Animus Intercept Read online

  "I never gave that order, Lieutenant."

  "Sorry, sir, but I'm under orders from Command to initiate the attack sequence in the event our primary mission failed and there was any hesitation about implementing Plan B."

  "Who ordered you to do this?" The wheels in Zane's head spun sluggishly.

  "Admiral Sanchez himself."

  Mallory's DAH rifle snapped up in his hands, centering on Lieutenant Haley's chest. "Prove it. Show us the authenticated order."

  "Can't. It's my ears only."

  The cylinder started sinking into the floor even as Zane spoke.

  "It's too late for second thoughts, Captain Cameron," said Lieutenant Haley. "May I suggest we get the fuck out of here while the exit door's still open?"

  The cylinder was half-submerged in the floor. So the exotic matter-eating nanites work, Zane thought. Earth scientists had gone head to head with a superior alien technology and apparently got its measure this once. And for all he knew, this was the right move under the circumstances. Control didn't make these kinds of decisions lightly. It just rankled because it was being jammed down his throat - that they hadn't given him the order instead of going behind his back with Haley.

  "Let's go," he said.

  They clambered back into the Cheyenne. The cylinder had slipped out of sight beneath the floor by the time Zane closed the hatch door. The die had been cast. Now all he could do was his best to get them out of here alive.

  The eighteen hundred kilometers going out felt like twice the length of their journey in. Zane kept waiting for the tunnel to close at one of its many junctures. Perhaps a wall would appear suddenly before them and they'd hit it at six thousand klicks an hour. No time to suffer pain or even form a thought.

  "How much longer before the cylinder reaches the core?" Zane asked Patricia.

  "6.74 hours. Most of its travel will be in the last hour as it accelerates non-linearly."

  "Any indication that it's been detected?"

  "No, Sir. It seems unlikely to me that there are sensors running through solid portions of the sphere. At least I can't think of any reason to monitor those regions thoroughly."

  "Which doesn't guarantee they wouldn't have their reasons," said Dan.

  "Well, so far so good," said Mallory. "Hell, they could've stopped them on the floor if their detection systems were so precise."

  "That does give some cause for hope, assuming their control of the environment was sufficient for that." Dan was nodding thoughtfully. "Advanced technology is no guarantor of success. A caveman could kill a modern man, after all."

  To Zane their exit seemed to stretch forever, and then forever ended as they cleared the sphere's surface entrance and blew into space.

  "That was fast," Horace hailed them. "Did you accomplish anything?"

  Zane gave his mentor's hologram a pained smile. "That remains to be seen. Let's put a few million kilometers between us and this place."

  "You got it."

  Both ships entered Subluminal Drive 2. Zane brought his old friend up to speed.

  "Interesting choice by Command to keep you out of the loop," Horace commented, only a hint of disapproval in his dry tones. "Guess they didn't trust you to be non-humanitarian enough."

  "Maybe." Zane's resentment was dissipating as they raced away from Animus. He was half-glad that someone else had made the hard decision. "I'm sure they'll give me a convincing reason."

  "Not sure I share your faith about that. So now we wait?"

  "Just over six hours. And if Doomsday isn't stopped, we should get a very impressive explosion and powerful out-gassing that hopefully pushes Animus in the right direction."

  "Kind of a crap shoot, isn't it?"

  "Let's hope the gamble pays off."

  It was hurry up and wait again, but Zane had lost much of his impatience with that circumstance. He was learning to appreciate the quieter times when every moment didn't hold the risk of sudden death.

  Everyone found their own ways to mark time. Zane chose to write up a report of that day followed by a question about Command's choice not to entrust him with the ultimate decision regarding the "Doomsday Cylinder."

  Mallory appeared at Zane's open door brandishing two mini-bottles of cherry-flavored vodka.

  "Thought you might use one of these," he said.

  "Good thought."

  Mallory entered and handed him a bottle. The text of his report hung in the air in front of his bed. Zane considered closing the file, but why bother? It wasn't as if he'd critiqued his Marine friend's performance. Mallory glanced over the text.

  "What?" he grumbled. "Nothing about the handsome Lieutenant David Mallory's exemplary courage in the face of impossible odds."

  "I planned to include that in in the appendix. In small print."

  "Thanks." Mallory looked him over, his grin flattening. "Kind of sucks the way they bypassed you."

  "What sucks more is committing genocide."

  Mallory moved his muscular shoulders. "I know how you feel, Cap, but we need to think of ourselves first. Sure, I'm sorry some creatures gotta die, but shit happens."

  Zane finished his report. Time drifted past, like an elderly man doddering down an icy sidewalk.

  "Detonation in five minutes," Patricia announced. She'd been announcing the approaching explosion every hour on Zane's request.

  The crew gathered around the movie screen-sized holograph of Animus at the front of the cabin. One movie where popcorn wouldn't be welcome.

  "Detonation," Patricia said in her usual preternaturally calm voice. "Gamma, pion, muon, neutrino particles detected in three vents on eastern portion of the sphere." A second or two passed. "Off-gases detected in the same three vents averaging 6300 m/s. Estimated energy of explosion...2.2 x 10^17 joules or 51 teratons."

  "That's not large enough, is it?" Dan was scratching his head. "Wait a second. Did you say vents on the east side?"

  "Yes." A small frown flickered across Patricia's smooth face. "The explosive energy is far smaller than predicted. The anticipated venting did not occur. It appears Doomsday reached the core but the explosive reaction was somehow contained and redirected to the side of the sphere opposite from what we predicted."

  "The wrong side of the sphere, then," said Dan.

  Zane felt as if his stomach was acquiring a chokehold on his heart. His throat was suddenly so dry that his attempt to swallow rattled to a stop.

  "The trajectory..." Zane struggled in vain to remove the metallic rasp from his voice. "Has it changed?"

  "Yes, Captain Cameron. Animus will now pass within one million, six hundred thousand kilometers of Earth – effectively at the Roche limit for an object of its mass."

  Zane felt a sudden, strange impulse to strangle the French astronomer.

  "Does that mean what I think it means?" Horace's gravel on gravel voice growled through the cabin speakers.

  Patricia lowered her head, muscles working along her jaw line, in a rare loss of perfect composure. Lieutenant Gordon Haley stood holding his side, his complexion sea-green.

  "I'd say it means that exactly," said Dan.

  Zane spent a few seconds damning Command for developing Doomsday and then running roughshod over his authority. Not that I wouldn't have made the call. How could he not have? But he did question it. Doomsday had induced uneasy qualms in him from the moment the plan had been introduced. Not only because of the loss of Animus life. There was something unsettling about their lack of certainty about the sphere's vent system and the inner workings of the mini-black hole core.

  Now those misgivings had not only come home to roost – they'd come home to rip out his fucking soul. Not that he could believe it. Not really. Command always had a last ace up its sleeve. The human race would not die. Earth would not die. Not because of one stupid mistake.

  Still, at this moment it was hard to argue with Mallory.

  Shit really does happen.

  ANIMUS WAS approaching fast at its new vent-propelled speed of 353,000 KPH, w
ith an Earth-relative speed of 433,000 KPH. It was about five million miles out, set to race past Earth in just less than twenty hours. Its encounter with Earth would be quick but not merciful.

  Watching Earth from fifty thousand kilometers out along with his Cheyenne crewmates, Zane had heard the scenarios spelled out so many times that he could play them forward and backward in his head. There were some interesting variations – some scientists, for example, predicted a reborn Earth with altered poles, tilt, spin, atmosphere, and continents being hospitable to life, including humans – but the gist was now a mass-extinction event for pretty much every living thing on the planet. To add insult to injury, the moon – now due for a much closer encounter with Animus - was expected to be yanked into an orbit roughly one-half its current distance from Earth. Even Command's quantum mainframe struggled to predict the dizzying multitude of possible effects.

  It was strange beyond belief to be watching the end of the world from the deck of a fighter craft. Zane knew he and his son never would've made the cut if not for the fact that even on the verge of extinction the space-faring nations of the world were on a war footing. That meant fighter craft commanders and their crews were at a high premium.

  Which was why he was here and Horace Kinsley was commanding the Ardent many thousands of klicks away. Together, they'd have the rare privilege of watching their world torn six ways from Sunday.

  After[BC2] two further missions against Animus failed – both involved dropping exotic matter-eating nanites with MAME cargos which were promptly "eaten" by Animus - the United States Government quietly began planning, along with the U.K., to seize control of all orbiting space stations as well as bases on the moon, Mars, Europa, Titan, and Enceladus. Russia, China, and India's covert space programs had built fairly spacious stations. China in particular had built two sizable space habitats and three bases on Mars for Party officials and their families. Russia had bases on the moon, Mars, and Europa.

  U.S. Space Command, exercising its considerable technological and military superiority, had essentially embargoed space after Animus had been blown onto its current apocalyptic path, turning back all attempts of the Chinese, Russians, and Indians to ferry their elites off-planet. That had propelled the world to the brink of nuclear war. But while the rest of the world had nukes, Washington had MAMES – along with space warships that could blow their competition into elemental particles.

  That had been the deciding factor. A few side-deals offering sanctuary to certain key world leaders and their families had sealed the deal. But the other world powers still possessed air and space forces – as well as surface to space missiles – that could make transport of the privileged few to safety a messy affair. Zane and the other commanders of USSC battle ships were there to make sure any mess fell squarely on those who started it.

  What Mallory had said about Animus apparently also applied to the U.S. and its elites: America uber alles. The new world order and its future generations, it seemed, would be largely built from the genetic material of America's most powerful government and business magnates. It was a dirty business, but as much as it made Zane want to condemn American imperialism and wallow in guilt, he was unable to stop feeling grateful to fate or karma or some higher power that his son would get to live a full life with his old man looking over his shoulder.

  That thought introduced a sour note in his prayer of thanks. His old man would never again look over his shoulder or offer him sage advice over an ice cold beer. Zane would never again be able to pick up the phone and hear the happiness in his dad's gruff voice that he'd called. Zeke Cameron, like billions of other men, women, and children, hadn't made the cut. And if he had been offered a place aboard one of the star cruisers or space stations, he'd made it clear he wouldn't be accepting. That was his old man - one stubborn son a bitch bastion of moral integrity.

  Another person he'd never see again was his former wife. He'd never told Valerie about what was coming. He'd been informed in no uncertain terms that disclosing anything about Earth's fate would not only cost his son his place on the John Glenn Interstellar Cruiser currently halfway to Mars, but would've also likely canceled his ticket – in all negative senses of the metaphor. He would've lost not only the trip but the remaining months on Earth – including his final, treasured days with his father - as well. But Zane doubted he would've told Valerie anyway. Better for her and all the doomed to believe they'd live to see a better day.

  It hurt to leave his dad and ex-wife behind, but everyone aboard the Cheyenne and all the other people granted a reprieve from the approaching sphere had left someone behind. Everyone had someone to grieve for – most of them many someones. A few lucky anti-social individuals such as Dan Mueller had no one. Others, such as Mallory and Andrea, had parents and relatives and friends but no significant others. For the people watching Earth die, less was more when it came to emotional ties.

  Zane retreated to his room and attempted to "zone out." Not think of anything, just wait for time to pass. Animus would end life on Earth as everyone knew it and then everyone could, in theory, stop obsessing over that loss. The sadness and grieving wouldn't end, but the tension would. In some sense they'd all be freer to move forward.

  After a while he wandered back out into the cabin. No one was making a pretense of doing anything but watch the magnified image of Earth, draped in clouds and awash in blue-green seas, unsullied as ever. Except for an occasional grunt or murmur, no one spoke. Mallory strolled up and stood beside Zane who sat huddled in his captain's chair.

  "It's like a wake," he said. "Except no one's dead and no one's drinking."

  "It's early."

  "How you holdin' up, Cap?"

  "I could be a lot worse." Zane glanced up at his friend's face, as tight as a drawn bow. "How about you?"

  "Said goodbye to a few friends. They didn't know I was saying goodbye, of course. Just the usual chitchat bullshit." He paused. "First time in my life I was glad my folks were gone. How about you and your old man?"

  "I told him what's coming. He claimed he had no interest in climbing aboard the ark even if the position had been offered. But he did get a Buckyball, which he had towed to the top of a nearby mountain. On my advice – being told the Sierra range isn't geologically active and shouldn't get submerged by the Pacific."

  "Animus is passing by the far side of the planet from him. Maybe he'll get lucky and ride it out. Find some hot young survivor chick and jump-start the human race."

  Zane smiled despite it all at that image. He wouldn't put it past his old man, even at seventy-three. He would almost certainly survive the tidal shift. Would it be possible to survive afterward? Who the hell really knew? He found himself clinging to that hope.

  "It will be one hell of a ride, that's for sure," said Mallory. "He'll definitely make it through the first part."

  "Yeah." Zane's smile stiffened. "A front row seat on Armageddon."

  "The experience of a fucking lifetime." Mallory's own jocular smile faded. "Good thing about your boy, anyway."

  Zane nodded, reluctant to speak his good fortune aloud around so many who had not been so lucky. If they hadn't allowed his son aboard the John Glenn, he knew he'd be down with him right now hunkered down in a Buckyball with his dad. Command knew that, which was probably why they'd agreed to take Tyler.

  "Animus is now three million miles from perigee," Patricia announced. "The moon's orbit is starting to deviate."

  They were parked along with Horace's Ardent fifty thousand kilometers from the side of the Earth opposite Animus' perigee. Space Command's other warships, including the cruiser-class Revere and the restored Journeyer, were escorting the John Glenn to Mars. Zane wasn't sure if he envied them or was glad to stay behind. It was a grave honor to witness the end of human civilization as they knew it, but it was also nightmarish, like being stuck in a slow-motion train wreck of epic proportions. Not that Animus was moving slowly relative to them. At over four hundred thousand KPH it was speedier than any bullet. But
from their perspective, just short of two million klicks away from Animus's closest Earth approach, it would take a few hours for it to roll by like a huge black cannonball from hell.

  "Captain Cameron," said Patricia. "We have reports of nuclear detonations on Mars. I'm forwarding imagery and communications from Admiral Sanchez aboard the John Glenn."

  The holograph of Earth transformed into a ground terrain view of Mars. They appeared to be looking down from an elevated position on a burning debris field in early evening light.

  "This is Admiral Tom Sanchez." Tension frayed the edges of his usual reserved, mellow-baritone voice. "Our habitat bases on Phlegra Dorsa, Mawrth Vallis, and Kasei Valles have evidently been struck by thermonuclear weapons. From fresh craters near the sites we believe the bombs were buried there and detonated remotely. Casualties are presumed total. We have lost contact with the Chinese and Russian habitat bases. We believe rogue military elements on these bases are responsible. The Revere has proceeded ahead to deal with situation. Thus far our attempts to communicate with the Chinese and Russian bases have garnered no response. We will keep Command Fleet apprised when we learn more."

  "Fucking Commies," Mallory snarled. "We should've put them all outside without E-suits when we first took over their bases."

  "What a sad commentary on the human race," Dan murmured. "We face an extinction event and what do we do? Kill each other."

  "We didn't kill anyone," Mallory snapped.

  "We prevented Russian and Chinese people from migrating to their own bases. That was signing their death warrants."

  "Yeah? Well, I have a feeling plenty more of those are gonna be signed before this is over."

  "Wonderful," said Dan.

  "You better get your namby-pamby liberal shit in order, Mueller, because this is real. It's about survival now, and guess who stands between you and extinction?"

  Dan thumped his chest and made a chimpanzee sound. Mallory started for him.

  "For fuck's sake," said Zane. "Isn't this bad enough without us turning on each other?"

  "I'm not turning on anyone." Mallory thrust a finger at Dan. "Dickhead here just needs to make sure what side of the fence he's on."