“We have to submerge,” Lawrence realised.
“And then we’ll have to wait until stuff stops flowing in, before we try to get out!” Ross nodded.
“If we get that far,” Karl pointed below them, “the RTO’s gonna drag us down.”
Lawrence could see from the gauges that they’d already burned through over half of their fuel.
“When we run out of fuel I’ll trigger the apex separation mechanism,” he shouted, “When it dumps the RTO, you inflate the Flotation Collar!”
The sound outside seemed to be subsiding, yet the water flow was unaltered. He realised the seawater wasn’t slowing, it simply had less distance to fall before crashing into the rising water below them. There were only a few seconds left. He pulled the hatch closed and lowered the thrust power.
The Apollo sank towards the rising waves.
There was a slight buffeting and then thick white clouds bloomed past the hatch window; the heat from the thrusters was obviously flash-boiling the water below them into steam. The turbulence only increased as they descended into the water; presumably the engines were now busy converting water into superheated vapour.
The water level suddenly shot past the window and he found himself involuntarily holding his breath. The external water noise suddenly disappeared as the Apollo submerged completely, leaving only a shuddering vibration; a physical reminder that the RTO was still attached and hard at work.
As he looked up through the angled hatch window it seemed that the bubbles generated by the thrusters had provided an unexpected advantage: they were rising to the highest point. If he just could wait here long enough, the bubbles would indicate when the water’s undertow had slowed. More importantly they would also show him the route out. The fuel dipped below the quarter level and the gauge in front of him highlighted itself in red.
He slowly pushed forward on the phone’s touchscreen and the Apollo made its way sluggishly through the seawater towards the area directly under the ragged-edged opening. The down flow here felt stronger, so he had to increase the thrust significantly just to stay level. The surrounding bubbles multiplied accordingly, opaquing his view. He could no longer see where the bubbles were going, but couldn’t ease up on the thrust either.
Lawrence felt a jolt as one of the RTO thrusters failed and the Apollo was tipped momentarily backwards. The other thrusters immediately compensated to restore level flight but a second jolt now rocked the craft, followed swiftly by a third and fourth. The Apollo lurched into a sickening roll and he felt the twisting sensation that comes from losing balance. He held onto the control panel and saw that the fuel gauges were empty. Abruptly, the vibration ceased.
They were out of time.
“RTO dump!” he yelled and detached the thruster base.
There was a single further jolt as the apex separation mechanism fired, then there was a moment of apparent silence. He saw Karl pull a lever and a loud hissing filled the air as the Flotation Collar outside inflated.
As the Apollo righted itself, Lawrence again felt the dizzying sensation and fell back from the control panel, landing awkwardly next to Ross. From his position on the Command Module floor he now had a clear view through the hatch window. The watery view was getting brighter.
They were rising.
He began to see details. Rising bubbles, surface waves. The fact he could see the rippling surface meant something else was there too. Daylight.
He pulled himself to his feet and held onto the inside of the hatch door as the Apollo continued to rise. The diffuse light entering through the window was already beginning to fill the tiny space. A soft square of light was falling onto the Meyer family who remained tightly holding each other. As the light continued to grow, he heard Ross trying to stand, so he took hold of his hand and pulled him up.
With a sudden swell, Apollo 73 broke the surface and emerged into daylight. The craft bobbed up and down as it settled into place on the water. Lawrence couldn’t remember when he’d started holding his breath, but he thought it was a good time to exhale now.
“I hope you realise,” said Ross, similarly drawing a grateful breath, “you’re the first damn person in history to get splashdown the wrong way up.”
Lawrence found he was unable to suppress a short laugh of utter relief.
“It won’t happen again, sir,” he said, “Ever.”
Adjusting his eyes to the bright light, Lawrence looked out at the view beyond the hatch. This would be his new world. For long seconds he just stared. In every direction, the landscape was desolate.
On the flat console in front of him, the phone rang.
CONVERGENCE EVENT
21st December 2112
Watching the video feed, Anna saw the two men zoom away as the drone shot high into the air. A moment later, the view expanded to encompass the entire group outside the Node, and then the whole island.
“Fai,” said Anna, staring in wonder, “Are you recording this?”
“Yes,” she replied, “on the drone’s internal memory.”
The high viewpoint of the drone relayed the full scene.
Immediately to the left of the Node’s small island, was a perfect hemisphere of mist intersecting the surface of the water. The nebulous, fractal patterns within it continually folded in on themselves as forked lightning arced and whipped throughout its space. The surface of the water closest to the centre began to bulge, as though being drawn skyward by a perversion of gravity. Unable to escape its containment, it lost its crested appearance and began slowly undulating as one smooth mass.
“It’s why we’re here, Mike!” Cathy excitedly yelled and scrambled to look through the Discovery’s narrow side window, “The message brought us right here!”
Anna hadn’t taken her eyes off the view but she heard Mike’s wonderstruck reply.
“Right here,” he said, “Right now…”
Frenzied tendrils of electricity began discharging into the mounded sea at the centre, sending plumes of vapour swirling around some unseen twisting axis. Heavy subsonic vibrations now accompanied the underwater arrival of vast, white-hot bubbles of light. Inflating in an instant, they then rapidly contracted into a translucent, pocketed foam that seemed to occupy the same space as the water itself.
As Anna watched, the water seemed to become both solid and concave simultaneously; as though the space occupied by the water was also a hollow hemisphere equal in size to the dome of mist above it.
“Coherent RF signal detected,” Fai quietly reported, “Analysing.”
Making no distinction between air or water, iridescent shimmering patterns now rippled across the entire hollow sphere, retreating to a single bright point on the circumference before folding out of existence.
Anna found herself laughing in sheer wonder. She’d seen the circular pattern before, buried deep within the Eversion Volume Algorithm, but had never dreamt that the Field equations could manifest themselves in this way.
Opacity returned to the water and the mist above it evaporated, leaving only a raised mound of seawater; a perfect, smooth circle embedded in the surrounding Icelandic sea. As if its own weight had suddenly returned, the mound of water collapsed, sending out a massive circular wave that reached as far as the Node’s island.
“Radio frequency transmission confirmed,” said Fai, “We are being hailed.”
“Put it through the speakers,” Anna instructed.
There was a brief hiss of static as Fai switched audio channels, then a man’s voice came through:
“Arc vessel Sea-Bass, requesting docking permission. Over.”
Anna looked out of the window. Someone out there was addressing them. As she stared at the spot where the anomaly had occurred she spotted an upwelling of bubbles and spray.
“Look!” she pointed.
As Mike and Cathy joined her, they all saw a small craft breach the surface; its shiny metal cone surrounded by a bright orange inflatable ring.
“What the hell…?” Mike craned
further forward, “Is that… a Command Module?”
Anna glanced away to look at the video feed from the drone. Fai had zoomed in on the craft.
“Apollo Seventy-three,” she read the daubed paint on the side.
“But…” Mike trailed off, “…if that’s an Apollo module out there, why are they calling themselves an Arc vessel?”
“Clarification,” said Fai over the speakers, “According to my Archive records, the term ‘Arc’ is an abbreviation of Atlantic Ridge Colony. The Sea-Bass was one of their registered submarines…”
Anna realised the clarification that Fai was making: the transmission wasn’t coming from the Apollo craft.
“… All available data would suggest that the Sea-Bass is present and transmitting from directly beneath the Apollo Command Module.”
A brief click passed through the speakers.
“Arc vessel Sea-Bass, requesting docking permission. Over.”
Anna could hear that the cadence was subtly different this time, clearly this wasn’t a recording. She knew there was something else though; a growing feeling that again she was missing something important.
“What are they trying to dock with?” Mike stared.
“Do we know what frequency they’re on, Fai?” asked Cathy.
“Scan initialised,” she responded, “Complete. Secure Archive channels could not be established owing to a sync error with their rubidium atomic clock. The issue -”
“Fai,” interrupted Mike, “We don’t need to worry about secure channels, rescan and include all non-secure frequencies.”
“Compensating,” Fai replied, “Complete. I have prepared an unencrypted communication channel. Press and hold the ‘Shift’ key to talk.”
Anna found herself looking out at the Apollo 73, bobbing lightly on the water.
“Wait!” said Anna, as Cathy reached for the keyboard, “The Sea-Bass is a sub. If they surface now…”
“They’ll impact the Apollo…” Cathy saw the problem. After drawing a quick breath, she hit the improvised transmit key, “Arc vessel Sea-Bass, we receive you… Do not surface. I repeat, do not surface. Collision warning. There is a vessel directly above you. Please confirm. Over.”
Cathy released the key and they waited for several long seconds.
Mike shuffled uneasily, “Did the message trans-”
A short burst of static interrupted him.
“This is Lucy Jacobs of the Sea-Bass,” came the response, “Collision warning confirmed, thanks for the heads-up. Please can you identify yourself? Over.”
“This is Cathy Gant,” she replied, glancing around the cockpit, “of the Discovery. We saw your… arrival, what is your status? Over.”
“We’re intact, but… our navigation system… well, maybe we could call on your assistance later? Over.”
“Understood, we’ll keep you updated,” said Cathy, “Discovery, out.”
As soon as Cathy took her finger off the transmit key, Mike spoke to both of them.
“The Apollo’s escape hatch is pointing away from us,” he tapped at the drone’s video feed, “If there’s anybody in there, and I’m betting there is, they can’t see us. Why don’t we send the drone over to make contact?”
“Inadvisable,” Fai replied, “The Apollo was at the epicentre of the anomaly. Residual electromagnetic effects could disable the drone.”
“OK,” Anna could see her point, “Do you have an alternative?”
“Yes. My scans of unsecured communication channels indicated the presence of a dual-band mobile transceiver unit at their location.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me?!” Mike half laughed, “You’re saying that the Apollo has a cellphone?”
“I cannot extrapolate that,” Fai clarified, “However, I can duplicate the communication protocol and attempt to establish contact.”
“Do it,” said Cathy.
There was a short pause.
“Connecting,” reported Fai.
For the first time in several years, Anna heard a once familiar sound; a digital-purring that signified the wait for a phone call to be answered. The tones continued for several seconds; clearly the person on the other end was not expecting a call.
“Maybe nobody’s home,” Mike whispered, nervously.
The tones continued to ring out.
•
Ross Crandall stared out through the hatch window at the desolate landscape that surrounded them. Houston had been completely erased.
In an instant, everything he’d ever known had vanished. Mission Control, the surrounding buildings and streets, even the distant traffic-filled I-45 was simply gone.
There was nothing left.
His phone rang and he absentmindedly reached for his jacket pocket, before remembering they’d glue-gunned it to the console. Suddenly the full significance hit him that, in their newly desolate world, his phone was ringing. Someone was calling him.
He reached out to pick up the phone but then realised the Apollo’s flight control interface still occupied the screen.
“How do I…” he spoke to Lawrence while making frustrated gestures at the device.
It took Lawrence several seconds to achieve, but he finally succeeded in deactivating the flight software and returning the ringing phone to its previous configuration. The date on the screen again read ‘28DEC2013’ and underneath it were the words ‘No Caller ID.’
Ross crouched over the device and pushed the button to answer the call, only then remembering that he’d need to use the phone’s speaker if he wanted to hear anything. He jabbed at the icon.
“Hello?”
“Hello, this is Cathy Gant,” came the voice, “Is everyone OK?”
It seemed impossible. He’d lost contact with her and the rest of the FLC crew three days ago just after they’d left the Moon and yet she’d found a way to re-establish communication.
“Cathy?” he checked, and then thought she might be awaiting positive confirmation herself, “This is Ross Crandall.”
The line went quiet and for a second he thought the call had terminated, but then there were several seconds of mumbled discussion at Cathy’s side.
“Communications Director Crandall?” her voice returned, “Houston Mission Control?”
“I’m afraid we lost Houston,” Ross looked out of the hatch window, “But yes it’s me. I don’t know how you’re managing this, but it’s damn good to hear from you! So you made it to the ISS before the shards hit? Are Mike and Lana up there with you?”
“This is impossible…”
Again he could hear mumbling in the background; a mixture of incredulous sounding tones and a lower pitched calmer-sounding voice.
“Director?” Cathy returned, “How long ago did the tsunami hit Houston?”
He stared out at the desolation again.
“Just a few minutes ago,” he replied, but began to feel there was something wrong. They’d left the Starfish facility during an intense overhead thunderstorm but the sky was now a clear blue, with no sign of turbulence.
The word ‘Houston’ drew his attention back to the jumble of conversations that Cathy was conducting at her end of the call. Occasionally, phrases including ‘atomic clock’ and ‘discrepancy’ would rise above the general murmur, but he was unable to tell the context. Clearly there was a situation that required his attention, otherwise she wouldn’t have gone to the extraordinary effort of calling him from the ISS.
“In the light of, er, recent lunar events…” Cathy seemed hesitant, “In your opinion… when do you think Siva will reach Earth?”
Ross remembered the brief rumour that the Moon’s destruction might alter Siva’s path. But he knew the hard facts were unchanged. The great cosmic joke was still due to deliver its devastating punchline on 1st April 2015.
“Sorry Cathy, apart from the tides, the Moon’s pull hasn’t changed a damn thing. Siva’s still set to impact us fifteen months from now.”
As Ross looked out of the hatch window, it was hard
to imagine that things would one day be even worse than this.
“Mommy, I wanna look outside too!” Abel’s curiosity was getting the better of him.
“Who else is with you?” said Cathy.
“There’s Karl and Janine Meyer, their kid Abel who you probably just heard,” he rubbed at his forehead, “and Larry Clark… the guy who found Cooper’s SOS.”
“Director,” Cathy responded almost immediately, “I’m sorry if this sounds odd… but have the letters E.V.A. -”
“E.V.A.!” Abel interrupted excitedly, “E.V.A.! Let’s go outside the spaceship!”
When Ross glanced round, he could see that Abel was wriggling excitedly. By contrast, Janine seemed drawn and pale; only able to provide the weakest of smiles for her excitable son. Karl’s look of concern for her appeared to deepen when she whispered something to him.
“Sorry Cathy,” Ross apologised, “as you might’ve guessed, we’re not speaking to you from a secure Archive facility, so -”
“I know,” she replied, “You’re in the Apollo Seventy-three.”
“I… what?” Ross struggled, but realised there was only one logical conclusion, “You can see us? From the ISS?”
“What? No…” said Cathy, “I think you better follow Abel’s advice. Open your hatch and take a good look behind you. Director… you are go for E.V.A.”
INTERSECTION
~
Kate cleared her mind to take in the full scope of everything she was seeing. The preparation had taken time. In fact, it taken multiple times to achieve the right outcome.
The element-loaded debris ring surrounding the Earth was interrupted at one point by their temporal cross-section of lunar material; a cylindrical formation that had apparently occurred according to natural processes, but was nothing of the sort.
She looked back along the timelines to see an orbital recording buoy. It had been placed long ago to observe Siva’s impact with the lunar debris. There could be no witness to the events that had unfolded in orbit, but the buoy was integral to their plans; it would convey further information that seemingly had no attributable source. She passed a complexed wave of electromagnetism through its memory, then nudged it out of orbit in preparation for its long journey.
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