Never Again Page 10

Jeff placed his mug in the thermal tuner, adjusted the knob to 180 degrees and tapped “start” on the tuner’s control panel. The light within the box immediately turned on as the mug slowly rotated.

  “As you know, thermal tuners have been around for a while now. Raising the temperature is simply a matter of exciting the molecules of your coffee. Thus, they’re gaining heat. Infrared temperature sensors tell the machine when to stop—”

  “Dave,” Jeff interrupted, giving him a lopsided grin. “I’m a good bit older than you, and remember how a microwave works.”

  The tuner beeped, and Bella noticed the steam rising from the now-heated coffee.

  “All right Jeff, now let’s lower the temperature of your coffee to forty degrees.”

  Jeff’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he did as he was asked. The moment the elder scientist hit “start,” Bella heard a gush of air within the tuner.

  “Back when we were both at the ISF, I was staring at a thermal tuner not much different from this one. As you know, the concept of heating things in such a device had been around for almost eighty years before someone decided to be clever. Previously the concept of laser cooling had only been used for quantum physics research, and all it took was for a scientist who’d just burnt their tongue drinking coffee to ask themselves, ‘If I can lower the temperature of a single atom to near-zero, why couldn’t I do something similar to reduce the average temperature of my coffee?’”

  The thermal tuner beeped. Dave retrieved Jeff’s mug, stuck his finger in the coffee, and smiled. “It’s ice cold.”

  “Yes,” Jeff frowned at his coffee, setting it aside as Dave wiped his finger on a napkin. “But what’s your point?”

  “Well, it was almost ten years ago when I was sitting in my office at the ISF, after having also burnt my tongue on some too-hot coffee, when I began to wonder, ‘We use lots of energy to cool something, but couldn’t we instead harness all the latent kinetic energy?’ That’s when I began to think about Nikola Tesla’s ambient energy motor. At the time he’d proposed it, the material sciences weren’t capable of doing what needed to be done. But with the advances of the last 150 years, I decided to give it a shot. With the thermal conductivity of graphene and high efficiency engines, I was able to get something working.”

  Jeff’s eyes widened, and a look of understanding washed over him. “Oh, so you’re going to use the Moon’s core as a big battery?”

  Bella didn’t need to see Dave nod to know that Jeff was right.

  Jeff leaned closer. “But what in the world are we going to need so much power for?”

  Dave pursed his lips and Bella knew that he wasn’t ready to share their secret.

  “Jeff, just believe me. We’ll need every drop of that power, and more.” Dave glanced at Bella. “Right?”

  She knew exactly how much energy had been stored, how much of it would seep up to the surface and be lost into space. As her mind stirred, she calculated the time left between now and the planned departure date. “By the time we begin, we’ll have accumulated ten months of thermal reserves before the bubble collapses,” she said. “We’ll need no less than nine months.”

  Dave hitched his thumb toward Bella. “You hear that, Jeff? As it is, we’re cutting it way too close.”

  Jeff leaned back, a puzzled expression on his face. “Bubble?”

  Shaking his head, Dave plopped his hand onto Jeff’s in reassurance. “Trust me. We need to keep going as planned, and I need a crew to help me retrieve the rest of the supplies. We’ve only got eight months before things start going to hell.”

  With a sigh, Jeff roughly clasped Dave’s hand. “Fine. You’ve got it. I know there’s a lot you’re holding back, and I’m sure it’s for a good reason. Just promise me that this’ll all be for the best.”

  With their hands clasped, Dave pulled Jeff up as he stood and patted Jeff’s shoulder with his free hand. “I promise you that anyone who stays up here will be infinitely better off than the poor saps down there on Earth.”

  A twinge of guilt washed through Bella as she thought of the Earth’s fate. She replayed in her mind’s eye what Dave had described to her, and the image of the Earth being ripped asunder sent a shiver racing through her.

  Everyone down there would die, and even though the people she’d dealt with on Earth had all made her miserable, Bella didn’t like the idea of them dying. Secretly, she wished there was another way.

  Chapter Nine

  Sitting on a hard-backed chair in the center of the Oval Office, Margaret Hager stared at Greg Hildebrand expectantly as he took his seat on one of the sofas facing her. “Okay, Greg, out with it. What do the country’s finest minds have to say about conjuring up a solution to the Indigo problem?”

  A flash of discomfort showed on Greg’s face as he withdrew a sheet of paper from within his suit jacket and cleared his throat. “Madam President, I gathered two dozen of our top research scientists, and we’ve spent the last five days almost nonstop trying to lay plans for a reasonable skunkworks solution, given the limited time we have left. We came up with a few scenarios, but ... none of them are ideal.”

  Margaret motioned impatiently. “I don’t need you politicking the answer. Just spit it out.”

  “Well, the first solution involves our fleet of shuttles. We have thirty in-service shuttles, each with a cargo bay large enough to sustain forty people for about six months. It was thought that as the danger approached, we could launch the roughly one-thousand people out of the danger zone—”

  “And then what?” Margaret asked skeptically.

  “Well, that’s just it. I suppose it depends on what’s left after the passage of the black hole. But given the likelihood of total annihilation, I’m afraid there’d be nowhere to go for those in the shuttle.”

  “That’s absolutely ridiculous!” Margaret snarled, feeling a sense of revulsion. “They’d get the pleasure of watching everyone die, and then they’d slowly starve to death. I hope you have something better than that.”

  “We have another possibility,” Greg nodded. “Again, only nominally better.” He took a deep breath and consulted the sheet of paper gripped tightly in his hand. “Some of the scientists speculated that it might be possible to spread a large series of rocket-like engines on the surface of the Moon and break it from Earth’s orbit. With the help of the existing Moon base’s growth labs, it could be self-sustaining for upwards of one-thousand people, given the current Moon base facilities.”

  Margaret pursed her lips. “Okay, but what are the risks? Also you said it might be possible. Well, is it? Can it or can’t it be done?”

  “Well, there was a lot of arguing back and forth about whether or not we even have sufficiently powerful engines that can do the job. The scientists gave it a ten-percent chance of even being possible, if we had the necessary engines. We don’t, and it’s uncertain if we could make enough in the time we’d need them. However, even if we could get it all put together, the downside is that if the black hole ends up destroying the sun or there’s some other type of explosive reaction to the sun’s interaction with the black hole, there’s almost nothing we could do.”

  With a shake of her head, Margaret sat back and frowned. “Is that it? Are those my choices?”

  “Well, the only other choice isn’t one I even wanted to mention. But there’s enough underground tunnels strewn throughout the country that we could bring millions of people underground. It would probably save them from the barrage of impacts that we’d likely receive. But in the end, we’ll either get swallowed up by the black hole, or get thrown out of orbit and eventually freeze to death.”

  “That’s a ridiculous choice,” Margaret waved dismissively. “So you’re telling me that there’s really no viable choices other than finding Doctor Holmes, our boy genius, and hoping to God that Doctor Patel was right and he had some kind of plan?”

  With a sneer, Greg exclaimed, “There’s no way that Holmes could have an answer to th
e Indigo situation—”

  “Damn it, Greg!” Margaret snapped. “It’s as if you don’t want there to be a solution.” She leaned forward in her chair and jabbed her index finger in his direction. “I don’t care what personal shit you’re going through, I want you to get over it and help find this Doctor Holmes. Do you understand me?”

  With a grim expression, Greg nodded. “Understood.”

  “Dismissed.” Margaret waved him away, trying to keep her nausea under control.

  As Greg walked out of the Oval Office, Margaret turned to the old man who’d been sitting silently in the corner of the room, watching. “Doug, I want you to organize a status briefing for Indigo right away. I also want profiles on all of the players involved. I need psych screens and background data. I need to know what type of folks these scientists are that I’m dealing with.”

  Hopping up from his chair, the spry seventy-something-year-old man nodded and announced in a loud gravelly voice, “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  Doug strode purposefully out of the room as Margaret looked up at the ceiling and silently prayed for a miracle.

  ###

  “Madam President, we already deployed the National Guard, but as I was saying, I wouldn’t ask on behalf of my state if I didn’t think it were necessary. These protests are draining our resources, and I’m afraid we might have real panic on our hands if it gets out of control.”

  The speakerphone fell silent in the Oval Office, and Margaret weighed the tone of the New York Governor’s voice.

  He was worried.

  She glanced across her desk at her Chief of Staff, and he stared back at her with an inscrutable expression.

  Leaning back in the leather armchair, she closed her eyes. “Listen Bill, I’ll talk to the Secretary about getting some folks out there to help. I’ll have someone call your office with next steps, but we need to keep the peace, no matter what.”

  “I heard something about protests in North Carolina that sounded a lot like what we’re experiencing. Is there something going on that I need to know about?”

  “Nothing’s going on, but we’ll help. Listen, let me get off the phone and I’ll get things mobilized. Is there anything else?”

  “No, ma’am, and thank you.”

  The phone line disconnected, and Margaret frowned at the wrinkled man sitting across from her.

  “Doug, this is getting out of hand.”

  “Well,” Doug responded in almost a whisper, “this is probably going to spread. Did you want me to arrange conversations with the other governors?”

  “Yes, and soon. Let’s keep this quiet, but I want to meet with them all at the same time and disclose what we’re facing. Some drastic things will need to be done.”

  “I’ll find a secure location for the disclosure,” he said. “Anything else you need me to arrange?”

  “Get Walt on the line. We’ll need help trying to bottle this up, you got me?”

  The gray-haired man stood, nodded, and left without a word.

  Margaret frowned and muttered, “Indigo must have been leaked.”

  Chapter Ten

  Stryker stared across the table at Emma, his six-year-old, as she practiced her poker face over a handful of Uno cards. “So, what’s your move?”

  She stuck the tip of her tongue out of the side of her mouth, concentrating on the cards in her hand, and then with a devious grin she placed a “Draw Four” onto the discard pile. “Sorry, Daddy. I can’t let you win. ”

  Groaning dramatically, Stryker drew four cards as Isaac, the eight-year-old, pointed at his sister and asked, “What color?”

  “Blue.”

  Isaac huffed with disappointment as he drew a card, and then another, and then another. “Darn,” he exclaimed, as he drew yet another card.

  “Isaac, language….”

  “But Dad, it’s not even a bad word.” Isaac finally stopped drawing and placed a blue “two” on the discard pile.

  “It’s close enough, and I don’t like it.”

  “Uno!” Emma declared, as she placed a “wild” card on the discard pile.

  Hearing the front door open, Stryker turned to see Lainie come in the house, right on time.

  “Mommy!” Emma’s high-pitched voice rang across the townhome. “I’m about to win at Uno!” She turned to Stryker and pointed at her wild card. “I pick blue again.”

  “You’re not winning,” Isaac retorted. “I’ve got something up my sleeve.”

  Stryker discarded a blue “skip” card and Isaac moaned, “Dad!”

  With a brilliant smile of triumph, Emma placed another “Draw Four” card on the discard pile and yelled, “I win!”

  “Congratulations to the winners and losers,” Lainie declared as she walked into the living room. “Now go upstairs and bring down your overnight bags. Nana and Poppa said that they got snow last night, so if we get there in time, maybe you guys can play in it.”

  Stryker smiled as the kids raced upstairs, excited about a weekend with their grandparents.

  Lainie plopped herself onto the chair Isaac had been sitting on and smiled. “How are you doing?”

  He shrugged, and breathed in the lilac scent of her body wash. “Things are fine. How about you? Is the accounting gig keeping you busy?”

  She laughed. “You know better. It’s the beginning of April, I’m swamped.”

  Hearing her laugh stirred warm memories that he tried to forget.

  “So, Poconos this weekend?”

  “Yup, my parents rented a cabin. Dad was going to do some kind of cookout and roast marshmallows and stuff with the kids.” With a slight hint of a frown, she asked, “Do you know anything about those protests from last week? I heard a cop got shot or stabbed or something.”

  “It was overblown by the media. It was nothing,” Stryker lied. He didn’t like lying to her, but the fact was, she wouldn’t understand. Hell, he barely understood what had happened. All he knew was some kind of chemical had been put into his coffee. He tested clean, so it was probably put in the mug while he’d gone to the bathroom.

  The doorbell rang, and Stryker hopped up from his chair.

  He opened the door and a mail courier greeted him with, “I’ve got a registered letter for a Lieutenant Jonathan Stryker.”

  Stryker stared at the unmarked envelope and signed for it.

  Walking back into the living room, he pulled open the sealed flap and extracted the typewritten pages. “Oh, shit.”

  “What is it?” Lainie asked.

  He scanned the papers and frowned. “I’m being reactivated.”

  Lainie stood with a concerned expression. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, it looks like I’ve got to report in, but that’s weird. They’re not assigning me to my regular reserve unit. I’m being assigned to the 504th out of Lewis-McChord.” Stryker felt an electric thrill rush through him. What in the world could be happening that needed him to report to the MP battalion in Washington State? “Lainie, this has me reporting there in two days. It must be some kind of crisis or something. Can I ask a favor?”

  With a stone-faced expression, she took in a deep breath. “What?”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but would you mind staying here with the kids? And besides, Jessica and you get along well, right?”

  Lainie stared daggers at him. “You’ve asked me before, and I told you. It’s stuff like this that separated us.” She glanced up at the stairs, where the kids were yelling at each other about some nonsense. “I have to help get the kids ready.”

  Giving Stryker a hard poke to his chest, Lainie spoke through gritted teeth. “You tell the kids that you aren’t going to be around. I’m not doing it.”

  “I will, but can you—”

  “Yes, I’ll bring some of my stuff over after this weekend.” She glared at him and pointed upstairs. “Go tell them. And after they’re done crying, I’ll somehow manage to pick up the piece
s ... again.”

  With his stomach in knots and Lainie still glaring at him, Stryker turned to the stairs and felt like a complete shit.

  ###

  Dave held tightly to Bella’s hand as the shuttle jolted, due to turbulence, while descending through the clouds. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, even though the other sixty miners in the passenger compartment seemed unfazed. Sitting directly opposite of him were the four men Jeff Hostetler had assigned to him. He wasn’t sure exactly what the Director of the mining operations had told them, but their job was simple: help drag supplies back up to the Moon base.

  Knowing that the government probably still wanted him, it was dangerous for Dave to be back on Earth. But he had no choice in the matter. If they were going to stand a chance at avoiding impending doom, Dave needed the spools of graphene that were hidden in a nearby ISF-owned warehouse.

  The lights blinked in the shuttle passenger bay as the speaker on the wall announced, “Final approach into Cape Canaveral, landing on runway 33 in two minutes.”

  The shuttle tilted as they glided into position, and Dave glanced at the men who Jeff had assigned to him. They were large-muscled brutes who served as members of the colony’s security force. He wondered whether they were chosen for their ability to haul cargo or to keep him safe; either way, they were a welcome sight.

  He replayed the plan in his head and knew that time was of the essence. They needed to take advantage of the night, load the cargo, and head back up to the Moon before anyone even knew what had happened. That gave him only twelve hours.

  Pursing his lips, Dave focused on the task and whispered, “It’s going to be a tight schedule.”

  ###

  As Dave peered out the passenger window of the Moon shuttle, the sun hung low in the west above Cape Canaveral. The shuttle had just landed, and it took only minutes before they coasted to a stop and everyone began to queue at the exit. As the door opened and Dave stepped onto the escalator leading to the tarmac below, he savored the warm, salty breeze coming off the coast. Unlike the odorless and highly-filtered air circulating throughout the Moon colonies, this air smelled of the ocean. Even the pungent smell of the ozone that accompanied the shuttle reminded him of the chlorine from the NYC public pool when he was a kid. He whispered to nobody in particular, “I miss these smells.”