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Thursday–Washington, DC
President Baker sits at a desk on a studio set built to look like the Oval Office while on a video call with the governors of every state.
“Governors, thank you for attending this briefing. You must all urgently act to prepare for the asteroid storm. I am instructing each of you to use every resource available in your states to save as many people as possible. Find protection underground: old air-raid shelters, basements, parking structures, or sewers if they’re the only choice. Initiate martial law. Call up military reserves, police, and fire departments to help move people and supplies to any available shelter.”
Governor Scott Hayes of Georgia speaks. “Mr. President, I’ve placed calls to the base commander at Fort Benning, but I’m not getting any response.”
The president’s face displays frustration, but his voice remains confident and commanding. “We’ve had communication issues with some branches of the military. I will resolve this. You have little time to get sheltered. We expect the bombardment to intensify in the next twenty-four hours. Make use of church volunteers, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, the damned Moose Lodge if you must, but get moving. We need to save as many people as possible.”
Governor Dora Crawford of California calls out. “Twenty-four hours’ notice before the destruction of our society? Is that the best our government can offer? We’ve already had impacts and deaths. Didn’t NASA or JPL know about this? Will you support funds for disaster relief?” she asks.
“I don’t want to denigrate President Anderson, but there are indications he and some of his cabinet knew this was coming; however, they chose not to share that knowledge.” Grumbling and hisses come from the governors. President Baker shakes his head and waves his hand to show he will not engage in debate. “You have my promise, good news, or bad, I will share it with you. Focus on getting people to safety. Get instructions to your citizens over streaming services. Use any alternative methods you have, even broadcast TV if you still have broadcast stations in your area. There is no time for discussion or special requests. You all must act. Encourage a calm, swift movement of your citizens. We don’t want more panic and looting.”
The governors erupt with a series of questions. With fifty governors and their staff talking all at once, the president hears only noise. “Quiet down. Quiet now!” the president shouts to get everyone’s attention. “It is likely we will lose communications as the storm intensifies. Some areas will lose power. No matter what happens, or how bad it gets, you are the governors of your states. You have a responsibility to lead your people. We are the United States of America. Nothing, not even an asteroid storm, will put us asunder. Be strong. Use every local resource and asset to get your people to safety. That is all.”
The governor of Wyoming shouts over the clamoring voices. “Every state and man for his-self!” His image drops from the screen. One by one, video screens turn black as the governors touch out of the call.
President Baker steps away from the set and his press secretary escorts him to the Command Center. “That was great, sir—short and to the point.”
President Baker hurries into the Command Center. “What do we have next?”
“We have an update from Dr. Simmons, at JPL. They have several ground and space-based telescopes working now,” Sheryl reports, reading from a screen projected from her band.
“I pray we have some good news for a change.”
Cabinet members and military leaders crowd the room. Staff members move to make way for the president, allowing him to sit at the large conference table. Cliff nods to Tug Grimes, Mitch Campbell, and others around the table. Air Force Major Anthony Cortez stands at the front of the room. A huge video screen covers the wall behind him. Once the president sits, Tug signals the Major to begin.
“All right let’s get started. JPL, the National Reconnaissance Office, and NASA have worked frantically to get their systems online to provide a realistic idea of what we are in for, and sorry if I’m jumping ahead, but it doesn’t look pretty.” The major shuffles nervously, aware that he might have broken protocol.
President Baker waves him on. “That’s all right, Tony. This is not the time for political double-speak. Let’s cut it to the bone. We need to know what’s coming at us.”
Major Cortez gives a stoic nod. “I’ll let Dr. Simmons explain.”
The image of Dr. Simmons appears on the screen. The president doesn’t hesitate. “Dr. Simmons let us have it, full bore. No, sugarcoating. What are we up against?”
“It’s worse than our simulations predicted. We’ve only had a short time with our systems up, but we’ve spotted dozens of new comets and large clusters of asteroids moving through the inner solar system, heading toward Earth. There are thousands of objects, ranging from ten meters, which will burn up in the atmosphere, to objects one hundred meters and larger, which will impact and cause damage like we’ve seen in the DC area. Bombardments will occur daily, coming from the east, traveling westward, in a wide swath covering North America to south of the Equator. Events will occur from late afternoon until early morning with varying intensity. The same is happening around the world. We are tracking several impacts across Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. The intensity will increase over the coming days. While the number of objects is greater than predicted, this is the event we expected and reported earlier. However,” Dr. Simmons pauses longer than expected. The room doesn’t breathe in anticipation of the doctor’s next words.
“However, what, Simmons?”
Dr. Simmons bites his lower lip before speaking. “We have identified an asteroid. Well, we’ve identified thousands of new asteroids and comets, but one designated as 2039 JZ966 is particularly alarming. Our calculations show the asteroid will cross Earth’s orbit in three days.”
President Baker looks to Major Cortez, then to Tug. Both faces are blank. “That seems to be a common occurrence these days. What’s special about this one? Dammit! I said cut it to the bone, Doctor.” The president looks at Simmons with an angry scowl. Dr. Simmons sinks into his chair.
Tug jumps in. “Mr. The president, asteroid JZ966, is a potential Earth-killer. It’s over one kilometer in diameter. That’s ten football fields wide. If it makes a direct impact anywhere on Earth, it will kill millions and blast enough debris into the atmosphere to cause an impact winter lasting several years, causing death and starvation around the world.”
Everyone in the room gasps. A young aide runs to exit the Command Center. President Baker stands and points at the door. “Nobody leaves. That news does not leave this room. Nobody moves until we have a solution.”
“President Baker is right. We have the brightest minds in this room. We need a solution to save as many lives as possible,” adds Mitch.
Jerome pokes his fingers in the air, manipulating searches on his VUE making whimpering sounds as he reads. “Dear Lord, three days. Three days to die. Oh, my.”
Cliff loosens his tie. He could use a shot of that Makers Mark whiskey but knows such an act wouldn’t look very presidential. “Tug, you and the major obviously have had this news for some time. What options have you come up with?”
“Sir, Major Cortez briefed us on this just minutes ago, during your video conference with the governors.”
“Well, let’s come up with options now. Can’t we launch a rocket and push it out of the way before it gets here?”
Mitch helps finish the president’s thought. “He’s right. I remember a decade ago. We funded a NASA project to deflect asteroids. It used laser beams or something. Can’t we use that system?”
“Potentially. With several years of warning, we can deflect an asteroid by changing its trajectory. We have developed and tested several technologies for planetary defense. But any technology to accomplish this takes years. We have days,” Dr. Simmons explains.
Jerome’s hands dance through the air in front of his face. He makes a final poke and two slow finger strokes, as if scrolling through text. “Ah, ooh. Maybe it will work,” he says under his breath, yet loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What is it, Jerome? Can you please stop twiddling your fingers for a moment?” Mitch asks.
Jerome removes his VUE lens. Ignoring Senator Campbell, he looks at Tug and says a single word, “Harpoon,” then returns the VUE to his face and resumes flicking his fingers in the air.
Tug looks to Major Cortez quizzically. The major shuffles uncomfortably. “I’ve never heard of Harpoon. Secretary Hargrove send me what you have on it.”
Jerome flips his wrist and the Harpoon file appears on the major’s band. He scans the document for a few moments. “All right, Harpoon, which is a classified mission by the way." The major says firing a sharp glare at Jerome. “Is an asteroid intercept spacecraft, an experimental mission, funded by the office of National Planning, under the National Preparedness Assessment Division of FEMA, which is part of Homeland.”
“The project sounds sufficiently buried under layers of government agencies. No wonder nobody’s heard of it,” says Mitch.
“There have been no budget appropriations for a space mission. Budget cuts shut down NASA and JPL. Yet, some obscure agency under Homeland can manage a clandestine space program. This smells like something that bastard Cruikshank would cook up,” remarks President Baker.
Mitch realizes he interrupted the major. “Sorry. Please continue,” he says, signaling the major to proceed.
Cortez reads the document projected from his band. “The concept is to launch a spacecraft, called a Hypervelocity Asteroid Intercept Vehicle, at a target asteroid. The space vehicle has two parts, separated by a long boom, or as they named it a harpoon. The leading portion is a kinetic impactor that creates a crater in the asteroid. The second part of the spacecraft contains a nuclear explosive device.”
Jerome flicks his fingers in the air, moving his head around like a blind man. “And?”
The major looks at Jerome. “And what?”
Jerome swivels his chair to face the major. “And Harpoon is scheduled for a test launch in ten days. Can’t we move the launch up by, say, seven days?”
Major Cortez looks stumped. “I have no idea. It seems I’m at a disadvantage here.”
“Let’s be clear about the potential of this Harpoon device. If I understand correctly, the explosion will push the asteroid away from Earth. Is that correct, Dr. Simmons?” asks President Baker.
Dr. Simmons face twists with concern. “I’m not sure you understand Harpoon’s mission. The aim of an HAIV, such as Harpoon, is to destroy the asteroid, not deflect it.”
“You mean Harpoon will blow up the asteroid? Why didn’t you say that?” shouts the president.
“It wasn’t my suggestion. It was his!” Dr. Simmons says, pointing at Jerome. “No one asked for my opinion, until now.”
“I damned well am asking you now! Is this Harpoon thing a good idea?”
Dr. Simmons has a stern look on his face. "As I stated earlier, deflection missions take years if not decades. This will require some study, but if Harpoon is ready to launch, it is likely our best chance for a planetary defense mission. However, based on the size of JZ966, it could take several Harpoon devices to disrupt the asteroid.”
“Several Harpoon devices? You said Harpoon would blow up the asteroid with a nuclear bomb! A nuclear bomb against an asteroid. How many could it take?”
“I said nothing about Harpoons capabilities. Obviously, I don’t know yet. I’ve just learned of this device. Depending upon the launch vehicle, the characteristics of the nuclear device, the size, shape, and density of the target object, it could require forty simultaneous HAIV impacts to destroy an asteroid the size of JZ966.”
“Forty asteroid smashers. That’s crazy. How can we ever hope to save the world from this beast?” asks the stunned president.
“We have to try,” a woman’s voice calls out from across the Command Center.
“Yes, we must try. We have to try,” other voices in the room echo.
“Of course, we will try. Dr. Simmons, what will it take?” asks President Baker.
“I need to study the mission plan to ensure we can re-target Harpoon for JZ966. We need to run orbital dispersion simulations and modeling. Obviously, there are many unknowns. Our objective will be to destroy the asteroid or break it into smaller fragments.”
The room is silent as people in the Command Center contemplate launching a nuclear weapon in space to destroy an asteroid. Cliff Baker breaks the silence. “Jerome, do some digging. Find out where the Harpoon tests are taking place.”
“What else do you need, Doctor?” asks Mitch.
“More time. You people are expecting the impossible. We must acquire scans from space telescopes to determine JZ966’s density and composition in advance of the launch. We need data to determine the number of impactors required and select optimal target locations for the nuclear explosives to have the highest degree of success. This assumes that there is more than a single Harpoon device. If there’s only a single system, any mission to destroy JZ966 is doomed to fail. We have years of work to complete in two days. You people shut down JPL, now you expect miracles.”
Tug works to change the direction of the discussion. “Dr. Simmons, we’re all faced with impossible tasks today. We’ll learn more about Harpoon and help determine if we have a mission or not.”
President Baker puts down his notes and rises from his chair. “Dr. Simmons, we need to know that asteroid backassward. We must destroy this beast. Ladies and gentlemen, the universe has issued Earth a death warrant. It may be in our power to see that warrant is not served. We have a short window to save our country... dammit, to save the world. There is no time to waste.”
The room buzzes with activity as people move quickly into small work groups. Mitch is pleased. He walks to President Baker. “Good job, Cliff... ah, sorry, Mr. President. I guess you work best on whiskey hangovers and no sleep.”
Cliff chuckles. “It’s amazing how a crisis helps you focus.”
Tug Grimes rolls up a small thin-screen and stuffs into his satchel. The president calls him over. Cliff speaks in a low tone so only Tug can hear. “Tug, we need to save as many American lives as possible. That means getting people underground.” Tug nods in agreement.
The president continues. “Who controls the largest underground sites scattered across the continent?”
Tug returns a devilish grin. “I would have to say the Arcadians.”
“I suggest we plan for the Marines to overtake, and occupy, the Arcadian sites. Swarm those underground locations and get people underground. The few and the fortunate be damned.”
“You don’t have to ask twice. That old colonel always rubbed me the wrong way.” Tug signals the Commandant of the Marine Corps to follow him as he moves to the door. “We’ll have an action plan tout suite, Mr. President,” Tug says, as he leaves the room.
Cliff is confident the gears of the US government machine, at least the components not absconded by Colonel Cruikshank, are working. He is proud of his first hours as President of the United States. He’s barely slept. He should be exhausted but is full of energy. The day is just beginning. He spots his secretary at the far end of the room and calls out, “Sheryl, what’s next?”
