Judgment Day (32 page)

CHAPTER 61 REINVENTION

Cloning the IBM personal computer was a simple matter because it was developed through a systematic, step by step process. Reinventing technology discovered through serendipity is a far more difficult matter because the intervening steps are missing.

—
ACCIDENTAL GENIUS
, MALCOLM REYNOLDS

K
ent Thorpe worked with only two assistants, who openly loathed and feared him. He didn't care, deliberately abusing them to keep them emotionally distant. With no natural interpersonal skills, he had been friendless as a child. He had hoped adulthood would be different but the same grating personality that alienated children alienated adults. Only his brilliance gave him a career as a physical chemist and even then he was perpetually lonely, even in a crowded lab.

His was a miserable existence made even worse by the knowledge that his life could have taken another path. He had been loved once. Not an attractive man, he had a bald spot on the crown of his head that had expanded over the years, leaving only a fringe of hair that he let grow over his ears. His head slightly misshapen, his neck nearly nonexistent, but with a fully developed ego, he was unwilling to settle for women at his own attractiveness level. Instead, he spent his evenings drinking and mourning the loss of the one beautiful woman who had loved him—Constance, who had been murdered by an incompetent.

Thorpe's assistants were in the next room, watching through glass, waiting for him to beckon. He liked their subservience, their fear of him. The assistants were competent, but unremarkable, and in the years they had worked together on the project never once had any of them made a valuable suggestion—at least nothing he would credit to them. In Thorpe's worldview, he had single-handedly reverse-engineered the Fellowship's sphere, rebuilding the electronics from scrap.

Fry arrived with another man. Tall and dark, with a prominent nose, he looked familiar. He was as menacing as Fry but not in a physical way. His was an inner menace, projecting a disquieting aura. Mr. Fry smiled at Thorpe.

"Good morning, Kent," Fry said. "I've brought someone to witness the demonstration."

"Must he be here?" Thorpe asked.

"Yes," Fry said coldly.

The dark man's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing. Shivers ran down Thorpe's spine.

"Let's start in the sphere," Thorpe said quickly, avoiding the dark man's eyes.

Retrieving a manila envelope from a file drawer, he led his visitors to the sphere and onto a platform so they could peer in. As they climbed the stairs to the platform the dark man lingered below, running his fingers over the nearly obliterated name "Rising Savior," then joined them. Opening the envelope, Thorpe passed them pictures as he spoke.

"This is the mess we started with."

The pictures showed the blackened interior of the sphere.

"The rocket exhaust pierced the porthole of the sphere and incinerated the forward controls. During reentry the heat build-up melted most of the other two control systems. The shock when the sphere hit the water splattered the softened circuit boards all over the interior. Then the whole mess was soaked in salt water for months. Rebuilding the controls from that mess was nearly impossible."

"But you did it," Fry said.

"No one else could have," Thorpe bragged.

"No one except Ira Breitling," the dark man said.

Temper flaring, Thorpe said, "Ira Breitling was a second-rate graduate student who stumbled onto his discovery." Pointing into the sphere he said, "He could never have accomplished this."

Seventy percent rebuilt, the interior had little resemblance to the blackened mess in the photos.

"Very nice," the dark man said, "but does it work?"

Thorpe disliked the dark man.

"Just watch," Thorpe said. "Notice the cabling running from the sphere to the consoles. I've slaved each gauge to my console so I can read them remotely." Leading the way he took them to the console. "As you can see, we are reading current flow through the restored circuits."

"And these circuits control the ship?" Fry asked.

"They regulate power to the antigravity drive built into the base of the sphere."

"You never opened the drive?" the dark man asked.

"No. It appeared to be intact and Mr. Fry and I decided it was best to leave it that way and try to rebuild the control systems. Like Pandora's box, we don't know what's inside and opening it could be unpleasant"

The dark man seemed displeased but let Thorpe continue.

"The circuits control three magnetic fields that are created within the drive. The intense magnetic fields overlap and can be varied in strength.

Control of the fields is directly linked to the stick and foot controls inside the sphere."

"Very interesting, Kent, but does it work?" Fry asked impatiently.

Thorpe ignored Fry, enjoying the moment.

"In addition to the magnetic fields, power flows into the drive—what happens there I don't know—but watch this."

Increasing power equally to the three magnetic fields, Thorpe then slowly increased power to the drive. His visitors turned to watch the sphere. Particles began dancing around the room, swirls embracing them, particles pelting them, their skin prickling. Then there was light, bright blinding light that quickly faded. A few seconds later the sphere lifted from the floor, inching up until the cables it trailed became taut.

"You did it, Kent," Fry exclaimed.

"Of course I did it. Now if you'll let me open the drive I'll reverse-engineer it."

"I agree," the dark man said. "Dr. Thorpe has proved himself"

"We're not opening the drive," Fry said firmly.

"It's time, Fry. One working sphere does us no good. The antigravity drive is the prize that will break the cult."

Shaking his head, Fry said, "If we open it, and it's booby-trapped, we don't even have one."

"Leaving it sealed gets us nowhere," the dark man argued.

"How can you say that when Dr. Thorpe here has accomplished so much?"

"But there are limits," Thorpe said softly.

"What limits?" Fry demanded.

"The ship is levitating, but the system power is coming from an external source."

"What are you saying?" Fry said.

"He's saying you'll need a two-hundred-mile-long extension cord to fly that sphere into orbit."

"For now," Thorpe said quickly. "I'll figure it out."

"How long?" Fry demanded.

"I've probed the drive in every way I can, but I need more time," Thorpe said.

"What he's not saying, Fry," the dark man said, "is that he'll never figure it out until he can look inside one of those drives."

Thorpe squirmed under Fry's stare.

"We don't open it until we have a second," Fry said.

"A second?" the dark man prodded.

"Exactly. Thorpe, can this sphere be rigged with enough external power to reach the space station?"

"Yes, with enough time."

"Good. We can reach them—surprise them."

"You're going to hijack another sphere?" the dark man asked.

"I'm more ambitious than that. Sometimes there are two or three spheres docked at their space station and if we time it right we can get a shuttle."

"The public would never put up with piracy," the dark man argued.

"Not in this atmosphere," Fry said. "Somehow we've got to turn the public against them. The country has to want us to take their technology."

"They're child molesters," Thorpe said.

"They beat those charges," the dark man replied.

"They're hypocrites," Thorpe said bitterly. "They claim to be pro-life but the Breitlings didn't hesitate to abort their way out of a jam."

"Ruth Breitling had an abortion?" the dark man asked, surprised.

"She was Ruth Majors then," Thorpe said. "It was the same day of the accident. My girlfriend knew about it and told me."

"Can you use that information?" Fry asked.

"There's still residue from the child molesting charges," the dark man said. "It won't be enough to turn the tide of public opinion, but it's a help."

One of Thorpe's assistants came out of the control room and interrupted, speaking to Fry, his voice low and deferential.

"Mr. Fry, Dr. Thorpe, you might want to see this. It's about the Fellowship."

Following the assistant into the next room they found a monitor tuned to a news channel. A helicopter was providing shots of a submarine sandwiched between several tugboats. Seven of the Fellowship's spheres were spread along the length of the submarine's hull, and two of the shuttle-sized craft were parked at either end. Men were huddled around each sphere and around four more round structures that resembled the base of the spheres. The flash of welding torches could be seen along the length of the hull. A network logo and "Live from Groton, Connecticut" was in the corner of the screen.

"What's going on?" Fry demanded.

"The Fellowship bought a submarine and they're getting ready to lift it into space."

"That's a nuclear sub," Fry said.

"It's a Seawolf," the dark man added. "One was left incomplete when Congress cut off funding for the program. As part of the deal to close down the project, General Dynamics was given the hull of an unfinished sub as scrap."

The mention of Congress was the clue Thorpe needed. The visitor was Congressman Crow. Knowing someone as powerful as Crow was working with Fry boosted his confidence.

"It can't be more than a shell," Fry said. "What would the Fellowship want with it?"

"Submarines aren't much different than spaceships," Thorpe said. "If they can get it into o r b i t . . ."

"It looks like they're going to try," Fry said. "They could transport an army inside something that big."

Now the men on the hull boarded the shuttles and lifted off. Next the tugs cut loose their lines, backing away from the huge ship that floated rock still, waves washing up its sides and over its bow. Now minutes passed, nothing happening, except the chatter of the newswoman became more frenetic as she tried to pump life into her dying story. Then it happened—the ship began to move—but forward, cutting through the waves as if it was propelling itself.

"It's coming up," Fry said.

Thorpe studied the water line along the hull. The ship was rising, more and more of the hull appearing. Three-quarters of the ship rode below the waterline and as she came out of the water her true size could be seen.

"It gives us some idea of the power of those spheres," Fry said. "She must displace fifteen thousand tons."

With the helicopter paralleling the course of the submarine, they were receiving spectacular images of the great submarine rising from the waves, water cascading down its sides. As the huge bulk of the ship was pulled from the sea, water rushed in to fill the void, creating frothy swirl beneath the ship and spreading out to rock the tugs that were still moving away.

Now the ship was completely free—there were no propellers, the openings for the drive shafts plugged with welded steel caps. Picking up speed, the shell of the warship lifted toward the heavens, the news helicopter capturing the dramatic moment. Slowly falling behind, the helicopter kept its parallel course, trying to match the rate of climb. The submarine continued to outdistance the news copter and the image of the submarine began to shrink. Without another object to give it scale, soon the ship looked like a toy, not the behemoth it was. The image of the Seawolf shrank to a dot. Then it was gone, the ship well on its way to its new life in space.

CHAPTER 62 THE LONGEST JOURNEY

On old maps of the Earth large regions were designated
terra incognita
—unknown lands, beyond the frontiers of exploration. Until very recently, all of space beyond our planet was
terra incognita
. During the past two decades of solar system exploration the frontier has been pushed out to a distance of about 10 astronomical units (AU) from the Sun, beyond which no planets have been visited by spacecraft and even the largest telescopes can see only dimly. There, in a region of perpetual dusk, where the Sun is so small it would appear as a starlike point to the naked eye, lies still a
terra incognita
.

—
THE NEW SOLAR SYSTEM
, J. KELLY BEATTY, BRIAN O'LEARY AND ANDREW CHAIKIN (EDS.)

T
he
Genesis
was docked at New Hope station, umbilicals connecting the ship to the station at two points. The shuttle
Rock of Ages
was mated to one of
Genesis's
cylinders and each of the other two cylinders carried a lifting sphere. Frozen and dehydrated fruits, meats and vegetables, and staples of every kind filled nearly a third of each cylinder. Stored water added as much mass, despite the presence of an efficient recycling system. The remaining storage was devoted to spare parts—enough to rebuild all the ship's systems. What little personal space the crew was allowed was filled with family photos, books and Bibles, toiletries, and clothes.

Inside the New Hope the crew, their families, and selected members of the Fellowship were gathered for worship. It was silent worship, each person meditating, opening themselves to God, to see if He would move them to speak. Everyone knew the danger, everyone feared the
Genesis
would never be seen
again
, but no one spoke aloud of their fears. This was a day to praise God.

Micah Strong commanded the mission with Bob Morton as copilot and Gus Sampson as the first engineer. Ten others rounded out the all male crew, including Paul Swenson, who had been with Micah on the moon, and Floyd Remple, who would be the oldest man on board. All but two left family behind.

The worshipers were spread through two modules and the connecting tunnels. The constant roar of the air-handling equipment made for poor acoustics, and the speaker system was inadequate, so the silent worship style was well suited to the conditions.

Shelly was there with John Jr. and three-month-old Judith slept peacefully, her belly full of mother's milk. Restless, Junior scribbled noisily in a coloring book. Church-trained, he could sit through hour-long services, but today worship was pushing the limits of his ability to be good. Mercifully, Mark finally stood, his back to the hatch of the
Genesis, and
closed the service with a prayer.

"Great God of the universe, maker of all things, creator and sustainer of life, we ask Your protection for our travelers. God, we ask that You bless their journey, and extend Your protection to them during their long separation from the fellowship of believers. Once again we recognize the covenant You have made with us and seek to honor You by fulfilling the mission You have given us. Through our savior Jesus Christ we ask Your blessing on their journey. Amen."

Silence followed, then slowly the voices of the congregation rose as they sought out the crew, shaking hands, saying good-byes. Shelly waited while Micah talked with Junior, telling him to be good, and to take care of his mother.

"Bring me a present?" John Jr. asked.

"There aren't any stores where I'm going," Micah said. Then when Junior's face fell, "But maybe I can find something—it won't be store-bought."

"Okay, Daddy."

Then with a final hug and a kiss, Junior stepped aside for his mother. Holding Judith on her hip Shelly pulled Micah tight, enjoying the warmth of his body one last time. A full minute passed and still she would not release him.

"You've got to let me go sometime, Shelly," he said.

"Please come back, Micah, I couldn't stand to lose you too."

"If it's God's will, I'll be back."

"It is, I know it is. I'll pray every day for your return."

"I know. Now let me hold Judith."

Passing the still sleeping little girl over, Shelly said, "By the time you get back, she won't remember you, but I'll tell her about you every day."

"Wait until she can understand. If you tell her that her daddy is in the heavens she might think I'm God."

"Daddys
are
gods to their little girls."

"Micah, are you working or not?" Ira shouted from the hatch of the
Genesis
.

Micah kissed Judith on the forehead, then passed her back to Shelly.

"It's time to go," Micah said.

Shelly hugged and kissed him one more time, then let him
go
down the connecting tunnel to the hatch. Pausing, he waved from the door, Shelly and Junior waving back. Then he shook Mark's and Ira's hands and stepped into the hatch and was gone.

Shelly waited by the tunnel, hugging each of the crewmen as they passed, their wives and children gathering with her in the module. Then Floyd passed, carrying five-year-old Ruth, his other arm wrapped around Evelyn. Daniel trailed reluctantly, scowling. The Remples paused by the tunnel, Floyd hugging and kissing Evelyn and then Ruth, who clearly loved her daddy. But when Floyd reached out to Daniel the boy slapped his father's hand away.

"I told you to never touch me again!" Daniel said.

"I just wanted to shake your hand, son. I'll be gone for a long time."

"Good," Daniel said.

No one in the module was shocked by the scene, they all knew about Daniel. In the three years since he had been returned to the Remples he had never returned to the boy he once was. He still believed his father had molested him and spoke openly of it to other children and adults. Hostile to his parents and teachers, Daniel was a behavior problem at home and school. Only eight years old, he had run away six times, each time to his foster home in San Francisco.

Floyd was the last of the crew to enter and he closed and sealed the hatch. Now the crowd moved back into the module, gathering around monitors to watch the
Genesis
depart. Shelly noticed Daniel sat apart from the others, his nose in a book. Daniel had taken to reading, even in worship, losing himself in books, hiding from his family. Daniel's grades in school were abominable and he sought out classmates like himself—disgruntled troublemakers. A natural leader, he led even older boys into trouble.

A spray of particles announced the separation, the great ship drifting away from the station. Then the name "Genesis" came into view and above it Christian and American flags painted on the hull. More of the ship could be seen now—the
Rock of Ages
riding one cylinder. Only one sphere could be seen from this angle, the
Lamb of God
. Then the ship turned, the bulbous drive that joined the three cylinders rotating toward them. Now the ship picked up speed, shrinking to a dot and disappearing into the speckled void.

Shelly remained, staring at the stars, letting Junior wander off to play with friends. Only when Judith woke, fussing to be changed, did she move. Changing the baby on the floor she thought of the wives of the great world explorers who must have shared what she was feeling now. How did they manage to live for years without their husbands? There were so many things she would miss—his listening ear, his help with the children, his warm body in bed. Worst of all was the fear she would never see him again. Columbus had come home, but Magellan had died half a world away. Which had she married?

There were reporters waiting at the Christ's Home compound when they returned and Shelly waited in the stands by the launch pad to hear how Mark would handle them. Ira sat by Shelly. Mark began with a prayer. Few of the reporters bowed their heads. Two whispered to each other through the prayer. Next Mark gave a brief statement.

"Today the Light in the Darkness Fellowship deep-space explorer
Genesis
departed with ten crew members to explore new regions of space. The
Genesis
is capable of sustaining the crew for an extended period of time and we expect this to be our longest mission so far. Micah Strong is commanding the mission and is an experienced pilot who flew the Mars mission as well as to the moon. I will now take questions."

The first hand recognized was a woman.

"Are there no women on this mission, and if not, why not?"

"None of our women pilots wanted to leave their children for the amount of time this mission will take," Mark said.

"Did you give them the option?" the reporter persisted.

"The most experienced people were assigned to the mission."

The woman spoke again but Mark ignored her, pointing at another reporter.

"Which planets will the
Genesis
visit?"

"Our ships are not ground-controlled and the crew of the
Genesis
has wide latitude in deciding what will be explored."

"There has to be a mission plan," the reporter persisted. "Will they visit all nine planets? Six? Only the outer planets?"

"Only the first part of the mission has been planned in detail; for the rest of the mission the crew will make decisions within parameters we've set out."

"What parameters?" two or three reporters shouted, frustrated.

Shelly nudged Ira. They both enjoyed it when the reporters were exasperated with Mark, who never ran out of patience, and never let himself be backed into a corner. Deftly he answered their questions without lying to them.

"Will the
Genesis
visit Jupiter?" another reporter asked, fishing for details.

"I'm not going to discuss mission specifics."

"Why the secrecy?" the reporter persisted.

"Security concerns," Mark said.

Shelly smiled. If the real mission of the
Genesis
were known, members of the Fellowship might be in danger.

Another reporter was acknowledged. This one stood.

"Isn't it true that the
Genesis
is traveling to Mars to begin a colony and that the Fellowship is planning to claim Mars for itself? Isn't it also true that the
Genesis
is actually carrying one hundred colonists who will begin to terra-form Mars?"

"No, none of that is true," Mark said.

Mark's simple answer infuriated the reporters and they zeroed in on the Mars colony theory. Having created a story where there hadn't been one, the reporters now circled the wagons, defending their theory against Mark's persistent denials.

"If the
Genesis
isn't going to Mars, then why not tell us where it is going?"

"Those hundred colonists couldn't live on any other planet than Mars, isn't that right?" another asked, lending credence to the colonists idea and the number of them at the same time.

"Humans can't live on Mars or any of the other seven planets," Mark said.

Each statement fueled more speculation.

"Doesn't the
Genesis
have the capacity to carry the necessary environmental equipment for colonists to survive?"

"If there weren't too many," Mark replied truthfully.

"So the
Genesis
could transport colonists and the equipment needed to keep them alive?"

"Yes. If we wanted to."

Now the reporters wrote furiously, creating the story they weren't getting from Mark. Then Wyatt Powder stepped forward, a cameraman by his side.

"Reverend Shepherd, is it true that before Ira and Ruth Breitling were married they conceived a child and then to protect their reputation aborted the baby?"

Ira stiffened and Shelly instantly knew it was true.

"No comment," Mark said, caught off guard.

"Then we'll ask Mr. Breitling himself."

Walking toward Ira, his cameraman focusing on Ira's face, Wyatt Powder fixed his interview smile. Photographers surrounded Ira, flashes strobing, blinding Shelly. She reached for Ira's hand to comfort him, but he suddenly stood, pushing through the throng, hurrying toward the hangar. Powder shouted after him as he hurried away.

"Afraid of the truth, Mr. Breitling? Don't you consider abortion murder?" Then to his crew Powder said, "Looks like we've finally got them on the run."