sadie touched down a few feet from its left wingtip. Carrie stepped out and waited on the tarmac until the congressman disembarked.
“Hey, Cesar,” Carrie called out. It was nice to see him, but he didn’t look all that good. “How’s the campaign going?” And tell me the truth, she sent.
He was startled by her voice in his brain but smiled in return. He gave her a brief hug. “That mind-to-mind thing seems so weird,” he replied. “But this is not a campaign. It’s an exploratory committee.”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s the problem? Didn’t the DC thing help?”
“It did, certainly. But down here we still use money. People are a little unsure about me and that includes the big money donors. They’re not being all that forthcoming.”
“I wouldn’t trust you either,” Carrie said. “You flip-flopped on the Warlord. First you hated him, now you support the mission.”
“Whose side are you on?” Morán asked in mock suspicion.
“I’ll let you decide. I was thinking of going into lavender farming. If it’s for sale, I’ll buy your place. Three hundred million, cash.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Deal. That would give me a lot of leverage with the National Campaign Committee.”
Carrie directed a message to both George and Cesar. George, do whatever is necessary to deposit three hundred million dollars into the congressman’s account. Make sure it shows up as a transaction in return for my purchasing his farm.
George’s response was almost instantaneous. Acknowledged. Transaction complete.
Carrie fixed the politician with a firm stare. “Don’t forget, if you get elected, you have to officially open our access to the population. Those funds have strings.”
Morán rolled his eyes at her comment. “I’ve never yet seen a campaign donation that didn’t come with all kinds of strings. I’ll keep up my end. And thanks.”
Chapter 5 – Family Reunion
Back when Carrie attended the University of Missouri, she would drive home on the weekends by going south out of Kansas City and taking Highway 10 to avoid the I-70 toll road. From her dorm, it was just under an hour if the traffic was good.
From the airport in Iowa City, Sadie climbed to a hundred thousand feet so her sonic boom would not be heard on the surface. She slowed during her descent, going subsonic at thirty-five thousand feet. The entire trip took five minutes.
It was a little after two in the afternoon, local
time, when Carrie spotted the farm. Even from thirty thousand feet it was easy to see. Their spread was located inside a big loop of the Kansas River just to the east of Lawrence.
A few days ago, Carrie had given her dad a heads-up that she was on the way. She had spoken to him a few times since getting back, but it was awkward. Even though she had been gone a year neither of them knew what to say. And the year before that she had spent almost entirely on the moon.
After Carrie saved the International Space Station, she was able to break away once or twice and see her father, but time off back then had been limited.
She was looking forward to seeing him, but a little apprehensive too. Since being back at Moonbase, every time she had spoken to him, he’d been more tight-lipped than usual. At first, she put it down to her own mental health. But now she wondered if he was okay. It would be just like him to keep an illness to himself. She needed to find out what was going on.
“Where should I land?” Sadie asked.
“Between the barns and farmhouse the gravel drive makes a big circle,” Carrie said. “Don’t hit the tree. We planted that when I was in third grade.” She had grown up on the farm, the only daughter of the widow Faulkner. Her mom had died shortly after Carrie was born.
“I promise to avoid the tree,” Sadie replied, a bit of sarcasm in her voice. Moments later the spacecraft set down silently, exactly in the center of the circle.
“I’ll call you,” Carrie said, stepping out of the shuttle once the cargo bay door opened. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but probably a couple of days.”
“Understood,” Sadie acknowledged before lifting off and disappearing into the sky. Carrie had made it clear it would not be a good idea to have a warship just hanging around.
The neighbors knew Carrie, of course; how could they not? Her dad had bragged about her all her life. He’d told everyone how well she did in the fourth-grade spelling bee, that she was the best barrel rider in junior high, had the biggest hog in 4H, and ultimately earned a degree that got her a good job somewhere out west. And after the NASA rescue, she’d become a local celebrity and he’d basked proudly in her limelight.