"Is the Mars Aries base outfitted with any defense measures?" Sasha enquired, her voice barely above a whisper.
"No." Zhdanov hung his head, unable to meet their gazes; he did not want to let on how hopeless he thought the Mars Aries base’s situation.
"I'm going to go to see if there's anything I can do down there," Sasha announced but waited a moment longer before changing her course. Her husband agreed to meet her at ground level, and Zhdanov cut communications, promising to contact them once he received any new information.
It was an arduous task trying to quell the fires with the overhead dome damaged; many of them had to be left to die down on their own. Zhdanov sent them word an hour into the clean-up operation that the enemy had disappeared before reaching Mars and was probably intending upon hiding in the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter, away from Ceres. Why they had felt the need to retreat was a mystery to everyone. Surely they must have known that they would only be giving the Earth time to rebuild its defenses? Zhdanov had thought, and he was not alone.
Meanwhile, the Falcon squadrons worked until just before dawn trying to calm and organize the terrorized civilians both in Statue City and in the nearby urban zones that had received word that some unidentified force was attacking zone nine. Late into the night, the United Earth Government issued a worldwide statement that the situation in Statue City was well in hand, and that disaster had been averted by the quick reaction of a newly formed Security Force organized in the early part of the week, when a vessel of alien origin had appeared outside the Pluto orbit.
The UEG Council Secretary-President, Secretary Peter Saunders-Hastings, appealed to his audience not to panic, to maintain faith in human bravery and ability, and in a moment earned all of the support he needed for his reforms as he rode a wave of public patriotism. His Pilot, Engineering, and Science Training School suggestions met no public opposition.
The aliens' raid had delineated the unmistakable value of the fighter squadrons and at least one part they might play in the terrestrial conflicts. All of the Earth's cities would likewise have to augment their own squadrons to defend their civilians. These valid assertions were accepted and circulated by frightened citizens worldwide as if already some kind of universally acknowledged truth.
As their work outside Statue City ended, Sasha walked with her husband back to the water's edge, where they had disembarked from their planes many hours earlier. Meanwhile, the sun tipped the horizon far across the Atlantic Ocean; rays of glorious light ignited the sky. The ocean waters at the horizon seemed to cascade down like a waterfall, layer by layer, coming towards them only as the waters neared the rocky shore. The drifting clouds broke high above, cascading the scarred land below with rosy beams of light.
"Why is this happening?" Sasha wondered with all of the spirit usually devoted to such pointless questions, exhaling loudly, then tasted the chill bite in the air as it filled up her lungs again. She was standing only a few feet from her Falcon fighter but hesitated to climb the landing ladder.
Richard had no answer, but he drew her close to him.
They stood by the shore, hand in hand, watching the eternal sun climb its way higher above the rolling ocean, the charred rubble of a ruined city looming on the edge of sight to their left. In the east, sibilant waves caressed the coastline, dissipating into spumes. A moment later, the even song of the morning wind was interrupted as two planes lifted into the air and headed for home.
* * * * *
Tick, tick. Cameron stared at the small chronometer on his wriststrap communications link which marked the passing seconds. Merciless time, he thought. It was now two days after the attack on Statue City, and Dr. Cameron had called this meeting of the members of the Security Force Council at the UESRC. Knightwood, Zhdanov, Dawe, and Hollendar were present, as well as three council representatives, and Maria Portocarrero, the Security Force Council Vice-President who had arrived at the UESRC the day before.
Yesterday's confirmation that the enemy had retreated from the Mars area without attacking the science station base Aries or the civilian colony left the Council feeling optimistic, but Cameron refused to back down from his position. He didn't trust luck.
And he felt the weight of the millions of people whose lives depended upon him and the present company. Already he had received reports of the many suicides following the attack on Statue City, and thousands more had already fled to the rural zones, for what reasons Cameron didn't quite understand. Most of the population would never be called for active duty, and if the aliens decided to obliterate the Earth, the rural zones wouldn't offer them any protection. Yet, Cameron thought, no one ever said that fear was a rational thing.
Knightwood glanced over at Cameron, and with an unspoken signal, he cued her to begin, now that everyone was comfortably seated in one of the base's few conference rooms. As a rule, Cameron hated to make introductions, even for a meeting he himself had called. He preferred to get to the point and leave the preamble to others.
"I assume that everyone has something important to get back to before too long, so we'll make this meeting short and to the point. Now that everyone is present," Knightwood began unceremoniously, "I'll turn your attention over to my colleague, Dr. Cameron." Knightwood sat down, and all eyes were upon the veteran scientist, though he remained seated as he addressed the assembly.
"Simply put, Zhdanov and I have been testing scraps of the fragments that our salvage teams collected from the destroyed enemy planes littering Statue City." Cameron began. "We have been unable to determine the exact composition of the alloy, yet it has proven useful in an idea that Knightwood, Zhdanov, and I have come up with, as you will see in a moment.
"In addition, we have managed to retrieve footage of the planes as taken by our squadron pilots and have been examining these closely. Thus far we have determined that the enemy fighters were not designed for terrestrial combat, primarily because the fuel of their engines ignites when exposed to oxygen. While this should not be a problem for them in space, on Earth it gives us an advantage, if we can develop a fighter of equal speed and agility."
And if they don't blow us to pieces first. Cameron allowed himself a momentary distraction while his words sank in. Their fighters weren't meant for colonization, obviously, but for space. Maybe they will use the fighters more than they use their missiles and whatever else they've got. Reports from Titan indicate that the big spaceship out there hasn't budged, and that's good news. Maybe they enjoy terrorizing us, like Arnaud keeps saying. In any case, we'd better hope that they came here to take the Earth from us, and not merely to destroy it.
"However, our situation is not that simple," Cameron added in case the council began to feel that all of their problems were as easily solved. "Though we feel positive that we have come up with a substitute alloy which appears to block cosmic radiation as well as the alloy used by the aliens, we have been unable to find any of the enemy planes intact enough to offer any clues as to their interior design, and this alone could deal us some surprises.
"With our present level of technology, we cannot fabricate anything of equal firepower that is not highly reactive and that would not risk the lives of our pilots. And our alien alloy is either a product of unknown processes combining isotopes or compounds we know to exist on Earth or some fabrication of as yet unknown compounds, not naturally occurring on our planet. Either way, we have been unsuccessful in reproducing it.
"As for speed, it is unlikely we will be able to upgrade our planes to an equal standard without sacrificing maneuverability and leaving our pilots vulnerable to collisions, high g shock, and other complications. Still, with compromises, we should be able to develop a fighter that will be able to give them a run for their money, as long as we aim at their weak spot."
"Well then, I don't see what the problem is," Portocarrero interjected. "I admit I'm no scientist, but it sounds to me as if you have everything fi
rmly under control." Cameron suppressed a frown. She was too anxious to adjourn the meeting for his taste.
"We may have solved one problem, yes, but there are a thousand more we haven't addressed." Cameron paused, pleased to see that he had gained their attention once again. "We have no idea as to the number and strength of their fighters. I for one believe that this was merely a small sample of what they can do and perhaps even what they intend to do.
"As matters stand, even if they repeat their attacks in a similar fashion, we will still have to wait for them to arrive on Earth before we can send out our forces. If they retreat again, we will be unable to follow them and prevent them from licking their wounds, assuming we do improve our fighters substantially enough to even the score.
"And they might all decide to come to us. That could mean nuclear obliteration—or worse. If they have discovered how to use antimatter-neutralization, we could completely cease to exist at any moment." Cameron showed them open palms, then steepled his hands on the table.
"What we need is something to take the battle out to them and keep it out there—protect our civilians as much as possible—most of all learn why they have come to the Earth to provoke us. That is why we have been working on an idea for a space fighter and a space-going fighter carrier. With it, we may be able to intercept some of the alien cruisers before they reach Earth air space, minimizing the casualties and damage to our cities.
"I realize that such a proposed project will sound excessively ambitious to some, but we have no other choice than to try. Therefore, we request that our idea be presented to the Global Council as soon as possible so that we can begin construction at once."
Portocarrero hesitated a moment before she responded. "Hmm, this sounds interesting. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to mention it to the Council when I return to Central City tomorrow."
"We appreciate your cooperation," Knightwood added, wearing an antagonistic smile. "I wouldn't want to have to call the President myself." She glanced at Cameron in admiration, still surprised by his uncharacteristic aggressive behavior. "Well, that concludes the meeting, everyone, and we'll be getting back to you on any further progress."
Chapter Ten
On January 12, 3070AD (723 AR) Secretary-General Saunders-Hasting broadcast an update message to an anxious planet.
“Much progress has been made since I last spoke to you after the attack on Statue City. Thanks to massive effort by our engineers and construction companies, we have 257 bases in various stages of construction, and a full third of these are near completion. Falcon fighter construction is accelerating, and we are training pilots as quickly as we can. We expect that the first of these new bases will be declared operational in a few weeks and that others will follow in rapid succession. Our major difficulty in bringing all of the bases to operational status will be the completion of pilot training.
“From the aliens we have seen nothing since they left after the attack on Statue City. Unmanned probes have been sent in all vectors from earth but have reported nothing. While this is encouraging, we must remember that we know very little about the level of technology of our enemy, and nothing about their motives. Therefore our defense plan will continue. We cannot afford otherwise.”
Thus the Earth Security Force officially opened its first 257 worldwide bases, though only a third of the hundred or so already established bases which composed that number had been fully converted. The new ESF seemed doomed to endure the din of the surrounding construction for the near future; despite the planned opening, the majority of the new bases remained under reconstruction with completion still several months off.
Throughout the UESRC, men and women hurried about their activities with an air of futile desperation; they packed up and repacked their belongings, called old friends to say good-bye and stopped unexpectedly in on others, then loitered by paths well-known in times past. Reluctantly they waited for the transport shuttles that would take them across the planet to their new assigned posts as still others arrived. In short, the UESRC had never known such pandemonium, and it of all scientific centers was not alone.
Sasha Blair and Richard Mathieson spent the morning helping their neighbors and friends before heading to the D-block Barracks to wish their friend Gurney off; he had been transferred south to Central City's newly enlarged base, third only in size to the UESRC itself and the old security outpost and Science Center high in the Ural Mountains.
Among the shuttles of new officers arriving that day were transports carrying the young students soon to be the first entering class of the newly established UESRC Academy, the most elite of the new training schools. Most of the engineering and science division trainees had arrived the day before, but this first year there had been a narrow pool of students to draw from for the pilot cadets.
They had to understand diplomacy in case by some random chance establishing a peace rested on their shoulders alone; in the event of a global assault against the Earth, no one knew which small handful of survivors, if any, would become the hope for the future of humankind.
“Am I really ready for this responsibility?” Sasha wondered. Could she prepare an elite team well enough for what was to come? She pushed the thought away. She didn’t have another choice, even if they gave her another alternative.
Sasha planned to spend the rest of her day helping the young female students of her and Richard's squadron get settled into their quarters underground, quarters that had once been the home of the cadets who now left as full-fledged officers. Early that morning she had watched some she knew head for the Central City Base where the ship Pioneer was being built and where Cameron had gone three days before Christmas to oversee the new vessel's construction.
Though Richard and she were scheduled to teach in the engineering and physical science programs, Arnaud had insisted that their experience as pilots was more sorely needed. But Sasha felt the weight of her new responsibility more than she ever had teaching astrodynamics; the lessons she gave now would mean the difference between life and death.
Pitying herself would accomplish nothing, Sasha knew, but she did feel sorry for the ensemble waiting in the astroport disembarkation center for her and Richard. Most of them gazed about in amazement, seemingly overwhelmed to have come to, to actually be in the UESRC, the long renowned worldwide center of higher learning and the base that had first engaged the alien vessel's forces.
Some of them spoke only broken English, having come from various parts of the world. Sasha spoke German, French, and Russian fluently, but her Japanese was rudimentary and her Mandarin and Norwegian not more than a few phrases; still, she attempted to make everyone feel more at home by asking them questions about their homes as they followed the couple through the maze of busy corridors that characterized the enormous subterranean base. Richard, ho spoke no languages apart from English, had already managed to charm the squadron with typical jocularity, she observed in irritation.
The youngest of the squadron was only seventeen years old; the oldest, Yukiko Watanabe, was thirty-four according to Sasha's list of personal biographies. Yukiko's face betrayed no emotion, no sign of excitement or fear. She appeared to be the most at ease in her new surroundings, but Sasha decided about half of it was bravado. The squadron would train together, but Sasha had been given the responsibility of quartering the female half of this cadet group.
There were only thirteen young women and seventeen young men in their particular squadron; all of the squadrons had been grouped at random once the primary selections of candidates were made. The UESF expected the training groups to learn to cooperate together in practical preparation for squadron divisions after graduation, and they didn't exactly care about personality conflicts.
When they passed into the barracks corridor, Sasha explained that three women would share each room and a single attached shower area. The UESRC had been outfitted with the highest technology; Sasha doubted all of them had se
en the many devices before, and so she gave them a brief tour of the first quarters in order that they would understand how to use them.
The rooms were largely bare; there were three desks and closets, all quite ordinary, on two sides of the room. Sasha led the group to the bare side of the wall, on which three panels with various colored buttons were evenly spaced two meters apart. Pushing in the small green button, Sasha motioned for them to stand back as a flat sleeping panel slid from the wall.
“You see, this is how it works,” she said, demonstrating the panel.
A hatch above the panel popped open with a push of the blue button, where a pillow had been stored. “The system was devised for sanitation purposes; pushing the last yellow button will retract both pillow and bed for cleaning and sterilization, a process which takes about three minutes,” Sasha explained.
In the bath area, a high pressure shower stall provided water at the specified temperature as received by the voice-activated computer control system. Shampoo could be obtained at the side, although a cleansing agent had been added to the first three minute water cycle. There were twenty faucets lining the stall which shot water from head to toe.
After a minute rinse cycle, the warm air drying cycle turned on for about three minutes, unless a longer time was specified, or unless it had been specified not to activate.
“Well, that's it. Now everyone knows where to go, rest up and be ready for tomorrow's ceremonies.” She said, leaving the team to their barracks assignments.
Chapter Eleven
In the Narita Conference Room of the Kyoto Physics Academy another meeting had been called, assembling scientific minds from across the globe to discuss the origins of the “Charon aliens”, as the UESF Secretary Hilbert had called them, picking up on one of the catchy phrases going around. A thoroughly unimaginative, slow, plodding sort of man, Secretary Hilbert had been proud to have drawn attention to this slogan as quickly and as decisively as he had.