Jubilee Year

by Gerard O'Neill

  “I give up,” Storm replied. “You better tell me what it is.”

  “You are looking at a call sign used by a ham radio operator,” Darren declared triumphantly. “He's given you a way to contact him. He must have known there would be a time when we could no longer make phone calls.”

  He handed the book back to Storm. “Dude, those days are here.”

  Storm opened the cover and gazed at the call sign. “I suppose you know all about ham radio too, huh?”

  Darren nodded. “Just the basic stuff. But I do...” He stopped when he realized Storm nor Matthew were no longer paying him any attention. He didn't mind. The day would soon come when they had to listen to him.

  56

  Short and Sharp

  Michael lay on the concrete path staring up into the gray sky. He came to his senses and sat up. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead from the gash above his hairline, but he barely noticed it. All he could see was Penny being taken away from him.

  Darren was dragging her by a fistful of hair behind him. He was heading for the Ute parked by the gate and still loaded with the paramotors and the generators.

  She twisted and clawed at his fingers. But so long as she was off balance, there was little she could do to break free from him.

  Darren was resolute. He has seen his opportunity and taken it with two hands. The way he saw things, fate had given him this day. He waved the handgun at them as they ran to Michael and helped him to his feet.

  “The next time anyone comes at me again like that—I’ll shoot them dead,” he shouted. Why the stupid, uncomprehending looks on their faces? Didn’t they get it? “This is what we do now!” He was surprised at the emotion he heard in his own voice.

  Darren scowled and leveled the weapon at Storm’s back as he ran back to the house.

  “No, Darren,” Stella screamed. “Don’t!”

  It was the blare of the Bushmaster’s horn that made Darren turn instead of pulling the trigger. He took aim at the troop carrier as it turned into the farm gate. Things were getting out of hand.

  At the speed the Bushmaster was traveling it would smack into the back of the Ute. He fired a shot, but the truck did not slow. He fired again. This time he was rewarded with the twang of the bullet striking metal. He grunted with satisfaction.

  In the cab, Taylor braked. The carrier came to a stop midway down the long drive. Taylor glanced across at Cameron.

  The corporal was already looking for a clear line of fire. At a glance, it looked too risky A single shot from the .50 caliber might take out Penny instead of Darren. If anyone could hit the target and avoid collateral damage, it was going to be Kwong.

  Darren glanced down at Penny and smiled. “That was the sound of the bullet hitting the truck. Not bad shooting if I do say so myself.” He let go of Penny’s hair and locked his arm around her chest, pulling her to her feet. She would be his shield until they reached the driver’s door. Good thing no one had taken the paramotors off the back. They might make it difficult for Cameron to take a shot at them. That’s what he’d do if he was them.

  “Why, man?” Matthew called out. He was holding on to Michael’s arm until the astronomer had his feet.

  “Look around you!” Darren shouted over the top of the hood as he bundled Penny into the cab. “It’s over!”

  “How are you going to survive out there without help?” Aunty cried.

  “I have the truck. I can barter for anything I need. You lot can go into town and get whatever you want. So you haven’t got any problems either. We’re all happy.”

  “You don’t need my daughter,” Michael pleaded.

  “Old man, it's you she doesn’t need,” Darren said. “You’ve had her long enough.”

  Michael shrugged off Matthew’s helping hands and staggered up the path. He stopped at the gate and grasped the post to steady himself.

  Darren pinned Penny to the bench seat as opened the window of the passenger door. He wasn’t going to shatter it with a bullet. The truck was could be traded soon enough if he looked after it. “I don’t want to shoot you, Michael,” Darren warned, struggling to fasten the seat belt across Penny. “Don’t come any closer.”

  He looked past Michael, at Storm running from kitchen door with a rifle clutched in his hand. He pressed the muzzle of the pistol to Penny’s forehead.

  Michael flung out his arm and stopped Storm at the gate.

  “Oh, come on, Storm,” Darren called out. “Haven’t I done enough for you? You owe me!”

  Storm’s face was an angry mask as he pushed Michael aside and strode to the front of the truck. When he spoke his voice was quiet and his tone measured. “Darren, you are best to let Penny go.”

  Darren gave a strained laugh. “Let her go? You are giving me orders now? No, you listen for a change! Penny’s with me now.” He grasped her face between thumb and forefinger and twisted it toward his. “You are, aren’t you Penny?”

  She spat at him in response. It was pure bravado. She was terrified.

  Darren responded by wrapping an arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. “That’s alright. I knew from the first time I saw you that you had spirit.” When he saw Storm’s face, he smiled. “I’m going to look after her much better than you ever did,” he said.

  “Let her go,” Storm repeated. He rested his elbows on the Bull Bars and took aim.

  Darren blinked in surprise. “What if you do shoot me, and my finger spasms and pulls this trigger? You will be to blame for what happens to Penny!”

  Penny stared tearfully through the windscreen at Storm and shook her head.

  “Don’t risk it, Storm,” Darren told him. “We don’t have doctors or hospitals anymore. If we get hurt bad, we are going to die.” He stared at Storm and seeing the hesitation, he started the engine. His plan was to turn the truck around, there would still be the one large military carrier to negotiate in the driveway but that wasn’t a big deal. With Bull Bars on the front of the truck, he would be able to drive right through the fence, across the field, then through the fence again and onto the road.

  Storm pressed his cheek to the stock.

  “If you stay where you are I will drive right over you,” Darren called out.

  He wasn’t going to give way to anyone. Not anymore. Not in this world.

  He tapped the accelerator. He had only intended to rev the motor to give Storm a scare and get him to jump out of the way. But it was his first time behind the wheel of the Ute, and he didn’t know the accelerator mechanism was not working smoothly. After countless hours of traveling the country roads, they were now clogged with dust and grit.

  Following the accident, the farmer avoided going into town as much as he could. The truck had not been checked by a mechanic for a long while.

  In his rush to leave, Darren had put the truck into gear, without realizing what he had done. When he tapped the stiff pedal, the truck leaped forward. He swore and stamped on the brake. But, it was too late.

  Storm had disappeared under the front.

  He slammed the truck into reverse and pulled on the handbrake the moment he saw Storm’s legs. He glanced at Penny and saw the look of horror on her face.

  “That was an accident,” he mumbled apologetically.

  The report from the heavy roo rifle had left Storm stunned even before he was struck by the truck. As he gazed up up at the grill with adrenaline pumping through his body he suddenly came to his senses. Still clutching the rifle he clambered from beneath the front of the truck and leaped to his feet.

  Darren was scrabbling around inside the cab. He had dropped his handgun.

  Storm clenched his jaw as he ejected the spent shell and snapped the bolt closed. He saw Darren straighten up and wave the pistol in front of him.

  When Darren saw the murderous look on Storm’s eyes, he slammed his hostage against the side door and pressed the muzzle of the handgun to her temple.

  Storm felt the warm barrel against his cheek. His breathing was shallow, and i
t seemed to him everything was slowing down, even his heart.

  He kept his eyes and the bead of the gun barrel on Darren. He knew she was standing next to him without lifting his head.

  “Do it!” Summer said.

  “I can’t!” He moaned.

  “Do it, Storm. Do it before he does!”

  The recoil thumped his shoulder and the front window of the truck exploded. Storm saw a black spot appear under Darren’s chin. Before he lowered the rifle, he saw Summer was already at the passenger side of the Ute.

  Penny had flipped off her safety belt and pushed herself off the seat as soon as the truck door opened. She slipped from the cab to land on Summer. Her weight was too much for a twelve-year-old and the two of them sprawled in the driveway.

  Penny rolled off Summer and looked up into the cab. A bullet was about to strike her, and she could not move.

  Storm swung the driver’s door open.

  Darren had his hand to his throat. He didn’t attempt to move his head. But he was staring in surprise at Storm as he attempted to stem the flow of blood. The bullet had entered and the side of his throat and exited through the seat. A week earlier it might have been survivable. If they were able to get him to the hospital.

  His mouth opened and closed, but it was a breathy bubbling sound that came out. He clutched the handgun to his chest with his free hand.

  Storm was a spectator watching himself go through the actions. It wasn’t he who spoke with that guttural snarl. “I warned you!” He chambered his last bullet, but he didn’t raise the rifle. He had heard the wounded man gurgle a single word. It sounded like ‘sorry’.

  Darren wanted to say what was on his mind because he knew he didn’t have long, but he found he was not able to make a recognizable sound. He gave up trying and pressed the muzzle of the handgun under his chin. The force of the shot whipped his head back with such force it made him appear to sit upright for a moment.

  Gravel crunched behind him, but all he could hear was the hissing noise coming from Darren’s head. It sounded like a cornered snake.

  “Are you hurt?” Michael asked, lifting the rifle from the boy’s hands.

  Storm couldn’t hear the question. There were ocean rollers thundering onto a vast beach, and they shook his world. He stopped at the gate when he felt arms envelop him.

  Stella kissed him on the head and buried her face in his hair.

  “Come on, son. Let’s go into the house.”

  Summer watched Kwong and Taylor pull Darren's body from the cab. She felt relieved. It was over. She followed the others into the house.

  They found winter firewood stacked in the shed and bought a load inside for the evening. The fireplace was large enough to sustain the kind of fire that could heat the entire house to the point they perspired. There was no real need for a big fire. The night might have been cooler than usual, but it wasn’t freezing cold. The real reason the two men sat at the hearth after the others went to bed was for the comfort it gave them.

  Michael passed a mug to Cameron.

  “Your men are okay with the cottage?”

  “Yes,” Cameron replied and returned Michael a tired smile. “They’re doing better than okay.”

  “Mm,” Michael nodded. “Why did you came back?”

  Cameron looked down at the hot tea in his mug. The images of what they had seen at the camp were vague. He didn’t mind that at all. But, it was a bit like picking at a scab, because he couldn’t help but remember.

  “There was nothing much left. Most of the forest is gone. The camp was flattened. Completely burned out.”

  “You think anyone might have escaped?” Michael asked.

  “The meteorites did hellish damage before the firestorm,” Cameron replied. “From what we saw the barracks were flattened. There wasn’t a single wall standing.”

  “But do you think any of them survived?”

  “We saw tracks made by vehicles. So we know a few escaped. We went looking for them and we found them. They had not been able to escape the fire.”

  “No one escaped?” Michael persisted.

  Cameron gazed up at him.

  “Maybe and maybe not.”

  “We want to say goodnight,” Summer said as she stood by the door.

  Storm sat on the edge of his bed. Matthew was already sprawled across the second bed, sound asleep. He turned to see them, their faces glowing in the light of the candle on the saucer in Stella’s hand. Storm lifted his hand in a tired wave.

  “Goodnight,” Stella whispered. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Storm told her. “I’ll be okay.”

  “We know,” Stella told him. “Love you.”

  Storm called out to his sister.

  “Dad would have been proud of you, Sum.”

  She put her around the door.

  “I want you to know something, bro.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re my hero.”

  “Come here kid and give me a hug.”

  “Nah, we gotta stay tough,” Summer told him.

  “We always will be, but that doesn’t stop us giving each other a hug.”

  She ran over into the room and threw her arms around his neck. “I was hoping you would say that.”

  Much later, Storm was still watching the images flickering by like the pictures on a pack of cards in the hands of a diabolical dealer. He opened his eyes again. Sleep would come easier to him as he lay there, staring into the darkness.

  Michael opened the farmer’s liquor cabinet. His eyes settled immediately on a bottle of Black Label. He waved it in front of Cameron. “I’ve no idea how long this one’s been open, but it should still have a kick to it.”

  “Let’s do it more damage,” Cameron said. He watched as Michael splashed whiskey into two tumblers. Filling them to the brim. They clinked rims in a toast to survival and gasped when they downed the raw spirit.

  “Can you tell me what’s happening?” Cameron asked.

  “I have theories,” Michael replied.

  “Surely, you either know or you don’t,” the corporal complained. The last thing I wanted at this point was to hear Michael’s theories. He wanted to know the facts.

  Michael refilled their tumblers and sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m just not certain of anything anymore—well, I am certain of one thing.”

  Cameron leaned forward. He was looking for more than a straw of hope to clutch onto.

  “Like I told your sergeant. There’s a small intruder solar system that’s entered our own. At its center is a collapsed star that’s tiny and dark, but has a huge influence on the Sun and on the planet’s its closest to. Its orbit is parabolic. Every few thousand years it dives through the solar system and messes things up. It will cross the orbit of Earth path as it swings around the Sun. That’s when its magnetic influence on our planet will be at its strongest. It is going to snatch us from the Sun’s grasp. It moves into perihelion just like a comet does. At that point, we escape its grip and fall back into the Sun’s influence. Those two times, the surface of Earth will undergo a sudden violent pole shift. The second will be worse than the first.” He emptied the tumbler in a single gulp and closed his eyes. “We need to prepare and adapt.”

  “We are going to survive this,” Cameron told him, feeling fired up with whiskey-fueled resoluteness.

  “If we are to have a hope of surviving we need to unite as a group,” Michael replied. “More than that, humanity will need to unite as a species.”

  Epilogue

  New Zealand, 2012

  It almost ran out of runway as it touched down. Planes of that size had landed at Christchurch International Airport before. This was, after all, an international airport and the last stop for Antarctic expeditions. None, though, had ever been as specialized, or for that reason looked as quite as strange as this aircraft. The large lump at the tail end gave it the look of a viper that had swallowed a chicken’s egg and was yet to
digest it’s meal.

  The bulge housed a large infrared telescope, and it was this instrument that gave reason to the plane’s odd appearance. The Stratospheric Observatory for Infrared Astronomy was indeed unique.

  The size of the optical instrument alone was not the reason for a girth of such note. It was the refrigerated compartment that demanded the extra space. If the temperature within the scope could not be controlled when the plane returned to the relative warmth of the air layer at ground level, moisture formed between the lenses. The end result would render the delicate instrument quite unusable.

  Excitement ran high among the scientific team. They looked forward to the start of every mission, but this one would be quite different. Half of the reason was the mystery specialist joining the team. The other half was that the mystery extended to the nature of the target.

  The level of secrecy imposed on the new mission was exceptional. There would be no preflight interviews with media. This was highly unusual. The publicity-shy scientists had almost grown used to being pressured to make themselves available to journalists. The promotional effort they were coaxed, bullied when necessary, into doing was to encourage corporate and government funding. It was also to feed the curiosity of the public because that to could be harvested for all kinds of purposes.

  On the eve of the first scheduled flight, they were given a cover story to parrot to the hungry media. The plane would be flying over the Pacific Ocean to observe regions of the Milky Way Galaxy. The telescope was aimed at an exotic and irregular dwarf spiral galaxy.

  Neither story was true.

  Furthermore, they were to remind the media that SOFIA’s flights took advantage of the uncluttered skies and the clear settled conditions in the Southern Hemisphere during winter. The presence of moisture in Earth’s atmosphere otherwise acted to block the infrared light emitted by space bodies. Logically, the plane would fly away from the Pole to avoid the threat of polar stratospheric cloud typically formed under winter conditions. Who would question the official story? Certainly not the scientific community at large, let alone the team of scientists aboard SOFIA.