The Dying of the Light: Interval Page 5

  It started as a mumble, heard through the layers of her coat and reflected off the table, so no one understood it.

  “What was that, marshal?” asked Burke, turning toward her from his post at the end of the table.

  Shaw realized what was about to happen and laid a hand on her arm, but she stood up, never noticing his implied restraint. And then it was far, far too late for him to stop her.

  “You’re all a bunch of fucking idiots!” she yelled, stunning everyone in the room—and no doubt those sitting on the phone—into silence with her vehemence. “There’s what, maybe a thousand, twelve hundred, of us left down here in Hell? Across the most God-forsaken landscape this world has ever come up with, a goddamn desert of ice, there are twelve hundred of us. Twelve hundred real humans left.”

  Jennifer moved closer to the speakerphone in the middle of the table, no one thinking to restrain her.

  Burke had had just about enough. “Marshal, please sit down,” he said, rising from his seat, his voice strained from his attempt at civility. “Now.”

  Jennifer completely ignored him. “Three years ago, there were seven billion people on this planet. Think about that for a second. Seven billion. And now we’re down to just over one thousand. But we’re not just down to a thousand, are we? Because those other six billion and change didn’t all die, did they? They’re still out there, roaming and eating and killing.”

  “Just a moment, marshal,” said Nigel Mackey, the UK delegate. “What about those bunkers you Americans were building? That’s another hundred thousand people right there.”

  “Sure, fine. That’s another hundred thousand. But do they really matter? Sealed up tight inside their bunkers, waiting for the world to calm down? And all of them tens of thousands of miles away, with no way to help us. They might as well be on the moon. Hell, we might as well be on the moon.”

  “Marshal, sit down!” Burke began to move toward Jennifer, but Shaw stood and caught his eye, shaking his head slowly. Something about the look in Shaw’s eyes must’ve told him it would’ve been a losing battle, and Burke blinked twice, shocked, and stayed where he was, sitting back down. As Shaw returned to his own seat, he knew he was going to hear about this later, and might even lose his commission, but right now he didn’t even care.

  Because Jennifer was right.

  “We are the last surviving humans on the face of the earth,” Jennifer continued. “We’re it, folks. Monroe, how long has it been since we got any transmissions from outside?”

  Jackson Monroe, the base’s head of communications, took off his glasses and threw them on the table. He massaged the bridge of his nose, thinking before he spoke. When he answered, his voice was strong and confident. “Three months.”

  “And what was the source?”

  Jackson sighed. “An automated SOS signal from who knows where. We tried to trace it, but we think it bounced off some unusual activity in the atmosphere, and could’ve come from anywhere. Since it was Morse Code, there’s no way of knowing the origin.”

  “And before that?”

  “We got a satellite relay from the folks at Christchurch about six months ago. They were… well, unhinged would be a good way to put it.”

  Jennifer nodded. “Thanks, Jackson. What about the rest of you? Anyone else have any transmissions more recently? Or more important?”

  The silence from the speaker was deafening.

  “That’s what I thought. We are alone down here. And all this nationalistic crap about who should send supplies to whom, or who should seek refugee status, it’s all moot. There are no more countries for us to be loyal to. They’re gone. And they’re damn sure not coming back anytime soon, maybe not ever if we don’t survive this.”

  She took a deep breath and sat down as one of the other department heads stood up and offered her the seat closer to the phone. Taking the seat next to Shaw that she had vacated, the man put a comforting hand on Shaw’s shoulder. “She’s right, you know,” he whispered.

  Shaw nodded. “And she’s not done yet.”

  “Did you know about any of this?”

  “Not even a little. Shhh…”

  “I’m done pussy-footing around here, trying to be friends with everyone,” said Jennifer. “This ‘Antarctic Nations’ thing is a good idea in spirit, but the implementation is crap. There’s only a thousand of us left, and half of those don’t even get to participate in these discussions, even through representation by their department heads.”

  The Chinese delegate, Jiayi Sun, spoke up. “You’ve made your feelings clear on numerous occasions, Ms. Michaelson. However, you cannot tell us how to run our operations. As you said, our bases are sovereign lands.”

  “You’re right, Mr. Sun. We can’t. That’s why it’s time to forget our separate bases altogether.” There was a collective in-drawn breath from everyone at the table and, to Shaw’s ear, from the speakerphone as well.

  Has she gone too far this time? he wondered. Doesn’t matter. It’s not like I could stop her now.

  “Ms. Michaelson, that is quite enough,” said Burke. “I suggest that all the delegates adjourn—”

  “I’m not finished,” said Jennifer quietly, but in a tone that brooked no more interference.

  He couldn’t see the look she directed Burke’s way, but Shaw was amazed when the man fumbled to a stop and just stared at her. Like he’d seen a perfectly timid little rabbit turn into a tiger right in front of him. Shaw grinned from ear to ear, happy to see that she’d finally let her iron-clad self-control slip a bit.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, directing her remarks once more towards the delegates listening on the call. “McMurdo Station officially recognizes the refugee request from Marambío Base, and will gladly take in their personnel. At the end of this call, I will personally arrange for immediate transportation from Marambío to McMurdo for personnel and limited effects only. We will have to work out some other way of getting your equipment and everything else usable from the base at a later time.”

  As she paused, everyone in the room could hear excited yelling, obviously from the Argentinians. Onevás returned to the line. “Thank you, Ms. Michaelson. You’ve saved us. Whatever we can do, we will.”

  Jennifer nodded, as though he could see her. “You’re welcome, Mr. Onevás. As for the rest of you, here’s the new plan: we’re going to consolidate everyone here, at McMurdo.”

  Shaw thought Burke’s eyes were about to pop out of his head when Jennifer granted Marambío’s request, but at this last idea, he stood up, red-faced and shouting. “You can’t do that! We don’t have enough room! We don’t have the security forces, or the supplies! What about our people here? Dammit, you can’t do that!” He began moving around the table towards Jennifer but stopped short at the sound of a round being chambered in the pistol Shaw was suddenly pointing at his head. “Major? What the hell are you doing? I’ll have your ass for this!”

  “No, sir, you won’t,” said Shaw, never glancing away from the colonel. He could see Jennifer looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and he smiled. “You see, she’s right. If any of us are going to survive, we’re going to have to work together. And the only thing standing in the way of that right now is you, and a few of the other folks on the line, there.”

  A new voice came onto the speaker, a woman speaking rapidly in Mandarin Chinese, then switching to broken English. “Hello, hello! This is Li Guo, Chief Scientist at Zhongshan Station. Speaking for people here, we accept. Yes, we will join.”

  Without taking her eyes off Burke and Shaw, Jennifer replied. “Ms. Guo, I’m glad to hear it. May I inquire about Mr. Sun?”

  “Mr. Sun is… busy, at the moment. He can’t come to the phone right now.”

  Jennifer looked like she was almost smiling as she nodded. “I see. Well, that’s Argentina and China on board. We can work out the details later, but I propose that we combine the resources of all the Antarctic stations: people, supplies, equipment, everything. We can do it her
e, as the largest of the stations. We’ll build more buildings if we need to. Don’t think it’ll be easy, cause it won’t. This will take time.” She looked around the room, seeing nothing but support in the faces of those gathered there, except, of course, Colonel Burke.

  Shaw put away his pistol as two of the more burly scientists in the room took Burke out. “We’ll take him to holding, sir,” they said as they passed Shaw. He nodded and took his seat, turning back to Jennifer.

  She gave him a quick smile and then addressed the conference call once more. “It’s not just about survival. We need a reason to survive, a goal to strive for. We haven’t had that in three years, but now we do. Saving what’s left of the human race is as admirable a goal as I’ve ever heard of, and we can do it, but we have to start now.” She paused, looking around once more. “If anyone has anything to say against this plan, now’s the time. That’s for you folks on the call, by the way. All of us here are ready to make this happen.”

  Onevás came back on the line. “I think Colonel Burke might have something to say about that, Ms. Michaelson.”

  “Yes, well, fortunately, he’s not in charge anymore, Mr. Onevás,” she said, smiling at Shaw. “Cooler heads have prevailed, in this case. So that just leaves the vote. Although I should let you all know that this offer to join us here will be going out to all your people, through emails, phone calls, or even carrier pigeon, if we have to. Everyone will know what we’re trying to do. Keep that in mind when you vote for your people.”

  She pulled a pad over to her, scribbling as she spoke. “I’ll go down the list, and the delegates can vote yay or nay. Australia? Belgium? Brazil? Bulgaria…”

  He stood up and walked to the door, glancing back at Jennifer. Head down, intent and focused, she hadn’t noticed his departure. He shook his head in amazement as he walked down the hall, pulling on his parka for the quick walk to the marshal’s office and its holding cell.

  I guess it’s true: you really can change the world in a moment.

  “So, it’ll take a year and a bit to coordinate and move everything, but we’ve got a plan, and it’s already started,” Jennifer said, throwing her coat towards the hook on the wall in their tiny quarters, then curling up next to Shaw on the couch. “I can’t believe it’s really happening. The mechanics are already working on the C-130. We should be able to fit all the Argentinians and quite a bit of equipment in it.”

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t have used the Galaxy?” he asked, draping one arm across her shoulders as he handed her a beer.

  “Thanks. No, it’s too big, and uses too much fuel for this. Besides, I have other plans for that—plans that will use all the fuel we can get.” Shaw let that one go without comment, knowing she’d tell him when she was ready. Hell, she had to, since he was the only one qualified to fly the plane. Or at least one of a very select few.

  “No, the Hercules will be fine, we just need to get it to them ASAP. They’re almost out of food. It’ll be rough, but I think we can do it. They’re working to clear an ice runway right now, and it should be ready by tomorrow or the next day. It’ll be close, but doable. The other bases, though… they’re farther away, have more equipment… It’s going to be a logistical nightmare, but it needs to happen.”

  “I just keep thinking about how different it’ll be here, with that many people. And from all different places… At least we’ll have more variety on the menu.”

  “No more Mexican nights all to ourselves.”

  “Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still a bit queasy.”

  “I think I can fix that,” she said, taking his beer and setting it down next to hers on the coffee table. She pulled his sweater over his head. “I had some medical training in the marshal service, you know.”

  He grinned. “Oh, is that so? Well then, what would you prescribe for me?”

  “Hmmm, let me think,” she said, kissing Shaw and removing her own sweater. “I think I know just the thing…”

  Chapter Four

  McMurdo Station

  One year later; Z-Day + 4 years

  Sabrina Tanner looked over the spreadsheet one last time, sighing. She turned to her communications cohort Edward. “Still nothing? It’s been six months.”

  He glanced her way and shook his head, then turned back to his own monitor. “Yup.” The world ended. No one’s talking, and certainly not to us down here.”

  Sabrina sighed and collected her reports. It was time to take a walk back to the Hub, regardless of how little she wanted to make the journey. “Damn you and your ‘let’s flip a coin,’ Ed!”

  He grinned. “Mind you remember your gloves this time!”

  Sabrina winced as she put her papers in her bag and pulled on her coat for the journey from the Shack—their nickname for the communications building—over to the Hub. You forget one time in four years, and they never let you forget it. She paused as she pulled her gloves from the coat’s pocket, staring at where her fingerprints had been. Just smooth skin there, now. All it took was a fraction of a second for exposed skin to fuse to metal at these temperatures, but she’d had to get inside, hadn’t she? Shaking her head against the remembered pain, she pulled the gloves on and went through the double-door airlock system.

  The wind was blowing hard, harder than it should this time of year, and the temperature was very low… low enough that she should probably wait for it to clear a bit before going over. She sighed and got her bearings. The Hub was a constant beacon of bright light, just off to her right, and she kept moving forward towards it, never losing sight of it and never, ever looking back.

  She clutched her bag tight to her as she pounded the last few feet to the door through the snow, then twisted the handle and hurried inside. Knocking the snow off her boots, she quickly stripped out of the cold-weather gear, revealing a tight t-shirt and sweatpants.

  Fashion was a bit informal these days, among the only humans left on the planet.

  She hurried with her bag to the director’s office. As she caught her appearance in a glance at a passing window, she realized she was looking rather the worse for wear, and stopped into the loo for a quick brush-up. She sighed again, knowing she was almost just making it worse, and decided to stop delaying the inevitable. A knock on the outer office door, and the director’s assistant had her take a seat. Moments later, she was being ushered into the inner sanctum, where Jennifer Shaw—formerly Jennifer Michaelson—sat behind her desk.

  “Good to see you, Sabrina!” Jennifer said, smiling at the younger woman. “How’s it going?”

  “Oh, you know, as well as can be expected, I suppose. Wouldn’t mind a bit of summer, though.”

  “You and me both! So, what have you brought for me today?”

  “I’ve got that update you wanted on outside communication,” Tanner said. “Which is: still nothing.”

  Jennifer frowned. “How long has it been now?”

  “We haven’t heard anything for six months, and before that it was four months, and before that, it was nine.”

  “That’s…” Jennifer looked like she was doing the math in her head. “That’s only three messages in nearly two years.”

  “That’s right. And even then, the last one was barely intelligible.”

  “Where was it from, again?”

  “Christchurch. The airport. Something about fortifying or something.”

  “Oh, right, right. I remember now. Sounded like a bunch of loonies.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Is there any way to boost our reception capabilities?”

  “Not that I know of. But that brings up another point.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I’ve downloaded some of the telemetry and I’ve been going over it in my spare time—”

  “You’ve been going over satellite telemetry in your spare time?”

  “Yes, just a bit here and there. It’s really quite fascinating if you…” she trailed off as she noticed Jennifer smiling at her. “What? What is it?”<
br />
  “Nothing, nothing. You just reminded me of someone I once knew, a long time ago. So, tell me about this telemetry.”

  “Well, that’s just it: It just ended recently, with no more reports. The last we have is about three weeks ago.”

  “Did you send a diagnostic?”

  “Yep. No response.”

  “So…” Jennifer said, looking like she was trying to understand what all this meant.

  “So, it’s like the damn satellite just fell out of the sky!”

  “But…”

  “I know, I know. Satellites don’t do that. It could be half a hundred things, really, from something as simple as a fried board to some piece of space trash smashing it to bits. There’s no way to know, and nothing we can do about it now, anyway.”

  “How many other commsats does that leave us?”

  “There’s four others in geo-sync orbit that we can bounce signals off of to the rest of the map, but we’re out of luck with anything from Australia to two-thirds of the way to South America.”

  “Which just happens to include New Zealand, and Christchurch.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “That was my reaction,” said Sabrina.

  Christchurch was the only significant airport nearby, and the source from which all their supplies had always come, and there was no other way to communicate with it than by satellite. This technical failure meant that McMurdo was effectively cut off from anyone who could reach them with help… if any help was ever coming.

  “Have you tried talking with any of the others about this?” Jennifer asked. “Atkins has a knack for comm work.”

  “I can talk to them about it and see if we can come up with anything. I thought Atkins was a geneticist?”

  “He is, but he dabbles. With talent.”

  “Ah. I’ll get him into the Shack then, and see what we can’t turn up.”

  Jennifer nodded, then cleared her throat, looking everywhere but directly at Sabrina. “How are things going over there?”