Fear the Future (The Fear Saga Book 3) (11 page)

Chapter 13: Feng Shui

Madeline’s avatar was bathed in sunlight, her expansive view of Earth’s orbital vicinity spinning around her. In the simulation she was currently hosting, she was joined by a host of team leads from Districts One and Three, and various experts either considering joining their ranks, or fighting with their governments for permission to do so.

“We all know, I think, where we are now, and I think we all know roughly where we must go.” She spoke out loud, for several of her audience were not enabled with spinal taps yet and were watching via computer screens or even via advanced but already obsolete 3-D virtual goggles.

“But what I want to focus on today is the crucial intermediary stage we find ourselves entering. Because for the foreseeable future we are less worried about making ships than we are about making the production facilities and sourcing the raw materials we will need to do so.”

There were nods from those whose links were advanced enough to allow them to project a virtual avatar into simulation. She went on, “So, here we are today: Earth.”

Everyone’s view now swam to bring the big blue-green orb into focus, its near-space ancillaries sliding out of view. “Here we have Earth, where we all are, or most of us anyway, and where about 65% of the resources that we can count as ‘within our reach’ are located. But as we all know, that 65% is held down by a most unfortunately powerful gravitational field.”

Some around nodded, some smiled, either virtually or to themselves in whatever conference room, lab, or home office they had managed to co-opt for today’s meeting. For the problem of gravity was, at its heart, why they were all here.

“So where is the other 35%?” It was a rhetorical question, and as she said it their view warped outward once more to encompass Earth’s many natural and man-made satellites, a little poetic license taken with scale so that those too small to be seen at this range could be made out.

Three rough rings could be seen around Earth showing its many communications, GPS, and spy satellites’ orbits. In the spirit of cooperation, Madeline even included TASC’s own network of spy satellites, if only to emphasize their extent to representatives of their less willing allies.

“So, we have the moon, of course,” she said. “That certainly accounts for the lion’s share of the remaining booty, but we will get to that in a moment. First let us talk about Hekaton, or Asteroid 1979va for those of you that were not privy to the recent contact and first-stage harnessing of our soon to be stable-mate. Estimates remain hopeful that she will be brought into geostationary orbit over Rolas within the next three to four months.”

The room was impressed, and the view changed to show that planned eventuality, Hekaton now shown in its planned orbit, along with the adjoining cable that even now was being relaced to ground, the first of many that would be tethered to the great rock.

“I know that treaty agreements with many of your home nations, our allies, have included the rights to build your own elevators as well, along with provisions for the assistance you may need from us to complete that work.”

Now the view changed to include those planned cables as well. The great lines of the other planned space-elevators now beginning to resolve in the simulation.

The first came up from an atoll in the Maldives recently leased by the Indian government.

Another then materialized from an island in the mouth of the Amazon where a base was already under construction by the very Brazilian team that had built the first base at Rolas.

Two more then suddenly sprang up, seemingly from the middle of the Pacific: a European cable planned from an oil rig even now being moved into position off the Aranuka Atoll near Kiribati; and then yet another, if less likely, one being planned by an ever optimistic NASA on a reef off of their own Baker Island.

Most in the group knew that the Chinese were in heavy negotiations for a site in Indonesia. It was a primary topic of Jim Hacker’s negotiations with both nations, both in offering help to China in return for their allegiance and in blocking the Indonesians from granting access until the Chinese gave in to greater cooperation with TASC’s work.

Both to make a point to the other gathered representatives, and because of a lack of real confidence that the Chinese would ever fully give in, that planned elevator was not shown here.

But it was an impressive sight nonetheless; a growing number of spokes, like the spreading tendrils of Earth’s influence, radiating out from around the great globe’s equator. As the cables ran through and then out past the depicted circles of satellites still orbiting the planet, the image began to look ever more like a great wheel, except for the anomalous and mighty-looking Hekaton that would, they all knew, come to dominate its orbit, changing forever half the world’s image of the night sky as it inserted itself into that vista.

But that, in and of itself, represented almost as many problems as it did solutions. Problems which Madeline now went into. “As you can see, our current band of near-earth and low-earth orbit satellites will soon represent an unacceptable hazard to our space elevator operations. It was a hazard we managed on a case by case basis with the first elevator, but that will become ever less feasible as operations intensify.”

The Dispatchers.

The title appeared as a visual underneath a new image that now expanded outward to fill their view.

It was of a machine. A machine that was, at its heart, a catapult, but as the schematics showed, these catapults would use magnetic field accelerators instead of counterweights. There were twenty of them even now being manufactured at District Three. An EAHL was even now en route there to lift them into orbit.

Once in orbit, the Dispatchers would maneuver, using their own stocky thrusters, to intercept and capture orbiting ‘debris.’ What had once been the most prized possessions of any nation rich enough to get into space was being reduced to scrap by the pace of advancement.

“My friends, it would not be unfair to say you are now looking at the final evolution of the baseball bat. A machine that will begin clearing our space of the gathering mass of obstacles we have ourselves deposited there in the last fifty years. For once one of these machines has latched onto an object that requires clearing, it will then use its mass, thrusters, and powerful magnetic field generators to catapult said object out of harm’s way.”

They watched the simulation as the Dispatcher did indeed punch itself away on its stocky thrusters, and they followed it as it moved off to intercept a simulated orbiting satellite.

It approached the satellite obliquely, latching onto it with a powerful field manipulator. Magnetic grapples were an extremely energy-wasteful process, but it was the only way the Dispatcher could have the versatility to grapple the wide variety of objects we had littered space with since the Cold War had sent Sputnik into its doomed orbit.

The Dispatcher then began accelerating around the object, sending both it and its quarry into a seemingly random but in fact very controlled spin. This spin became ever more excited until, with a suddenness that made many of the gathered experts gasp, it eventually released its charge outward and upward like a discus being hurled into the cosmos.

The gathered audience was a little dismayed at the rather brutal treatment of what some had recognized as an Iridium satellite, a process they correctly assumed would utterly destroy the delicate machinery of the exorbitantly expensive device, but no one commented to that effect.

“As you have no doubt guessed,” Madeline confirmed, “this process will render the satellite in question non-functional.” Her phrasing was rather more diplomatic than the actual process in question. “But then, of course, removing the satellite from its orbit would have rendered it obsolete anyway.”

She soldiered on. “Of course, the construction of the network of equatorial space elevators will have already rendered the Iridium system, along with all current-gen satellite communications and navigation systems, obsolete, as we will now be able to route communications via fixed and far more powerful transponders along the cables’ routes, and at their termini.”

A question pinged into her head, not for the whole group, but for her alone, from a representative of the European Space Agency. She reviewed it quickly, not wanting to interrupt the flow of her presentation and was not surprised when she saw it was regarding orbital spy systems. Europe and the US were continuing to push for special dispensation regarding such things, based on their ‘special relationship’ with TASC. But they were not going to get it, a fact that she reiterated now for the whole group.

“We all know this will also affect not only communications satellites but also observational ones.” another politeness. “But I am afraid that is simply a fact we are going to have to come to terms with, my friends. Though I have no doubt it will continue to be a source of active debate in our ongoing negotiations, I can say with certainty today, as I have before, that this is a topic that TASC is not able to be flexible on, given our mission.”

She moved on, ignoring the quick ping of several more questions from others around the planet, and showed them the other end of the dispatching system they were even now constructing the components for at Districts Two and Three. She showed the group the machines by which they would harvest the remnants of Earth’s satellite networks as they were thrown up into the realms of the geostationary.

The images and concepts were engaging enough that she was able to bring the attention of the group back to her presentation as she talked of what the harvested satellites would be used for.

Finally, she turned her attention to the greater prizes, to Hekaton and the moon, a topic that sounded like the title of an ancient Grecian epic poem.

She showed them images of the inflatable stations they wanted the gathered group’s help in designing, and of the great mining installations they would form to carve out what they so desperately needed from within the two huge planetoids.

As she had hoped and expected, the gathered minds could not help but be captured by her own sense of wonder at the work of the coming years. For this was not a pipedream. This very much needed to be a reality, and soon.

They were on a clock, and in the end this was all just groundwork. For while they would need to carve great chunks out of their own moon, they would be all but dismantling the smaller Hekaton, eating down into it until it was but a husk. Indeed, humanity would need to thoroughly violate the sanctity of them both, and of much more, no doubt, in order to build their fighting force.

As she continued her presentation, the beautiful and incredible images of Earth’s blossoming space-faring age continued to flow. She was trying to impress upon the gathered professors, physicists, engineers, and scientific advisors the scope of the task ahead, and, as she had in the past, she succeeded, at least in part, adding a few more devotees to their growing list of advocates and ambassadors around the world.

It was heady stuff. The stuff of dreams. And what were scientists if they weren’t dreamers, even if it was all, at its root, really born of a nightmare: a Manhattan project for a new age.

Chapter 14: The End of the Rope

A broad concrete parade ground lay ahead. It was badly poured and unmaintained, dotted here and there by small tufts of grass and shrubbery as nature broke through to restate its claim. It was bordered by a long, loosely strung wire fence, topped with razor wire. A fence Hektor’s infrared sight told him was hot and therefore cheaply electrified.

Cara stepped up to it, almost amused by the insolence of such a barrier. She could have just grabbed the wires with impunity and pulled them apart with her two black-clad hands, but instead she scanned in each direction, seeking any device that might have betrayed Jung and Chin when they came here the evening before.

But there were no signs of motion detectors or heat sensors that she could see. Hektor and Niels stayed back, guns trained on the night, ready to respond. She shrugged, looked around once more then bent at the knee and vaulted neatly over the fence in a graceful somersault that barely cleared its razor-sharp top by an inch or two.

She landed as lightly as she could and quickly froze once more, waiting for any reaction.

Seconds passed and still nothing. She scanned. If there were motion sensors they would have to be close by. But infrared sensors could be as far off as the stubby buildings across the big square and still have seen their two compatriots. Either way there was no sign of any reaction yet.

She moved forward slowly, low and quiet, covered at all times by her two colleagues behind her and their less skilled but dangerously determined commander also waiting in the shadows. But they did not actually follow her yet. If she got in trouble she had no doubt they would aid her retreat with lethal force, but for now she moved forward alone, toward the low sheds of the complex ahead, apparently disused, but betraying a low heat signature of their own.

Someone was in there. In fact there must be quite a lot of people to give the big buildings such a pervasive warmth in the dark night.

The silence was broken with a sudden shock of activity across the courtyard and she dropped to the ground in response.

Big doors were opening on the side of one of the buildings and suddenly there was a flow of people and trucks emerging from it. Minnie, watching from above, was quick to speak up.

Minnie:

Ayala could see from the satellite image Minnie was even now relaying into her brain the scale of whatever was coming out, and now she saw through Cara’s eyes as well as the scouting Spezialist risked sending a single image through. It was highly magnified, but it was unmistakable. Against the light coming from the shed, a series of black figures were running.

So they had done it here too, thought Ayala. Pei had given the armor to the North Koreans as well. But even as she thought it, she knew that could not be it. Pei could not have been the source. The Agents were bloodthirsty, but their mandate was clear: avoid nuclear conflagration at all costs and what could bring more risk of nuclear war than arming the madman that ran this little insane asylum of a nation with tech ten?

No, this was the result of the power vacuum Pei had left in his wake. The Chinese, in their haste to take vengeance for the attack in Beijing, had let the cat out of the bag. Ugly visions of what could come next filled her mind.

Minnie:

They must have broken Jung or Chin, thought Ayala. She opened a channel to her team, tight beamed, and laced with instruction for Cara not to reply. She was too far out and any further signal from her would be too risky.

Ayala at Team:
‘we are, by all signs, discovered. they will no doubt be on us soon. we can run, if you like, or we can fight. personally, i would like to see what, exactly, they have actually managed to make out here. but i leave that up to you. ¿hektor, what do you think?’

Hektor:
‘i think, and i believe i speak for cara and niels on this, that we would like to test their mettle as well. in fact, i think we would all enjoy that very much.’

Unlike their brethren, Hektor, Niels, and Cara’s mission into Moscow had kept them from the worst of the fighting in Hungary. They were sorely keen to see what the battleskins could do in a real fight. This was only compounded by a sense of duty, for though they had not known Jung and Chin for very long, they still felt a professional responsibility for their well-being.

But Ayala did not really need that much encouragement. She opened her signal up, reaching for the stars as she commanded them forward. Subtlety was no longer required as she unclipped her team’s leashes and sic’d them on the no doubt falsely confident herd of soldiers ahead of them.

Ayala:
‘minnie, please let banu know we may be in need of her services shortly. ground team, you have permission to spread out and engage at will.’

- - -

Neal and Saul cursed, both to themselves and through the connection to Chunghwa, but their countermands and pleas fell on deaf ears. Neal knew Ayala was still mourning the loss of her husband. He had hoped, on some level, that she had gotten some of her rage out in the short but bloody conclusion to the battle in Hungary where she and her Spezialists had bludgeoned a diminished Russian army back into the dark ages.

He saw now that she had not.

With Minnie overlaying additional information where the satellite images failed, Saul and Neal watched as the four Spezialists gave the North Koreans the good news.

It escalated fast, as an attack by such a potent force must. For her part, Ayala shared none of Neal’s reticence, but nor did she try to engage in the same way the other three did. She could not maneuver at their level. Instead, she walked forward with deliberate steps, firing with all the accuracy and brutality of a cold-blooded killer.

Hektor and Niels leapt forward with far greater aplomb, tearing through the puny fence like two careening trucks and barreling forward to join their teammate. She waited a moment for them to come up and then the three of them moved forward like an arrowhead, running and firing at once as they rushed the astonished Korean troops.

The North Koreans did, it turned out, have some semblance of the battleskins. But the Chinese had been stingy in their donation of the technology, no doubt deliberately, keeping back a good dose of even the limited tech Pei had given them to keep a perceived advantage for themselves.

There were several hundred of them though, Neal and Saul noted with alarm, and a similar number even now scrambling to come back from their aborted mission to go and join the more standard forces searching in Moranbong Park.

Even with the disparity in number, the two opposing groups collided with colossal force, the three Spezialists slicing into their target like the tip of a blade. Their opponents had the armor, sure, but neither the weapons nor the full machine augmentation to give voice to their defense. As the three realized this, they immediately split up so they could bring their message to a greater number of the unfortunate soldiers. Soldiers who had only a moment ago thought they were going to hunt the Spezialists, not the other way around.

It was hot, bloody work. Physical and close as they alternated between flechette fire and body blows.

It was not until they had made a truly significant dent in the Korean’s numbers that a shift came. The returning force seemed to falter, and for a moment Ayala wondered if it was simple cowardice, an understandable reaction given the way she and her team were tearing at their lines. But then the tanks came.

They had been forced to withhold their fire, Ayala assumed, because of the speed with which their attackers had merged into the very ranks of their own infantry, but now whoever was in command had clearly seen the pointlessness of that, and whether through callousness or a simple realization that the infantry in question were dead anyway, they now ordered their big guns to open fire.

She saw the shots only as blurred lines tracing out from inside the sheds and into the mass of crushed bone and flesh that surrounded her three teammates. But the impacts were massive, and the destruction as impressive as it was horrifying.

Niels suffered a glancing hit and was thrown high into the air, the explosion finishing for him the job of killing the platoon he had engaged with, even as it sent him flying. Cara sensed the change in fight from the Koreans a moment before they fired and flattened herself against the ground, taking a hard hit to her right arm and leg, but avoiding the full force of the blow.

Then there was Hektor. Ayala could see not exactly what had happened to Hektor. She was already running, her legs firing now with passion. They had apparently not even seen her yet, amid the franticness of the attack. Though her fire had been tireless and deadly, her kills had been incorrectly attributed to the team of three that had so bluntly charged the Korean’s ranks.

Now she made her presence more known as she saw the first of the big black tanks rolling out of the shed. She fired with a persistence that bordered on mania, centering on one spot on the tank’s side to eat into its thick flanks. The tank felt the barrage as a rumbling vibration that quickly rose to fever pitch. Ayala’s presence was a secret no more and the stocky black beast turned now, rounding on this new combatant to return the greeting.

Ayala saw it and kept moving, aware she was drawing fire but still keen to bring down the infernal machine. She had, she knew, gone off half cocked, but even the mighty barrage the four tanks had fired had not smited her team. This battle was far from lost.

Niels emerged from the smoke that had been his last known position like a returning demon, adding his own fire to Ayala’s when he saw which tank she was targeting.

But they were tough little fuckers, thought Ayala, as she sprinted away from an incoming blast from the big beast.

She lost her footing as the shell impacted the concrete ground and was sent tumbling and sprawling across the floor. Niels was not faring much better as he dodged another shell to his position, though he did so with more grace than Ayala had managed.

Not good, Ayala thought to herself as she got to her feet and started moving again. Must keep moving, she thought, and brought her gun back to bear on the black hulk.

Cara was thinking the same thing, though her response was a touch more aggressive as she leapt violently into the air to land between two of the burly brawlers. No sooner had her feet touched the ground than she was darting up and onto one of them, firing as she went.

Niels smiled at the tactic, as did Ayala, watching with detached interest the view from Cara’s eyes as she began firing into the seam between the gun turret and the tank proper. Her amusement was cut short, though, when a panel on the tank’s side exploded outward, throwing Cara violently clear.

Ayala was at the end of her tether. They were damaging the big tank, but not quickly enough. They still had two more here, and who knew if there were more inbound on their position. She needed a new tactic.

And then the question was answered for her. A new tactic, as it were, was arriving even now. A voice rang in all their heads, even though it was meant mostly for Cara.

Minnie:

Banu came in hard but did not unleash her full might. She did not want to hurt the four friends she knew were down there. Her beams were tight, lensing from her four ancillary engines into the four tanks, but still they struck like a blow from an enraged zeus.

The stout machines even withstood her particle onslaught for a couple of seconds, such was the strength of their armor, but this was not a contest they could win anymore, and Ayala and her cohorts watched with satisfaction as the four tanks buckled and then started to fold. Banu continued pummeling them for as long as she needed to, grinding the four beasts into the glowing concrete around their tracks, before spinning on her heels.

Banu did not come too close. Her statement was made.

Ayala:
‘thank you, banu, minnie. very nicely done. minnie, have banu take the skalm back into orbit, please. but stay close. we may need her again before we are done.’

From out of the smoldering wreckage stepped Cara, not very pleased to have been so close to the particle beams, perhaps, but happy of the conclusion, nonetheless.

Ayala:
‘hektor. ¿hektor, where are you?’

There was a moment’s silence then the reply came.

Hektor:
‘i am pretty sure i am here [loc. 1293.6, 4583.2] but …’

Niels:
‘i have him. he’s … whoa, lieutenant, you are a little beaten up, my friend.’

Far away to the north, the Slink was rising from its watery hiding place without ceremony and accelerating hard into the night. Other teams were inbound as well, though they were still a couple of hours out.

As the dust settled and Ayala’s team began to round up the stragglers, Neal took a breath for the first time in nearly a minute.

Neal:
‘ayala, remind me never to let you go on a covert mission again.’