by James Duggan
Buck proceeded to outline the conversation he had with her husband in Vegas finishing with the ultimatum he had been given which would enlist his co-operation.
“So to put it in a nutshell, he won’t do what we want unless you agree to board the Cube.”
“You must be joking. That’ll be the day. I presume he told you what I think about flying.”
“Yes I’m afraid he did, but this is different…”
“I don’t care how different it is. You won’t get me in a plane let alone some kind of space ship.” she interrupted.
“But this really is different. If it works there will be no feeling of movement let alone G-forces. We expect it will be a serene experience. You won’t even know you’re moving.”
“What do you mean, ‘if it works’? You mean it hasn’t even been tested yet? Do you really believe I’m as mad as you seem to think I am…if you know what I mean?” said Maggie, flustered at the apparent oddity of her question.
Buck realised he had dropped the proverbial bollock. He couldn’t afford not to enlist the special talents of Slim McCoy and Maggie was the key to it all. He would have to try a different tack. The same one he had used on her husband.
“If Slim won’t do what we ask then there is no way we could allow the inclusion of your girls on the trip. He won’t go if you don’t go and if he doesn’t go then the girls can’t go.”
There was a long silence as Maggie considered the predicament Buck had put her in. Finally she spoke.
“Serene you say?”
“Serene.” said Buck, with his fingers crossed under the desk.
“The girls can’t go if I don’t?”
“The girls can’t go.” confirmed Buck.
“Serene eh?” she said, again.
“Serene.” confirmed Buck, once more.
There was another long silence.
“Okay, if there’s a chance of saving my daughters from the horror of a disintegrating world how can I refuse? But this thing had better work the way you say otherwise you will know the fury of a woman sinned.”
“It’ll work.” said Buck, still with his fingers crossed.
“Tell that husband of mine if all this doesn’t kill him I will for putting me in this situation. And as for you…well blackmail doesn’t sit well with you.”
Buck held up his hands defensively.
“No, I know, but it was the only thing I could think of to get the job done. A lot of people are depending on us.”
“That may be, but you probably didn’t need to use my daughters as bait. If Slim is that important to you I would have done it in the end…for the sake of humanity. Why do you think I’ve been knocking myself out with professor Bunion if that wasn’t my ultimate goal?”
Buck left the building a contented man. As he headed back to Vegas he smiled at the thought of making the desk sergeant happy by taking McCoy off his hands.
***
HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL.
THE mood was sombre at 9am in NASA’s Hubble control room at Goddard Space Flight Centre in Baltimore. The crew who first discovered the threat of Ceres was quietly monitoring its progress.
Buck had been there since 6am staring at his monitor, not quite knowing why, since there was nothing he could do to alter the path of destiny. In a frivolous moment he had thought that if he stared at it hard enough Ceres might blink first and veer off to wreak its havoc elsewhere.
He knew of course that in reality this was a forlorn hope, but as he sat there a notion did occur to him which might have consequences other than those they all expected.
He blinked, squinted and sat upright from his slouched position. He blinked again as he leaned forward to examine the image more closely.
“Hey you guys. Come over here. Have a look at this.
Three castored office chairs rolled smoothly across the vinyl floor carrying Charlie, Annie and Molly. They came to rest neatly around Buck’s position.
“Why walk when you can ride eh?” said Buck, cheerfully.
His mood became more upbeat as his earlier idea began to evolve, but he needed to open up the discussion and develop a new perspective on their problem.
“Take a close look at this image.”
“What are we looking for?” said Charlie.
“I’m not sure. Just take a look and tell me if you can see anything different to what we’ve been used to seeing.”
They each frowned, not quite knowing what Buck was expecting them to see. Nevertheless they screwed up their eyes as they leaned across him for a better view. A minute of intense scrutiny passed as they each looked for something they thought Buck could see which they couldn’t.
None of them wanted to say anything for fear of being ridiculed. Finally Molly, whose keen eye had been the first to confirm the original danger, owned up to not being able to see any change.
“I don’t know what we are supposed to be looking for Buck, but if there is anything different I can’t see it. It’s still Ceres heading in our direction to knock us out of the skies.”
“Ah, but is it?”
The three looked at each other as deeper frowns creased their foreheads. Charlie was perplexed.
“Is it what? Is it Ceres? Is it heading in our direction? Is it going to hit us? Which is it Buck?”
“Well it’s certainly Ceres. I think everyone agrees on that. And it’s certainly heading in our direction, but is it actually going to hit us directly? Supposing it just touches our atmosphere and passes by, or better still supposing it is eventually classed as a close fly-by five hundred miles up.”
Annie whose speciality was the Asteroid Belt was dismayed by the implications of Buck’s remark.
“What are you getting at Buck? We’ve done the calculations. It’s going to hit us. End of story…in fact, end of planet Earth.”
“Ah yes.” said Buck, becoming animated.
“Look I may be clutching at straws here, but the original calculations were done months ago. Ceres is bigger on the screen and therefore a lot closer now. Has any one of us rechecked the figures for accuracy? In fact did anyone question our original conclusions?”
A glint of enlightenment showed in the eyes of his three companions as he answered his own questions.
“No we haven’t and no they didn’t.”
“I’ll get on to it right away.” said Annie, enthusiastically.
“Good. You two go and give her a hand.”
He had an afterthought.
“And keep this to yourselves. We don’t want any false hopes circulating. If we were wrong people will know soon enough. If it turns out we were right all along…well they will be no worse off than they are now.”
***
Two days later after some intense number crunching and feverish activity a small meeting was reconvened to discuss the outcome.
“Well, what have you got?” said a bleary eyed Buck, hopefully.
He had spent the last forty-eight hours nervously awaiting the outcome of his directive and with little sleep as he hoped for a reprieve for the world.
His three assistants looked at each other nervously. It was left to Annie to divulge what they had found.
“Well Buck it was a nice thought which gave us all a short period of hope, but I’m afraid all the figures still add up to a collision.”
Buck was visibly stunned. Being the optimist that he was he had convinced himself that disaster might be avoided.
“Ah, I was hoping the news would be better; perhaps a computer glitch or a decimal point in the wrong place…anything. I’m not questioning your findings, but I have to be certain before we go careering off into space unnecessarily.”
“Sorry Buck.” said Annie, almost tearfully.
“We’ve checked and double checked just to be certain. That’s the reason it took us so long. The only thing which has come out of all this, which we didn’t know before, is the precise location of the strike.”
“Well I don’t suppose it will make much difference, but you
’d better tell me anyhow.”
“Well we’re pretty certain it will be a direct hit over the Marianas Trench in the western Pacific.”
Buck’s eyes lit up slightly at the news.
“The Marianas Trench eh?”
Molly caught his change of tone.
“Does that make a difference Buck?”
“It might Molly. It just might. At nearly seven miles deep the Marianas Trench is the deepest part of ocean anywhere in the world. It’s about a thousand-five hundred miles long and forty miles wide.”
He thought for a moment as the others waited expectantly.
“I’m sorry, but I’m clutching at more straws here. The planet might just survive an impact in that area. That much water would make one hell of a damper. The problem is it would still annihilate the vast majority of the human race.”
“How so?” asked Molly, who had not quite grasped the significance of the figures.
“Surely if the planet survives so too will most of us.” said Molly, who had not fully absorbed the implications of an ocean strike.
“Okay Molly. It’s like this. Suppose you drop a ten ton boulder into your garden fish pond. I’m fairly sure all the water would end up on the lawn. Now consider the size of the tsunami dropping something like Everest into the Pacific would create. As big as it is Everest it would still be about six thousand feet below the original water line. The resultant flood wave would be several thousand feet high. No one on earth would escape such a tsunami.”
“Oh my God! We’re doomed whichever way we turn. The planet disintegrates and we’re finished. The planet survives and we’re still…finished. It’s a no win situation.”
“I’m afraid so Molly. So we still continue to plan for a limited evacuation on the Cube.” said Buck, sympathetically as he gave his ward a gentle hug.
“Ah well the hope was good while it lasted; now it’s back to the drawing board.” said Buck, resigned to the reality of his situation.
***
A PRIVATE ENTERPRISE
SEVERAL weeks had passed by while the feverish activity of design and planning continued around the world. Buck’s life was no longer his own as everybody connected with the project looked to him for answers on just about every aspect of the great escape.
No one had ever been put in this position before and if the truth be known neither he nor anyone else had all the answers. He was forced to wing it and make decisions off the cuff without any reference to others.
There were times when he wished President Richards had not placed him at the forefront of the venture, but he would convince himself after some hand wringing that someone had to do it and it might as well be him. He consoled himself by remembering there would be no repercussions if it all went pear shaped since there would be no one around to point the finger.
There were occasions when the phone was in danger of exploding from the heat of all the traffic it was handling. This was one such time as yet again Christie asked him to take another call.
“Who is it this time?” said Buck, rather curtly.
This was not his normal demeanour, but the pressure was beginning to get to him.
“It’s Al Brewster.”
“The only Al Brewster I know of is the multi-billionaire who owns the SpaceCruiser conglomerate.”
“That’s the one.” she said.
“What does he want?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“Well ask him.”
“Ask him yourself. I’ll put him through.” said Christie, venting her own irritation.
Buck was about to press for an answer when he was interrupted.
“Hi there Mister Buchanan, Al Brewster here. I wonder if we could meet up somewhere. I have a proposition for you.”
Buck knew from news media coverage that Brewster was the self made head of a motor manufacturing company specialising in purpose built vehicles for motorheads. People would pay a kings ransom for anything on four wheels produced with the Brewster name on it.
He also had a natural talent for successfully playing the stock market with his profits. It had made him one of the top one hundred super wealthy people in the world with his name on the Forbes Rich List. His wealth had allowed him to branch out into the burgeoning space tourist day tripper business, hence the name of his latest venture ‘SpaceCruiser’.
“I’m sorry Mister Brewster; we can both save ourselves some time here. I am aware of your financial standing in the world, but I’m afraid a place on the Cube cannot be bought.”
“Hold on there Buchanan. Who said anything about buying a ticket? I’d just like to meet up and discuss something which I am sure would interest you.”
“Mister Brewster, I’m sure you will appreciate my time is not my own just now and I am limited to dealing with the small problem of preserving human life for posterity.”
“Please Mister Buchanan. I guarantee I will not be wasting your time.”
Buck was taken aback by Brewster’s pleading. For a man in his position, who was used to demanding whatever he wanted in life, it must have been a fundamental life changing experience to have to plead. He paused for a moment as he considered the request. He decided to challenge Brewster’s resolve.
“Okay Mister Brewster, you have my attention, but you will have to come to me.”
“I’ll meet anywhere you want.” replied Brewster, eagerly.
“Tomorrow morning then 10am, my office here in Baltimore.” said Buck, curtly.
“I’ll be there.” said Brewster.
“And thanks.” he added, almost as an afterthought, before hanging up without another word being spoken.
Buck never had got used to the American way of signing off on a phone call without so much as a good bye, or even a kiss my ass. He sat there for a moment with the receiver still in his hand. He was looking at it as if it might enlighten him as to what a billionaire wanted with him if it was not to buy his way onto the cosmic life raft.
‘Ah well I’ll find out soon enough tomorrow.’ he thought, before finally placing his receiver gently on its cradle.
***
“Good morning Mister Buchanan.” said Brewster, as Christie ushered him into Buck’s office.
“Nice day isn’t it.” he added, in the friendliest tone he could muster.
Buck was still suspicious of the man’s motives for requesting the meeting.
“It is that.” he said, rather abruptly.
“But I’m afraid we don’t have many of them left, so you will understand if I suggest we get right down to the reason why you’re here. What can I do for you Mister Brewster?”
“Well it’s not so much what you can do for me as what I can do for you…or maybe I should say what we can do for each other.”
“I’m listening.” said Buck, still suspicious of the billionaire’s motives.
Brewster was unsettled by the obvious bad vibes he was sensing.
“Look Mister Buchanan, I know you must be feeling uneasy about dealing with me in these circumstances, but I can assure you my reason for being here is not wholly out of self preservation. Hear me out and then make your judgement on me.”
Now Buck was made to feel uncomfortable as he realised he had in fact pre-judged a man who he knew little or nothing about.
“Okay Mister Brewster, point taken. Perhaps we should start afresh. What is it we can do for each other?”
“Well Mister Buchanan I am not here entirely on my own behalf. I represent a small newly formed, but very influential group which includes amongst others Gregor Ivanov, Gupta Singh and Herman Lutz.”
Buck’s mouth dropped open just enough for Brewster to notice it.
“Ah, I see you’ve heard of these people, but just to clarify their status I can confirm that we are indeed talking about the Russian Oligarch who made his billions in steel and oil, the Indian steel magnate and of course let’s not forget Herman who made his money from the manufacture of luxury yachts and private jets.”
“You keep high oct
ane company Mister Brewster. Now you have my attention for real.”
“Well it seems money does talk after all.” said Brewster, encouraged by Buck’s response.
“It used to Mister Brewster, but I’m afraid it no longer does. Your continuing riches are all based upon physical assets which no longer have any value. Since this little incident cropped up all your companies have become worthless purely because they have no future…none. Right now money probably won’t even buy you love.
Between you there may be enough paper money to pay off Britain’s national debt. But I’m afraid that unless you have some practical or scientific skill to offer life on the cube you and your associates will not get a chance to see the stars up close and personal.”
Brewster eyed Buck up and down for a few seconds wondering how to approach the reason for his visit. He decided flattery might help.
“You’re an astute man Mister Buchanan so you probably already know that we would not be wasting your time if we didn’t have something to offer.”
“That’s the only reason you’re here…I’m curious.” said Buck, trying to draw Brewster out.
“Well you’re right about one thing. Our companies are dead in the water and the only actual money we have is gathering dust in the vaults of banks around the world. But what we do have is a considerable manufacturing infrastructure and a labour force to go with it. We want to put those assets to work building our own extraterrestrial life raft.”
“Yes, I can see why you would want to do that, but what’s stopping you?”
“Well as I said, between us we have the practical and human resources to do that, but…”
Brewster hesitated. He knew what he was about to suggest would be sensitive to Buck’s ears.
“What we don’t have is the technology.”
“But you’re already involved in space tourism. The question is still ‘what’s stopping you’?”
“Well what you and your people are planning requires a special kind of science which we can’t hope to develop in the time available; the sort of science your Mister Smith is hoping to provide.”