Command Center. “She and her son will be boarding a transport in a few minutes. ETA to Sea Base—a little over three hours. Stealth protocols initiated.”
“Very good. Does Mrs. Tomlinson know about her husband?”
“She does, sir. She was reluctant to leave without an explanation, so I played a portion of the holo-recording for her,” said Brooks.
“All right. Keep monitoring for transmissions from Hoagland Cen-Comm, in case they reconnect,” said Steven. “Did we get the two files?”
“Two? No, sir. We only received one, regarding Project Terminus.”
“You sure? Nothing else? No separate briefing file?”
Brooks shook his head. “Sorry, sir. You also need to know that the United Nations sounded the Planetary Defense System before they went offline. The world knows that something is happening.”
“Seal the base. Full lock-down. Shut down all noncritical power sources. We’re going dark until further notice.”
***
Erich brought the skimmer to a halt at the edge of the crater that led down to Hoagland Central Communications and the United Nations Headquarters. His heart sank. Unbuckling his harness, he stepped onto the lunar surface. The scene of devastation was complete. Weakened by despair, he dropped to his knees.
Forty-two domes, twenty-seven of which were Sovereign Territories, home and workplace to nearly eight-thousand people, lay in ruins. It was an attack that no one could have survived. All of his friends were dead. Hoagland Central Communications, the largest of the domes, was near indistinguishable from the others. The attack was thorough. Nothing was unscathed.
Even the massive landing pad beyond the domes, with its huge support columns, was but a grotesque, twisted pile of exploded and melted debris. The dozens of transports that typically sat atop it, nothing but rubble.
Erich scanned the horizon, looked upwards into space, and stared at Earth. The enemy fleet was gone, and the Earth looked as blue, beautiful, and alive as ever. His mind warred with his heart. He desperately wanted to believe that Earth was safe, but couldn’t find a reason to hope.
He swallowed, his eyes watering as he thought of his wife. His mind traveled back to their last conversation, and he envisioned how pretty she would’ve been in her negligee. When he thought of never seeing his daughter again, tears fell.
His forty hours aboard the skimmer had been for nothing.
He was out of air. There was no miracle—no way to reach his family. He wished he had stayed back with his friends. At least then, he would not have to die alone.
***
“Sorry, sir. That’s the best we can do on our end, with all the radiation,” said the comm officer to Steven.
The message again started to repeat: “This…Erich…rling. Can an…ne hear me?”
“Can we send a signal back without it being intercepted?” asked Steven.
“They might be able to intercept it, but I can route the transmission through one of the Antarctic substations, disguising our signal’s point of origin. There’s enough scattered chatter going on around the planet—I believe we’ll probably just blend in as one more cry for help. The station is unmanned. So, it won’t put any potential survivors at risk. The radiation is also a bit lower at the poles—better signal.”
“Do it,” said Steven to the comm officer.
A moment later the man said, “Connection open, sir.”
“This is Admiral Sherrah. Please respond.”
“This…this is Erich Guerling, I…ought I was…” came the ragged, static filled reply.
“Can you boost your signal or try adjusting your antenna?” asked Steven. “Your signal is very weak.”
A few seconds passed. “Is Earth—is Earth destroyed?” asked Erich.
It was clear that he was crying. Steven looked over at Brooks. “Mr. Guerling. This is Admiral Sherrah. Your signal is much clearer now. I am glad to see that there are survivors. We had feared the worst.”
“Are you going to tell
“Very good. Does Mrs. Tomlinson know about her husband?”
“She does, sir. She was reluctant to leave without an explanation, so I played a portion of the holo-recording for her,” said Brooks.
“All right. Keep monitoring for transmissions from Hoagland Cen-Comm, in case they reconnect,” said Steven. “Did we get the two files?”
“Two? No, sir. We only received one, regarding Project Terminus.”
“You sure? Nothing else? No separate briefing file?”
Brooks shook his head. “Sorry, sir. You also need to know that the United Nations sounded the Planetary Defense System before they went offline. The world knows that something is happening.”
“Seal the base. Full lock-down. Shut down all noncritical power sources. We’re going dark until further notice.”
***
Erich brought the skimmer to a halt at the edge of the crater that led down to Hoagland Central Communications and the United Nations Headquarters. His heart sank. Unbuckling his harness, he stepped onto the lunar surface. The scene of devastation was complete. Weakened by despair, he dropped to his knees.
Forty-two domes, twenty-seven of which were Sovereign Territories, home and workplace to nearly eight-thousand people, lay in ruins. It was an attack that no one could have survived. All of his friends were dead. Hoagland Central Communications, the largest of the domes, was near indistinguishable from the others. The attack was thorough. Nothing was unscathed.
Even the massive landing pad beyond the domes, with its huge support columns, was but a grotesque, twisted pile of exploded and melted debris. The dozens of transports that typically sat atop it, nothing but rubble.
Erich scanned the horizon, looked upwards into space, and stared at Earth. The enemy fleet was gone, and the Earth looked as blue, beautiful, and alive as ever. His mind warred with his heart. He desperately wanted to believe that Earth was safe, but couldn’t find a reason to hope.
He swallowed, his eyes watering as he thought of his wife. His mind traveled back to their last conversation, and he envisioned how pretty she would’ve been in her negligee. When he thought of never seeing his daughter again, tears fell.
His forty hours aboard the skimmer had been for nothing.
He was out of air. There was no miracle—no way to reach his family. He wished he had stayed back with his friends. At least then, he would not have to die alone.
***
“Sorry, sir. That’s the best we can do on our end, with all the radiation,” said the comm officer to Steven.
The message again started to repeat: “This…Erich…rling. Can an…ne hear me?”
“Can we send a signal back without it being intercepted?” asked Steven.
“They might be able to intercept it, but I can route the transmission through one of the Antarctic substations, disguising our signal’s point of origin. There’s enough scattered chatter going on around the planet—I believe we’ll probably just blend in as one more cry for help. The station is unmanned. So, it won’t put any potential survivors at risk. The radiation is also a bit lower at the poles—better signal.”
“Do it,” said Steven to the comm officer.
A moment later the man said, “Connection open, sir.”
“This is Admiral Sherrah. Please respond.”
“This…this is Erich Guerling, I…ought I was…” came the ragged, static filled reply.
“Can you boost your signal or try adjusting your antenna?” asked Steven. “Your signal is very weak.”
A few seconds passed. “Is Earth—is Earth destroyed?” asked Erich.
It was clear that he was crying. Steven looked over at Brooks. “Mr. Guerling. This is Admiral Sherrah. Your signal is much clearer now. I am glad to see that there are survivors. We had feared the worst.”
“Are you going to tell
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