by James Duggan
“Pierre, we still have some work to do on this before we can confirm our conclusions. In the meantime do what you can to keep it under wraps. It will be bad enough when the announcement is made officially without it leaking out in some uncontrolled sensational report by news agencies around the world.”
Pierre sounded remarkably calm for a man just given the news the end of the world really was nigh.
“I’ll do what I can Buck, but make it quick. I’ll be amazed if we don’t hear from the Russians and Chinese before the end of the day. They’re going to want plausible answers based on the science, not just some half baked piece of flim-flam. We don’t want them thinking this is some new aggressive piece of kit which would kick off world war three. God can wipe us out on his own. He doesn’t need any help.”
“Okay Pierre. We’re on the case, but it’s starting to look as if an emergency meeting of world leaders is called for. The sooner the better. I’ll be in touch when we have more info and a serious plan of action.”
Buck disconnected and glanced around the room at his four colleagues.
“Any ideas? he asked, pleadingly.
There was a long silence until Annie finally broke it.
“Well I hate using this expression, but it has never seemed more appropriate. We are between a rock and a hard place. If the news gets out in an uncontrolled fashion there will be world wide panic. By the time Ceres gets here we will have done the job for her and virtually wiped ourselves out. On the other hand if we instigate a complete news blackout some attention seeking ambitious investigative journalist sniffing a career building story is going to dig until he finds out what’s going on. He or she will create an even bigger panic with an uninformed sensational story.”
As usual Annie’s science trained analytical brain had neatly summed up the predicament they were in. Buck took the lead.
“Okay Christie. Organise an emergency meeting between the movers and shakers of all the countries with a space program, but don’t tell them why it’s being called. If you’re pressed simply say there’s been an astronomical development with significant implications for the world. That should fire their curiosity and ensure they bust a gut to be involved. And put your mascara straight before you leave the room and keep your lips tightly shut to any unsolicited enquiries.”
He paused while Christie searched for a tissue. There was none. Charlie obliged with a handkerchief from his breast pocket. It gave Buck a few more moments to think.
“Annie, you and Charlie get to work. I want to know for sure if this thing is going to hit and if so how long we’ve got. We need time to work out a strategy for dealing with this. Though right now I can’t see what we could possibly do. It’s the end of the world for Christ’s sake.”
He paused again.
“Molly you…”
He trailed off not quite knowing what role to give to his protégé.
“Molly, whatever am I going to tell your parents?”
She might have been young, but she could see the pressure Buck was under. She tried to ease his troubled mind.
“You don’t need to tell them anything Buck. They’ll understand.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Go and help Charlie and Annie.”
He paused yet again trying to think if there was anything else which needed doing. In the circumstances there were almost certainly a million things, but right now couldn’t think of one.
“Okay guys. I want answers and I want them soon. Don’t let me down. Go to it.”
They cleared the room leaving Buck leaning with his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands to contemplate what little future they had left.
***
THE REVELATION.
WHEN called to do so, amazing things can be achieved by the human species. Within 48 hours everybody who was anybody in the astronomical world was gathered in the largest meeting room of the Goddard Space Flight Centre in Baltimore. The attendance was such that a link to Jim Clarke’s Asteroid Watch Centre in Pasadena had been patched through and a screen had been set up in an adjacent smaller meeting room.
The security was intense and no one without an invite was allowed anywhere near the building either there or in Pasadena. There was a buzz around both venues and much speculation that some significant breakthrough had been achieved in the field of astronomy which might have far reaching implications. There were few in the know and the majority were not prepared for what they were about to hear.
Buck had the unenviable responsibility of chairing the meeting with Charlie and Annie assisting him on the top table. He called the meeting to order.
“Good morning everyone. Glad to see you could make it and that so many people are interested in what it is that we do.”
There was a ripple of expectation around the room. Just in case there was anyone there who was in any doubt he went on to outline what their role in Baltimore was and their intimate connection with Pasadena. He sensed his audience was impatient to hear the real reason why they were there. They wanted him to get down to the nitty gritty.
Though he was most reluctant to do so he realised there was no way of avoiding what needed to be said. Hesitantly he outlined the happenings of the last few days. The more he spoke the quieter his audience became. This was not what they wanted to hear. He concluded his delivery by opening up the conference to questions.
It was as if a usually vociferous and volatile assembly had been struck dumb. Buck and his team had lived with the knowledge the world was about to end for almost a week and had somehow become immune from the heartache. But all these high ranking and even more intelligent scientists had only lived with the knowledge for a few minutes. They were literally dumbstruck.
They had of course heard rumours, but never imagined there was any substance to them; dismissing them as Chinese whispers. Faced now with the bald facts they were intimidated by the terrifying implications.
Buck was about to apologise for his announcement, though quite what he was apologising for he didn’t know. It was hardly his fault this situation had arisen and there was no easy way to divulge such stupifyingly damaging news. Eventually someone spoke up.
“I don’t suppose there could be any mistake could there? An anomaly with the equipment?” he said, hopefully.
Someone else piped up.
“Yes, there have been glitches before. Why even Hubble had to be corrected after it was launched.”
“I’m sorry folks. I wish that were true. We could at least have a chance of putting it right. But I’m afraid we’ve checked and triple checked and we’re going to get hit. There is no avoiding the outcome.”
“When? When is it going to happen? How long have we got?”
Buck gestured to Annie to answer that question.
“Well we’ve calculated that Ceres is travelling at approximately ten thousand miles per hour. That gives us three years, give or take a month. The closer she gets the more accurately we can answer that question. We will of course monitor it constantly.”
“Do we know where it will strike?”
“Right now we can’t tell. But the question is irrelevant. It doesn’t matter where it strikes, it will wipe us out.”
“Let’s hope god is a poor shot then.” murmured a front row member of the audience hopefully.
Another one chipped in.
“We’ve got three years to make our peace with him.”
It was a throwaway remark since it was unlikely there were many hard-headed scientists amongst them who still believed there was a god.
Buck was even more reluctant to make the next announcement.
“Okay people. There is no easy way to put this, but I would appreciate it being kept as quiet as possible, at least until midday when an announcement will be made on all worldwide news channels. As scientists you have received the news well, but when it is released to the general public…well there is no knowing what the reaction will be.
Something like this can’t be kept from them. It affects us all and i
t would leak out anyway. Knowing the truth is bad enough, but learning it has been withheld for the so-called better good is something else again.”
There was a general murmur of agreement around the room.
With little else to add he was about to wind up the gathering when Christie sidled up to him rather sheepishly.
“Sorry Buck, but I have a call for you she whispered.”
“Tell them I’m kind of busy right now. Who is it anyway?”
“It’s Mike McConnell.”
“Not the Mike McConnell the Director of the FBI?”
“Afraid so. He’s on a line in your office. He won’t be put off.”
“No, I bet he won’t. As if this is not all I’ve got to do I now have the FBI on my back.” sighed Buck, irritably.
“Charlie, finish this as best you can. I’ve got to take a call.”
***
The FBI was one of the aspects of American life which perturbed him most. On the one hand they were a complete nuisance to deal with. Yet on the other they were a necessary hindrance and a force for keeping the nation safe from organised crime and terrorism. On the whole they did a good job, but as he strode to his office he was thinking this was one situation where their input would be futile.
“Mister McConnell.” he said tersely, as he glared at the skype transmission which had been hurriedly set up.
“Mister Buchanan, you’ve been keeping something from us.” the Director said, equally tersely.
“Well that’s hardly true Mister McConnell. Since you’re talking to me at this moment means you have already been monitoring our activities and updated on the current situation by one of your agents.”
“If you’ve got trouble you should have come to us first. We might have been able to help.”
“Well as you can imagine, I’ve been kind of preoccupied these last few days. This problem is beyond my control; or that of anyone else for that matter.”
McConnell was a tough character, but he was neither stupid nor illiterate. He recognised the incredible dilemma and unprecedented pressure the head of the Baltimore facility must be under. His attitude softened.
“Hey, Buck we’ll get nowhere banging heads like this. Truce?”
“Truce.” replied Buck, gladly.
“What can I do for you?” he added.
“Well naturally we’ve already notified the President and he has called a meeting in the Incident Room in the White House for 11.00am tomorrow. You’re expected to be there. Bring with you the key figures in this nasty business. He’s going to be asking searching questions and will expect answers.”
‘As if I hadn’t got enough to do!’ thought Buck.
He held back his true feelings and simply said.
“We’ll be there. Organise security for about a dozen people. I’ll get my secretary to let you have the details later.”
“Thanks Buck. Will do. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay Mike. Lay on lots of coffee and sedatives. It’s going to be a traumatic meeting.”
The screen faded and left Buck sitting there wondering whether these people are going to fully grasp the seriousness of what they were about to discuss. McConnell’s reference to ‘this nasty business’ hardly filled him with confidence. His own reference to the meeting being ‘traumatic’ was a complete understatement.
Even as he sat there contemplating the end of the world a wild thought crossed his mind. To call it a long shot would be another understatement, but all possibilities had to be considered.
He called Christie into the office and briefed her on his discussion with McConnell. He listed all the people who sprung to mind he wanted to attend the meeting, including herself and instructing her to make the necessary arrangements. As she turned to do his bidding he had one more request.
“Oh and Christie, see if you can track down Ringo Smith. I believe he’s in the country attending some conference or other. He may even be amongst the throng outside. When you find him tell him I want him at the meeting. Opting out is not an option. Tell him the FBI will bring him in one way or another if he even thinks about declining. If you’re having trouble getting hold of him speak to Molly. She might know his whereabouts. I think they were an item when they were at university in Manchester together.”
“Okay Buck.” she said, frowning.
She knew of the maverick Ringo Smith and wondered what on earth Buck could want with him.
“Oh and Christie, keep that last bit to yourself…and use his proper name on the paperwork. We don’t want any un-necessaries. We have enough problems to deal with as it is.”
***
THE INCIDENT ROOM.
RYAN Richards, otherwise known as Rick to those he deemed to be his friends, sat with his back to his desk gazing through the south facing window of the Oval Office in the west wing of the White House. His view across the South Lawn and the Ellipse was uninterrupted right through to the Washington Monument. It stood tall and erect as if pointing to a better life amongst the stars and beyond.
His mood was pensive and despondent as he contemplated his political life. He was just over a year into his first term as president and most people of reasonable thinking, even in the opposition parties, were satisfied he was the best man for the job.
He had worked long and hard to manoeuvre himself into this position and yet here he was, the most powerful man in the western world, unable to save it from annihilation.
“Goddam it, what a spiteful irony.” he muttered to himself in his loneliness.
‘All the might of the world together with Bruce Willis and James Bond is not going to get us out of this one.’ he thought, as he waited for his call to the Incident Room.
Yet he knew he was expected to be seen to be doing something; anything at all which would not label him as a totally impotent President.
“My god I’ll go down in history as the last President…totally useless in a crisis.” he mused.
As he sat quietly still studying the monument a thought suddenly struck him.
‘Bloody fool. There won’t be any future for history to be written in. It looks like I’ll at least get away with that ignominy, but then again who will ever know?’
There was a knock at the door which jolted him back to reality. It was Joan Oliveira his aide, chief advisor and confidant.
“They’re ready for you in the Incident Room Mister President.”
“Ah, if ever a name was ill conceived it was the Incident Room. This could hardly be described as a simple incident. It is a catastrophe far beyond biblical proportions. Ah well, let’s get to it Joan.” he said to his aide.
“Time and tide wait for no one.” he added as he rose wearily from his chair.
Never was a proverb more predictive than in this instance. Joan led the way and took a seat behind the President at the head of the conference table.
***
“Good morning everyone. I’m glad you could make it. I only wish it could have been under different circumstances, but this is the hand we have been dealt so let’s get on with it. For those who don’t know him Mike McConnell here is Director of the FBI and has briefed me fully on this impending disaster. That was as of 8.00am this morning. Do you have anything to add Mike?”
The Director twiddled with his pen nervously. He and his people would in any other circumstances be expected to have formulated a preliminary strategy by now. But these were no ordinary circumstances.
“No Mister President. My people have had brief consultations with the military and the Bruce Willis solution of blowing it out of the sky is a non starter. It’s just too big. It’s beyond the capability of the entire world’s nuclear arsenal combined. All our scientific friends seem to be of the same opinion.”
The President smiled wryly at the reference to Bruce Willis. He scanned around the table at the scientists looking for a glimmer of hope. He got none. They all shook their head in turn.
“Well if you can’t do that…if we can’t stop it in its tracks couldn’t we at
least deflect it? Perhaps a combination of nuclear power and laser beams or something…anything.” he pleaded.
There was deathly silence from all present. It told the whole story.
“General, if there are any secret weapons I don’t know about can we now hear about them? This is no time for prevarication and protectionism.”
General Armstrong shook his head despairingly.
“Mister President this is the one and only occasion when I wish we could pull the rabbit out of the hat, but I’m afraid we have nothing with the capability required for an operation of this magnitude.”
The General hesitated.
“Come on General…what?”
“Perhaps our Russian or Chinese friends have a doomsday machine up there we know nothing about.”
“General Romanov?” enquired the President, hopefully.
Romanov looked uncomfortably around the table.
“In the circumstances we have to be completely open in our discussions. Otherwise why are we all here? We’re not back in the USSR days after all. We’ve left those well and truly behind us.” he said, with a reference to the paranoid secrecy of that regime.
He hesitated for several seconds before continuing.
“It is true that…”
“Ah, I knew it.” exclaimed Armstrong, triumphantly.
“I fucking knew it. They have got something.”
President Richards was embarrassed by this outburst from one of his own people. He admonished the commander of the armed forces in front of the gathering.
“General Armstrong let General Romanov finish. If they do have something which might help save the world let’s hear about it now. We can argue the finer points later…if we live to do so. And remember where you are, so mind your language. Carry on General Romanov.”
“Thank you Mister President. I was going to say that it is true we are working on a so-called doomsday machine which we hope could one day provide unlimited energy to the whole world. In the wrong hands it could be misused for the benefit of evil minds, but I assure you it has a perfectly benign purpose. Regrettably we have so far been unable to perfect it and even if we did I am not sure how it could be used in this situation.”