2084 The End of Days (19 page)

“Apologies, gentlemen, I was dragged out of my bed at three thirty and I am still trying to waken up. Am I right in guessing that this has something to do with the recent act of terrorism on British soil?”

The US President spoke first.

“Yore way off beam, John - ah only wish it was as mundane as that –“

Ralston shook himself wide awake at President Trueman’s statement and interjected with some surprise.

“For God’s sake, Josh, British royalty and our subjects being blown to bits on the streets of England is hardly mundane!”

Gupta-Chaudry intervened in mediatory tones.

“John, you must listen to what President Trueman is about to tell you. He is not trying to minimise the Windsor massacre. It was truly terrible, but what you are about to hear is much more terrifying –“

Moshi Shalomon also pitched in.

“Prime Minister, I would advise you that we must all remain quiet and just let Josh speak.”

John Ralston had a terrible thought.

“Oh, God, we are not talking about all-out war with the LOIN states here are we?”

Trueman was beginning to get irritated at not being able to make his pitch.

“Fuckin’ hell, John, it’s nothin’ like that – are you gonna let me tell ya or do ya just wanna play Charades?”

“Apologies, Josh, please carry on.”

Ralston watched on his webcam as Trueman looked down, probably at his briefing notes, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.

“Gentlemen, ah have to discuss with you tonight the gravest matter ever to face mankind. Let me tell you what ah know, which is still sketchy, and then ah can take any questions after ah have spoken. It appears from information gathered by my NASA team and Moshi’s guys at INSACC in Tel Aviv that a new comet – apparently they have named it, um, Schenkler HMM2 – has entered the solar system and it is heading our way. Now, as I have said, the info ah’m gettin’ is still sketchy – but, ah, it appears from the options being developed on computer models by the astro-guys that there are two key scenarios. Option A is a near miss with the tail of the comet causing widespread destruction across the face of the Earth. Option B – which, gentlemen, is being given a 75% probability rating at present – is a head-on collision with Earth in 2084 and ah am bein’ told that it means the total destruction of our planet – completely vaporised apparently. Do you have any questions, gentlemen?“

There was a stunned silence, with each of the leaders experiencing a nauseous knot tighten in their stomachs. Ralston’s immediate thoughts were not for mankind at all but for his wife and two children sleeping soundly and safely – or maybe not so safely – upstairs in 10 Downing Street. Finally, he broke the silence.

“My God, Josh, can this be true? I mean to say – what can we do about it?”

“Well, look here, John, as ah’ve said – things are still very sketchy. Ah was only given this info a short time ago. Obviously, we need to look at the two key scenarios in detail and come up with plans as to how we are gonna tackle them. Jeez, gentlemen - the whole goddam future of mankind has just been bestowed upon us here! But really, our first problem is how to communicate this to our peoples in an orderly manner. Christ, there could be mass panic out there, the whole fuckin’ system could break down – mankind could topple like a house of cards – anarchy, war, famine, economic and infrastructural collapse –“

Gupta-Chaudry spoke trying to remain calm although his stomach was churning. All he could think of was how he could get home to India to see
his family.

“Josh, when did you say this comet would arrive and when would we be certain whether we would be looking at option A or option B?”

“Um, eh, yeah good question Ravinder – ah believe that – um, ah don’t have the exact date in front of me – but ah think some time towards the end of May 2084 is when this Schenkler thing gets here. As far as the A / B scenario goes, um, my guys tell me they will be 100% certain when this thing passes Jupiter, ah believe sometime late next year. Somethin’ to do with the gravitational pull of Jupiter apparently –“

John Ralston fired in a question.

“Josh, to what extent is this information known in the wider community?”

“Well, John, from what we can see there is no ongoing internet traffic on this info and no garble on the wires about it that we have detected. So,
apart from our very tight circle and the NASA and Israeli Nimrod teams the world is yet to fully discover all about Schenkler HMM2.”

Ralston thought for a moment and then replied.

“If this sensitive information is not out there as yet, then I would suggest a drip feed approach to this in order to do a damage limitation exercise, Josh.”

“Exactly – that is what ah had in mind, John. What ah would propose, gentlemen, is that we prepare a joint statement basically on the basis of option A only at this point in time – the near Earth miss option – and that we are preparing contingency plans, etcetera. We also put in motion behind the scenes – planning for the worst-case scenario option B. We keep a close eye on Intel traffic to determine whether the world is waking up to that Armageddon scenario and prepare to put it out world-wide at that time. Ah would also suggest an emergency in-camera session of the Security Council, Ravinder? All agreed -?”

John Ralston, Moshi Shalomon and Ravinder Gupta-Chaudry all agreed and the UN Secretary-General agreed to arrange the Security Council session in New York within the week. The US President began to wind up the call.

“Okay guys, ah’m sure John and Moshi want to get back to bed – so any last questions?”

Ralston spoke.

“You must be joking if you think I’m going to be able to sleep now, Josh! One final question – the name of the comet - Schenkler HMM2 - what is all that about?”

The Israeli Prime Minister answered.

“It is a combination of things, John. The first photographs taken of the comet were done by one of my top astrophysicists at INSACC – Ari Schenkler. Schenkler had called the comet Har Megiddo, thus HM. Har Megiddo is Hebrew for Armageddon. Josh’s guys had named it Messiah 2, or the Second Coming, thus M2.”

Ralston yawned wearily and gulped.

“I’m sorry I asked, Moshi.”

Trueman broke in.

“Ah’m glad ya did, John. It has reminded me to tell ya all somethin’ else. Although the photographs were taken by Schenkler, his data was hacked into by someone on your side of the Pond, John. We believe he or she may be in - or certainly acting in - Scotland –“

“Jesus, Josh, I thought you said that this was not out in the wider community?”

“Yeah, sorry, John - ah forgot about that. But this guy is actually an expert in the astro-field and the guy is not peddling the info on the WWW as yet. I’ll get my CIA guys to pass on what we have to MI5. We should be able to take him down fairly quickly!”

Ralston was horrified.

“Josh – take him down – you don’t mean…!”

Trueman laughed.

“Hell, no, John - from what my guys tell me this guy is too valuable to all of us. We want him over here working on this thing with us!”

Chapter 14

Earthdate: 09:47 Friday 21 February, 2081 CST

I
rene DuPré noticed the attractive blond walking into the reception area and recognised her straight away. Irene pushed her way through the milling Houston Control staff and the excited family members of the crew and passengers up on the Oceanus. The Oceanus was in excellent reception range of satellite E2MSN-16 orbiting at a range of eleven million miles above Mars. E2MSN-16 was just short of halfway to
Midway Island,
the huge international space station which remained in an almost continuous fixed position between Earth and Mars. Midway was like an enormous floating space-city and it acted as the main hydrogen / oxygen refuelling and refitting station for ships plying between the two planets. In about a month’s time Oceanus would stop at Midway for just two days for refuelling, barring any repairs and refits which might delay departure. The stop would also give the crew and passengers some rest and recuperation. Irene managed to catch the eye of the blond who instantly recognised the African-American Senior Controller at Houston. Irene waved her over.

“Peggy Sue – girl, ya just get prettier every time ah see you –“

Peggy Sue Crossan gave Irene a big warm hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“Who are ya kiddin’, Irene? Ah’ve just come off the red-eye from Charlottesville an’ ah’m still bushed. Hey, but yore looking pretty damn good too, honey bunch.”

Irene led Peggy Sue over to a vacant table and they sat down. She poured iced water from a jug into two small plastic cups. Irene took a quick sip, glanced at the time on her cell phone and then eyed up Peggy Sue, assessing her body language.

“Okay, Peggy Sue, ya’ll be goin’ into the booth to see Jack in about five minutes. So, girl, how is everything with ya? The boys okay?”

Peggy Sue’s eyes dropped away from direct contact with Irene and she blushed guiltily. Irene lifted Peggy’s chin back up into her eye-line.

“Right, girl, spit it out – what’s up?”

Peggy Sue blurted it out tearfully.

“Oh God, Irene – ah don’t know how ta say this – but ah’m leavin’ Jack an’ the farm up in Lexington. Ah can’t take it any more bein’ the lonely wife of an astronaut!”

Irene put a comforting arm around Peggy Sue.

“Well, girl, ah didn’t see that comin’ – ah thought that you an’ Jack were rock solid.”

“Looks can deceive, Irene. In a way ah kind a duped Jack into marriage when ah got pregnant with Milner. Ya know somethin’ – Jack has never ever told me that he loves me. Ah think he still carries a torch for his first wife Maria.”

“That don’t mean that ya got ta leave him girl –“

Peggy Sue looked at Irene. Her eyes were still reddened and moist.

“Ah’ve found somebody else, Irene. He’s an English RAF fighter pilot. Ya know – somebody who ain’t away from Earth every four or five months at a stretch. Ah’m goin’ to take the boys ta England in a couple of weeks’ time.”

Irene took another brief glance at her watch and then stared at Peggy Sue with deep concern etched in her brow.

“You’re due in the booth in one minute, Peggy Sue. You can’t tell Jack all this. Christ, these guys can go stir crazy up in those big tin cans. If you tell him you’re leavin’ there’s no sayin’ what he might do. Ah mean ta say, he is one of the shift Commanders on Oceanus – Jack needs to have his wits in gear at all times. So ya need ta keep it light in there, okay?”

Peggy Sue quickly tidied up her smudged mascara.

“It ain’t what ah had planned, Irene – but yore the boss!”

Irene looked over at Video Booth 13 and the green light was on above the glass door. Irene thought to herself, it would be thirteen – unlucky for some!

“Okay, girl, you’re in number 13 over there. Jack’ll be on screen waiting for you. Remember you only get five minutes so only give him the good news.”

Peggy Sue pecked Irene lightly on the cheek and walked over to booth 13, sitting herself down in front of the monitor, which seemed to automatically activate. Jack’s face immediately appeared on screen a bit fuzzily in front of her.

“Jack, honey, it is Peggy Sue here – how are ya doin’, darlin’?”

Peggy Sue had made the video call many times before. She knew she would have to wait for the delayed response to work its way through the E2MSN. As she waited Peggy Sue thought back on what she had related to Irene. She had met Justin Smythe at the Cape Canaveral Christmas Party in
mid-December. It was laid on for employees and also spouses of astronauts every year. Actually, it had been the first time that she had ever taken up the invite, because the boys had always been so young before. Her parents had agreed to drive up from Birmingham to the farm at Lexington. They would baby-sit for Milner and Jack Junior to allow Peggy Sue to stay over at the Cape for one night. Justin had been at Cape Canaveral to receive some training simulations on the new F-155 ISSS fighter bombers. The F-155 was an inner-space super-stealth plane, capable of flying up to ten miles above the Earth’s atmosphere. It was the most sophisticated military plane ever devised and the RAF was interested in purchasing the plane. Justin and a few of his RAF mates had introduced themselves to the group of astronauts’ wives that Peggy Sue was sitting with. The girls were known as the
Black Widows.
Peggy Sue and Justin had gotten on famously, although they had kept it purely platonic at the Cape party. Justin had contacted Peggy Sue later when she returned to Lexington and their affair had started from then, although they had kept it discreet. Peggy was sure that even the two farmhands, Paddy Maguire and Ricardo Esposito, had no idea about her and Justin. Suddenly, Jack’s voice crackled in.

“Peggy Sue, baby, oh my God, ya don’t know just how good it is ta see your sweet face. Ya look fantastic, honey. How ya doin’? How are Milner and Jack Junior? Did little Jack have a great birthday party? Tell me everythin’ ‘cos it’s as borin’ as hell up here –“

Her eyes flicked guiltily away from the monitor. Tell you everything, Jack, I wish I could, she thought, but Irene has warned me not to.

“Everythin’ is fine down here, Jack. Milner had a touch of flu last week but he’s okay now. Little Jack’s party was a blast. All the local kids came by - even though it had snowed heavy the day before. In fact, it’s been a real hard winter. Ain’t been no global warmin’ in Virginia! The farm is good, Jack – we will soon be calving so we are gonna be real busy. Oh, and Paddy and Ricky told me ta say hi ta ya –“

She felt that she was beginning to struggle for things to say to Jack. Irene had thrown her plan to tell Jack about Justin into disarray. Justin had managed to get an extension to the RAF’s assessment project examining the benefits of adding the F-155 to the British Fighter Command. He would take an air-car up from Cape Canaveral and meet Peggy Sue for afternoon lovemaking sessions at a quiet, if somewhat crappy, motel about 10 miles south of Lexington. Only once did he stay overnight at the farm. There had been a really big snowstorm and Peggy Sue told Paddy and Ricardo to take a
couple of days off. Milner and Jack Junior were puzzled to meet this strange
g
uy at breakfast. However, her two sons were not antagonistic towards Justin and they wanted to know all about being a fighter pilot. Justin was a divorcee with no kids and he adored the two boys at first sight. It was nearly two weeks ago when Justin had told Peggy Sue that he would have to return to his home base at RAF Lyneham in England by the beginning of March. Justin told Peggy Sue that he loved her. He asked her to come and live with him in Wiltshire and to bring the boys too. Peggy Sue had thought about it and then she agreed to join Justin. Jack came back on.

“Yeah, tell Paddy and Ricky ah said hi too. Tell them ah’m lookin’ forward to getting’ ma self up ta ma knees in muck again. That’s the thing about space – everthin’ is so goddam clean an’ sterile. Although, ah don’t know if ya know it but they do have an experimental cattle station down on Mars. Apparently, they’ve built gigantic super-glass pods where they’re growin’ grass successfully and tryin’ ta rear cattle. Anyway, nuff about Mars, tell me more about ma lovely 3R!”

Peggy Sue glanced at the clock counter on the top right-hand of the monitor. Four minutes fifteen seconds.

“Jack, our five minutes is nearly up. We’re gonna get cut off soon. So ah’m gonna send your kisses to Milner and Jack Junior an’ ah’ll say hi ta your pop. He’s doin’ really great – he’s still workin’ at the drug rehab center in downtown Lexington.”

Four minutes thirty five seconds. By the time Jack came back on their time together would be over. Literally over, Peggy Sue thought. Her stomach started churning and she fought back the tears. She felt a terrible wave of guilt. Poor Jack, she thought, he did not really deserve this. He had always been such a good husband and father. But he had never given her the one thing that she had always craved for - his love. Now she had Justin who did love her. She thought, it’s all over Jack.

“Peggy Sue, honey, tell my pop ah truly love him. An’ darlin’ ah got somethin’ important to tell ya too –“

Five minutes. Jack’s face disappeared from the monitor and an electronic voice came over the speakers.

“Your session has now come to an end. You are requested to vacate the booth immediately in order for the next family member to make use of it. Thank you for your co-operation and goodbye.”

Peggy Sue stumbled blindly out of the booth. Irene was close by and she crumpled into her open arms and she bawled loudly.

*

Earthdate: Friday 19:55 February 21, 2081 GMT

Gary crossed Edinburgh’s old cobbled High Street and looked up at the name emblazoned above the blue painted pub on the corner -
World’s End.
Ewan would be finishing his shift in five minutes and they would hopefully both soon be enjoying a couple of pints of Edinburgh’s finest beers. Gary pushed his way into the busy bar, full of students from the universities getting their weekends off to a drunken start. The interior was one of dark-panelled wood, ancient stone walls and low raftered ceilings. Gary could see Ewan behind the crowded noisy bar, obviously handing over his shift to quite a good-looking guy that Gary had not seen before. He wondered if he could try a chat-up line on him. Ewan spotted him and Gary signalled with his tilting cupped hand to signal for a pint. Ewan shook his head in the negative and indicated with his fingers that he would be two minutes. Jesus, thought Gary, are we not getting a pint? A couple of minutes later Ewan came out from the bar and led Gary out of the hubbub in the World’s End and back out on to the High Street. Gary looked at his friend in puzzlement.

“Fuck sake, Ewan, are we no getting’ a drink at all?”

Ewan shook his head while he looked about surreptitiously.

“No, Gary, it’s too noisy in there. Look, Jill’s been on the phone. We need to talk urgently – so let’s go to Chuck’s iCafé. It’ll be quieter there –“

It took less than five minutes for them to walk briskly to Chuck’s. It was a bit like déjà-vu when they walked in. Michelle was behind the counter reading another gossip magazine and she hardly even acknowledged their entrance. Old Buster, the local drunk, was slumped in the corner near a radiator blissfully sleeping. Ewan noticed that he had an old tattered medal pinned on his grubby jacket. Ewan pointed to Gary to take a seat at one of the tables.

“I’ll get the coffees, Gaz.”

Ewan walked over to the counter and Michelle stood up to serve him with an expression that showed that she was totally fed up.

“Hi Michelle – can I have two Grande lattes please? It’s dead in here again, especially for a Friday night?”

Michelle started preparing the coffees as she replied.

“You’re right there, Ewan – ah think there was some sort of military parade up tae the Castle earlier on, ken. So ah think everyone has hit the pubs except old Buster over there –“

Ewan had heard in the World’s End that it had been the 50
th
Anniversary
of the end of the Second Afghan Conflict which effectively was the start of
the long peace between the UN and the LOIN. Michelle placed the lattes on the counter and continued speaking as Ewan handed over the money.

“Ach, this place has been dying for months, Ewan. Ah reckon Chuck’ll end up closing it down in a year or two.”

Ewan flashed a wicked smile at Michelle as he walked back towards Gary with the coffees.

“Well, I can guarantee you’ll definitely be closed for good in three years’ time!”

Michelle gave Ewan a puzzled look, shrugged her shoulders indifferently and went back to reading her gossip magazine. Gary took a sip from his frothy latte with a furrowed brow.

“Is your coffee okay, Gary?”

“Aye, except it’s no a fuckin’ pint is it, Ewan?”

Ewan put down his coffee and prepared to give Gary an explanation for dragging him away from the World’s End pub.

“Look, Gaz, I’m really worried. Jill phoned me from London this morning. The government are still putting heavy pressure on the Times and the Leaks sites to keep the lid on the Schenkler story –“

“An’ ah take it that means we’ll be unlikely to ever see any cash for all our efforts?”

“For God’s sake, Gary – the money’s no longer important. Who the hell needs money now when we are all going to be blown to smithereens in three years time?”

“Ah still plan to do a lot of things in those three years, Ewan - so ah still want ma payout from Jill!”

Ewan shook his head. Gary was still chasing the wrong God.

“Forget the money for a minute, Gary! The bottom line is that Jill has heard on the grapevine that the National Security Services are on to us. Buckley even asked her to name her sources for the Schenkler story, which is apparently as unprofessional as a senior editor can get with a journalist –“