Sitting on a hard-backed chair in the center of the Oval Office, Margaret Hager stared at Greg Hildebrand expectantly as he took his seat on one of the sofas facing her. “Okay, Greg, out with it. What do the country’s finest minds have to say about conjuring up a solution to the Indigo problem?”
A flash of discomfort showed on Greg’s face as he withdrew a sheet of paper from within his suit jacket and cleared his throat. “Madam President, I gathered two dozen of our top research scientists, and we’ve spent the last five days almost nonstop trying to lay plans for a reasonable skunkworks solution, given the limited time we have left. We came up with a few scenarios, but ... none of them are ideal.”
Margaret motioned impatiently. “I don’t need you politicking the answer. Just spit it out.”
“Well, the first solution involves our fleet of shuttles. We have thirty in-service shuttles, each with a cargo bay large enough to sustain forty people for about six months. It was thought that as the danger approached, we could launch the roughly one-thousand people out of the danger zone—”
“And then what?” Margaret asked skeptically.
“Well, that’s just it. I suppose it depends on what’s left after the passage of the black hole. But given the likelihood of total annihilation, I’m afraid there’d be nowhere to go for those in the shuttle.”
“That’s absolutely ridiculous!” Margaret snarled, feeling a sense of revulsion. “They’d get the pleasure of watching everyone die, and then they’d slowly starve to death. I hope you have something better than that.”
“We have another possibility,” Greg nodded. “Again, only nominally better.” He took a deep breath and consulted the sheet of paper gripped tightly in his hand. “Some of the scientists speculated that it might be possible to spread a large series of rocket-like engines on the surface of the Moon and break it from Earth’s orbit. With the help of the existing Moon base’s growth labs, it could be self-sustaining for upwards of one-thousand people, given the current Moon base facilities.”
Margaret pursed her lips. “Okay, but what are the risks? Also you said it might be possible. Well, is it? Can it or can’t it be done?”
“Well, there was a lot of arguing back and forth about whether or not we even have sufficiently powerful engines that can do the job. The scientists gave it a ten-percent chance of even being possible, if we had the necessary engines. We don’t, and it’s uncertain if we could make enough in the time we’d need them. However, even if we could get it all put together, the downside is that if the black hole ends up destroying the sun or there’s some other type of explosive reaction to the sun’s interaction with the black hole, there’s almost nothing we could do.”
With a shake of her head, Margaret sat back and frowned. “Is that it? Are those my choices?”
“Well, the only other choice isn’t one I even wanted to mention. But there’s enough underground tunnels strewn throughout the country that we could bring millions of people underground. It would probably save them from the barrage of impacts that we’d likely receive. But in the end, we’ll either get swallowed up by the black hole, or get thrown out of orbit and eventually freeze to death.”
“That’s a ridiculous choice,” Margaret waved dismissively. “So you’re telling me that there’s really no viable choices other than finding Doctor Holmes, our boy genius, and hoping to God that Doctor Patel was right and he had some kind of plan?”
With a sneer, Greg exclaimed, “There’s no way that Holmes could have an answer to the Indigo situation—”
“Damn it, Greg!” Margaret snapped. “It’s as if you don’t want there to be a solution.” She leaned forward in her chair and jabbed her index finger in his direction. “I don’t care what personal shit you’re going through, I want you to get over it and help find this Doctor Holmes. Do you understand me?”
With a grim expression, Greg nodded. “Understood.”
“Dismissed.” Margaret waved him away, trying to keep her nausea under control.
As Greg walked out of the Oval Office, Margaret turned to the old man who’d been sitting silently in the corner of the room, watching. “Doug, I want you to organize a status briefing for Indigo right away. I also want profiles on all of the players involved. I need psych screens and background data. I need to know what type of folks these scientists are that I’m dealing with.”
Hopping up from his chair, the spry seventy-something-year-old man nodded and announced in a loud gravelly voice, “I’ll make all the arrangements.”
Doug strode purposefully out of the room as Margaret looked up at the ceiling and silently prayed for a miracle.
###
“Madam President, we already deployed the National Guard, but as I was saying, I wouldn’t ask on behalf of my state if I didn’t think it were necessary. These protests are draining our resources, and I’m afraid we might have real panic on our hands if it gets out of control.”
The speakerphone fell silent in the Oval Office, and Margaret weighed the tone of the New York Governor’s voice.
He was worried.
She glanced across her desk at her Chief of Staff, and he stared back at her with an inscrutable expression.
Leaning back in the leather armchair, she closed her eyes. “Listen Bill, I’ll talk to the Secretary about getting some folks out there to help. I’ll have someone call your office with next steps, but we need to keep the peace, no matter what.”
“I heard something about protests in North Carolina that sounded a lot like what we’re experiencing. Is there something going on that I need to know about?”
“Nothing’s going on, but we’ll help. Listen, let me get off the phone and I’ll get things mobilized. Is there anything else?”
“No, ma’am, and thank you.”
The phone line disconnected, and Margaret frowned at the wrinkled man sitting across from her.
“Doug, this is getting out of hand.”
“Well,” Doug responded in almost a whisper, “this is probably going to spread. Did you want me to arrange conversations with the other governors?”
“Yes, and soon. Let’s keep this quiet, but I want to meet with them all at the same time and disclose what we’re facing. Some drastic things will need to be done.”
“I’ll find a secure location for the disclosure,” he said. “Anything else you need me to arrange?”
“Get Walt on the line. We’ll need help trying to bottle this up, you got me?”
The gray-haired man stood, nodded, and left without a word.
Margaret frowned and muttered, “Indigo must have been leaked.”