Death of a Planet

by James Duggan

  Those living on high ground would survive the initial effects of the encounter only to be engulfed in catastrophic landslides as mountains began to collapse.

  The pressure on the Earth’s crust would become too great for it to bear, triggering eruptions of long dormant volcanoes. They would spew out sulphur laden gas and ash into the atmosphere choking all living things before the two heavenly bodies finally came together to put an end to the misery.

  The Earth’s crust would be split asunder with the impact and disintegrate into a trillion fragments of molten rock and debris to stretch out in orbit around the sun forming an inner asteroid belt. Life on earth would end; as would the blue planet itself. There was no escape from the inevitable catastrophe.

  As Buck and Charlie watched the temperature increased unbearably and the light faded until all around them became blackness.

  ***

  There was a loud bang as Charlie entered the room slamming the door behind him. It jolted Buck out of his nightmare. He looked around with sweat saturating his shirt to realise he had dropped off in the middle of his watch.

  “Charlie. Thank god.” was all he could think of to say in his embarrassment.

  “Jeeze Buck. Are you sickening for something?” queried Charlie, alarmed at the sight of Buck’s condition.

  “Yeah. I think maybe I am. See if you can find me a few aspirin will you.” said Buck, as he tried to regain his usually calm disposition.

  Charlie went of to the first aid box to see what he could find for his boss. He returned with a couple of aspirin and a hot coffee.

  “Maybe these will help boss.” he said, as he placed them on the desk.

  “Thanks.” said Buck, gratefully.

  Charlie turned to leave Buck with his thoughts.

  “By the way Charlie, what did you want? queried Buck, as his friend reached the door.

  “Can’t remember boss.” replied Charlie, as he closed it behind him.

  Buck sat alone for a while contemplating the events of the last hour. It had been a frightening and solitary experience he would not want to re-enact and yet that is exactly what he would have to do in about two years time; for real.

  ‘Strange Charlie should start calling me boss.’ he thought, as he sipped his coffee before returning to his vigil.

  ***

  THE RACE IS ON.

  WHILE Buck and his background team of fellow movers and shakers monitored and progressed the world wide efforts to save mankind the population at large slipped into a melancholy day to day existence. Those who were not directly involved in the construction of the Cube passed their days as best they could.

  Their only ambition was to meet the basic physiological needs at the base of Maslow’s Pyramid of Life, as so described by Sophia Wagner; staying alive.

  While there was time there was hope that a miracle, no matter how unlikely, might save them. But time was limited and staying alive to benefit from such unexpected good fortune was paramount in the minds of most people. Therefore, water, food, sleep, protection from extreme temperatures and shelter from the elements occupied the daily activities of the majority of the world’s population.

  The sexual aspect of the basic needs evoked highly conflicting attitudes. Some saw sex as a pleasurable pastime, to be practised as often as possible and with gay abandon in the face of danger without any consideration for the potential consequences.

  Others saw it as a natural human activity to be avoided at all costs whilst arguing that children should not be brought into a world doomed to destruction before they could barely walk or talk.

  It was a question of morality forced upon people by the circumstances which now prevailed and which they might never have considered before they had even heard of Ceres.

  Some felt the need to pass their time by continuing their pre-Ceres lifestyles as best they could on the basis that an occupied mind would not dwell too much on the terrible events mapped out for the future.

  Others saw no future at all and slipped deeper into a life of lethargy and self pity taking to drugs and alcohol where they might never have done so previously.

  The lucky ones were those working on the project. Their time was occupied to the full and they pursued their various tasks willingly as the clock ticked away relentlessly. Their lives had meaning; whether it was in the remote hope of their own salvation, or the satisfaction of knowing their efforts might preserve the future of mankind generally.

  ***

  Buck returned to his daily routine of monitoring the growth of NASA’s first Cube as every day a new pod was added. There was no more development work to be done. Thanks to Ringo all the breakthroughs had been made and efforts could be concentrated on the construction.

  The early residential pods were being populated by the first of the few and a surge of activity increased launches to three a day with twenty-eight months to D-day.

  The race was on and with the finishing tape in sight the prize was life itself.

  The race was against time. Ceres’ arrival could not be postponed and there was no chance of her being diverted. They had twenty-five months to get as many people as possible on board the Cube and have it sent on its way three months before impact.

  However, there was another race going on; an unexpected one. It was between themselves, the Russians, the Chinese, the Europeans and surprisingly the three private enterprise ventures led by Al Brewster.

  The plan was for each to get ten Cubes in orbit by the departure date. With each Cube carrying eight hundred people there was the potential to get fifty-six thousand people away to a safe but uncertain future.

  It was an astonishing endeavour which generated an unexpected competitiveness between the four national and three private conglomerates.

  The race was well and truly on. It was a re-run of the original space race of the post World War Two era. National and commercial pride was at stake and it was all having a positive impact on the eventual success of the whole enterprise.

  If sheer human endeavour had anything to do with it there would be a future for mankind; whether they spoke English, Russian, Chinese, Esperanto or any other language was a matter for conjecture.

  ***

  THE ABDUCTION.

  THERE was a solemnity about the waiting as Buck sat in his office overseeing the space ballet being performed two hundred and fifty miles above his head via his link with the ISS. Slim and his extended crew had fallen into an almost boring daily routine as they met each new arrival on their space skis.

  Each pod, which had no independent propulsion power of its own, would be captured in silent slow motion and nudged gently into place by the rubber nosed skis.

  Buck likened it to space cowboys rounding up strays as they sat astride their personal space transport whilst plugged into the self contained life support systems. It was a surreal site to behold and Buck was mesmerised by the majestic nature of the endeavour.

  In spite of the serious objective of the work in such a troubled world there was a strange calm pervading from the activities which lulled Buck into a false sense of security. The feeling was not to last long.

  ***

  He was startled out of his self induced trance by his office door being flung open violently. Charlie rushed in with Christie close on his heels.

  “Hey, don’t we knock any more?” said Buck, reproachfully.

  “Sorry Buck, but we’ve got a problem.” said Charlie, as Christie stood beside him clearly agitated.

  “What…only one?” said Buck, flippantly.

  “No boss, really, this is serious.”

  Buck glanced at Christie who now seemed to be on the verge of tears. He acknowledged that perhaps something really was wrong and his smile disappeared.

  “Okay guys. Whatever it is it can’t be any worse than the one the world and his mother is trying to deal with up there.”

  He pointed skywards as if to remind them of the real issues of the day.

  “That depends on your point of view boss.
” said Charlie, with little emotion showing on his Japanese features.

  ‘That’s twice now he’s called me boss.’ thought Buck.

  “Okay Charlie let me have it.”

  “They’ve got Molly Buck.”

  “What do you mean, ‘They’ve got Molly’? Who’s got Molly?”

  “We don’t know yet, but they’ve got her all right…snatched her right off the street in broad daylight.”

  Christie could hold the flow no longer as she flopped into a chair sobbing uncontrollably.

  “You’d better tell me what you do know.” said Buck, now showing great concern.

  “Well according to witnesses Molly was apparently cycling in here this morning when a huge black off-roader pulled alongside her. Three burly well armed guys dressed in black jumped out, knocked her off her bike and bundled her kicking and screaming into the back of the vehicle.”

  “Jeez…is that all we know?”

  “Well there was a security patrol car parked just along the road. They saw the whole thing. They followed the off-roader to the cargo terminal at Thurgood where Molly was forced onto a private Lear jet. They couldn’t attempt any kind of rescue without endangering Molly. The plane was surrounded by an army of seriously dangerous looking gun toting types. They all looked South American, but we don’t yet know from where.”

  “Is there any more?” asked Buck, now showing real concern for his ward’s safety.

  “No not really, except to say these guys looked fucking desperate and showed no fear for their own safety.”

  Charlie had never before been known to use such language and he put a hand on Christie’s shoulder by way of an apology.

  “Sorry Christie, but I just don’t know what I’m saying. I feel so bloody helpless.”

  It was a momentary lapse by the usually inscrutable Japanese American which confirmed to Buck the seriousness of the situation.

  Buck sat down heavily; deep in thought.

  “Have the authorities been informed?” he asked, eventually.

  “Yes, but the word has only just been put out and the FBI informed. As you know kidnapping is a matter for them. We’re waiting for Mike McConnell to come back to us. It’s fairly obvious this has something to do with you, but we can’t think what.”

  The cell phone in Buck’s breast pocket warbled and the vibration tickled his nipple under his shirt. It was usually a pleasurable experience, but on this occasion it only gave him a feeling of foreboding. Very few people had access to his private number. The very fact that it was being used in this moment of high drama was too much of a coincidence. It told him it should be answered.

  “Hello.”

  “Buchanan, we’ve got your precious Molly. We know it’s a waste of time telling you not to get the FBI involved; some one’s already done that for you. You’d better tell McConnell that if you want to see her alive again he should tread carefully.” said a threatening male voice with a South American accent.

  “What is it you want with her?”

  “Never mind that for now. We’ll be in touch…and keep that Rottweiler McConnell under control.”

  Buck was about to plead for more information when the contact was broken off.

  “Bastards!” exclaimed Buck, shaking with anger.

  He relayed the gist of the conversation to Charlie and Christie who sat down both concerned and bewildered; unable to digest the implications.

  “How did they get my number?” queried Buck, aloud.

  “And how do they know the FBI has already been informed?” he added, as the thought struck him.

  “They must have friends in high places.” he muttered.

  He sat thinking and fretting for a while waiting for the next development with his two companions consoling each other as they too worried about the fate of one of their own.

  A call came through on the direct line on his desk. Buck grabbed at it violently not wishing to miss whoever it may be.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi Buck. It’s Mike. I hear we’ve got a problem.”

  For the second time in as many minutes Buck recounted what he knew. McConnell listened intently and without interruption.

  “Okay Buck. I’ll get my people on it right away. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Try not to worry…oh and call me directly if you hear from them again.”

  ***

  Four hours passed by without any further contact as Buck waited apprehensive to learn the fate of his charge. The longer he waited the more his disposition deteriorated. This hanging around helplessly seemed worse than the impending arrival of Ceres. At least he knew about that and was trying to deal with it.

  Eventually, and to his relief, the phone on his desk became alive. He grabbed it hastily.

  “Hello.”

  A familiar voice responded calmly.

  “Hi Buck.” said McConnell.

  “Hi Mike. What can you tell me?”

  “Well we’ve had an Air Force jet pick up and track the Lear. It seems they were alerted by the fact it took off from Thurgood without authority from air traffic control. It’s the normal procedure in such cases. You know; terrorism and all that.”

  “Has it set down yet?”

  “Yes it has. That’s how we think we know what they’re after. It’s landed at Paine Field. It looks like they want to use Molly to put pressure on you to let them onto one of the pods.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Ah, we don’t know that yet. They haven’t made contact. I presume you’ve not heard from them either or you would have been in touch.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “We wait. In the meantime get yourself over to Thurgood. I’ve got an Air force plane waiting to transfer us over to Paine Field. My people in Seattle are alerting a SWAT team and sending over a negotiator to try and find out who’s behind all this.”

  “Okay Mike. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” said Buck, strangely relieved that at least something was happening.

  “Christie, get me a car and a fast driver at the front door immediately and get security to lead us in with sirens blaring…quickly.” said Buck, sternly.

  He was a man in a hurry and on a mission.

  “If I ever get my hands on these people it won’t be McConnell they’ll need to worry about.” he muttered, as he strode purposefully for the door.

  ‘I could never face Molly’s parents back home if I let anything happen to her. I promised them.’ he thought, as he quickened his step and lengthened his stride.

  ***

  Two hours later Buck and McConnell were stepping off the Air Force jet at Paine Field where they were met by General Armstrong and the hostage negotiator.

  Armstrong had been notified immediately the news of the abduction broke and with the information he had been given sensed where the perpetrators were headed.

  He had been in Seattle preparing security measures in anticipation of desperate people trying to force their way onto the pods.

  “Hi Clyde.” said McConnell, without the customary preliminaries of etiquette.

  “What can you tell us?”

  “Not much really. They’ve forced their way into the next pod due for launching and they’re armed to the teeth. They’ve still got Molly with them and she looks fine in the circumstances.” said Armstrong, with a nod in Buck’s direction.

  Buck was relieved, but anxious for more.

  “Have they made contact yet?” he said.

  “No. And we still don’t know who they are. All I’ve been able to do in the absence of any contact is throw up a ring of steel around the pod and wait. But I’m fucked if I know how we’re going to get her out of there. These things are built like tanks and the hatch is the only way in or out.”

  Buck looked around him in desperation, seeking help from any quarter. A figure was advancing casually from his rear. It was Ringo.

  “How the fuck does he do that?” he muttered, under his breath.

  He wanted to challenge the Liverpudlia
n there and then, but for the time being his curiosity would have to wait to be satisfied. He had far more urgent things on his mind.

  Ringo was approached menacingly by one of the gun toting perimeter guards. He looked so out of place under his Stetson and clicking along in his spurred boots with his blue jeans tucked inside. The guard didn’t know whether to apprehend him or shoot him right there.

  Armstrong put two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The guard spun around.

  “Let him through.” barked the general.

  Ringo ambled up to join the group just as Buck’s nipple was tickled again.

  “Hello.” answered Buck, eagerly.

  “Buchanan. Get this thing off the ground now or you’ll never see your woman again. We don’t intend to wait around for that Fucking thing up there to blow us to kingdom come.”

  “Okay, Okay. Calm down. We need time to sort it out. It’s not as simple as just starting the engine in your off-roader.” said Buck, playing for time while a plan of action was formulated.

  “I’ll call you when we’re ready.”

  “No. we’ll call you. You’ve got one hour. We know it’s not that difficult. We’ve been monitoring how this works. One hour.”

  The line went dead. Buck had his phone on speaker so there was no need to relate what had been said.

  “Bastards!” exclaimed Armstrong, who knew any kind of assault was futile.

  One of McConnell’s men came running.

  “What have you got Mack?”

  “They’re Colombians.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “One of our guys had been working on breaking the drug cartels. There seemed little point in pursuing them for the next two years when Ceres is going to wipe them out anyway so he was transferred to our unit. He recognised the leader from the perimeter CCTV security footage; a guy called Diego Alivar.”