A Second Moon

Chapter One

Chapter One

London, United Kingdom
Operational Theatre 1

“Combat Command, this is Medevac One. We are en-route to Quadrant-2. Confirm that landing zone is clear, over?” Captain Michael Faith spoke while doing a million other things; manipulation the holograms that hovered in front of him. The controls of the Boeing 878 were state of the art and lacked nothing, but the most important feature was global live mapping system. It projected a fully-3D holographic map of the surrounding land and airspace right into the center of the cockpit. Michael glanced down at it now, using his left hand to manipulate the hologram and his right to check coordinates on a separate holographic command console.

“Medevac One, this is Combat Command. Your landing zone is clear, and you are good to go. Move as fast as possible; we have a lot of wounded people down here.”

The voice was stressed and tired; understandable, considering the circumstances. Michael swiped over the GLMS and double-tapped a stretch of cleared highway that was acting as a makeshift runway for the London Operation Zone. He then pressed a com-switch and began speaking, his voice being transmitted into the rear hold of the plane, where one hundred medevacs-officers were waiting. “Alright people. We are cleared for landing, and I’m taking us in hot. We have a lot of wounded apparently, so get ready to go soon as I open the doors.”

Normally, there should have been a co-pilot along with Michael, but automation had rendered that unnecessary, and now Michael could fly the entire plane by himself. It made long flights lonely, but reduced the chance for human error. And when hundreds of lives were at stake, that fact mattered.

And now, it was go time. Michael gripped the sidestick and began his slow descent. There was a heavy layer of clouds over the entire island, and the turbulence violently shook the cargo plane as it broke down through the black clouds. Then, it was clear, and Michael could see the ruins of what had been, just a few days ago, the city of London. The once great metropolis was burnt out shell, with most of the city’s buildings collapsed or destroyed, and the River Thames entirely dried up. Thick black smoke billowed out from still burning parts of the city, and the bright spotlights of emergency camps could be seen beaming high into the clouds.

The windshield flashed and two blue lines appeared, lining up with the highway that was to serve as Michael’s runway. Tapping the control console, the sidestick locked up and the plane’s autopilot took over. Landing gear deployed, and the four engines built directly into the wings angled themselves slightly downwards to provide reverse thrust.

Landing such a large plane was difficult with a normal runway, and landing on a highway was even harder .It wasn’t long enough, and so as the 878 touched down, the four engines totally reversed, pushing their entire thrust against the forwards momentum. Michael was jerked in his seat as the plane touché touched, and the roar of the engines overwhelmed his ears for a moment or two. Then, it was over, and they had stopped. Without wasting any time, Michael turned a holographic “switch” and a red light changed to green. “Med-Teams, you are go. Good luck out there.”

In the rear of the plane, MediGuard Command Officer Rachel Willow ran out the rear ramp of the plane, along with the ninety-nine other members of the US 1st-Medical Guard Battalion. Soldiers of the MediGuard were instantly recognizable, thanks to the bright red jumpsuits they were all clad in. In her down-time, Rachel often compared the soldiers to a swarm of red ants, flooding out of the planes and into the ruined city. But this was no time for downtime.

Rachel’s first target was a man laying next to a pile of rubble. Rachel crouched down next to him and ran her Portable Medical Utility System (PMUS), which resembled a small cell-phone, over the patient. She looked at the results; the man had a broken hip, but nothing fatal. She pulled a green marker from her pouch and put a large green spot on the man’s forehead, along with black-pen markings that would tell others about his injury. Then, she moved on. The triage system was simple. Green meant the patient was wounded but could survive without immediate medical attention. Yellow meant that the patient could probably do ok without immediate attention, but would need medical help within six hours. Red meant that the person required immediate medical attention, and that they would only have an hour or so without help. Black was the most devastating; it meant that patient was so badly wounded that they were beyond help, and should be left to die.

Rachel ran from person to person, color-spotting people and administering painkillers or antibiotics where she could. But in all cases, even the green coded cases, the situation was bad. Buildings, or chunks of buildings, collapsed and fell all around the medical workers, posing a hazard that meant getting to those trapped in buildings was near impossible.

Attached to Rachel’s head was a clear visor that went just in front of her eyes, and was secured to a headset. It was a virtual HUD display, and right now Rachel had set it to “thermal”, allowing her to see survivors trapped beneath rubble. She had been walking for many minutes when she saw the faint thermal signature from inside what had been an apartment building. Scrambling over the rubble and wreckage, Rachel found herself inside the dark basement of the building. A quick tape of a button and the two high-intensity lights built into the shoulders of the jumpsuit burst to life.

Combined with the thermal imaging, Rachel found the survivor. But there was a problem. The person was trapped beneath several huge concrete beams and chunks of rubble, with only a hand and a small hole giving Rachel any access to the woman.

“Ma’am, I’m with the United States Medical Guard, 1st Battalion. If you can hear me, give me some sign” Rachel spoke loudly and clearly, putting her hand into the victim’s. There was a brief pause, and the hand closed around Rachel’s.

“Alright. I’m going to use a tool that will get rid of the rubble. If you can close or cover your eyes, do so. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Another pause, and then the hand squeezed again. Rachel pulled from her holster what could be mistaken for a gun. It was designed just like a large handgun, but the front assembly was thin and boxy, with a gap coming in from the front. She flicked on the charging switch, and the Emergency Plasma Cutting Tool (EPCT) beeped. There was a brief charging period, and then three green dots appeared on the rubble, projected from the tool.

“I’m going to cut through these beams. Don’t be frightened if you feel some heat, and see some bright light. Three, two, one…” She pulled the trigger. The vertical barrel flashed and there was a loud noise as the superheated plasma tore through the concrete and rubble. A few more shots, and Rachel was able to roll the chunks off the pile, and just two further shots were required to free the trapped woman. Rachel grunted as she pulled the woman from the pile; it didn’t look good. The woman was in bad shape, with a section of ribcage showing through the shredded skin, and her leg was facing the wrong way.

Rachel put a red dot on her forehead, gave her a shot of morphine, and put a flashing red emergency transponder beacon that would allow corpsmen to find the body, dead or alive.

It was hell. Rachel saw more blood and guts in an hour then she had seen in a week. There was nothing she could do though, and so Rachel kept searching through the rubble;  an angel among the wasteland.

Washington D.C
White House Situation Room

In the days following the “Disaster” as it had come to be known, the White House Situation Room was constantly occupied. President Daniel Cooper hadn’t left the room in three days, and his chief of staff had been sleeping on a couch in the lobby. Mass confusion was reigning supreme, as the greatest minds of the world tried to figure out what had wiped the British capital off the map. The major scientific institutes of every country on Earth were scrambling to understand the Disaster, and whether or not it could happen again.

So far, there were no results. Nobody, not even the geniuses at NASA or the ESA had any sort of idea as to what had occurred. But beyond the scientific quandaries, the political ramifications were even worse. Much was still not known about the situation in Britain, and the CIA was desperately working with the European Federal Intelligence Agency to try and determine what exactly was left of the UK’s government and, by extension, the status of British military forces.

It had been a rough few days, and things weren’t getting any easier. After  a brief night of sleep, Daniel was back in action, sitting at the head of the table, with the rest of the seats being occupied by various other government officials and military leaders. Nobody was talking; instead, their eyes were all fixed on a OLED screen that had just burst to life, showing a man in a black suit and with an earpiece.

“Mister President, this is Agent Bankford. I have the situation update you requested.” Bankford spoke crisply and with military precision, as was expected from a CIA agent.

Daniel nodded, motioning with his hand. “Go ahead Agent Bankford.”

“Right. I’m afraid I have no good news for you. As you probably know, the entire British government was in the Parliament Building for the Queen’s speech. We’ve searched the rubble, but all we can find are very charred bodies that are, to say the least, unidentifiable. I would suggest that we work off the assumption that the entire British government, including the Queen and most of the Royal Family, are dead”

Daniel swore and hit the table, then saw a shining beam of light. “Wait, you said ‘most’ of the Royal Family. Who wasn’t there?”

Bankford bit his lip, obviously unsure of his answer. “Well, the British Royal family extends to essentially every Commonwealth nation, but there is only one surviving member that is directly in the immediate line of succession.”

The screen next to the one Bankford was one lit up, showing a young-looking woman standing next to a horse. Everyone squinted at the picture, trying to figure out what its purpose was.

“Agent, who is this?” Daniel finally said, after giving up in his attempt to identify the woman.

“That, Mister President, is Zara Phillips, formerly thirteenth in line for the British Throne. Although, given the circumstances, she is now technically the reigning monarch. Fourty five years old, although with all the gene therapy she’s received, you could never tell.”

There was some slight snickering, an Daniel whapped the table with his fist, summoning silence.

“Why was Miss Philips not attending the ceremony? Aren’t all royal family members expected to attend?”

Bankford nodded again. “Yes sir. But she was in Australia when that big typhoon hit, and it prevented her from returning to the UK. Also, I have already contact the Australian Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, and they have notified Zara about the situation. Apparently, she is rather devastated, as can be expected.”

It was sad, but true. Zara would be queen, but the cost was her entire family, and her nation’s capital city. Daniel knew that this was a delicate situation for the entire world. And delicate situations called for cautious action.

“Alright. Thank you Agent Bankford.” He tapped the holographic controls and the screens shut off. All eyes turned to him; the eyes of people expecting him to know what to do.

And truth be told, he had no idea.

Thankfully, God took pity on Daniel, and the hologram flashed. Almost too eagerly, Daniel accepted the call, and felt a wave of relief as the eyes turned back to the screen, where a tall, gangly man in a labcoat could be seen.

“Mister Preisdent, I have a damage and general science report for you, if you want to hear it.”

Daniel’s eyes briefly flashed down to the nametag that hovered at the bottom of the screen. NASA Director Curtis Thompson.

“Go ahead Mister Thompson.”

The screen next to the NASA Director changed to show and image of the southern UK. There was a brief pause, and a bright red, slightly translucent colored circle appeared over central London, and covered most of the area.

“Just based off of satellite imaging and eyewitness reports, these are the damage radiuses that we have been able to determine so far. Everything within this first circle here, which is about 3.77 miles in diameter, took the full brunt of the event. Assuming this was a bomb or explosion of some sort, anything in this area received about 20 pounds per square inch, and judging by the charring, millions of degrees of heat as well.

Another, large circle overlaid the map. Everything within this ring suffered 10 psi, which, although better than 20, still resulted in total destruction. Thompson proceeded to go through each pressure wave, each circle getting progressively bigger. Each new level brought a new sense of horror to those watching; the Disaster had destroyed much more than just London.

“In short, the actual damaging shockwave levels, which extend out twenty three miles from the epicenter, reached as far as Saint Albans to the north, and Woking to the south. Cities as far away as Brighton, and even Calais in France reported broken or rattled windows.”

There was a long pause, as the people in the Situation Room attempted to digest this information. Speaking slowly Secretary Of Defense Kristina Howe posed a question that nobody else wanted to ask. “Is it possible that a nuclear device could have done this?”

Thompson seemed to grit his teeth a bit, out of nervousness most likely. “No Madame Secretary. The overall explosion was about equal in magnitude to a twenty megaton nuclear bombs, but only in terms of blast radius. Everything else, the pressure, the damage patterns, even the residue we keep finding, makes a nuclear bomb of any sort highly unlikely.”

This was both a relief and a setback. Had it been a nuclear bomb, it would have at least aloud the world to take action. But not knowing prevented anyone from doing anything, which was frustrating to all.

“So if it wasn’t a nuclear bomb, what could have caused this? And what residue are you talking about?” Daniel probably sounded irritated, but not because he actually was; rather, he was angry at himself for not being able to do more. Thompson obviously didn’t see this, because he bit his lip and nodded quickly.

“Well, the residue is a non organic metallic compound known as magnetite. This compound does occur naturally on Earth, but not in England, and certainly not in dust form like we’ve found it. The only way it could have landed on everything is if…it came from above.” The scientist shifted from foot to foot. And Daniel knew why. The picture was becoming clear in his mind, and it was the stuff of nightmares.

“Mister Thompson…are you saying that this was a asteroid?” Daniel spoke with a grave tone to his voice, and said it softly, part of him afraid that saying the words would make it come true.

“Yes mister President. Magnetite of this quantity and dispersion pattern only could have come from an asteroid. I believe that what happened in London was another Tunguska Event.”

The words seemed to echo throughout the room, and there was a dead silence. The words fell like asteroids themselves, and the reality became so much clearer.

Finally, Secretary of Homeland Security Benjamin Mill broke the silence. “How did SpaceGuard miss this? Isn’t it their job to detect these types of these? Or what about those observatories the Mars colonies use? Why didn’t they warn us?”

“A long string of questions, Mister Secretary. And one answer solves them all. The asteroid in question was likely no bigger than ten meters across. SpaceGuard is only programmed to search for objects that pose a threat to all of mankind. Such a relatively small object would not have tripped the warnings. As for the Mars observatories, they are only on one side of the planet. It is highly probable that they were simply facing the wrong way.”
At that point, the tension broke. People began to talk loudly, escalating into arguments and spilled glasses of water. Daniel slammed his fist on the table, commanding silence, which he once again got. Staring directly at Thompson, he level a simple question.

“Is this an isolated incident, or could we face more such disasters in the future?”

“It is hard to determine, Mister President. Statistically speaking, the chances of another Tunguska-style event were one in three billion. The chances of it happening and hitting a major metropolitan area are close to one in three trillion. Unless some evidence to the contrary becomes apparent, I’d say we are no more likely to have another incident than we were before.”

An aide seemingly materialized next to Daniel, and whispered in his ear that the full meeting that was schedule for the day was ready to begin. Dismissing the aide, Daniel thanked Thompson, and then started the meeting. Numerous more faces appeared on the other screens, ranging from The Director of NOAA to the head of FEMA.

“Alright everyone. This is a crisis situation the likes of which we have never experience before. I have just forwarded Mister Thompson’s analysis of the situation; he has concluded that this was an asteroid exploding in the atmosphere, and not a nuclear device, so no need to get worried about that. And before any of you make the comment, no we are not one-hundred percent positive that it was an asteroid, but the explanation fits best, so for now that is what we are working off of.” Having cleared that up, Daniel brought up a holographic screen and keyboard.

“Now, Mister Compton, would you please give us a review of estimated casualties from this event?”

The head of FEMA, Allan Compton, nodded. “Yes sir. Getting an expect number is and will continue to be difficult for the next few months, since British emergency services are in such a sate of disarray that our emergency forces on the ground are getting wildly varying numbers. But in general, I can tell you it isn’t good. The city of London itself was entirely obliterated by the umm…meteor, and much of the Greater London Metropolitan Area suffered the same fate. Just from London proper, I’d say we’re looking at about ten million dead or missing. Adding in the GLMA, I would expect the casualties to number close to fifteen or twenty million, dead or missing. Because of the extreme heat and the fact that many bodies were simply…..incinerated, we may never know the exact number.”

Twenty million. A single moment, a single object, had killed that many. The situation was unreal, and Daniel was still trying to convince himself that this wasn’t some sort of horrible nightmare, or that he wasn’t trapped inside a science-fiction movie.

A shocked silence went around the table, and for a few moments nobody spoke. With a weak nod, Daniel motioned that he understood. There were similar shocked reactions around the table, but were quickly dispatched as Daniel composed himself and sat up. In a professional voice as he could manage, he thanked Mister Compton, then moved onto the rest of the agenda.

“Could we hear from you now, Misses Rook? Regarding the financial situation of England and how much it would take to rebuild London and rehabilitate the nation.”

The Treasury Secretary nodded solemnly. “Of course sir.” Misses Rook’s head shrunk on the screen and the extra space was replaced with a large list of costs and expenses.

“It isn’t going to be cheap, but it will be doable. Total cost for a full reconstruction project is expected to cost anywhere from five hundred billion to several trillion, based on what we find leftover once the debris is cleared. The blast destroyed all of the banks in London, including the Royal Treasury, meaning that the British economy is now essentially non-existent. In short, we’re going to be footing the entire tab from this, assuming we don’t get outside help from another entity.”

“Actually Mister President, I wanted to discuss that with you.” The new voice came from a man actually sitting in the room. He was a short man, with a well-formed face and physique, contrary to his short stature. Paul Diamond, the United States Official Envoy to the United Nations, stood up.

“I have been in contact with Secretary General Dmitri Chekov, and he has informed me that he is recommending that an emergency session of the UN Parliament, General Assembly, and Security Council be called to order. He would like to know if you would make a speech to the world. After all, Britain was our closest ally. The world is watching how we react.” Paul had a slight hint of an Austrian accent in his voice, the reason for which he had never explained to anyone.

“Tell him absolutely. We need to show the global community that the United States stands with its allies in their times of need. Speaking of which, how are relief efforts going?” Daniel turned his focus back to Mister Compton.

“As good as one might expect. The sheer level of destruction is making it hard to reach many places, and the most densely populated areas of London are the worst hit and least accessible. We’re using rescue drones to try and bore through the rubble, but it will take time. The rest of the operations are going fine as well. Ground teams report that a few thousand people have been saved, which is good. But the scale of the medical crisis….our field hospitals can’t take it. I’d like to begin moving patients to other parts of the UK, or to mainland Europe, or back here to the US.”

“Whatever you need, you’ve got it. I promise that much.” Daniel said sincerely, trying not to let the emotion that was just beneath the surface come out. Compton did a slight-bow half nod.

The meeting wore on for five hours, and each new speaker only gave a bleaker picture of the situation. Once it was over, everyone left the room, except for Daniel.

Almost.

Another man, who had been standing in the corner the entire time, now emerged, sitting himself at the table. He folded his hands and looked directly at Daniel, who merely sighed.

“I knew you were here. No need to hide in the corner, Jacob.” Daniel said without looking at the man. Instead, he downed a glass of water, trying to flush out his system of the horror he had just heard. Jacob smiled a pristine white smile.

“Now, now, Mister President. I’m only here to help.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Help me into manipulating a disaster into a political victory, you mean.”

Jacob shrugged, pulling out a briefcase. “Tomato, Tomahto. The point is, this disaster, as disastrous as it may be, presents a unique opportunity to advance your agenda. For example, you can attach any earmarks you want to the rebuild Britain bills, and the Democrats and Republicans will be powerless to stop you. If they vote for the bills, their base will accuse them of helping an evil agenda. If they vote against the bills, we can frame them as the parties that voted against helping people in need. Either way, it’s a win-win situation.”

There was brief pause and Daniel shot Jacob a harsh and venomous look. “It amazes me how that sick mind of yours can turn suffering into political gains. You are a cold man, Jacob.”

Instead of taking offense, Jacob smiled pleasantly. “Well, then I am doing my job right. Trust me, you don’t want a warm, cuddly political advisor. Their so called ‘morals’ and ‘ethics’ get in the way too much. My goal is not to care for the poor people across the Atlantic; my job is to ensure that you get reelected as President and to ensure that the United America Party wins it big in the Congress and Senate. That’s it.”

Never before had such an accurate description been given. It was Jacob’s job, and he did it extremely well. When Daniel had first run for President three years ago, he had been coming in as the underdog candidate from the newly formed United America Party. But with Jacob’s political cunning and lack of ethics, it had been a landslide victory for the UAP, and Daniel. So he couldn’t deny that whatever advice Jacob was giving him would work.

“Well, I suppose you already have an entire plan written up. Should I be expecting the souls of the damned to show up in my inbox now or later?”

Jacob laughed, shaking his head slightly. “Very funny, Mister President. I do enjoy these little chats of ours, but I’m afraid I must…”
“Go back to the seventh level of hell?” Daniel said, finishing the sentence. Jacob chuckled again, standing and moving towards the door. “Quite. Good-day, Mister President”

And with that, he was gone, and Daniel was alone in the room once again.

One Week Later…
United Nations Headquarters
New York City

“The world is still in mourning this week, after the ‘Disaster’, as it is now known, destroyed London, and killed nearly fifteen million people in the United Kingdom. With search and rescue operations still ongoing, the world community is marking the one-week anniversary with mass candlelight memorials in cities ranging from Moscow to Seattle. On the political front, world leaders have gathered today at the United Nations Headquarters in New York to try and decide where to go from here. In just a few moments, we will be going live to inside the General Assembly chamber, where American President Daniel Cooper will be addressing a joint-session of the UN General Assembly, Parliament and Security Council. Notably absent from the room today will be the new reigning monarch of the United Kingdom, Queen Zara Phillips, and the new Prime Minister of the UK, Frederic Hampton. Now, lets go live to inside the assembly chamber.”

Inside the twin-tower complex that had replaced the old UN headquarters, Daniel got ready to speak. He could hear the murmuring of the audience, composed of official representatives, heads of state, and other people of high importance. In his infinite wisdom, Daniel had not hired a scriptwriter, and on such short notice, he had been forced to write his own address. Behind the wall that kept him cut off from the main chamber, he paced back and forth; honestly nervous about what he was about to do. Addressing the United America Convention was one thing; but addressing the entire world during a time of horrible crisis was something else entirely.

“Mister President, you’re on. Good luck” An aide spoke suddenly, causing Daniel to jolt slightly, before he nodded and walked out onto the green marble stage, and up to the podium. The Central Assembly Chamber was massive, having been designed with about a thousand seats, not including the delegate seats on the actual chamber floor. Every single one of the seats was filled, and people were even sitting on the floor or the aisles. Daniel briefly glanced at the holographic banner that ran around where the walls met the ceiling. It showed, in brilliant color, every flag of the world, and the words “Assembly In Session” in every language.

The audience fell silent, and Daniel cleared his throat. The hovering news-drones, which looked like beach-ball sized spheres and fluttered around the podium, began getting ideal angles on Daniel.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of the United Nations, this is a dark time for our world. Fifteen million people have perished from this Earth at the hands of what we strongly believe was a meteorite, similar to that of the Tunguska Incident, and the United Kingdom has fallen into political and economic disarray. Never before has any nation suffered such a devastating catastrophe in such a short period of time. I wish to convey to the people of the United Kingdom that we stand with them through their time of trial and struggle, and that every nation of the United Nations is committed to returning the region to its former glory. To such an end, I would like to propose an emergency reconstruction spending bill to be enacted immediately by this organization, in order to facilitate the reconstruction of London and the Greater London Metropolitan Area. The total cost of the bill is two and a half trillion dollars, to be administered as needed.”

Daniel paused, because a storm of voices had raised up from the audience. Two and a half trillion dollars was a vast sum, and despite it being a UN Resolution, the richer nations knew that they would be the ones footing the bill.

Secretary General Chekov banged his gavel, and the crowd fell silent. Chekov then motioned for Daniel to continue.

“Thank you Mister Speaker.” Daniel made a small nod to the Speaker, then turned back to face the delegates, “I understand that this is a big imposition upon all of your nation’s but I feel that the cause is just, and that short-term pain is worth the long-term benefits. A few trillion is trivial compared to the good that spending it will do, and any person with even a semblance of a conscious should be able to see this. If we all work together, and if we all commit to the cause of helping Britain to rebuild, I know that we can achieve the ultimate goal; turning London from a wasteland into a glorious sparkling metropolis. Together, the suffering will end. Together, we will defend Earth from any further such orbital projectiles, and together, we will ensure that this never happens again.”

Daniel had purposely ended his speech on high note, so as to counteract the shock over the cost of the bill. It seemed to work. The delegates and audience burst into applause, with a few cheers and shouts coming out through the applause as well. Daniel raised a few hands to the crowd, bowing and nodded as he stepped away from the podium and returned to his seat.

Secretary General Chekov now took Daniel’s place at the podium. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent, but his English was perfect, if just a tad bit hard to understand.

“Thank you for that inspiring speech President Cooper. I am certain that there will be no problem with passing the spending bill through the General Assembly and Parliament. Now, we will move on to the next items on the agenda.”

What followed was nothing short of an example of the rampant disagreement among all nations. Daniel’s speech may have preached unity, but there was anything but on the floor of the chamber. Nations bickered and argued about how to spend the money, where to spend it, who would pay for it, but they even went further. Arguments over the necessity of an asteroid defense system came into play. There were those who saw the London Disaster as being a one-off event, while others worried that it might just be a sign of things to come.

When the session drew to a close, nothing had gotten done, accept that everyone agreed that now was no the time for arguing. The irony was so bitter that Daniel felt the need to spit, and so thick that he could have sliced it with a knife. As he departed the massive UN Complex, and returned to his waiting limousine in the motorcade, he shot silent curses of damnation to the bureaucratic system.

But soon he was in the comfortable presidential limousine, being whisked back to Washington D.C as fast as possible. Daniel poured himself a glass of scotch, and looked up towards the front of the limo, where the driver was quietly humming a tune. While every other car on the road was fully automated, requiring no human to operate whatsoever, it was US federal regulation that the President’s automobile and all cars in the motorcade had to have a human observer who could take control of the vehicle at a moments notice.

There was a quiet beeping, and the car alerted Daniel to the fact that a call was coming through. Holographic controls appeared, and Daniel sighed, accepting the call.

The hologram extended to show a screen with Agent Bankford.

“Mister President, I have a update for you on the political situation in the UK. Some good news, actually.”

Daniel smirked, nodding his head slightly. “Alright Agent, do continue. I need some good news after that dreadful UN meeting.”

Bankford’s arm could be seen reaching up, and then Daniel’s hologram extended outwards again, showing a map of the UK. The map scrolled over to Manchester, and the city lit up.

“I have been talking with the new UK Prime Minister, Major General Richard Comstock, and he has decided to move the capital of the UK to Manchester. For the time being, anyways. They’ve taken over the Manchester City Hall s the Parliament building for the nation. Granted, there are no members of Parliament anymore, but when they get some, at least they’ll have a home.”

It was good news of a sense, although the mention of no actual Parliament members remaining alive dampened the cheery sentiment. It was expected that Prime Minister Comstock would assemble a new legislature from city government members and other low-level government members.

“Well, that certainly is good news. Although, the underlying reasons are tragic. How are they organizing the military, what with a general acting a Prime Minister?”
Bankford shrugged, bringing up a hologram of an older man. “This is General Ashford. Or, newly appointed General, I should put it. Prime Minister Comstock appointed him to command the British military, for the time being at least.”

The hologram shrunk down to just the screen showing Bankford. “If I may be so bold, it seems that the dear old Brits are moving rather quickly with this whole situation. It has only been a week, and they’ve already set up a new government and a military governance set up. I can’t help but feel like…well, perhaps there was always a contingency within the UK for this sort of disaster.”

The thought had crossed Daniel’s mind. The US government had its own such contingency plan, in the event that the government was wiped out. But even that would take time to enact, and the speed with which the UK government had reestablished itself was rather astounding. It wasn’t suspicious, technically, but it certainly wasn’t normal. At this point, however, it wasn’t important. The UK was rebuilding, and that was all that mattered.

“Alright Bankford. Any other news for me? I’m just on my way back to D.C, so we can talk more in depth there.”

Bankford looked thoughtful for a few moments, and then shook his head. “No Mister President. That is all”

The two men said goodbye, and the hologram vanished. Daniel looked out the window, They were still in the New York Sprawl, called so because the actual city extended many, many miles past where the traditional city of New York had once been. Towering skyscrapers, symbols of America’s wealth and power, lined the elevated highway, suspended from huge nanocarbon struts attached to the buildings. New York had a population of nearly twenty-nine million, and it was only growing. Along with Los Angeles, Chicago and Houston, the four cities were known as the MegaQuad; cities with over twenty million people in them.

Daniel had never like the sprawling metropolises, preferring the quiet simplicity of Washington D.C, where buildings were restricted from being higher than 230 feet so that the skyline wouldn’t be ruined by the multi-mile high skyscrapers that dominated the rest of the country.

Glancing around at the rapidly retreating city, which was giving way to the quiet country side, Daniel felt a deep sorrow well up. What happened in London, despite the reassurances of NASA, could happen in the US. Be it an act of God or a random occurrence, it could happen. And if it did, would he be ready?

National Atmospheric Regulation And Monitoring Agency (NARMA) Orbital Control Station “Ceres”
In Geo-Synch Orbit Above Hawaii

As a famous movie once said, “In space, no one can hear you scream”. Despite the sci-fi horror movie that it was attached to, this phrase now applied to the situation that Patricia Walker found herself in every day. She hadn’t slept in days, and the lack of an actual day-night cycle aboard Ceres Station didn’t help in the least.

So, after five days of insomnia, Patricia Kensington now found herself sitting in the observation room, which took up the top deck of the central pillar that went through the center of the Stanford-Torus style space station. The circular room had 360 degrees of transparent polarized glass, which gave sweeping views of Earth and the rest of the space. Patricia sipped her coffee, staring blankly out of the window and holding a holographic PDA in the other. The PDA beeped, which warranted a brief glance from Patricia as to why it had dared interrupt her bored staring. The hologram showed a new message from the maintenance department, which she didn’t bother to check. Maintenance was of no interest to Patricia, who was a Senior Atmospheric Control Scientist & Operator.

“Well, well. I thought I’d find you up here. How long has it been since you actually, you know, got any sleep” The voice pierced through the silence, causing Patricia to jolt slightly. She swung around, letting her head fall slightly to one side and shooting a faux-seductive look at the approaching man. He was tall, a few years younger than Patricia, and extremely handsome, with intensely blonde hair and deep grey eyes. Daniel Harper strode over to the table, and sat across the table from Patricia.

“Five days.” The answer was short, sweet and laced with hints of “f*** off”. Daniel just shrugged, pulling out his own Holopad and scrolling through the news. “Go for a run around the track. Or hell, just let Doc Lance pump you full of Zyxira and be done with it.”

Patricia stood up, nearly knocking her coffee off of the table and onto the stark white floor. “I don’t need drugs, Daniel. I’ve just been under so much damn stress, its quite literally killing me. This…spat of hurricanes and shit. It’s like God is conspiring against me.”

The sudden outburst made Daniel throw up his hands and lean back in the chair, as if the words had been pointed square at him. “Hey, watch it there. That venom is spilling over to me.” He said it jokingly, springing to his feet and walking up beside Patricia. He gazed out over the stars, the twinkling beacons in the night. Looking down, he could see the main ring of the Torus, with its pulsing red lights alerting any nearby ships to its position. Spaceship traffic wasn’t exactly heavy, but there were a few shuttles that ran routes between Earth and Luna, and Earth and Mars. It was somehow amazing to think that, with all of humanity’s technological prowess, they couldn’t stop a tiny little rock from falling from the sky.

“I’m sorry. Its just that…” Patricia started, but the universe didn’t let her finish. Her Holopad began to beep loudly, and she let out a frustrated growl, whipping it out and looking at the screen. It was a code 5 warning, meaning that somewhere down on Earth, a storm was brewing that threatened human lives. She started to leave, turning to Daniel and walking backwards.

“We’ll talk later Daniel. Meet me in the cafeteria after I’m done with this shit. Alright?” And with that, she was gone in the elevator, shooting down to the Weather Control Center at the bottom of the central cylinder. The doors hissed open, and Patricia stalked out, making her way quickly to the center of the control room. It was a big room, with rows of control terminals running around its perimeter, and Patricia’s command console in the center. She took a seat, activating the all-encompassing holographic controls.

“What’s going on people? Talk to me?” She said quickly, bringing up the information her holoscreen. The screen showed a cloud of particles, which reassembled themselves into a globe, which then flattened out and zoomed in on Hawaii.

“Sensors detected a uptick in thermal energy forming in a mass around four hundred miles off the coast of Hawaii. I ran a deeper scan, and the surface results were bad. Cloud formation is increasing, and so is water condensation. We’re looking at one big ass hurricane, ma’am.” The voice came from the speakers built into Patricia’s chair, but she knew it well. Conner White, her second in command.

“Size on the Saffir-Simpson scale?”

“Hard to tell, since the winds have just started picking up, but judging by the size of the clouds and little thunderstorms it’s making, I’d say category 5.”

Patricia grit her teeth, silently cursing God for doing this now. She was tired, out of whack, and not up for this. But a hurricane hadn’t hit the USA in more than three decades thanks to NARMA, and she wasn’t going to let this be the streak-breaker. Bringing up the thermal imaging on her own screen, she summoned every last ounce of analytical power her brain had. Conner was right. It was a big storm, and it was forming fast. Very fast.

“Right. Then let’s get this done people. If even so much as a shingle is torn off a roof in Miami, the government will have our heads. Conner, warm up the lasers. Maximum power. We’re gonna need it.”

Conner made a noise that sounded like “yes”, which was good enough for Patricia. She watched as the diagrams of the ten massive laser cannons mounted on the underside of the station began to charge, sucking massive amounts of energy out from the fusion reactor and solar arrays that powered the station.

Once, Ceres, and in fact every weather control station, had been a symbol of American military might. The ten stations, each of them positioned over US territory, had been built not to stop hurricanes, but to rain down death upon the so-called “enemies of freedom”. The massive lasers that now stopped tropical storms once were pointed at the capitals of various countries; North Korea, Russia, China, to name a few. The missile pods on the side of the station, used now to salt storms and force them to release their energy over water instead of land, had housed nuclear missiles, their targets below living in fear of the orbital Armageddon floating right over their heads.

The US had (reluctantly) renovated the stations to fulfill their current purpose, and it took a category five hurricane destroying Miami and most of southern Florida to make them do even that. Granted, they hadn’t completely renovated the stations, or so the rumors went. Some said that the stations mounted hidden weapons that could be remotely activated from the ground, should the need ever arise. But Patricia had been in every room, every corridor and every secret passage that station had to offer. If there were secret weapons aboard other stations, Ceres was the one without.

So now, the lasers were pointed towards the growing mass of clouds that was slowly approaching the tropical paradise beneath them. A scan of the storm appeared on the main holographic screen, and a target reticule began sweeping over it. Every so often it would flash, beep and move on, leaving a green square around a certain area of the cloud formation. These were hot spots; areas where there was a lot of pent-up energy just waiting to be unleashed upon whatever was unfortunate enough to be in its way.

The lasers would make short work of these hot spots, forcing them to discharge their energy right then a there. It would burn out the storm at an accelerated rate, and would turn the storm’s roar into a weak little purr.

“Targeting the hotspots. Coordinates are locked, and lasers are at seventy-five percent full charge. Ready to fire in five minutes, and that storm will be squashed.” Conner spoke with an excited tone to his voice, betraying the professionalism that was standard among active-duty NARMA officers. The crosshairs on the map went from grey to green one by one, confirming that they had locked on. As the last one went green, the holographic screen proudly declared “Targeting Complete”.

Patricia nodded to herself, and accessed the laser-fire controls. The restricted controls burst to life, requesting a password, authorization code from the station commander, and a biometric scan. The authorization code was already transmitted, and Patricia had entered password within seconds. All that was left was the biometric scan, which was the most hated part of the process. A bright white laser, projected from the ceiling, swept over her body, making sure that every curve and shape was the same as it had been last time. As soon as the machine was satisfied that Patricia was indeed still Patricia, it beeped three time and the fire controls released.

“Lasers are at full power. Ready to fire on your mark” Conner called out, and Patricia grinned. It brought her some sort of pleasure to zap storms with big lasers, something that she suspected the weather reporters on the ground were jealous as hell at. Manipulating the controls, she brought the main firing sequence online, and a deep vibration would be felt throughout the station as the lasers emerged from the hull of the station. The lasers, which looked like huge cylinder with numerous tubes and cables leader from the main chassis back to the station.

“Firing lasers in five seconds. Four, three, two, one. Firing” Nobody would actually listen, but it was just protocol to call out the timing for the firing. There was a brief pause, and the lasers fired. The beams were a light red color, made so by the Earth’s atmosphere and airborne particles, and Patricia watched on the holographic display as the ten lasers punched through hotspots and struck the ocean below. She watched as the temperatures in the storm began to rise rapidly, so quickly in fact that flashes of lighting began to appear almost instantly throughout the storm. The bright flashes lit up the clouds, creating a strobe like effect that always fascinated anyone who saw it. And although Patricia had never seen it personally, she had heard that the sight from the ground was even more fantastic.

“Thermal energy increasing by fifty five percent. Electrical discharge is rising, and storm intensity is dropping. Looks like we killed another one.” Conner spoke while standing up from his station, not even bothering to shut off the console. He yawned, walking over to the command center, where Patricia was watching the lighting-show playing out beneath them.

“Pretty, isn’t it? Hard to believe that that pretty lightshow is the only thing stopping the destruction of Hawaii.” It was a huge understatement,  but Patricia saw no need to point out the obvious.

Conner stretched and strolled over to the door, which hissed open as he approached. “I’m going to go get a bite to eat. Wanna come?”

Patricia looked up, shaking her head. “No, no. I’m fine right now. Just going to monitor this storm through until it totally vanishes. Sometimes they can flare up again.”

A sad looked crossed Conner’s face, but he shrugged and walked out the door, leaving Patricia alone with the light show lighting up her face. It took about an hour for the storm to entirely burn out, at which point it became nothing more than just a large cloud bank that hurt nobody and nothing. It was another job well, done, and despite the brief moment of joy she felt when she watched the lightshow, Patricia felt no joy at the success. Sighing deeply, she stood, and got ready to go back to her sulking in the observation room. As she stood, the control console beeped.

It was a priority-one message, coming from the most unexpected of places; ORBMICOM. ORBMICOM was the short form of the United States Orbital Military Command, the branch of the military in charge of America’s orbital and space-based military operations. It was technically in control of NARMA, but only technically. NARMA was a civilian agency, with no legal or obligatory ties to the military. In fact, the only claim ORBMICOM could make to NARMA was that they operated space stations. The two agencies got along as well as oil and water, and so messages from one to the other were extremely rare, unless there was an emergency.

With this is mind, Patricia double tapped the message, which turned out to be short, sweet and to the point.

“By request of Secretary Of Defense Kristina Howe, we wish to inquire as to whether or not your lasers are capable of being directed out towards space, rather than towards Earth. Please respond ASAP”

That was it. It was the most bizarre question Patricia had ever received, and she wasn’t even sure if she could answer. The lasers were mounted to the underside of the ring and central cylinder, not on the top. Theoretically, one could turn the station upside-down, but that was a massive undertaking, and would cause chaos for its occupants. A few minutes of thinking, and Patricia’s tired brain came up with a solution. She brought up CeresNet, the local station computer network, and placed a call for Karl Phipps, the chief engineer aboard Ceres. It rang a few times, and then Karl’s face appeared.

“Patricia, what can I do for you? I haven’t seen your smiling face in a while.” Karl was always kind and welcoming, since apparently that was German custom. He had white hair that was only just starting to recede, and a kind and well-worn face.

Patricia smiled back, waving to the hologram. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? We should chat over coffee sometime, but right now, I have a rather pressing matter than I need your help with.”

“Why certainly. Anything you need, I am here to assist.”

With a swift and determined swipe, Patricia moved the message from ORBMICOM from her console to the video screen. It flashed once, and Karl looked down at his own console. A range of looks rapidly flashed across his face before he looked up, confusion now reigning in his mind.

“What on Earth do they need to know that for? Are we being invaded by little green men from Mars?”

Patricia laughed; the only little green men on Mars these days were the farmers who tended the vast domed agriculture complexes in Olympus City. “I honestly have no idea. But the message was priority one, so I’m assuming that someone finds it important. Do you know any way to point the lasers out to space without flipping the station?”

Karl hummed, stroking his chin, a look of deep thought on his face. A few moments passed, and he bit his lip. “Well, there is always the upper relay. I mean, it hasn’t been activated in four decades, but it still technically could work.”

It was so obvious that Patricia hadn’t even thought of it. Because of the station’s military history, it had been equipped with two sets of lasers; the bottom set, designed to wipe out enemies on the ground, and the top set, designed to defend the station from Hunter-Killer satellites or spaceships. When the station had been converted to the weather control center that I now was, the top array had been brought offline, and hadn’t been used in about the time Karl had said. There were no guarantees that it would even work anymore, and God-only-knew what dreadful state the circuitry and mechanical components were in. But when the Secretary Of Defense asked you a question, you answered, even if answering made your life a lot harder.

“Does the top array even work anymore? I can’t imagine the focusing mirrors are in any sort of usable shape, and I don’t even want to think about degraded the power conduits probably are. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the hatch doors to let the damn things out didn’t work.” Even as she asked the question, her busy hands were bringing up a diagnostic map of the station, and judging by the look on Karl’s face, he was doing the same.

The screen showed about what Patricia had expected. Not only were the upper lasers not online, the computer wasn’t even recognizing them as still connected to the power grid or CeresNet. There would be no remote diagnosing the array from here. Any inspection would have to be done either on a space-walk, or by manual inspecting of the array docks themselves. And with the hatch doors not responding to activation commands, only the latter was currently possible. Karl had apparently found the same information, because Patricia found herself looking at the eyes of a very annoyed man.

“Damn things. If ORBMICOM wants us to turn the upper array on, we’re going to need a lot of funds, parts and time. I can get my guys working on manual diagnostic scans right now, if you want, but it’ll take at least a week to check each laser individually, and probably a month or two to reestablish connection with CeresNet and the power grid. And then, assuming everything goes ahead smoothly, a few more months, maybe half a year to assess, repair and upgrade all the equipment. And…”

“So what you’re saying is that barring an act of God, the upper array isn’t going to be in working order anytime soon?” Patricia cut in, not meaning to be rude, but knowing that Karl would ramble on if somebody didn’t stop him. Karl nodded briskly.

“To say the least. I’m not even sure the Almighty himself could fix this up in less than a month.”

“Alright. I’ll contact our ORBMICOM overlords and let them know. They won’t be happy, but it’s not my job to please. I’ll talk to you later Karl”

The old man smiled, and the screen went dead. Not for long, though, because no sooner had she gotten off the call with Karl did she open up a communication line with ORBMICOM command. It took some working, and she had to give her clearance codes at least five different times to five different sub-level officers, but it paid off.
Ten minutes later, she was face-to-face with General Rothstein, the five star general in control of ORBMICOM. He was a young looking man, probably due to genetic modifications, with steely blue eyes and a jaw cut like rock.

“Miss Kensington. I was not expecting you to contact me directly. A simple message would have sufficed.” He spoke with a condescending voice that was without a doubt intended to humble his inferiors.

Patricia would have none of it. With just a steely and high-and-mighty a voice as Rothstein, she spoke.

“Yes, well, I have news that if I sent it in a message, I’d be getting a call from you anyways. Figured I’d save us both some time and just skip the middle step.”

Patricia guessed that, based on Rothstein’s facial reaction to her tone of voice, he had never had anyone talk to him like that. For a moment, Patricia was afraid that he would start yelling, but instead he did the opposite. His hard-ass voice softened, as did his glare.

“Point taken, Miss Kensington. Now, what news do you have about the laser array? Mainly, is it operational and is it pointed out to space?” There was an odd tone to the General’s voice. He sounded rushed, as if he was in a race. His face seemed to fall as Patricia shook her head.

“No sir. The bottom array isn’t turning anywhere. The good news is that there is an upper array. The bad news is that it hasn’t been activated or even hooked up to the main grid for more than four decades. Now, I have spoken to my chief engineer, and he says that he and his team could get the upper array working.”

Rothstein smirked, a knowing look forming on his face. “I’m sensing an ‘if’ or a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence. What is this going to cost us, and can it be done cheaper?”

“Unknown, and no. The repairs that will need to be done are going to run in the tens of millions, since these are very specialized parts. And if we skimp on materials, we may end up with a chain-reaction collapse of the entire laser network. So no, the usual tactic of repairing things with duct tape and chewing gum is not an option here.” Patricia spoke slowly, always the curious one, trying to see what Rothstein was in a rush for. “General, might I ask why this is so important to you? ORBMICOM has never expressed any interest in us NARMA folks before, so why do you suddenly want out laser array? And why out to space?” It was a long string of questions, and knowing the military, Patricia expected an answer to exactly none of them. And that was what she got.

“I can’t say. It’s…” Rothstein started to say, “But it’s a matter of national security” Patricia finished, imitating as military of a voice as she could. Rothstein smiled, as much as his training would allow, and curtly nodded.

“I will tell you this. The DOD will give you any resources you need. It is critical that the laser grid be up and running within a month. Anything you need, just ask. Understand?” The general’s voice got very serious, very suddenly, and it threw Patricia off-balance. She just stuttered and nodded, wondering what could possibly so important that the federal government was willing to write a blank check.

“Good. Rothstein out.” The hologram vanished, leaving a stunned Patricia sitting there, staring at the empty air where the hologram had just seconds ago hovered. The stunned state she was in didn’t last for long; if the array was actually to be fixed within the month, there was a lot that needed to be done. And with an actual deadline and a blank check to fix the array, things needed to happen, and fast. With one hand, she ordered a coffee from the cafeteria; with the other, she began placing calls to station personnel.

And on the side, she sent a covert and encrypted message to the NARMA Control Center in Portland. The message contained nothing but a string of letters and numbers that masked a much deeper encryption code. If any prying eyes, and ORBMICOM was sure to be prying, happened to see the message, they would get nothing out of it but gibberish.  The PA system proudly announced that lunch was now being served. Patricia sent off her messages, and quickly left the control room, the door hissing closed behind her. As she passed by a large window, she caught a glint of something, something shining out in space. Patricia did a double-take, and squinted at the object. It was a sleek, slender and aerodynamic space ship, painted in a glimmering silver and blue. An ORBMICOM ship.