ASSOCIATION / CH. 32:IMPACT
6AM, WEDNESDAY 14TH FEB, 2272
“Happy Valentine's day, Bella.” Trevor said, handing her a deep red rose, as she came to the mess hall. “I hoped we'd meet.”
“Thank you! Happy impact day doesn't quite have the same ring, does it?” Bella replied.
“No.”
“Sorry, I'm really not looking forward to seeing that city devastated for real.”
“Are you on stand-by again today?” Trevor asked.
“Yes. You too?”
“Yes. I asked about how much time we'd have to get out just now, and the guy at the desk said he couldn't answer for sure, but 'Don't worry, there are helicopters on call and we'll get you to a safe distance on time.' It doesn't really reassure me, you know; I'm not flying.”
“I thought that was all sorted?”
“It is, within Security. But we're lent to the military for this, aren't we?”
Bella realised what Trevor was saying. “You mean they're expecting to fly us all out?”
“I hope not. I've just made it clear that I'm not flying anywhere. I love you Bella, I don't know why I mustn't fly, but...”
“Don't you go dying on me, Trevor. Or disobeying God.” She grabbed him in a powerful embrace.
[Bella, Trevor] Eliza called, [Sorry to interrupt, but there are idiots in the city.]
[Eliza, what Trevor's just heard from the military sounded like they're planning to put him somewhere they might need to fly him out. That's not going to work.]
[Not at all.] Trevor agreed.
[That's bad.] agreed Eliza, [Someone didn't pass on orders or something. Right, I'm going to team you up with Samantha, just in case, Trevor.]
[Samantha?]
[Has the power, but it's mostly secret. She's one of the APC drivers, a good one. You get separated, I can get her to you, and you to her.]
[Thank you, Eliza.]
[And she knows me.] Eliza added.
[As in...?] asked Trevor.
[As in she was the first person I ever met with the power. I don't know if she knows Mystery Voice is also known as Princess Eliza these days, but she certainly knows Eliza has the power.]
[Why haven't I heard of her before now?] Bella asked.
[She's just finished a six month tour in Maria's part of the world. She and Henry, her husband, did too well at language learning, so they've been assigned back here early to help train up the next bunch of soldiers. Then they'll rotate back with them.]
[With a promotion?] Bella asked.
[Oh, they've already got that. She's a corporal.]
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[Sam, 'Mystery Voice' here. Hi to Henry too, if he's awake.]
[Hello. He's not. {Concern} You're not going to make me play contact person, are you Maam?]
[Not if I can help it. You're getting an official truthsayer for that.]
[That's a relief, Maam.]
[But please don't 'Maam' me. Hopefully you're going to be bussing him and the squad around, and not going to be separated, but please don't go volunteering for other runs. He can't be air-lifted out, so you're going to need to get him out if time gets short.]
[{Confusion} Why can't he be air-lifted. Something medical?]
[No, he's fit as a fiddle, even climbs mountains for fun, apparently. But he'd rather stay for the impact than fly.]
[{Shock} That's quite a powerful phobia.]
[Actually, in some ways its stronger than just a phobia. He's in Security, and his file says 'Under no circumstances is this man to be put in a situation where he will need to fly.']
[But that file isn't accessible to military?]
[Not the guys running the clean up, no. There are orders on file concerning him, but last he heard someone hadn't read them.]
[And I take it there are people in the city to move out?]
[About two dozen slipped in over night. Expect your orders any time now.]
[Thanks for the warning. Can I ask something? Not you Henry, Mystery Voice. I'm just getting briefed.]
[Morning Henry. Yes, you can ask, Sam.]
[I know what I was officially told about you, and not to speculate, but urm... I think I recognise your mental voice. Have we met?]
[Yes, Sam. You were the first thought-hearer I met. When I'm doing this talking to thought-hearers in Security and the military thing, most people prefer to think of me as 'Mystery Voice' rather than Eliza. Helps them keep what my father-in-law declared to be a class-epsilon state secret.]
[Gulp.]
[Did I need to not hear this?] Henry asked.
[Hey, you've done fine with the class delta you already knew about me having the power, Sam. Don't worry about it the extra grade. Yes, Henry, because you're sharing thoughts with Sam, and we don't want her to go breaking state secrets, do we?]
[I didn't know it was a class delta state secret, Maam.] Sam protested.
[Call me Eliza, or Mystery if you prefer; lots of people know me by that name but not the other.]
[Including the truthsayer I'm about to give a ride to?]
[He knows me by both names too, so don't worry about it Sam. Just concentrate on driving safely and keeping him off a plane.]
[That's a royal order, Maam?]
[Absolutely. As is not calling me Maam, Sam. His majesty has told the truthsayer that he doesn't need to fly. Count that as a royal promise it's your duty to help fulfil.]
[Thank you, Maam.]
[Sam. Will you please call me by name?] Eliza demanded.
[But Eliza, it's my duty to call my superiors Sir or Maam.]
[When on duty.]
[I've just had a briefing, aren't I on duty?]
[Are you two out of bed yet?]
[Hey!] Henry protested.
[I didn't want to distract Sam if she was driving or talking to someone.]
[Hmm, likely story.] Henry grumbled.
[It's not like I get to see your bedroom in full technicolour or anything like that. I get a vague splodge where people are in the room and if I try hard then I can get a sense of what they're doing. You were dreaming and Sam was admiring your profile. When I don't know people I get a glimpse of their face.]
[I didn't know that.]
[Well, now you do. Anyway, get dressed if you're not already, Sam. Your captain is on his way down the corridor with orders.]
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BRIEFING. 6.30AM.
“Right, ladies and gentlemen. You're in eight groups. Your deployments are mostly but not totally the same as yesterday, so check. There are twenty six individuals in the city. Find them, arrest them, tie them up, send them to the processing centre, or take them. The rules of engagement are as follows: no polite knocking, everyone who you find has reentered the city illegally. Stunners or sleep gas may be used unless they come immediately when you call them. Impact is due at precisely twenty-three minutes past noon. Astronomers say there may be some small fragments coming a bit sooner, so we're not planning on flying anywhere after noon. Therefore, any of you in the danger area at eleven fifty had better have called for evacuation already, or you're too late. Ideally, of course, we'll all be done in the city by eleven. APCs ought to be leaving in time to be the seventy five kilometers away from the city that is considered entirely safe from the impact. “Water has already been turned off to the city, liquifuel tanks should have been drained. Electricity will be going off now. Once it goes off, there will be approximately four hours of battery backup from the network towers, the last two of which will be in power-saving mode: no video, low speed data and speech only. After that, there ought to be an extreme-power saving mode, which would provide cover for panic buttons and ultra small data packets. We're talking fifty something characters maximum. Apparently no one's bothered testing that the battery monitors are accurate enough for that to work recently, so who knows, they might be, or they might not. Equally, it might not be four hours, it might only be three, or something like that. So there's a risk you're going to be out of communications just as you need evacuation, except for radios. You know how slow they are for data.
In other words if you're not on your way home by eleven, keep your truthsayer close. Questions?”
“Are any of the criminals armed?”
“Pass.” the Captain said, and looked at the gathered truthsayers.
[Too vague a question.] George told the truthsayers there. [Baseball bats and lumps of wood somewhere nearby, or armed as in they've got a gun in their hand right at the moment?]
[How about looking for people who know where to get a gun, and can do so within ten minutes.] Trevor suggested.
[Good one, Trevor. And the answer is... three of them, in different gangs' heartlands.]
“I'm told there are three people can get a gun within ten minutes and know it.” Trevor announced. “I'm also told they're in different gang districts.”
“Are all of them intending to stay, or are there any we don't need to round up because they're about to leave anyway?”
“Good question, any answers?” the captain again looked at the truthsayers.
[There might be more than the twenty six in the city, I only looked for people intending to stay or needing help to leave.] Eliza informed Bella, [Also, in case anyone asks, that's both inside the city boundary, and in the fifty km limit.]
[I was about to, so congratulations.] Bella thought, and passed on that information.
“With the power to the net going out, what does that do to transports?” Sam asked.
“They'll stop when they can't get data. Don't try putting anyone in a transport after about ten, it might kill them. After that, then they'll need to go inside or outside the APCs.”
“What do rules of engagement say about people behind locked or barricaded doors, sir?” a soldier asked.
“Loud-hailer, sleep gas, then all necessary force, just remember you're trying to get them out alive and in one piece, and you don't have time to pick up detached limbs, so don't detach any.” came the reply.
[In case anyone's wondering, none of the people you need to fetch are deaf.] Sarah chipped in, [Unlike yesterday.]
“What happens if we can't get to everyone on time, sir?”
“You leave.”
“What's the prioritisation?”
[Purely geographical.] George supplied, [Optimised routes, starting at the edges of the city, going towards the centre. That way, you're closer to each other in case of problems and if some groups finish first they can help out without much time lost in travel. It wasn't planned that way, but it just so happens that the armed gang members are last on the list.]
Trevor relayed that, and processed it all in his mind. Eight groups, twenty six people. Three or four people to move in the city, by eleven.
Yesterday it had averaged twenty minutes per person to get them out and packaged off, and another ten minutes to get to the next place, so if it took one hour to get to the city they ought to be finished at ten.
So, it ought to work out, if everyone was average. But these people were tough cases, deliberately returning presumably for their own nefarious purposes. Maybe robbing and looting, almost certainly not staying still. It'd take longer to grab them. Hopefully, the sorting algorithm made up for that within the city though.
[With the APCs, and the sorting algorithm, it shouldn't take more than five minutes between people in the city.] George thought to everyone able to hear him in the room.
“Right squads, find your driver and move out. Time is precious.”
Sam asked “Sir, what speed limits apply?”
The captain grinned. “You're on live-saving work, Corporal. Klaxon and strobes when you go, and remember to respect the laws of physics.”
Trevor noticed the signs of anticipation that seemed to be present in all the drivers. “Why do you look so happy at that news?” he asked Sam.
“We get to press the little button which turns off economical driving mode.”
“Meaning you can accelerate a bit faster?”
“Is one G fast enough for you?” Sam asked, grinning.
“In an APC?” Trevor was surprised.
“Yes. They specified the same power train as for a hundred tonne tank, and an APC weighs quite a lot less. It's a bit tough on the tyres, of course, not to mention the landscape.”
“Top speed?”
“About three hundred on a nice straight road. But an APC is a just a tiny bit taller and more top-heavy than a sports car, hence the remarks about physics. We'll need to slow down in plenty of time for corners. The good news is the road is nice and straight on the way to Restoration.”
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It wasn't quite a race to the city. The APCs thundered along the empty roads at a nice 'sedate' hundred and eighty kilometers an hour. The APC wasn't exactly built for aerodynamics, and the geekiest drivers had pointed out to the others that if they tried to go at top speed both ways, they'd be getting out and pushing about half the way home, and that was without any fuel for moving around in the city.
It certainly made more sense to keep top speed as an option for getting away from the impact. The geeks had also pointed out that with what bends there were in the road, they'd need to slow down to about one-eighty anyway, from time to time. Why waste fuel in heating up the brakes?
Sam used the intercom to address the soldiers in the back. “Hey, people, you know what the captain said about no-fly times and the like?”
“Yes, Corporal?”
“I'd like to point out that an APC is a lot safer than a flying egg-beater if there's rocks coming from space, and our travel time at top speed is only a smidgen slower, so there's no way I'm abandoning this little baby just to get air-sick. I also got informed pre-briefing that our truthsayer's got a royal promise that he's not flying anywhere either. So, that's two of us staying close together.”
“Phobia?” asked the lance-corporal.
“Not exactly.” Trevor replied. “Though you could think of it that way. God told me never to fly. I don't know if that's meant to save me from something specific or several somethings, or to make sure I'm in the right place at the right time. But if it is something specific, then I'd have thought a day when the weather forecast includes rocks falling from the sky was pretty high on the list of possibilities.”
“Urm. Yeah. OK if we catch a lift home with you, Corporal?” one of the soldiers asked.
“That's what I'm here for, Private.”
Trevor spent most of the rest of the journey there praying that no one would fly out, especially not Bella, unless it was perfectly safe.
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“Our first target is called Janice Whitby, registered as missing yesterday, age fifteen.” Trevor read from his wrist unit. “Last seen sitting beside the main road.” He fed the destination to the APC's navigation unit.
“Sounds like an easy pick-up, then.” Sam commented.
“I hope so. Just don't scare her off.”
[She's frustrated, and worried, and fussing what I guess is some animal.] George thought to Trevor.
[Came in after a lost pet?]
[I guess so.]
“More information, it looks like she's a pet-rescuer.” Trevor reported, to groans from the back. “I hope the pet doesn't run off when we arrive or it'll probably go from dead easy to wild goose-chase.”
“Right, let's not waste time calling a transport if she comes willingly, make space in the back please, furthest from the door so you don't trip on her later.” Sam decided. “There she is; girl, smallish dog and upside-down bike.”
She slowed the APC, and opened the window. “Janice Whitby?”
“I had to rescue William. Then I got a puncture.” Janice said.
“You're getting on board. Now.”
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“What about my bike? Its new!”
“Oh, for crying out loud! Get in Janice, there's an asteroid coming and we've got a busy schedule! Someone put the bike on top and throw a strap on it! We don't have time for more this end of the day.”
Janice got in, and passed the soldiers to where she was told to sit. fortunately the dog, a boarder collie, seemed friendly.
“Right Janice. What we're supposed to do is handcuff you, call up a transport, and put you in it.” the lance-corporal said. “That takes time we'd rather keep for the other people, who might need gassing or stunning before they'll come quietly. You will not leave that seat, if you try, we'll handcuff you. If your dog runs away, we can try to stun it, which might be fatal, we can sleep gas it, which usually is fatal for dogs his size, or we can let it go. We will not stop to chase after it. Do you understand? Keep the dog on his lead, and if you think he might slip his collar, then we can give you some straps to make a harness for him.”
“I'm in trouble, aren't I?”
The lance corporal said, in friendly tones. “You're under arrest for breaking the evacuation order. Anything you say might be written down if we can spare the time and might get used as evidence in a court of law if they can read our handwriting. You have the right to choose between sitting still and keeping your dog under control and being handcuffed and/or dosed with sleep-gas.”
Janice decided to sit still.
Trevor reported “Next target, Henry Kray. Petty thief, repeat offender, not armed, last seen breaking into a shop my map says sells fine furniture.”
“Why?” Sam asked, “He's planning to make off with a dining room set?”
George knew: Henry had a habit of hiding in cellars when he was running from police, and trying to hide his stolen goods as he did so. [He's in the cellar, I guess he left something valuable down there.]
[In a shop?] Trevor was confused.
[There's a note on his file. Basements, cellars and boiler rooms are his favourite place to hide stolen goods when the police are after him.] There was a note there now, anyway; George had just added it.
“I'm told he's probably picking up stolen goods he hid earlier.”
The lance-corporal thought for a moment. “I expect that having to chase him round a shop he obviously knows better than we do is going to be much slower than waiting for him to come out peacefully.”
“Sounds reasonable.” Sam agreed. “Right, I'll stop a hundred meters from the shop, and you guys get to lay in ambush. Truthsayer, stay safe.”
“Yes, Maam!”
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Henry was in the cellar longer than anyone had expected, but George passed on that he was moving just as they were about to go in after him. Everyone was back in position when Henry gave a quick look left and right and he left the shop. No one in sight, time to visit his other little caches. Five steps later there was a thump behind him, as a soldier jumped from the shop's porch. “Halt! Henry Kray, you're under arrest for breach of evacuation laws. Move and you'll be stunned.”
Henry ran as soon has his mind had processed the word 'Halt'. It was almost a Pavlovian reaction. The stunner blast missed him, and he turned into a side street next to the shop. His legs collapsed as he ran into a cloud of sleep-gas.
Collection time: eleven minutes. They were ahead of schedule. At the same time as they called for a transport for Henry, they called one for Janice. She and William were sent off first. Her bicycle would stay strapped on top of the APC.
Half an hour later, Henry woke up to find himself handcuffed in a transport. He swore, and heard a voice he recognised. “Hello Henry, It sounds like you're awake. You've just broken probation, which means another year or so inside, at least.” It was his probation officer. “Now, you know and I know that little bag of jewelery you've got doesn't belong to you. Which particular robbery are they from, or is it one you've not done time for yet?”
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9.15AM
In a flash of plasma, Geostationary broadcast satellite Telstar-549 suddenly lost 50% of its power, attitudinal control and signal lock to the ground station. One of its solar wings floated off into the distance. The lump of asteroid that had hit it continued on, albeit now a cluster of shards, shattered by the shock of the impact. On Earth, tens of millions of people wondered what had happened to their favorite soap opera and then shrugged and tried to switch to another channel. That one wasn't working either. Some were bereft at the thought that they had nothing to watch at all. The engineers at flight control looked at the line of red indicators on the status board, and called for backup.
After some minutes, the cluster of further shattered asteroid fragments hit the atmosphere, where they burned up as a fireball. Hundreds awestruck people took photos. Space-Guard scientists analysed the track, and realised they'd made a mistake. The debris cloud stretching in front of and behind the asteroid heading for Restoration was considerably more extensive than expected. They were entirely unsure if that was good news or not. If the debris was smaller, that was good, but if it was going to mean meteorites hitting the surface across the whole planet, that was without a doubt a bad thing.
A tentative press release was put out.
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10.25 AM
The earlier successes for Trevor's team had evaporated with their third target, 'Jimbo Wizard' He had a bike, he knew the area well, there seemed to be plenty of escape routes for him and he obviously knew he was being hunted. Even with George giving directions and Trevor relaying them by radio, the squad kept getting into places to ambush him and he'd manage to get past them.
[Trevor, I've just checked. He's hearing your instructions to the troops.]
[How? This thing is encrypted isn't it?]
[You'll have to ask someone.]
[Thanks, I will.]
It turned out that no one had thought they'd need to encrypt. Once they did, the capture only took another ten minutes. They stunned him, and cuffed him. It was clear that he was a gang member, as well as a drug addict. He'd been look-out for the gang member that was their next target, who was guarding the gang's headquarters against all-comers.
“Why?” Sam asked him as soon as he came round.
“Why what?” the gang member replied, looking around. Trevor was looking at a map, the gang-member saw it was of the streets around the headquarters.
“Why guard what's going to be a pile of rubble soon?” Sam asked.
“Good question.” Trevor agreed. “You will answer the Corporal clearly, quickly and without lies.” He grabbed the man's wrist with his hand.
“Hey, you can't do that!”
“You are under arrest for breaking of evacuation laws. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. We are leaving in fifteen minutes. I will grant you mental privacy as long as that does not endanger anyone or hide a crime. I will tell when you are lying, confirm when you're telling the truth, and not breach your mental privacy. What's so special about the head-quarters?”
“The armoury, the stash, you name it.” came the reply.
“What stash? Drugs?” Trevor asked.
“Naah. Can't keep that stuff around.”
“Truth.” Trevor reported
“So, what is it? Money?” Sam asked.
“You joking? Who'd leave money lying around? It'd walk quicker than drugs.”
“Data?” she probed again.
“Yeah, got it in one, chick. Can I go now?”
“Partial answer.”
“What sort of data?”
“Not going to tell you.” the gang member said.
“He'll talk.” Trevor disagreed.
“So, valuable data. Worth dying for?”
“Who's going to die, we're bomb proof!”
“What sort of bomb? Nuke? How many megatons? What distance? What overpressure?” Sam asked.
“Dunno.”
“Truth. He's got no idea. And he hasn't even heard of the word overpressure.”
“So, your friend is in a nice safe bunker with half-meter thick walls and a great big door like you've seen on films?”
“Yeah! Just like one.”
“Lie.”
“Or has he got a few metal plates and mattresses against the walls, like someone found on the network?” Sam asked.
“Mick worked it out. It's bomb proof!”
Trevor shook his head. “Answer the lady, kiddo. Where were the plans from?”
“Off the net.” The youth hung his head wondered what would happen to his friend.
“Truth. My partially informed guess is strawberry jam, only the lumpy bits will not be fruit.” The teenager looked sick.
Sam looked curiously at Trevor but didn't ask. She really wasn't sure she wanted to know. “Now, tell the nice corporal about your stash, and then we can go and sleep-gas your friend without anyone getting hurt.” Trevor said.
“Or maybe you should come along to show the way to him?”
“Her.” He replied.
“I stand corrected. So, are you're going to help get Linsey Fisher out? Shall we just leave her there, or will you tell us where the booby-traps are?”
“And what sort of data?” Sam persisted.
“Insurance.” the youth said.
“Partial truth.”
“Blackmail data?”
“Not saying.”
“He's not thinking it either, just thinking 'I will not say, I will not say.' I think it's probably stuff to keep the gang members in order. Hmm. He faltered a bit there. Lovely habit, keeping a list of your member's crimes from year to year. It must show a real trust of one another.”
“Sorry, time's up, and I'm not going to send soldiers in past boobytraps for an idiot that thinks a few mattresses will protect her from a shockwave that'll smash concrete.”
“Mick said it was bomb-proof!”
“I notice Mick's not there, though is he?” Trevor pointed out.
“Load him up, let's leave.” Sam said, turning away.
“NO!” Jimbo screamed. “You can't! Lin's my girl-friend, you can't just leave her to die! At least let me call her!”
“Go ahead.” Sam said.
[Hello, can you suggest to Security they might want to send someone or something to have a look in there after the impact?]
[Already done. Get him to say what sort of booby traps, can you?]
“'Scuse me.” Trevor interrupted Jimbo's phone call, “Just so we don't add accomplice to murder to your charge sheet, when someone goes through the rubble, what sort of booby-traps are we talking about here? Trip-wired explosives, motion-detector machine-guns, or buckets of water above door-ways?”
“Pressure pads, motion detectors, high voltage generators.” Linsey said over Jimbo's wrist unit. “All stone cold dead with the electricity off.”
“You know that for a fact?” Trevor asked.
“The back-up batteries must have been dud. If not for my wrist unit, I'd be sitting in the dark here, it's all the same system, along with the so-called ventilation system. That lying toad Mick said they'd last a week; I'm coming out.”
“Were you lying about the strawberry jam?” Sam asked as they were waiting for Linsey.
“I don't think so. The blast is supposed to be pretty much from overhead. Never mind what the shock wave does, the floors of the building she's hiding in would smash down straight on top of her.
Linsey came to the doorway, carrying a rucksack. Jimbo did a double-take at her burden and slammed his mouth shut.
“Do I get time off for good behaviour?” she shouted.
“Probably.” Sam replied “Why?”
“Lin, what are you doing?” Jimbo demanded.
“Mick's a stinking toad, and he wanted us dead.” she said. “This is called making the best out of a bad situation. I want guarantees of reduced sentences for Dimbo Jimbo and me, or I'll drop a match in this. It's already got rifle powder in it so it'll burn well.”
“That's the stash?” Sam asked Jimbo.
“Yeah.”
“And why did she call you 'Dimbo'?”
“Coz she doesn't like me doing drugs.”
“Sounds like she's got a brain.” Sam commented then shouted “We're just soldiers. We can't negotiate that sort of thing.”
“Can you get an answer soon? I'm not grassing up the whole gang for nothing.”
“That's what you'd be doing?” Trevor asked.
“Yeah.”
“No negotiation needed.” Trevor shouted. “Turning king's evidence is guaranteed to reduce the sentence.”
“You sure?”
“Crown officer's word.” Trevor said, wondering to himself what was making the strange double shadows in Linsey's doorway.
“Good enough for me.” Linsey declared, and picked up the stash.
At that moment, there was a sound like a powerful detonation above them, to be more precise, it was a sonic boom. The shadows had been from the light of the approaching meteor. Another boom came from nearby. Glass fell from windows all around. A wicked looking fragment fell past Linsey's nose. She yelped, and leapt backwards and tripped over the rucksack.
“Get on board. Now!” Sam ordered.
There were more double-shadows. “Incoming!” Trevor shouted.
Linsey sprinted to the A.P.C, and lept in, only just after the soldiers had put Jimbo in. He was quivering in terror.
There was a flash, followed by a sonic boom. More glass fell and Sam saw the road in front of them had vanished in a cloud of smoke and dust.
“Looks like a ground impact, three hundred meters from us.” Sam called in over the radio.
“Acknowledged. All units, number off, with status.”
Everyone was mainly OK, some had injuries from falling glass.
Linsey swore loudly. “I left the stash.” She moved to get up, got told to stay put by a soldier. Her foot slipped as she tried to ignore him, and she sat back down heavily. There was blood on the floor. “Ow. Own up, who's been bleeding all over the floor, and making it all slippery?” she asked.
“Your leg.” said the solder opposite who'd told her to stay put.
Jimbo looked at the blood and passed out. Linsey shook her head in disgust, while stripping back her combat trousers to look at the wound. “Typical. I'm bleeding, and he passes out at the sight.”
“That happen often?”
“Jimbo gets road rash all the time falling off his bike, but he can't stand the sight of other people's blood. Last time I told him I'd dump him if it happened again.” It was a straight cut, from a piece of glass. She knew that for a fact, because the glass was still embedded in her calf-muscle. “I've had worse, but I think I need a medic.”
The soldier opposite agreed. “OK if we leave that glass in there, in case it bleeds worse with it out?”
“Absolutely.”
“Everyone strapped in?” Sam asked from the front. “We're going somewhere safer.”
“Any chance of getting the stash?” Linsey asked the soldier. “I need that reduced sentence.”
“Corporal? Did you hear? Prisoner has a puncture wound, needs a medic. She also says she needs that stash.”
“Fair enough. I'll back in and someone can pick it up. Stay on board. And everyone check your neighbour for wounds.”
“Base, squad two's target list is clear.” Sam reported, as she reversed the APC towards the building.
“Acknowledged, squad two. Squad three, status update?”
“All under control, base.”
“Squad two, head for home.”
“Acknowledged. Please have medics on standby, target four suffered puncture wound from falling glass. It looks fairly deep, but blood loss is currently minimal.”
“Foreign object is still in the wound?”
“Affirmative. We didn't want to move it, just in case.”
“No need for air support?”
“With respect, base, there's supersonic rocks in the air above this city.”
“Seemingly across the whole planet, corporal. Ten ground-strikes recorded, more tracks, one crippled satellite. So far no fatalities.”
“The asteroid's not breaking up is it?” Sam asked hopefully.
“Negative, the astronomers think it's just debris from it's adventures on the way here.”
“Understood.” Sam reported, “And homeward bound.”
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EVACUATION SITE TWO. 11 AM
Another herald of destruction skimmed through the upper reaches of the atmosphere and exploded beautifully above the evacuation site.
“Just how dangerous are these shooting stars?” a mother asked Karen as her children oohed and aahed at the pretty fireworks.
“As long as they explode up there, they're safe, Maam. But I do suggest that you stay undercover as much as possible. There have been some reports of them reaching the ground.”
“The tents won't protect us, surely?”
“No, maam. But the public tents are under forcefields. It's going to be crowded, of course, but that's why we've recommended people don't stay in their individual tents for the impact itself. No one predicted so many meteors, so I think it'd be safer to be stay in the public tents from now on as much as possible.”
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SPACEGUARD DEBRIS-TRACKING TELESCOPE 11.30 AM
On a hill-top, which coincidentally was over-looking evacuation site one,
Dr Green fiddled with the settings on the spectrometer. It was an amazing opportunity, all these fireballs. It would have been easy at night, of course, but even in daylight they were a wonderful source of data. He'd process it later, of course. Well, his students would, now it was simply a case of ensuring the data was collected, and that the telescope didn't ever actually aim itself at the Sun. He squeezed out from where he'd been, in the narrow gap between the telescope and the dome, and engaged the drive mechanism. The tracking scope could move fast, it had to, if it was going to photograph debris. It was a perfect tool for this job, and as long as nature gave him a few good opportunities now that he'd hopefully got the settings right, there'd surely be be a paper in it or two.
The telescope suddenly swung to point at at target, informed by the space-watch radar that one was coming. Then, contrary to his expectations, it remained in a fixed position. Had something broken?
Dr Green realised too late that when an approaching object doesn't alter it's apparent position it means it is on a collision course. The meteorite didn't explode mid-air, but hit just in front of the telescope's dome. The telescope needed a little realignment afterwards, but otherwise escaped without significant damage. Dr Green wasn't so fortunate. The half-kilo meteorite wasn't stopped by him holding his arms over head as he tried to run from the building.
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11.45AM, EVACUATION SITE ONE
“This is yet another public safety announcement.” Sarah said into the public address system. “Will everyone, including all military and civil service personnel, please get to one of the public tents, and so under a forcefield cover, immediately. Your life could be at risk. You might have noticed the loud bang just now, and the cloud of dust up by the telescope. That was probably a meteorite hitting the ground.”
Five minutes later, a worried-looking young man came to the information desk. “I can't contact Dr Green.” he said.
“The network tower is really busy. There are a lot of calls not getting through because of it. Have you been trying long?”
“No, you don't understand, he should have had a radio with him, he was going up to the telescope. I've tried his wrist unit, and like you say it won't connect, but I've tried the radio, too.”
“Oh.”
“I was hoping you could ask someone if he's been injured or... or if there's no point in sending a rescue party.”
“Yes. That's possible. This is the Dr Green that Prince Albert talked to about the asteroid?”
“Yes.”
“OK, I'll get someone to make contact.” Sarah sent a short text message 'Call me?' They'd decided that although it added delay, they ought to be doing exactly what their cover story said they'd do, except for emergencies. She told the young man “Messages get through better than voice, but there might be a delay.”
“We tried that too. No reply.”
[Yes, Sarah?] Kate asked.
[Worried student or post-doc here. There's just been a ground-strike up by the telescope where Dr Green of Space-Guard fame was. No contact since. Question is, should a rescue party go up, or is it too late anyway.]
[I'll look.] Kate looked at Dr Green's feet, and saw ugliness, distortion, darkness. She pulled away quickly. [He's gone to a bad place.]
Sarah heard the tension in Kate's mental voice. [You OK, Kate?]
[I'm going to spend some time in the peace. Don't look at maybe-dead non-Christian's feet, Sarah. It's not a nice place.]
[I'll bear that in mind.]
[I wish I didn't have to.]
[Remember when John looked at Roland's evil? Maybe you don't need to.]
[I'm going to hang on to God's peace anyway.]
[May God bless you, with forgetfulness, Kate.]
[Amen.]
Sarah looked at the young man, hovering anxiously. “Don't bother sending the search party. He's dead.”
“You're sure?” was his automatic response.
Sarah considered telling him that Kate had seem him on his way to hell, but she didn't know that for fact; it might have been Sheol. But in any case, maybe compassionate silence was the best. “Yes, the person I talked to was very sure.”
Sarah was a little surprised to see relief on his face, and thinking back, his intonation when he'd asked her hadn't been concern. “You don't seem particularly sad.”
“Selfish of me, but my girlfriend was saying one or both of us should lead a rescue team up there. The track's quite hard to find, and if you miss it the path just takes you to a lookout spot after about half an hour's slog. I didn't want to do that while there's an increasing number of meteorites coming down on us.”
“I understand.” Sarah said.
“I've heard that a lot of truthsayers are Christians. Are you one?”
“Yes.” Sarah said.
“Is it a sin to be glad that someone's dead? Bearing in mind that man has ruined lives and made fun of the name of Jesus?”
“Dr Green?”
“He thought it was funny that the king said we should pray, and repent of our pride. He had a relative, great-great-grand-father or something, who was supposedly an expert in the field, helped set up SpaceGuard, loved by his fellow-staff and students, and so on. None of us loved Dr Green. He worshipped his career and students were sacrificed to that idol.”
“I presume you don't mean literally.”
“I don't know. He piles on the pressure big-time. Lots of his postgraduates don't finish. A few years ago one student killed herself after he demolished her experiment — literally — because she wasn't working on his papers. My girlfriend's got a big forgiving heart and thought we should check when we heard, but I thought, Oh, I just hope God's got a good aim. Is that a sin?”
“I don't think it's a sin to hope God can aim straight. Doubting it might be. As for whether you should be hoping that a person should die...
"Well there's a lot of Psalms expressing similar sentiments. It's not like you were planning to kill him.”
“If you'd told me he lived, but was wounded, and I'd lied to her, so the rescue squad went the wrong way, and he died, would that have counted as killing him?”
“What do you think?”
“I'm glad God has a good aim, and I consider it appropriate that he died from a meteorite strike when he'd said that he had more chances of dying from a meteorite strike than the asteroid had of hitting Earth, no matter what God thought would happen.”
“He said that?”
“Yes, regularly for the first few weeks or so. He thought it was a good joke.”
“I guess God accepted the challenge. And you can thank God that you did not face that temptation, nor have that guilt for the accuser to use against you. But don't you think you should contact your girlfriend, and tell her he's beyond saving?”
“Yes. And I'd better tell the authorities, I guess.”
“That's pretty easy.” Sarah said. “Dirk!”
Dirk looked up from where he was chatting to Pris. “Yes, Truthsayer?”
“Sorry to interrupt, but it seems there was someone up at the telescope when the meteorite hit. Now deceased, so it's not urgent enough to put anyone in danger.”
“Oh, paperwork. I love not doing much paperwork.” Pris commented.
“Before you get to the paperwork,” Sarah said to the young man, “you've still got a call to make.”
“Yes, Maam.”
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12:23PM, FEB 14TH, 2272
The shock-wave from the asteroid as it plunged through the thin air heated the air molecules to plasma. Another fifty kilometers later, when there was bright meteor trail of ionised gas glowing behind it, the forces involved had started to have a more significant effect on the asteroid. It was being heated and squashed at the front, and had a vacuum behind it.
Eventually, at a little over sixteen kilometers above the city whose heart it was aiming towards, these forces became too much. The metal couldn't withstand them any more and broke up. The smaller fragments leaving the protection of the parent body broke still further too. The entire energy of the projectile, amounting to about five megatons of TNT was transferred to moving and heating the atmosphere.
The closest remotely operated vehicles sent aloft to watch it's progress for science transmitted their streams of data just before being burned up by the blast of thermal radiation, but that had diminished significantly by the time it reached the ground, and only burned out the detectors of cameras that were trained in its direction. The focussed shock-wave however still had considerable force when it reached the ground.
The atmosphere above our heads normally weighs a little over ten tones per square meter. If you suddenly add even one atmosphere of pressure to one side of the wall of a house, then it will move, quite quickly. The shock wave at its peak was more than that.
Some houses imploded, in others the roof and floors were sheared off and slammed to the ground, while the mangled walls remained standing for a little while. In places where shocked air became trapped, the air then expanded out again as the shock rebounded. Animals and birds died, as their lungs were first crushed and then tried to expand to more than double their normal size.
In evacuation camp three, totally unrelated to the impact, a woman in labour began haemorrhaging, and what had been a routine labour suddenly became an emergency. The surgeons tried to stem the blood-flow while performing an emergency caesarian. They thought they'd succeeded, but just as they presented the little boy to his relived father and mother still woozy from the drugs, the bleeding restarted. The second time, they weren't able to stop the flow.
The forcefield over the houses beside the Institute for the Human Mind worked almost exactly as intended and survived the impact. Unfortunately, its anchoring to the ground wasn't sufficient. It moved sideways under the massive forces from the shockwave, severely damaging the row of houses. As it did so, it cut power the power cables to the exterior forcefield put on the institute. The instrumentation showed later on that without the forcefield, the new wing of the institute would have been smashed, and the old wing damaged. As it was the new wing suffered exactly the damage predicted in the visions, which was actually less significant than it had looked.
The hospital building hadn't been seen in any of the visions. There the forcefield functioned correctly; it survived almost entirely intact. The only damage caused was to the antenna mast that hadn't been spotted when the height of the forcefield was set. The mast was cut off by the action of the forcefield.
The friends and relatives of the new widower mourned with him, and comforted him. His sister-in-law announced that she'd help look after her deceased sister's baby. A few weeks later, the bereft widower would realise that she had made long term plans to look after him also.
The dust settled; the city was ruined, but almost everyone had survived. It was time to rebuild.