Death of a Planet

by James Duggan

  When it came right down to it they could achieve some measure of success without the final breakthrough in the quest for unlimited energy. They could always revert to the conventional method of generating power via solar panels. But this would require such a huge array for the day to day requirements of eight hundred people it would be almost impractical.

  There was also the fact that Solar panels have a limited life span. Although they are generally supplied with a twenty-five year guarantee they are thought to degrade at a rate of about 1% pr annum; not enough for a community destined to wonder the universe indefinitely and moving ever further from the sun.

  Buck desperately needed some good news.

  He was startled into reality by a knock on the door.

  “Come in.” he called out, wearily.

  Christie poked her head hesitantly around the door without opening it fully.

  “Are you in to visitors?” she asked, with a hint of anxiety in her usually confident voice.

  “I’ll answer that when you tell me who it is.”

  “It’s Ringo.”

  Buck’s eyes lit up. His frown disappeared and a smile became evident.

  ‘This has to be good news.’ he wished to himself, as he gestured Christie to show him in.

  “Let the genius in and see if you can rustle up a couple of coffees please; and maybe some biscuits or something. I’m famished.”

  His appetite had been taking a bit of a battering over the previous few weeks. The last time he ate a proper meal was breakfast on the previous day. His abstinence was beginning to make itself felt.

  Ringo ambled in as though he didn’t have a care in the world and threw his Stetson on Buck’s cluttered desk.

  “Hi mate. How’s things?”

  If he was there to bring good news there was no evidence of it on his face. However, neither did he appear to be the bearer of bad tidings.

  “Oh I suppose I feel fine in the circumstances.” said Buck, unconvincingly.

  “Your self?”

  “Oh I’m getting bye pal. No probs.” replied Ringo, flatly.

  He was still not giving anything away, preferring to tease Buck to the point of distraction. It was working. Buck could conceal his curiosity no longer.

  “Well you’re obviously here for a reason old pal.” said Buck, trying to enter into Ringo’s vernacular in the hope it would open him up.

  “Would you like to let me in on the secret?”

  Before he got an answer the door opened unannounced and Christie appeared with a tray on which stood the makings of coffee and biscuits, with side plates containing a couple of ham and cheese baguettes.

  “Thanks Christie. Set it down here.” said Buck, gratefully as he flung the Stetson neatly onto a hat rack.

  “Where were we Ringo?”

  Christie hovered in the hope of finding out the reason for the visit.

  “Thanks Christie. I’ll call if I need you. See that we’re not disturbed.”

  She left the room reluctantly and closed the door firmly behind her without actually slamming it.

  “Ringo?” urged Buck.

  His visitor knew he could not play out this inscrutability any longer.

  “Well it seems our Eastern friends have something to show you. They’re more than a bit excited about it as well mate.”

  The relief on Buck’s face was self evident. He knew immediately what this cryptic message meant; unlimited energy had become a reality.

  “Nice one pal.” he said, as he rose and held out his hand.

  Ringo grasped it and winced as his own was shaken vigorously by the big Irishman. Buck’s appetite had suddenly and mysteriously returned as he stuffed the corner of a baguette into his mouth.

  “Help yourself son.” he said, with his mouth full and gesturing to the tray.

  “Now when are we going to get this futuristic launch facility of yours?” he said, casually.

  ‘Two can play this cat and mouse game.’ he thought.

  ***

  THOR.

  WITHIN days Buck was called to another significant event in the global effort to save mankind. Gambiadini welcomed him enthusiastically to the Canaveral launch site in Florida. They were there to witness the launch of the largest rocket NASA had ever attempted to put into orbit.

  Buck was allowed a close up inspection a few hours before the final countdown commenced. He stood leaning back on his heels with his neck cranked skyward trying to take in the whole image of this gargantuan rocket without the need to scan back and forth.

  “Fucking hell Carl, this thing is a fucking monster. I can’t believe you’re hoping to get it off the pad. Has it actually been tested?”

  “Well there’s been no time for testing. It’ll either fly or it won’t. We’ll know for sure in about three hours from now. If something goes wrong we’re in trouble because there isn’t another one of these brutes in the pipeline. The only reason we’ve got this one is because it was in the course of construction when this whole business blew up…if you’ll pardon the expression.”

  Buck and Gambiadini both winced at the use of the latter’s inappropriate phrase.

  “It’s the latest generation launch facility intended to put larger payloads into orbit allowing the construction of a huge replacement for the ISS. That thing’s long past its sell-by date. It’s an orbiting death-trap. Only last month they had an airlock failure on board just as they were preparing a spacewalk for some external maintenance. Luckily the astronaut was already kitted up and tethered so they got away with it that time.”

  “God must have been watching out for them.” commented Buck.

  “Yeh, well they are closer to him up there.” added Gambiadini, with a wry smile.

  “Well if it’s not even been tested I presume you’ve scoured the lunatic asylums for a crew with no future.” said Buck.

  They winced again. None of them had any future; at least not long term.

  “Well not exactly.” replied Gambiadini, mysteriously.

  “What then?”

  “Well it’s down to you Buck. You found the crew.”

  “Not McCoy?” said Buck, apprehensively.

  “Maggie will kill me if this goes wrong. I promised her serene space flights from now on.”

  “Well hopefully they will be when your Mister Smith gets his finger out, but until then we’ve got to use the conventional methods to get the advance party up there.”

  “Well he should be able to concentrate on that now he’s sorted the energy thing out.” said Buck, with his fingers crossed behind his back.

  Gambiadini’s eyes lit up at the revelation. He had been so engrossed in this launch the news of the energy breakthrough had not reached him yet.

  “That’s brilliant news. Another small step for man, eh Buck.”

  Gambiadini thought for a moment.

  “Why does nobody think to keep me informed? After all I am the head of NASA. You’d think someone would have the presence of mind to let me in on these things.” he pleaded, ruefully.

  Buck was sympathetic to his plea. Even with all the advanced communications of the day liaison with all the interested parties was a bit fragmented. It was not surprising in the circumstances.

  ‘Yeah, I would like to have known McCoy was sitting on top of this goliath.’ he thought.

  With all the pressures being thrown at him from different quarters this was yet something else for him to worry about.

  ‘No wonder my hair’s going grey.’ he thought, as he craned his neck skyward once more.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the NASA man.

  “Come on Buck we’d better withdraw to the bunker if we don’t want to be turned to a cinder. They’ll be starting the final countdown about now.”

  ***

  Slim McCoy and his motley crew waited apprehensively as the countdown dragged on relentlessly in their headphones. They had already been sitting there on top of this untested prototype for several hours with little to do but think of the c
onsequences of failure.

  McCoy had been in this situation on five previous occasions, but never on top of such power which had only been hurriedly put through its paces on a ground based horizontal test bed.

  The countdown came to grinding halt as a computer warning light flashed ominously in the control room. It triggered a period of banter between the crew members. Whether it was because of their total disregard for their own safety or whether it was a manifestation of their underlying concerns was not clear. But none of the six intrepid travellers was prepared to admit anything one way or the other.

  “Oh fuck it. The engine’s stalled.” said McCoy, casually.

  “Check the fuel gauge.” said his second in command, equally nonchalant.

  “You think?”

  “Yeah, go on. Try it.”

  Slim tapped one of the dials meaningfully. It didn’t matter which one since there was nothing as basic as a car’s fuel gauge on board.

  “Nope, that’s not it. Where’s the gear lever? he asked, grinning.

  “Maybe it’s slipped out of neutral.”

  Slim checked the housing of his seat restraints.

  “Nope, not that either.”

  “The clutch then; it has to be the clutch.” said the number two.

  “What the hell’s a clutch?”

  “It’s like a wim-wam, only smaller. It has to be on the right side of the wowzer before it will engage.”

  These fucking things are more complicated than I thought.” said Slim, grinning broadly.

  The only Englishman on board threw in his ten cents worth.

  “Perhaps I can help dear boy.” said Brian Hopkins, with an exaggerated English accent.

  “How can you help?”

  Brian burst into song.

  “Well I’m the man that makes the thing that turns the lever that works the gear that fires the thing-ummy-jig that makes the engines roar. And I also make the thing that holds the oil that oils the wheel that works the thing-ummy-bob that’s going to make us soar.”

  His parody of the Gracie Fields World War Two song cracked them all up.

  An alarmed voice from launch control could be heard over the laughter.

  “What’s going on up there? Is the nitrous oxide escaping into the capsule?”

  Brian raised his voice about two octaves.

  “No, we’re just full of beans in anticipation of the ride.”

  The controller looked around the room perplexed. He shrugged his shoulders and spread his arms to his side.

  “If we think it’s tense down here it must be ten times worse for them. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes. We’d better cut them some slack. Come on guys let’s get this problem sorted out.”

  Slim and his crew settled back down to their wait. Five minutes passed. He was getting impatient.

  “Hey control. Either press the start button on this chariot or stand us down. My bladder won’t last much more than another hour and I don’t want to wet my diaper.”

  At that moment a voice indicated the delay had been resolved. The countdown restarted.

  “What was the problem?” queried Slim.

  “Faulty LED light.” said the controller, sheepishly.

  “Fucking modern technology.” growled Slim.

  “If we survive this I’m going back to using candles.”

  “If you survive this you can do whatever you like. You’ll be ‘The Man’.” said the controller.

  “Tee minus twenty-eight minutes.” said the voice over the speaker.

  Slim was reassured and relaxed back into his seat thinking about the mission ahead.

  His brief was to relieve the occupants of the ISS and send them back to earth safely. Then they were to prepare to capture whatever was sent up to them and begin assembly of the Cube; the first component of which would be the newly developed energy sphere.

  This was being put into orbit by conventional methods since even Ringo was unsure how such a potentially volatile piece of kit would react to his proposed vacuum vortex launch system.

  To assist with the team’s work a space version of a water jet ski had been quickly developed, six of which were stored in the cargo bay of the enlarged latest generation shuttle. He was looking forward to testing these rubber nosed pieces of equipment for real. They should make their task easier and looked like they could be fun to ride.

  “Tee minus five minutes and counting.” said the voice in the background again.

  “Ah now we’re getting somewhere guys. Hold onto your helmets.” said Slim, in anticipation of the mother of all space launches.

  “Tee minus ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four...”

  “Three…two…one.” shouted the crew, in unison.

  There was a moment of silence before a voice over the speaker made it clear what was happening.

  “And we have lift ooofff.” he shouted, in the conventional fashion.

  There was a deep rumble from way down below them followed by vibration the like of which Slim had never experienced before. The rumble increased to a roar loud enough to burst their eardrums had they not been wearing protectors. Seconds later the crew began to feel movement. They were off the launch pad and heading skywards.

  The vibration continued for a minute or so until the first boosters were ejected. It eased slightly as the secondary boosters took over until they reached escape velocity.

  “Wow! What a ride.” exclaimed Slim, in admiration of the power of the latest NASA launch facility.

  ‘This fucking new Thor rocket sure is well named after the god of thunder.’ he thought, as he and his crew were forced back into their seats by nearly three and a half Gs.

  It was like being in the centre of a continuous series of rolling thunder claps rather than hearing them from afar. They felt as though they were being vibrated in a giant electric cocktail shaker until their bones were ready to disintegrate.

  Then suddenly there was silence and relief as the final boosters were jettisoned and they entered orbit. They had made it and they were all in one piece. A solitary voice uttered what they were all feeling.

  “Remind me never to let you talk me into doing this again.” said Brian, as casually as he could muster.

  “Okay guys. Settle down. Let’s get to work.” said Slim, in businesslike fashion.

  There was much to be done in the months ahead and it would all be dangerous and unpredictable.

  Buck and Gambiadini were high-fiving in the bunker control room with the rest of the staff. They were all much relieved that yet another stage of the preparations to evacuate a representative element of humanity from the planet had been completed successfully.

  ***

  THE STRANGEST THING.

  ALMOST four weeks later Buck joined Ringo, Gambiadini and Matt Montgomery at Boeing’s Paine Field landing strip in Everett on the West Coast. Buck had taken Molly along for the ride on the pretext of watching over her more closely.

  They were there for one reason and one reason only; the launch of the first accommodation pod using Ringo’s futuristic new vacuum vortex technology.

  Anticipation was high and the atmosphere tense. Everything they had all been working for depended so much on this being successful. Without it the human race in the form of Homo Sapiens was destined for extinction.

  After wandering the surface of the planet for only a couple of hundred thousand years in the whole four and a half billion years of its existence humans would be doomed.

  It was twenty-nine months to D-day and they were a month behind the schedule they had set themselves to ensure the Cube would be out of harms reach when Ceres struck.

  “This had better work Ringo.” said Buck, breathlessly, as they waited anxiously for the limited countdown to begin.

  “We’re running out of time and that is something we don’t have a lot of. Ceres is an unwavering menace intent upon our destruction.” he added, mournfully.

  Ringo looked at him with mixed feelings. He had tolerated the often dou
bting comments for the best part of seven months and here they all were about to witness the results of his genius and still there was distrust. The events of the next few hours or so would be self defining. He also knew something Buck and the others had obviously not yet considered.

  “It don’t bother me, we’ve got more time than you seem to think pal.” he retorted, mysteriously.

  Buck, and the others who had been privy to the conversation, wheeled on him with questioning frowns. It was Buck who voiced their concerns at his apparently casual attitude to the whole international effort.

  “Listen Ringo, how do you work that out? You’ve been showing such obvious disinterest over the past months I’m beginning to think you know something you’re not telling us.”

  “Well that’s probably true mate. I know a lot of stuff most of you wouldn’t even begin to understand. But I think the bit you should be made aware of is that with the success of the energy unit we’ve actually gained about three months grace.”

  “How the fuck do you work that out?” said Gambiadini, whose usually calm feathers were being ruffled by this eccentric young Englishman.

  “Well think for yourself for once instead of wearing my brain out. I should have thought it was obvious mate.” said Ringo, reproachfully, but still in casual mode.

  “Sorry, you’ve lost us. Give it to us like we’re still five year olds.” pleaded Buck, regretfully.

  Though he had great admiration for this whiz kid from the mainland across the water from the land of his own birth he still had inexplicable reservations about his abilities and in particular his off-handed approach to everything.

  “Well we’ve got the energy sphere up and running. That kind of unlimited power can be used on the new ion thrusters NASA’s been developing. That’ll double the speed at which we can move the Cube out of harms way.” replied Ringo, openly showing his frustration at their apparent lack of awareness.

  “Of course!” exclaimed Gambiadini.

  Buck thought for a moment as the implications sank in.

  “That means we’ve actually got three months to get the Cube clear all the way to Mars before Ceres strikes instead of six.” he said, as his mood lightened.