THE PENTAGON
“Flight SCAN is breaking contact and heading to base,” the controller reported.
“That’s it,” General Fleetwood, Chief of Staff of the Air Force (JCS), announced. “No more direct tracking.”
“What’s the timing?” General Dominguez asked.
“Less than an hour now before it hits Washington,” Denvers replied. “We can still track it loosely somehow but with the panic setting in…”
The East Coast was waking up, and discovering that, while they slept, the world was ending. More than 80% of the USA was now within the shutdown Zone, and nobody still knew what was really happening within. And the ones still outside were starting to freak out.
Two more hours, and the entire territory of the USA would be silent.
“Let’s face it, we can’t do anything anymore. I just hope… this thing also shuts down nuclear. Because nuclear reactors without safeties and control…” one of the JCS said.
Denvers shuddered.
“Colonel Denvers?”
“Yes?”
“It’s been an honor. But I think our work is done here… and I suggest not getting locked into the Pentagon’s basements when everything fails.”
“We’re the standby…”
“Consider it an order, even if my colleagues and I are not in your chain of command,” the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff said.
He saluted, and Denvers returned it immediately.
The generals – and one admiral, who arrived barely half an hour ago – started for the exit, and Denvers turned back.
“Okay everyone, we have orders to evacuate. Shut your consoles…” he stopped himself, realizing that was going to be moot soon enough “… and move. You have…” he hesitated “… leave to go. Go get your families to safety, no matter what. And good luck.”
As the operators started to scramble, he contemplated the overhead displays on the wall, searching for hints. Then he grabbed his jacket, moved to the door, and waited as his staff filed out one by one.
He voluntarily refused to turn off the light before exiting.
CAMP DAVID
Everybody had filed out to watch the sky. There was no sign of anything yet, but the members of the protective detachment for the President of the United States were going to be ready for… whatever happened in the Zone.
Going to Camp David was a simple proposition. It offered a sensibly remote position, relatively defensible with fences all around the compound, it had enough room for everyone, it was always stocked up for emergencies, and the Secret Service regularly trained for everything there, from assault by parachuted elite troops from the Red Team – usually, they didn’t specify which nation the assault was supposed to be from – to rabid bears breaking into the facility. One facetious member of the service had once suggested doing a zombie invasion scenario, only to be shut down by the House.
Mark Silvers, head of the detachment, spotted the vans coming up. The agents had descended on Thurmont, emptying stores there, with sleepy storekeepers wondering why the Federal Government wanted all that on a Thursday morning.
“Got that. The shop was closed, and… well, we broke into it,” the driver said as he came out.
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Agents rushed, and started to unload the large van, and Mark looked as the loot – he had to call it that, to be honest – came out.
Bows. Crossbows. Loads of hunting knives. Arrows by the dozens. The raid on the camping and outdoor sports store was fruitful. After being warned by the Pentagon that combustion might also be suppressed in the Zone, they had to come up with a scheme to keep defenses up in case their guns stopped being useable.
Another van stopped and started to unload cans and additional supplies. Mark felt briefly guilty, before repressing it. The locals might want those supplies later if some of the scenarios hastily drawn were correct, but the President’s safety took precedence, no matter what happened.
The small bump on his leg alerted him, and he reflexively reached for the head to scratch it. Blaze, one of the dogs of the K9 brigade there looked up. The german shepherd couldn’t understand why his human friends were so busy, but Mark was certain he felt the anticipation.
Maybe he would be able to feel the Zone coming. Dogs were supposed to feel earthquakes and the like, although the impending cataclysm was of a different order.
Blaze looked eager.
HOUSTON
The control station was almost deserted. Everyone was evacuating as the “Zone” spread was accelerating, and the entire western half of the continent was now offline. Texas was next. Kayleigh was very tired, and she was way beyond her watch, but she kept the post. It was hers until she stopped… and no one was going to take over.
Leaving now. You’re sure you don’t want to evac?
We’re still trying to rig the Dragon so that it can be used with minimum power. The tricky bit is wherever we splash down.
She didn’t know what to say. What did you say to, well, “people” even twisted by incomprehensible forces, who were going to die in orbit?
95 min until the next shutdown. Good luck Kayleigh.
Fly safe, she typed, remembering that space engineer streamer back on the west coast. His home would be dark already.
Until we meet again.
Kayleigh dropped the keyboard, not bothering to turn off the console. She came to the door, briefly contemplating the now-empty room, as Com joined her.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Once in the parking lot, she reached for the keys, and turned on the car, as she looked across the dawning sky to the west. Then she blinked.
In the distance, blue lines were silhouetted just over the horizon. Growing. Splitting and merging.
“Fuck, it’s there.”
“The 146 is already supposed to be insane this early, even in normal times,” Com said.
“We’re not going to make it, are we,” she answered.
“Good luck outrunning this on foot.”
“How the mighty are fallen.”
“Do you think…” Com said as she noticed him looking up.
“No. The best they can do is… depressurize and hope it’s quick.”
She grimaced, and added, “not that I was going to suggest it. But Juliana is smart. She has to know.”
NEWMAN
‟Okay, we have 30 minutes before the safety locks,” she said.
With Houston offline, and Moscow still blabbing incoherent and contradictory orders, they’d moved fast.
‟Ready on your order,” came Yaytsev’s voice, bouncing across the interior of the ISS.
Juliana rotated herself and started moving, grabbing the metal in the bulkheads, propelling herself, and barreling across the doomed station. Frank joined her, rushing a few feet behind in what would have been reckless a few hours before.
She spotted Shuko – how she could recognize him from Ivan was yet another mystery – and grabbed, braking hard into the middle of the corridor.
‟Blow it up,” she said.
She couldn’t hear anything, but the red flashing lights were obvious. Things started to flutter as pressure dropped catastrophically. Yaytsev had painstakingly bypassed all the safeties so that the station would depressurize against its own designs.
‟Plenty of time”, Frank said.
Once in shutdown, it would be impossible to maneuver anything. They would have to dismantle everything bit by bit.
The flutters slowly ended. She couldn’t really tell the difference, but she assumed the station was now airless. And she felt fine, not even tension over the tegument.
‟After you,” Shuko said, as he forced open the emergency panel. It was designed to lock itself against a vacuum, but once there was no difference in pressure, it was trivial to open.
Juliana Newman, the last commander of the ISS stepped into space, luxuriating in the sunlight as it started its photosynthetic miracle across her skin. She looked both at the Earth below, the station around her, and the glory of the heavens.
‟Ivan, stop lounging. I want to see what we can salvage. I don’t trust the organic stock we have.”
‟We don’t know how much we really need”, he answered.
‟It does not matter. They’ll run out in a month, a year, a decade. No closed system is 100%.”
‟Or maybe a century,” Frank said.
‟Worst case, if we can figure out where the Chinese station is, we’ll have some additional supplies,” Shuko added.
At that moment, Yaytsev came into view.
‟Look at me! Flying unaided.”
‟I can see your magnetic fields grabbing Earth’s, you know. Stop clowning, Russky.”
‟Not Russky. What are we?”
Spaceborne, she thought.
END OF ACT 1