“Hey! Are any of you eggheads even listening up there? Or are you all on your latte break?”
“Hi, Grizzle. Nice to hear your cheerful voice,” said Lance.
“Don’t soft-soap me, boy. I just had a rock the size of a dinner plate miss me by a cat’s whisker. Wanna tell me what just happened, or is that above my pay grade?”
“Caliphate terrorists just tried to crash two shuttles through to the chamber.”
“Oh, is that all?” said Grizzle facetiously. “I thought it might have been something serious.”
“Gus, this is Simon Wisecroft. Is there any damage down there?”
“Nothing serious, boss. A few rocks peeled off the ceiling. One of the crew has a bruised shin and won’t be doing any more work today. But the lazy bugger wouldn’t know a hard day’s work if it leapt up and bit him on the bum anyway.”
“Gus, we’re going to start evacuating the civilians and all remaining staff onto Genesis,” said Wisecroft. “I need you to get them on board as quickly as possible. We have less than an hour to get clear of the base before it blows.”
“Righto. I’ll get it done.” Grizzle obviously forgot to mute his comm connection, because as he walked away, he could be heard muttering, “Great! Just what I need—a ship-load of spoilt tourists!”
Wisecroft turned to his comm chief. “Michael, contact aquaponics and engineering and update them on our timeframe. Hurry them along. Tell them their areas need to be completely evacuated in 40 minutes. Lance, make the same public announcement over the comm in this facility.” Turning around, his eyes roved around the control room and a frown appeared on his forehead. “Where is Dr Perryman?”
The others turned around and looked.
Zac was gone.
14
Kit and one of the security personnel were leading a procession of civilians through the tunnel towards the research facility. Martinez’s previous reference to herding cats wasn’t far off the mark. The tunnel was only 500 metres, but the combination of low gravity, lack of fitness and generalised panic was turning the evacuation into a shambolic mess. There were two security personnel somewhere in the middle of the exodus and two more at the rear. Martinez and one other security team member were doing a final sweep of the hab zone to make sure no one had been left behind. Kit had introduced herself to the beefy security guy walking with her, but he had merely grunted at her, refusing to be drawn into conversation, so she had decided to call him Grunter.
Kit had heard from Martinez what had happened to the shuttle, and she was struggling to process the information. Bane had seemed a well-balanced, if somewhat introspective person. Certainly not your stereotypical terrorist. How had he and the others managed to maintain a facade for so long? Some of them must have lived false lives for years, gaining degrees, getting married, building careers they knew they would one day throw away. What sort of person does that? What sort of person is willing to throw away everything they have lived for, everyone they have befriended and loved, even their very lives? And what about all the people they have left behind? Colleagues, family, lovers and partners—all of whom have been betrayed and used.
“Hi!”
Kit had been daydreaming as she walked along and had not noticed him until she almost bumped into him. The guy in the Hawaiian shirt was standing in front of her with a goofy grin and a glazed look in his eyes.
“Hey, I know you!” he said. “You’re the pilot who almost made me puke,” he said. with an even more idiotic smile. He leant forward and whispered, “But I didn’t. I swallowed it back down.” He seemed to think that this was something to be immensely proud of. Either this guy’s on something or he’s a couple of sandwiches short of a picnic, Kit thought to herself.
Grunter said, “You’re going the wrong way, buddy. You need to turn around and come with us.”
“No thanks. I’m going for a swim.”
Just then, Grunter’s personal comm, attached to his lapel, came to life. “Attention, all security teams. This is Dr Simon Wisecroft. We have a missing person, Dr Zac Perryman. He’s wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. He can’t have gone far. If anyone locates him, please escort him back to the control room. He is medicated and may be acting strangely.”
Zac leant forward and yelled into Grunter’s lapel, “Hi Simon! It’s me! Zac! I’m going for a swim!”
Grunter said, “Got him, Dr Wisecroft. He’s with the civvies. We’re just about to enter the research facility now.”
“Good. In that case, please take the good doctor straight through with the other civilians and get him on board Genesis. I’ll send Dr Leibman down to the cavern to give him a sedative. I think that might be best for all concerned.”
“I’m not concerned,” said Zac, smiling at no one in particular. He reached out and squeezed Grunter’s enormous bicep. “Hey, dude! Those are some serious weapons you’ve got there!” To Kit, he whispered, “I bet he eats like a horse.”
Grunter gently swung him around and propelled him forward. “Let’s all go for a swim together, Dr Perryman. Just come along with us.”
As they walked into the research facility, Kit turned to Grunter and asked, “What’s Genesis? Some kind of shuttle?”
Grunter raised his eyebrows and said, “It’s a tad bigger than that. You’ll see.”
They walked through the long central corridor of the research facility, noticing the frenzied activity as white lab-coated scientists and technicians stripped the labs of essential equipment and bustled down the hallway ahead of them with arms fully laden. They turned left at a T-junction and then right into another corridor that ended with an enormous airlock door, which stood wide open. Crossing the threshold, they found themselves in a large vestibule, with two lifts on the left and a large descending set of stairs on the right. Grunter turned and addressed the line of people behind him. “OK, folks, this is where we go down. The lifts are being used by the research staff to evacuate important equipment, so unless you are physically compromised in some way, we’re taking the stairs. We’re going down about 100 metres, so there are a lot of steps. Please be careful, but don’t dawdle. We are in a bit of a hurry.”
“Is this the way to the pool?” Zac asked Kit as they started to descend.
“Yes, I think so,” she answered, suppressing a smile.
Kit wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but whatever it was, she was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes when she emerged at the bottom of the stairs. She found herself on a smooth, concrete-like concourse inside an enormous cavern.
“Wow!” exclaimed Kit.
“Where’s the pool?” asked Zac.
The cavern was a naturally formed ancient lava chamber, roughly cylindrical in shape, except for a perfectly flat, man-made floor. Kit found it hard to accurately gauge the dimensions but guessed it must be about 300 metres in diameter and about a kilometre in length. While the cavern was impressive, Genesis was enigmatic. Lying along the middle of the cavern was a huge, black, shiny brick. At least, that is what it looked like to Kit. It appeared to be longer than a football field and at least six stories high. No wings. No portholes. No radar dishes or antennae. Just a massive, black, squat brick, with four huge engine nozzles protruding from the rear. The rest of the brick looked featureless except for a series of loading bays that were open along the side, at its base. The doors to the bays, each about 30 metres wide and 5 metres high, had swung down to form ramps. Alongside each of the loading bay doors was a closed shuttle bay door, about 20 metres wide. Dozens of people were scurrying in and out of the spacecraft via the loading bay ramps, carrying boxes and equipment. Robo-loaders were transporting the larger items into the bays, and they raced backwards and forwards across the tarmac at dangerously high speeds.
A man in blue DANSA overalls addressed the growing file of people exiting the stairwell. “Keep moving folks. Follow Daniel here,” he said, indicating another staff member. “You’re heading towards the furthest loading bay. Please be careful going up the ramp. Onc
e you are inside the bay, make your way to the lifts about 80 metres in, on your right. You will be going up to the lounge deck, on Level 5.”
Some people began moving in the direction indicated, but some remained where they were, overawed by the immensity of the cavern. Kit stared at the spacecraft, trying to make sense of it.
“Don’t stand there gawking!” said a gruff voice off to the side. “Keep moving! This isn’t a damn Sunday School picnic!”
Kit turned and saw the origin of the voice, a wiry, grey-haired old man with a stubbled beard and a scowl on his face. He was wearing official DANSA overalls and had a lapel comm. Kit read his name tag: Gus Grizole.
“We’re not going to the picnic, thanks,” said Zac. “We’re just looking for the swimming pool.”
“The what?” answered Grizzle, with a bemused expression.
“The swimming pool,” repeated Zac, smiling contentedly. “But I haven’t brought a towel. Will I be able to borrow one?”
“Pickle my grandmother!” muttered Grizzle, shaking his head.
Kit leaned over and whispered, “He’s on medication, apparently.”
At that moment, Francis Leibman arrived and gently took hold of Zac’s arm. “Hello, Dr Perryman. Do you remember me from earlier? I’m Dr Leibman. We have your cabin ready for you, if you will allow me to show you.”
“Is it near the swimming pool?” asked Zac.
“Yes, of course,” answered Leibman, as he led Zac towards the spacecraft.
Still shaking his head, Grizzle asked Kit, “Is he your boyfriend, miss?”
“Goodness, no!” she exclaimed. “I barely know him.”
“Well that’s something to be thankful for. That boy’s so high, he’s in orbit.”
“Is there anything I can do to help, Mr Grisole?” Kit asked.
“Call me Grizzle, miss, everyone else does.” He seemed to notice her flight suit and name badge for the first time. “You a pilot?”
“Yeh. But I can drive a forklift, and I can remote a robo-loader if you need help.”
At that moment the ground shook, and a deep rumbling was heard for several seconds. Some of the civilians looked around in panic, but a nearby DANSA employee calmed the crowd, saying, “Nothing to worry about, folks. Just a tremor. Keep moving please.”
Kit, however, wasn’t convinced that all was well. As the exodus of people filed past her, she said to Grizzle, “That didn’t sound good.”
15
As the control room shook, Wisecroft said, “Now what?!”
Arno Manchester, who was continuing to monitor the fusion reactor meltdown, said, “It’s not the reactor.”
“It didn’t sound like a detonation,” said Lance. “More like some kind of tremor.”
As they continued to check various sensors, the comm came to life. “Control, this is Dupont on the security team. Do you copy?”
“Yes, Dupont,” answered Lance. “Go ahead.”
“The tunnel from the hab has just collapsed. I am at the tail end of the evacuee line and we were just entering the research facility when we heard the collapse. I went back to investigate. The tunnel has completely collapsed about 50 metres back.”
“Are any of the evacuees injured?”
“No, not from the collapse. We were well past that point when it happened. But Martinez and Boyd are still back in the hab. They were doing a final sweep.”
“Copy that,” answered Lance. “They’ll have to go down a level to aquaponics and use the tunnel through to engineering. We’ll handle it from here. You just get the evacuees onto Genesis as quickly as you can.”
Lance turned to Michael Gates, “Patch me through to Martinez.” He paused until he got the thumbs-up. “Martinez, this is Lance in control. Do you copy?”
There was a pause, and then Martinez’s voice came online, shaky and breathless, “Yeh. Gotcha.”
“Martinez, the tunnel through to ...”
“Yeh, yeh. We know. We were just about to come through. A few seconds later and we would have been flattened. We’ve gone down a level and we’re running through aquaponics as we speak. The place is deserted. You did a good job evacuating here. Hold on a sec, we’re just entering the tunnel through to engineering.” There was silence for a few seconds and then, “Um. Lance? We’ve got a bit of a problem.”
“What?”
“The tunnel has collapsed here, too.”
“Is there any possible way through?”
“Yeh, no problem,” said Martinez. “We can dig it out with our fingernails. It will only take a month or so.”
“Hang on a moment,” said Lance. “We’ll work the problem from this end. I’ll get back to you shortly.” He muted the channel and swore loudly.
Arno Manchester, head of nuclear physics was looking at his terminal screen. “I’m checking the sensor readouts for the central chamber where the shuttle crashed. The whole roof structure collapsed in that last tremor. There must have been a natural fault running through to the Level 1 tunnel, which caused it to collapse in sympathy. The Level 2 tunnel was probably already weakened by the explosions on that level, and this was probably the last straw.”
Wisecroft spoke up. “So, just to clarify. The entire tunnel system is gone on both levels?”
“Yep,” answered Lance in a whisper.
“And there’s no other way out of there?”
“That’s right.”
“Arno, how long until the reactor blows?”
“It’s escalating linearly now, so I can predict fairly accurately. We have about 25 minutes left until the core goes critical.”
“In that case,” said Wisecroft, “we need to be out of here in 10 minutes. We can’t do anything for Martinez and Boyd now.” He spoke to Gates. “Give me a base-wide open comm.” He took a breath. “Attention all personnel. This is Simon Wisecroft. We have 25 minutes until the reactor goes critical. In exactly 10 minutes from now, we are sealing the doors on Genesis and launching. If you are not on board by then, you will be left behind. Do not attempt to access any other parts of the base, as the tunnel system on both levels has now completely collapsed. Please make your way to Genesis now, with all urgency. That is all.”
There was silence in the control room. Gates spoke up. “Martinez and Boyd would have heard that.”
“Yes. I know,” said Wisecroft. “They also know that there is nothing we can do for them now.” He turned to the others in the control room. “Gentlemen, it’s time we evacuated. There’s nothing left for us to do here.”
As he spoke, a comm channel came to life. “Hello? Control? Any of you eggheads still up there?”
“Go ahead, Grizzle,” said Wisecroft.
“Dupont just came through with the last of the evacuees. He said that Martinez and Boyd are trapped in the hab. Is that right?”
“Yes. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Well, there’s a young girly down here who disagrees. She’s driving a bug tug into the main airlock lift as we speak. Once she gets to the surface, she’s going to drive around to the airlock lift for the hab and meet them there.”
“Gus,” said Lance, interrupting, “when she gets there, the bug tug won’t fit in the hab airlock lift. That lift is only designed for a few people. And Martinez and Boyd don’t have spacesuits. How can they get from the airlock into the bug tug?”
“Kit said you’d say that. But she’s figured out a way. The bug tugs all have two emergency vacuum suits. She’s taken one on board for herself as well. She’ll take the two spare suits with her into the hab lift for the others.”
“It might just work,” said Lance to Wisecroft.
“Maybe. But we are launching in exactly nine minutes, and I’m not waiting for anyone. I can’t risk the safety of hundreds of people for the sake of three.”
“OK, Gus,” said Lance. “We’ll inform Martinez.”
He punched a comm button. “Martinez? Do you copy?”
“Yeh. We heard Dr. Wisecroft’s announcement. We’re just discussi
ng how we’ll spend the last 25 minutes of our lives. It’s either ice cream or sex. And I’m looking at Boyd right now, and, I gotta tell you, the ice cream option is looking very appealing.”
“You might have to put those plans on hold. We need you to get to the hab airlock lift as soon as you can. I mean right now! Run! I’ll explain as you go.”
16
Kit floored the pedal on the bug tug as the outer door of the lift opened, and it leapt forward onto the lunar surface. She turned sharply to the right, sending up a fine spray of regolith from her wheels. She had the accelerator pressed to the floor and was already at the vehicle’s top speed. With almost a kilometre to the hab lift, Kit knew it would be close as to whether they made it back in time for the launch. Every ounce of her being was willing the vehicle forward, and she found that she was leaning forward in her seat as if to urge it on. As she drove, she stuffed the two spare folded emergency vacuum suits down inside the front of her own suit and zipped her front zipper up to her neck. The timing was going to be tight. She ran the numbers again in her head. Nearly two minutes to pressurise the hab lift and descend. One minute for Martinez and Boyd to zip themselves into the suits. Another two minutes for the lift to ascend and depressurise. Five minutes total, and the countdown timer on the cabin clock indicated seven minutes left until lift-off.
As she drew near to the square surface lift structure, she pulled the clear head piece up over her head from behind her and finished zipping up the one-piece clear suit. She punched the depressurisation button when she was still 100 metres out from the lift so that the cabin would be completely depressurised when she got there. As she arrived at the lift, she swung the wheel hard and braked, executing a finely judged sliding stop, spraying regolith high into the air. She cracked the cabin door and leapt out onto the lunar soil, running as fast as she could to the airlock door, hampered by the tightly extended clear suit that had blown up like a balloon around her. There was enough air trapped in the suit for several minutes, but she wouldn’t need that long.
The Stars That Beckon Page 7