Orbital Disruption Read online

  Dennis was considering going to the restroom and refilling his coffee mug when a flicker of red on his monitor caught his eye.

  “Oh crap. Molly - we lost driveship seven.”

  “Yeah,” Molly agreed. “It just dropped offline. No telemetry for the past thirty seconds.”

  Dennis sat back down in his chair and typed rapidly.

  “And no packet-level acks either,” he said. “I think it’s hard down.”

  “NORAD says they see another fragment,” the NASA engineer spoke up. “Looks like… whoa, well over sixty meters. Maybe eighty.”

  “Do you think it’s time to cut things loose, Molly?” Dennis asked.

  “It looks that way,” Molly replied. She turned her head from one monitor to another and clicked a red microphone icon to unmute herself.

  “Mike - are you there?”

  After a brief moment the image on the screen changed as Mike stepped into the field of view.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Is it time?”

  Dennis joined in and answered. “Yeah, we just lost a driveship and another large fragment. We’ve spun as much as we can. It’s time to go before the ship we’re using to cut gets damaged.”

  “Roger,” Mike replied. “Molly - are you ready to run the cutting script? I’m standing by to take over manual control from here.”

  “Yes,” Molly answered. “Everyone else ready?”

  There were a handful of acknowledgements and nods from the control room at Goddard as well as online.

  “Ok, initiating,” Molly stated and typed a short sequence of commands.

  The Earth rose rapidly over the bumpy dark grey landscape of asteroid X. It was already several times larger than the moon as seen from Earth, taking up more than fifteen degrees of arc. In the crisp clarity of vacuum the outlines of continents would have been visible if there had been any humans to see it. But asteroid X was devoid of human life and the machines that had been sent across the vast distances to reach it didn’t care about the beautiful blue and white marble that was steadily growing larger as it spun overhead and set again a few minutes later.

  One of the machines sent from Earth, a meter-long sleek white cylinder was attached to the uneven surface of the asteroid by three long, thin articulated legs that terminated in anchors that had been embedded deep into the asteroid’s rocky surface by pyrotechnic charges almost two years earlier. The driveship was oriented on its legs with one deeply bent and two outstretched such that its body was almost parallel to the surface of the asteroid. A pale violet light emitted from its drive cone, a visual indicator of the gentle but relentless force that it was applying to the massive asteroid, turning it steadily faster. Underneath the ship, dozens of strands of shiny black ribbon overlapped in a star pattern - the convergence of a net of carbon fiber that wrapped around the asteroid. The ribbon was uniformly smooth everywhere except where two ends met directly below the ship. Cleanly cut ends overlapped for just a few centimeters. At this overlap point there was a pattern of hundreds of small dots - melt points where the resin coating the ribbon had been fused to join the ends together and hold the net in place.

  Like a light being switched off, the glow from the ion drive disappeared. Shortly thereafter the ship extended the tightly folded leg while gently bending the two which had been fully extended. The effect was to reorient the ship so that its drive faced away from the surface of the asteroid and its nose was close, almost touching the joined section of ribbon.

  A small panel popped open silently from the nose of the ship and an articulated arm with several tools emerged. It extended toward the surface. A video camera attached to the arm just behind the tools provided a view to the humans waiting nervously many thousands of kilometers away. A tool with a narrow conical metal tip like the end of a pencil rotated into position at the end of the arm and then extended to meet the black carbon fiber ribbon. As soon as the tip touched the ribbon a thin haze streamed away in all directions from the the point of contact.

  “Ok, we have contact and visual confirmation that the heating element is working,” Mike stated into the camera perched on top of the monitor at his desk in Jovian’s office in Brooklyn. He typed a few commands on his keyboard.

  “And I can confirm that I have access to manual override if needed. Standing by for now.”

  “Ok, thanks, Mike,” Dennis replied. “Let’s see if the automation can handle it.”

  The Jovian team and NASA engineers watched as the heated tip moved steadily back and forth across the joined section of ribbon.

  After a few seconds one of the NASA engineers spoke up. “Is it working?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mike replied a few moments later. “It looks like the ribbon is cooling again too quickly. As soon as one section heats up enough to soften, the probe tip moves on to another section and the first one cools and hardens again. I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to get all of it hot enough and soft enough for the tension in the ribbon to pull it apart.”

  Dennis was about to reply when the image abruptly changed. The ribbon was gone. The asteroid was gone. The probe tip was simply pointing out into space. A small chunk of dark grey rock drifted across a field of stars.

  “Oh crap, what happened?” Dennis shouted.

  “Did the ribbon pop?” one of the NASA engineers asked at the same time.

  “Hang on, I’m checking,” Molly snapped back.

  She typed a few commands and reoriented the arm, aiming the camera back toward the driveship and the asteroid. At first they saw one of the ship’s legs, badly bent and no longer attached to the surface. Then, as the camera panned farther, they saw the other two legs, still anchored to the asteroid’s surface. There was a large crack in the surface and some chunks of rock were missing but the ribbons were still in place.

  “Aw shit,” Dennis cursed, “it looks like a fragment broke off and took one of our anchor points with it. But we haven’t broken the ribbon yet.”

  “I’m not sure we can,” Molly replied softly. “With just two legs I can’t rotate the ship into position for the utility arm to reach the ribbon.”

  “Even if we could, it didn’t look like it was working,” the NASA engineer added, dejectedly. “And we’re coming up on the ninety minute mark. Not a lot of time left!”

  “Yeah, I know,” Dennis replied. “Let’s split this one up. Molly - find us a way to get the prob close enough to reach that ribbon. Mike, think of a different way to cut that ribbon.”

  “On it,” Mike replied. Molly just nodded.

  The NASA engineer rubbed his temples with his hands but didn’t say anything.

  “Ok, I think I can make this work,” Molly said a few minutes later. “I can engage the ion drive to give us a little thrust. It’s not enough by itself or even with the motors on the two landing legs but if I fire the maneuvering thrusters, the combination should be enough.”

  “Ok,” Dennis said. “How long can you keep that position?”

  “We’ve got just over a minute of gas in the thrusters on this ship. Those things are meant for brief puffs, not extended pushing.”

  “Shit,” Dennis replied. “That won’t be long enough.”

  “Uh, Dennis,” Mike interjected. “It might be.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, I have an idea.”

  “I’m all ears, Mike,” Dennis replied, intently.

  “We can’t heat the entire joined section of the ribbon long enough for it to be soft everywhere at once and come unstuck,” Mike explained. “But we might not need to. The ribbon must be under immense tension right now, probably already close to the breaking point of the fused resin. If we can soften just one edge, I think we might be able to get that part to break and cause a cascading tear in the resin across the rest of the joined section.”

  “Like peeling up tape,” Molly interjected. “Don’t try to pull it straight off, just peel up one edge first.”

  “Yeah,” Mike nodded. “We just need to run the heating element bac
k and forth along one edge of the joined section of ribbon until it comes apart and then move the heating element in a bit and melt the next little bit and so on - hopefully the tension in the ribbon will help it along until enough is detached that the remaining part snaps under the load.”

  “Ok, that sounds like a plan,” Dennis agreed.

  “Wait, shouldn’t we think about this a little more?” the NASA engineer asked.

  “We’re getting too close to atmospheric entry as it is,” Molly said. “And we could lose our other anchor points at any moment. I think we need to go now.”

  The NASA engineer sighed and shrugged his shoulders but didn’t say anything.

  “Are you ready, Mike?” Dennis asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ok, Molly. Get us back in there.”

  “On it,” Molly replied and resumed typing.

  On the screen the stars drifted by silently and steadily as the asteroid rotated. Molly typed quickly.

  “Dennis, have a look,” she said after a moment. Dennis leaned over and reviewed the sequence of commands on her screen.

  “We probably need a pause between lighting up the ion drive and the first gas pulse. Those Excelsior drives take a few seconds to get to full thrust.”

  Molly typed quickly and Dennis gave her a thumbs-up gesture and sat back.

  “Restarting ion drive,” Molly said after tapping a key.

  On the screen the stars moved slightly faster.

  “Leg motors engaged, firing maneuvering thrusters.”

  The stars spun and were replaced by dusty grey rocks crisscrossed by black ribbon. The camera rapidly approached the surface.

  “Ok, we’re within ten centimeters - dialing back thrusters to stationkeeping.”

  Molly looked up from her screen and into the camera on top of her monitor. “You’ve got sixty seconds, Mike. Maybe seventy. Get going.”

  “Uh huh,” Mike grunted. He didn’t look into the camera - he was focused on carefully moving his mouse. On the screen the heated probe tip extended again to touch the ribbon. As it touched, a faint stream of evaporated resin radiated away. The probe moved along one edge of the ribbon, back and forth.

  Ten seconds ticked by. Then twenty.

  “Come on,” Dennis whispered under his breath.

  As if in answer to his plea, a thin section of the edge of the ribbon popped loose from the section below it and curled away.

  “Nice, it’s working!” the NASA engineer exclaimed.

  “Thirty seconds left,” Molly said flatly.

  Mike said nothing, his face held perfectly still. Only his eyes and his hand moved and then only subtly.

  “Twenty seconds,” Molly announced.

  Another section of carbon fiber ribbon peeled loose. The movement jostled the probe tip away. Mike brought it back to the leading edge of the seam and resumed moving it methodically back and forth, heating and softening the resin. Another few strands of fiber detached.

  “Ten seconds,” Molly stated with a slight quiver in her voice.

  “Come on, Mike,” Dennis whispered.

  A few more strands came loose. More than half of the overlapping section of ribbon was detached.

  “The pressure gauge says zero,” Molly said. “We’re down to fumes. I don’t know how much longer I can hold station.”

  Mike still didn’t say anything. The probe moved back and forth across the ribbon for several seconds. The detached section grew a bit more. Suddenly the camera shifted and the probe lost contact with the ribbon briefly.

  “Shit!” Mike swore under his breath. He moved the probe back to the ribbon, now several centimeters farther away.

  “Molly?” Dennis asked in alarm.

  “We’re out of gas,” Molly confirmed. “The leg motors are locked but I don’t think they’ll hold much longer. This isn’t looking good…”

  Just as she spoke, the image on their screens lurched again and the asteroid tumbled away to be replaced again by stars.

  “Goddammit!” Mike shouted. “So fucking close!” He pounded his fist on his desk in frustration.

  “Shit,” Dennis agreed, his shoulders slumping. Molly was silent.

  Just then a grey blur crossed the screen, briefly blotting out the stars.

  “What was that?” Dennis asked.

  Another blur passed by the camera. Suddenly the view began to spin much more rapidly, alternating between stars, grey rocks and occasional flashed of the blue-and-white Earth.

  “What the fuck?” Dennis asked again.

  “We’re spinning,” Molly said. “I think we’re detached from the asteroid but I’m not sure how.”

  “Woo!” the NASA engineer shouted and pumped his fists in the air.

  Dennis stood up and started to open his mouth.

  “You did it!” the engineer shouted. “NORAD confirms many large fragments - the asteroid is coming apart!”

  Just then a large chunk of rock floated past the camera of the driveship, a loose ribbon of carbon fiber slithering across it as the net formerly holding asteroid X together came unraveled.

  Dennis stood still while Molly slapped him on the back. Mike’s whooping voice came over the intercom with Ricky’s in the background.

  As soon as the cheers subsided the NASA engineer waved to get their attention.

  “NORAD says well done - they confirm that the bulk of asteroid X is broken into fragments. But some of those fragments are quite large and it will take time to map out likely trajectories. We’ve got just over an hour to impact.”

  “Ok, Mike, Ricky,” Dennis said, his expression sobering quickly. “You guys hunker down. We’ve done as much as we could. Now get yourselves somewhere safe.”

  “Understood,” Mike replied. “And good luck to you, too.” He cut the video stream from Brooklyn.

  Dennis turned to the NASA engineer but saw that the engineer had already stood up and started to walk toward the exit.

  “Where are you going?” Dennis asked, standing.

  The engineer turned over his shoulder and said, “You two should come with me. We’re far enough from the ocean that we don’t need to worry about tidal waves but we should still get to a shelter in case any fragments come down nearby.

  Dennis and Molly quickly followed.

  Thirty-Eight

  Mike leaned against the brick parapet, set his crutches down on the rooftop and looked westward over the East River toward the skyscrapers of Lower Manhattan. The sun reflected brightly from their steel and glass edifices and the sky was a cloudless blue. Mike felt a sense of deja vu, of being on a rooftop more than twenty years earlier on a similarly sunny day when two mighty crashes had thrown his teenage world into chaos. The radio news program his mother listened to each morning had announced the first crash. He’d reached the roof just in time to see the second plane hit. It had seemed morbidly exciting when it happened. The explosion and smoke had been like something from a Hollywood movie. Reality had only sunk in when he heard his mother frantically trying to call his father who worked downtown, the rising panic in her voice over the half hour it took to make contact and learn that he was ok. Still, despite knowing that the incoming fragments of asteroid could cause real damage, it was hard to be scared. The idyllic weather somehow made it hard to see the danger coming. At least hurricanes had the decency to provide ominous clouds and howling winds for hours before they made landfall.

  Mike’s thoughts were interrupted by the sharp metallic clang of the roof access door slamming shut. Ricky strolled across the rooftop, phone in hand.

  “Hey Mike, when’s showtime?”

  Mike chuckled. It was easier to be fearless when you were a teenager, right?

  “Soon, Ricky. Before fragmentation Molly said they were predicting atmospheric entry a few minutes after two. The fragmentation might change that by a few minutes, though.”

  “Ok, cool,” Ricky replied. “I’ve got enough battery to livestream for an hour so I guess I’ll start a few minutes before two.”
r />   Mike was going to offer an opinion on Ricky’s use of social media when he was interrupted by his own phone vibrating in his pocket. It made a sound he didn’t recognize. When he took it out he saw a an unfamiliar alert icon with the caption “Presidential Alert”. When he clicked it the text read:

  Asteroid impact imminent. Tsunami risk to all coastal areas. Move to high ground and take shelter immediately.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” Mike grunted. He shoved his phone back into his pocket only for it to buzz again, this time with the familiar trill of an incoming call.

  He pulled the phone out of his pocket again, saw the caller ID, accepted the call and spoke, “Hey.”

  “Mike, it’s Tony.”

  Mike held his phone closer to his ear so that he could hear better over the light wind that was blowing in from the east.

  “Hey Tony. Where are you?”

  “I… can’t answer that. But I’m with Jessica. We’re somewhere safe. It’s you and Ricky I’m worried about.”

  “What about the others?”

  “I just heard from Tab and Esteban, they’re bunkering down at Fort Meade. Dennis and Molly are moving to a shelter at Goddard. We’re all pretty far inland so we should be safe. You guys are just a few blocks from the water...”

  “Aw, we’ll be ok,” Mike assured Tony. “With the asteroid breaking up we shouldn’t have any…”

  Tony interrupted, saying, “No, Mike, it’s not safe. There are still some big fragments and NORAD says they’re tracking one that’s going to hit pretty close to New York - and it’s almost one hundred meters in diameter, more than large enough to survive reentry and generate a big wave.”

  “Oh shit. Really?” Mike paused. “How close?”

  “Still out in the ocean but not very far. Thirty miles southeast of New York, maybe less. There could be a lot of damage along the shores of New Jersey and Long Island. And the city’s likely to take a big hit, too.”

  “How long until impact?”

  Tony paused and Mike hear a brief muffled exchange before Tony returned.