Chapter 5

“No kamikaze missions, Pahto!” I sternly said.

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. You...” she used a manipulator arm to encompass us all, “ ... are my new crew, my new family. You’re my Captain, the first one I’ve had in too many millennia. What I meant was, we could hook up a drone body, and while it wouldn’t be real time piloting, I could make any final course corrections needed from here. I could use the existing satellites to relay signals, so I’d never be operating at more than a fifteen minute delay. I have more than enough spare processing power and memory available to create a ‘virtual’ flight simulator inside myself, so I could effectively eliminate the light speed delay,” she explained.

“That’d work,” Bob replied. “The reason we’re wanting to launch as quickly as possible is to try to hit it right at perihelion, or as close to that as we can. If we get him then, any course corrections he has to make will only cost him more fuel. Maybe more than he has.”

“That’s how we plan slingshot maneuvers for our spacecraft,” Virginia Valenzuela said. “You dive into the gravity well, making whatever course corrections you’re going to need on your way in, because when you’re on your way out, it’s too late.”

We could all see the smile on Pahto’s electronic face. “It is so good to be working with professionals again.”

“Of course, that presumes his ship uses fuel, and not something like Pahto’s stable black hole for power,” I said, pointing out the obvious.

“It does. We’ve talked to Madalain, Dala, and Karen about it. The drive technology on your ship was similar to his. Both vessels had two different propulsion systems – one for in-system and close maneuvering, and one for interstellar travel. I’ve studied the wreckage of your ship closely, with Mycroft’s assistance, as well as information stored within some of the shivalingam. Both ships used standard anti-gravity and reaction engines – rockets – to launch from the surface of Star Home, then once they were far enough from the planet, activated their interstellar drives. We’ll have to study his ship if we capture it, but I suspect it, like yours, simply cannot activate when deep within a gravity well,” Pahto explained.

“Now I’m curious. What kind of system was used for the ship for the water lorquats?”

“Again, two systems. Reaction engines combined with an anti-gravity drive is a relatively simple system to make with the proper technology. Your youngest wives have figured that out, with a little assistance from me. You’ll need to mine your moon or asteroid belt to obtain some of the proper minerals, though. Based upon my studies, they simply don’t exist on Earth in any feasibly recoverable amounts. For the interstellar portion of the flight, they used an ion propulsion system combined with a modified ram scoop that wasn’t deployed until the ship had already reached maximum acceleration from internal fuel. That scoop then collected material to use as fuel for deceleration. The scoop system failed to retract during solar system entry, interfering with deceleration and causing system failure. Thus, the only surviving portion of that ship was the lorquat module and its support system.”

I looked at Virginia Valenzuela, who was smiling and nodding her head.

“Yes. We now have five viable systems for both interplanetary and interstellar system travel, when before we barely had one for orbital travel,” she said.

“Five? Oh, because Pahto used two different methods herself. Let’s take this in baby steps, though. We still need to make sure we control the high orbitals of our own system, both planetary and solar, for defense,” I said.

“Definitely,” Robert said. “Anyway, we need your presence at Vandenberg later this week, or early next week at the latest. We’re kludging the payload bus, which is driving the scientists and engineers nuts that want to do things nice and neat.”

“And take more time than we have for the launch window,” I finished. “I can get down there Wednesday or Thursday of this week, but I have to be back for the flight down to LA on Friday for my game. I have a certain amount of flexibility in my schedule for minor things like global catastrophes and such.”

That got chuckles from everyone, biological and not.

“Okay. I presume I’ll need to be there for the launch as well.”

Mycroft nodded, which was weird because he did it both on screen and with his screen. “Both you and Karen. And the girls. The reason the Soviets launch from Baikonur is so when, not if, something blows up, it’s isolated, even if it is in the middle of the country. The ESA uses Kourou, French Guiana because it’s both isolated and on a coast. When Kennedy and Vandenberg were started, they were both much more isolated than they are now. In an ideal situation, we’d actually use the ESA facility at Kourou, but things are not ideal. Politely, the member governments are throwing a fit about launching nuclear weapons into orbit. It’s hurricane season in the Atlantic, with Kennedy getting some of the effects of Tropical Storm Isabel. Thus, Vandenberg.”

I was quiet for several moments, then nodded. “The committee isn’t dead, just trying to regroup. They’d rather interfere, because they’re stupid enough they think they can cut a deal with Shiva. Make sure we have incredibly tight security, including submarines, off the coast when it launches. And we’ll be there.”

“You think they might interfere?” Ginny asked.

“It’s insurance. I’d rather have them and not need them, than need them and not have them,” I answered.

That evening, I discussed it with Hannah and Chuck. They agreed with me. An area between San Simeon and Santa Barbara extending out for fifty miles would be placed off limits for all aircraft and shipping. They normally have some restrictions anyway, when there’s a launch. This time, those restrictions would include authorization for the Navy to shoot first and ask questions later, especially on any submarines.

I told my professors Monday that I wouldn’t be present on Wednesday, doing the same on Tuesday for my Thursday classes. Surprising me, not even Doctor Ed made a comment about it. I also made sure Coach knew what was going on, since I was going to be just down the coast.

“They’re not sending you up in a rocket, are they?” he asked.

“No, but I am the Spatial Defense Minister, so I have to go tell the scientists what they need to do, instead of what they want to do.”

He nodded, saying, “Sounds about right. We’re flying down to LA Saturday morning. If you don’t make the flight, you can’t play. That’s not my rule.”

“No, I understand. Good, I was afraid we’d have to fly down Friday. I may not make the Oregon State game on the 9^th. We’re...” I paused, then looked around. “Fuck it. Courtesy of how space travel works, we have to launch something pretty quickly so it has time to travel far enough to hit Halley’s Comet well away from Earth, and then for us to have time to analyze what happened and figure out phase two, if needed.”

“Why not just send up a bunch of nukes and blow it to hell?” he asked.

“I am. How many people that don’t know me like everyone here...” I waved my arms to encompass the campus “ ... knows me would be comfortable giving a seventeen year old full control of the nuclear arsenals of three superpowers?”

He brought a hand up and rubbed it through his hair. “Fuck, Cal! I do know you and I’m not comfortable with that thought. I thought we were done with nuclear weapons after the visits from the Messenger.”

“We are, as far as using them against each other. This isn’t down here, it’ll be up there.”

He snorted then. “You’re going to laugh. I’ve seen you kill animals, I watched you castrate someone, I’ve met national and world leaders, all because of you being you. I’ve watched you take hits and do things that someone ... anyone ... just can’t do. I think it just really, finally, sank in to me that you’re not human.”

“Um, you’ve seen me in the shower, Coach, and I think all my wives can tell you, I’m one hundred percent human male.”

He shook his head. “No, I said that wrong. You’re like ... hell, I don’t know. One of those guys in the comics I used to get mad at John and Jana for reading, Captain America or Thor.”

I chuckled. “It’s someone else’s line. ‘With great power, comes great responsibility.’ I read those, too. Beth loves them. I’m not like those guys. Um, do you know what a bell curve is, where most people are somewhere close to the middle, but then there are people to both ends?” He nodded.

“Intelligence wise, most students and staff here at Stanford are on the right side of that curve, trending towards highly intelligent to outright geniuses. Athletic ability wise, the guys on this team would all be on the right side of the curve. Then you have those, and you’ll forgive me if this sounds familiar to you, those fat couch potatoes that think what they read in the National Enquirer is gospel while drinking beer because they only have three teeth in their head and can’t chew solid food.”

He snorted again, then broke out laughing. “Yeah, I actually know a few of those.”

“That’s the left side of the bell curve. I’m simply at the far right of the bell curve, past where it flattens out. I’m not a mutant ... well, not like you’re thinking from the comic books, anyway. Let me ask you this. How much of you being in football influenced John in his school and career choice?”

Coach Elway frowned. “I’d like to say it didn’t, but I know better.”

“And with you around to help, you could also give him coaching that he just couldn’t get at school. I was raised in a fairly isolated laboratory, with some of the smartest people around, because my parents were also in that category. At the same time, I’ve always had an active metabolism, so when some of those same scientists started training me in martial arts, stuff became muscle memory really quickly. Sayel and Yagyu began their training to be assassins when they were three years old. I started some of my education and physical training at six months old. That’s why I enjoy these team sports so much.”

Elway nodded. “You’re still a scary man, Cal.”

“Oh, I know. I’m dangerous as hell. At least I don’t turn green when you make me angry,” I said with a smile.

He was quiet for several seconds. “We’ve joked about the fate of the world and such, and you having to go off and save everyone. It’s really all true, isn’t it?”

I took in and let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Here’s the thing, Coach. You can either worry about it and make yourself sick, or you can just go on living, then when it happens, deal with it, and then go back on living afterwards.”

He nodded. “Let’s go on living. See you Saturday morning, Mister Lewis.”

I was relieved he let the whole mutant thing drop. I wondered when it’d come up again.

Wednesday morning, I got up bright and early and headed for Moffett. We took a C-130 down, since it wasn’t far.

Vandenberg was both an Air Force Base plus an actual missile and rocket test facility. The base commander, General Fitzsimmons, met us at the plane’s back ramp.

“Your Majesty, welcome to Vandenberg. I’ve been ordered to show you every possible courtesy and to make sure you’re given what ... what the hell?”

“Oh, allow me to introduce Pahto and Mycroft. We’re using a satellite relay so they can run around here, since we’re a bit out of line of sight for their normal method of control.”

Pahto said, “Good morning, General Fitzsimmons. Please, don’t mind us too much. We’ll try to stay in the background and only comment if needed.”

“Uh ... okay.” He looked at me, the question on his face obvious.

“These are drone bodies. Pahto is a qualified pilot, while Mycroft is more familiar with current modern technology, since he’s not two hundred thousand years old like Pahto. Now, it’s my understanding you’re having some issues with the payload bus.”

He shook his head, took off his hat and ran his other hand through his thinning hair, then put his hat back on. “Sorry, Your Majesty. President Reagan called me and warned me I’d be seeing some things that I wouldn’t believe today, and to just go with it. I didn’t think it’d be within the first thirty seconds of your arrival, though.”

I grinned and said, “It could be worse. Of course, it’ll probably get worse before I’m done. I presume that giant cluster sticking up from Launch Pad Two is where the action is.”

“Yes, Sir. Um...”

“Oh, I’ve got wheels for them,” I said, motioning inside the plane. A Suburban pulled out, with a trailer attached. Two of my guards dropped the ramp on the back of the trailer, allowing Pahto and Mycroft to roll up onto it.

“Very slick,” the General said. “Right this way, then.” He led me to a staff car. Sayel and Jeremy joined me inside. The car took us along the taxiway and then along smaller roads to the launch tower.

We pulled up closer than we had when we’d toured Kennedy for the Shuttle launch and stopped, with everyone getting out.

“We normally don’t launch anything this large here, and we’re concerned the gantry won’t survive. Of course, I’ve also been authorized to consider anything that happens to be a combat loss, and I can write it off. Hell of a thing, though,” he said.

I looked at what was before us. Marcia got out of the Suburban and walked over, looking up. “Now, that’s a firework I’ll enjoy shooting off,” she said. “How’d you managed to stabilize it enough to get the second stage on top, considering the gantry isn’t that tall?”

“Very carefully, Miss...”

“Marcia Kaufman Lewis, General. I’m Cal’s explosives expert, and one of his wives, of course. There was no way I was going to let him come down here and let him play with things that go bang and not come along.”

“I ... see,” he said. “At Kennedy, they have the VAB, of course, then roll the whole thing out on a monster crawler. We don’t have that luxury here, so we brought in tower cranes. That’s why things look a little weird. We have a crane on the far side of the rocket, acting as a second gantry tower. The other two are down for now, so they can lift the payload stage once we’ve got it figured out. Let me clarify that. We’ve got the rocket figured out, it’s the bus and then putting the actual payload on it that’s causing us problems.”

“Just out of curiosity, how’d you get a Saturn-V here in the first place?” I asked.

“Oh, that was easy. It was already here, as a static display.” He saw my look. “Yeah, that’s something we didn’t advertise, our display was a fully functioning rocket. Once the command came down to get it ready for launch, it didn’t take us that long to stand it up and start getting it ready. It was more of a pain to figure out attachment points and just how to attach the other rockets to it. The eggheads aren’t happy, because they didn’t have two years of prep time to make sure absolutely everything is just perfect, but we’re under a time crunch that I don’t think they really appreciate,” he replied.

“It’ll all be over by the end of March, one way or the other. The whole point is to make sure it’s us that wins. Even if I do sort of qualify as an egghead,” I said with a grin.

“Sorry, but I think you know what I mean, Your Majesty.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get inside. What’ve we got to work with?”

He led us to a small, relatively speaking, building. Inside there were a group of men standing around a large disc, pointing at different parts on it.

“That’s what’s going on the top of the third stage. Unlike a regular moon launch, we’re just going to use the first stage with the Long March rockets attached to the outside to get the whole thing into earth orbit, then drop off. That’ll be a lot higher than normal, of course. Once it’s up, the second stage with the Soviet rockets acting as boosters will ignite and get it onto what we hope is an intercept course, accelerating the payload so it’ll meet the comet as close to perihelion as we can. The third stage with payload will simply fly along, making the occasional course correction, and then simply crash into the comet, and be destroyed when the payload detonates.”

He sighed. “Of course, figuring out the payload and getting things all together within the next two weeks is where we’re running behind.”

“You know it’s not going to destroy the comet, of course. It’s just too big for that.”

Nodding, he said, “We know. We’re hoping to have the warheads act like an Orion.”

I smiled. “Good. Slowing it down even a little will change the orbit. The last figures I saw still had it coming within lunar orbit. That’s just too damned close for comfort.”

“Agreed. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

He called the scientists and engineers over, then told me their names. I recognized one of them.

“How’d you get on this team? I thought I fired you from ever working in this industry again.”

“You do not have the authority! I am the ESA representative to this project!”

I simply pulled out my khukuri and tossed it, so it spun like a throwing knife and embedded itself in his forehead. Then I walked over, pulled the blade out and wiped it off on his shirt, before putting it back in the sheath. “Does that answer everyone else’s question as to whether or not I have the authority to do whatever it is I deem necessary to complete this project?”

“You ... you just killed him, in cold blood!” one of the engineers said.

“I’m also guessing he’s the one who came up with the most objections as to why you couldn’t do the job, based upon my previous meeting with him.”

“Well ... honestly, yes.”

“Today is October 15^th. I’ll be here today and tomorrow, then I’ll be back next Wednesday and Thursday. Fueling operations will begin the following Monday, with launch on Halloween. Pahto and Mycroft will remain on site assisting you during the times I physically cannot be here. Pahto will also have a remote drone installed in the payload bus with full flight controls, so she can directly pilot the final stage and payload to impact and detonation. Failure or delay is not an option.” I looked around, meeting all their eyes.

“Now then! General, get this body dragged out of here and throw it out for the coyotes to eat, if they’ll eat something so diseased he’d risk all of humanity for his own purposes. In the meantime, let’s get busy figuring this out, so you can mount the payload and get it onto the third stage.”

A different engineer asked, “Risk all of humanity?”

“I am the Spatial Defense Minister for the Terran Federation. The only way he could’ve gotten a job here after I fired him is if he was working for the remnants of the Bilderberg group, hoping to delay things so that when Shiva shows up, they can cut a deal with him. Jeremy, I presume you’ll start that investigation?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to work,” I said, going over to a table, where the working prints for the payload bus were spread out.

Several of the engineers were skittish about joining me.

I looked up and said, “Gentlemen! We’re only talking about the fate of the entire planet here, so nothing too serious, right? Welcome to the real world, where decisions matter and have life or death consequences. This isn’t a game. You’re on Vandenberg Air Force Base. Most of the rockets that launched from here were designed for one reason and one reason only – to deliver a nuclear warhead payload somewhere else on this planet and kill people in mass quantities. Well, folks, here’s your opportunity to deliver a nuclear warhead payload and save people.”

One of the engineers nodded, but then shook his head. “I think we get that. It’s just we need to calculate loads, center of mass, and get things precise, or the rocket will be unbalanced.”

“And that’s why I’m here, with reinforcements. Remember, my father did the same thing you do. Plus, Pahto has actually piloted a rocket – well, an interstellar spaceship, but that’s close enough for our purposes – and in addition, she’ll be hooked up with remote telemetry to this one. So let’s keep that in mind. This isn’t going to be a dumb rocket, this will effectively be a guided missile all the way from launch to delivery.”

Another engineer held up his hand, then paused, lowering his hand. “Never mind, objection withdrawn.”

“Go ahead, what were you going to say?” I asked.

“We’ve heard rumors, of course, but nothing concrete. I’m sorry if this is offensive, but they say you can do magic, and that’s why this is all happening.”

Marcia snorted.

“Just like Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics are wrong, so is Clarke’s Third Law. ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’ What a crock. Once you know about advanced technology, then you know there is no such thing as magic. There’s only technology you don’t understand. You may not grasp how it works now, but someone else does. We’re simply human and our minds have trouble understanding that there are things – forces in the universe, if you will – that are bigger and more powerful than we are. Until it was shoved in your face by the Messenger, how many of you really thought that what we called ‘ghosts,’ but are actually the souls of people that have died, existed?”

Only one of the engineers raised his hand, but three of the Air Force officers, including General Fitzsimmons, did so.

Fitzsimmons looked around, then said, “My wife died ten years ago, from cancer. I’ve felt like she’s still around. I talk to her, and sometimes I feel like she’s talking back to me. I know there’s been more than one occasion when I was thinking about changing jobs that I talked to her, just like I did when she was alive, and she was right there, giving me advice like she always did, on what I should do.”

I looked at him, then his hand. It didn’t take much for me to pump just a little power into his ring, and make it glow. “That should make it easier for you to listen to her, General. Her soul is in your wedding ring, and you’ve never taken it off.”

His eyes widened, then he whispered, “Fran?” His aide quickly moved a chair over as the General stumbled back, giving him someplace to sit. After a minute, he looked up at me. “I don’t know how, but ... thank you!” Tears were streaming down his face.

Marcia looked at the engineers. “Not magic. Simply different technology from ten thousand years ago and not rediscovered until recently. Some people – the Indigenous People of Australia, for example – have existed since before then. Most of us are of European descent, so we’ve all been guilty of thinking we were smarter and more educated than those poor natives living in the scrub and worshiping a huge rock. That huge rock – Uluru – holds the souls of millions of people. They weren’t worshiping it, they were tending to it, to make sure the power would be there when it was needed. Like when it’s time to launch that rocket. If it’s a little off center, it won’t matter. It’ll fly straight and true. Now, let’s get busy figuring out what weapons we’re going to put on it so that it can launch in two weeks and go mess with Shiva’s plans, shall we?”

After that, there wasn’t anything they could do but gather around and start filling white boards with calculations of nuclear payload and destructive capabilities that would give anyone planning to destroy the world glee.

When we broke for a late lunch, I pulled Marcia aside.

“Just a question, dear.”

She grinned. “I didn’t properly attribute that little speech to Bob. He’ll be coming down here Sunday and staying until the launch. But he’s been on the phone – a lot – with the more science minded of the writers he knows. The consensus right now is this is going to be more effective than probably anyone thinks.”

“Really? Nuclear warheads in space typically aren’t that great. They’ll send out radiation, of course, but unless we get direct contact – which is how an Orion works – we’re not going to get much else,” I said.

“Except for one minor thing you’re forgetting, sweetie,” she said with a grin. “That’s why I’m the explosives expert. Not only will we be making this like one giant assed shaped charge, there’s also the cometary halo that’ll act like an atmosphere, albeit a thin one. Fortunately, we have four experts on that, two of which are here today. The other two will be here with Bob on Sunday: Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle. No sense reinventing the wheel.”

One of the engineers overheard her. “Excuse me, Ma’am? Did you say we’re going to get visited Sunday by Niven and Pournelle?”

“Not exactly. They’re going to be here and stay through the launch, to work with you on making sure we have things figured out properly. So will Bob. While Cal has put him in charge of the new Federation space station, that’s going to be a little while out,” Marcia said, with what I recognized as her devious grin.

“Bob?” the engineer asked.

“Robert Heinlein. You may have heard of him,” she replied.

That broke things up a bit, including giving us way more credibility with the engineers. Apparently, being a King, incredibly wealthy, and Spatial Defense Minister for the whole planet was one thing. Being friends with Robert Heinlein, though, was a whole different story.

It might’ve made more sense to stay at Vandenberg that night, but we flew home since it was only an hour commute in the plane and I didn’t care about the cost. Marcia didn’t want to spend the night away from Abigail yet, either.

We had an early breakfast Thursday and flew back down. We didn’t have any issues with anything major, simply a lot of calculations to study and discuss. Pahto and Mycroft had worked throughout the night, with some technicians taking notes and transcribing things since their bodies still didn’t have fine enough motor control to write. We were joined by two scientists from Los Alamos, one from Lawrence Livermore, one from Oak Ridge, and three technicians from the Pantex plant. Apparently the recently deceased ESA scientist had blocked having anyone that actually knew about nuclear weapon construction from taking part in the discussions.

By the end of the day, we knew we were going to have to push the launch back a couple of weeks.

“Well, that just sucks,” I said.

“It’s not all bad,” Marcia replied. “We’ll still actually get it to the comet at perihelion, we just won’t have as much reserve fuel for Pahto to make last minute course corrections.”

One of the scientists pointed to the boards and said, “Keep in mind as well, that with an actual pilot ‘on board,’ as it were, plus with all the data we’ve collected, we’ll be able to refine the launch window even further. And, not to make too big of a deal about it, that’ll also give us time to bring in two Shuttle SRB rockets as well and hang them on the second stage. This is going to be the most godawful looking rocket that anyone has ever seen when it launches, and there’s no way I would recommend anyone be within ten miles of the launch site in case of failure, but when she goes up, she’s going to be one hell of a sight.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a sigh. “General, get more cranes in here to act as temporary gantries, and you may as well consider everything as combat losses. We’re going to have to have at least four standing just to help provide support during launch, so they’re going to become very large puddles of metal.”

Marcia went home that night, but I stayed to work with the overnight crew. Since I really didn’t need to sleep, I just enjoyed it when I was with my wives, it wasn’t an issue. By the end of Friday, we had the weapons list done and the bus designed.

I came home a somber man.

“What’s wrong, love?” Diana had been the only one to greet me at the airport.

I simply took her in my arms, burying my face in her hair, so her natural fragrance could help calm me. After almost a minute, I came out and then kissed her tenderly on the forehead.

“Nothing, now. It’s one thing to talk about what we’re doing with those devices. It’s another to be around men who’ve spent their working lives coming up with more and better ways to kill each other in job lots. I had an issue when ... well, China. I have all of you as my conscience. Thank God for that.”

She wryly smiled. “Mutual Assured Destruction was never a rational philosophy, simply a stopgap until something better came along. And you’re right. Thank God that you did.”

At least I didn’t have trouble sleeping that night, and made it to the airport Saturday morning on time for the team flight. The family would be flying down an hour later.

The guys saw I looked distracted.

“What’s going on, Cal?” John asked. He was coming along, even if he couldn’t dress for the game.

“Sometimes, I know too much for my own peace of mind, John,” I said, not turning from the window, where I was just watching the Pacific Ocean.

“That good, huh? We knew you were doing some shit dealing with saving the world and all, because that’s your thing, right?”

Sighing, I said, “Yeah, that’s my thing. I swear there are a lot of times I’d just like to go find a damned deserted island and hang out on a beach, without a care in the world.”