Panspermia Deorum (7 page)

*

Volker Brandt,
unknown to Julien, had many agents embedded in other organisations.
He’d never have survived thus far if this hadn’t been the case.
Virtually all so-called ‘World Bodies’ had reason to want him to
fail. His vision was pin-sharp, and his resultant intense focus,
meant he had to achieve things rather than merely talking the talk.
The latest round of intelligence gathering pointed to Russian
backstabbing. During the days of Arianespace, Soyuz Aerospace
Industries had been able to use the spaceport, but it was now in
the hands of Brandt. The Russians were originally shareholders of
some influence and repute. However, in the last few years, they had
terminated information sharing, eventually leading to a revival of
‘the space race’. They would never openly speak about their
admiration of the old Soviet Union, and its inspirational attempt
to beat the United States to the Moon, only because it had failed.
But modern day Russia had the technology, the finance, the
dedication, and crucially, a truly hard-nosed motive to win this
time around. Their confidence lay in the skewed growth of
anarchical trends around the globe. They had by far the least
virulent protests of any ‘state’ on the planet. Brandt’s moles were
constantly feeding back confirmation of Russian intent to claim
sovereignty over Mars. They already had plans to ‘fix the race’.
Brandt had to take this scenario into his evaluation of Julien’s
proposal, without even hinting that his refusal to move the Mars
mission back from 2033 was underpinned by this Russian threat.
Disclosure, even to people he trusted could ultimately blow his
double agents’ cover. And there was then the more delicate task of
knowing if he had spies or double agents in his midst. Knowing was
important, whether or not counter-measures were the order of the
day. Planting a flag in the red Martian dust was all that mattered,
everything else was subject to sacrifice.

*

Sophie had a
new friend. Angelina was introduced as Doctor Villeneuve, but as
well as her physiological qualifications, her main function was the
psychological health of the personnel in the spaceport. Working for
years on end in such a ‘bubble’ had its challenges, especially if
there were personality clashes. And there was a veritable reservoir
of egos looking for the next step up the ladder.

Under
Angelina’s care were several patients who’d not been able to handle
personal failure, and had fallen prey to the easy access of drugs.
Volker Brandt had foreseen such temptation, and from his position,
viewed them as potential defectors. It was better to keep them in
rehab than allow them to evaporate into the fog of cyber war.

It didn’t take
long for Angelina to make her initial diagnosis of Sophie. The
first recommendation was to change her medication, as in her
opinion, the side effects were counter-productive to long term
stability. She wanted Sophie to feel she could regain control of
her life and kick-start her artistic creativity again. The first
step was to integrate her with others with whom she had two things
in common. First of all, fighting her addiction was going to make
more sense to her by getting involved with friends who’d already
been there, and were now in stage two – and able to offer constant
appreciation of her efforts, simply by being in the ‘same team’.
Invited to be involved in their projects, and offering cooperative
contribution to the group objectives, brought shared self-esteem.
One such example was the creation of multi-faceted entertainment
productions for the research personnel to enjoy in their free time;
it gave everyone a real buzz. Music, theatre, art galleries,
satirical interludes, sculpture, culinary surprises – anything and
everything was encouraged.

Sophie took to
Angelina immediately, the chemistry and belief were there already.
Elise and Geraldine couldn’t believe how quickly her demeanour had
changed. She still had bad spells, but a friend was always on hand
to tell her what to expect next, and stay with her throughout, to
bolster her mental fortitude. She trusted these people.

*

Brandt beckoned
Julien to enter his office, which was more like a technology hub.
He seemed to be connected to everywhere on the planet at the same
time. He blacked out every screen with one touch of some master
controller. He didn’t want the links to go down, even for a
second.

“How is your
daughter doing? I know she’s only just got here but I hope she has
settled in.”

“Yes, she has,
Doctor Villeneuve has really struck a chord with Sophie. I’m mildly
optimistic. So, anyway, have you had further thoughts about my
proposal?”

“Indeed, I’ve
thought about little else. I approve of your deflection technique
being despatched from Earth, the far space option worried me and
I’m glad we agree about putting it on the back burner. I’m also as
comfortable as I can be with the only other investment being
nuclear warheads. I need to see updated calculations on precisely
where these strikes will take place, and more importantly, when.
That information will enable me to sign off on the Mars launch
date…or not. This will also have a bearing on the decision
regarding priority of the crew’s objectives when they get there.
Self-sufficiency or survival. I’m afraid the jury’s out on that
until I have your progress report. Spare no detail, you have more
need to push on now that we’ve cut down the options.”

Julien picked
up on Brandt’s declaration of not being in favour of far space
diversion strikes at the asteroid, and thought better of exposing
the principle of near space monitoring as part of the Mars
programme. There would be a better time.

“I can’t argue
with that in principle, my next task is as you said, to decide
exactly
where
the nuclear option will strike, then
the pattern, and the variation in payload. When preparations for
that are under way, I’ll shift our emphasis to the exact diversion
coordinates. This has to take as long as it takes, simply because
the fall back option is far less controllable. Having said that,
the longer we can wait to launch the diversion projectiles, the
lower the margin of error. I’ll ready the vessel carcasses pretty
soon, but I want to wait to see what developments in electronics
come forward in the coming years before we commit to inferior
systems.”

“Good, I look
forward to the report. I’m gone for two weeks as from tomorrow. I’d
like to see this progressed by the time I return. Come on, Julien,
we’re talking preliminary plans, not the finished article.”

Brandt had been
very accommodating with Julien’s time off in France and allocated
one of the best doctors in the complex to help Sophie, so he
declined to say two weeks wasn’t enough.

As soon as
Julien left Brandt’s ‘flight deck’ the video streamed back to every
monitor. Everything Volker Brandt saw added to his conviction that
time was of the essence, he needed to push for even more effort.
Just sticking with the original deadlines equated to going
backwards. The evidence in front of him had to be translated into
words which technical people could identify with, and react to
positively. His two weeks away would provide an opportunity to
sculpture such a rallying cry.

*

A freedom group
in southern Germany made world headlines. They’d taken over the
office building of a national newspaper. Reports were coming in
continually, many of which indicated that more than sixty heavily
armed individuals had managed to secure four of the five floors of
the building, and crucially the top floor, together with the entire
management team. As yet, no demands had been made, and the police
were reluctant to tackle such a well-organised bunch of anarchists
or terrorists, whichever they were. Nothing on this scale had been
seen before, such cells usually numbered ten to twelve
individuals.

The army had
been called in and were expected within three hours. This kind of
insurgent action was becoming a trend which worried those who clung
to power, and sixty well-trained operatives would present a
formidable challenge. Also, the police forces around the civilised
world were being slowly drained of recruits, most of whom were
heading in the other direction, becoming highly paid mafia-style
enforcers.

Apparently,
nobody in the building had lost their life as yet, and remarkably,
the evening edition of the paper was being distributed as normal.
The front page headline promised a further bulletin regarding
another government cover up of the truth, specifically false
information relating to the asteroid killer programme; it would be
in the next morning edition. It also stressed the need for any law
enforcement personnel to stay away. This was being portrayed as a
civil protest. No affiliation to any known group was claimed. It
had the hallmarks of a new vigilante agenda.

However, it
wasn’t handled with any kind of sensitivity. Tanks rolled into town
and raised their guns at the same time the message was delivered.
‘Release the hostages and throw down your weapons and we can
discuss your concerns. You are surrounded, there is no way
out’.

An awkward
silence preceded the first group of hostages walking out of the
building fifteen minutes later. This piecemeal release of the
newspaper staff continued for almost an hour, when finally the
chief executive emerged. He asked to see the commander of the armed
forces, and nervously conveyed a message from the leader of the
‘squatters’. It stated that all hostages were free, and that no
arms would be surrendered until all civilians were evacuated from
the immediate vicinity. The commander acknowledged this, and at the
same time prepared his units for a street battle to the death. He
then ignored the chief executive of the newspaper, who’d claimed
that the perpetrators had harmed none of his staff, and only wanted
discussions with government representatives. Another thirty minutes
ticked by, and then suddenly charges were detonated from within the
building, causing it to crumble rapidly. Much of the falling
masonry crushed the first line of tanks in an instant; the
commander had ordered them into an offensive crescent around the
front entrance. Flying debris accounted for at least thirteen
soldiers. There were no survivors from inside the entire office
block. This military-style mass suicide during the occupation of a
leading media publication was the first of its kind, in which the
participants had decided to make the ultimate sacrifice whilst
trying to avoid others being killed.

However, the
main message they delivered was on behalf of those whose young
lives were going to be terminated in ten years, without knowing if
there was any hope of a reprieve. The occupiers had merely wanted
to know what was being done, and what they could do to help stem
the tide of lawlessness. The willing forfeit of their lives proved
to be a landmark strategy compared to any other form of
protest.

The ripple
effect forced all state-sponsored asteroid-killer organisations to
get together and begin dissemination of progress on a monthly
basis. NERO, NASA, Beijing, Moscow, and Delhi complied. As a
privately owned entity, VB Aerospace had a choice. Brandt
deliberated over the pros and cons of joining the clique or going
it alone for a while longer.

June 2030

V
olker Brandt had always been a patient man when
considering any collateral damage he could deliver to other people
and organisations. This was in stark contrast to his impatience
with missed deadlines in his own company.

The leaked
video footage which hastened the resignation of Sir Ian Waverly two
years ago, had been pretty much unanimously attributed to his
enemies within NERO, he was disliked intensely. However, since
Brandt had been the architect of Waverly falling on his sword, by
calling in a favour from a mole in NERO who’d pulled the trigger,
he felt it was now time to reap the harvest of sowing that
particular seed. Having decided in 2029 to officially remain
outside of the international clique charged with destroying or
bumping the asteroid off course, the moment was now perfect to
strike. Other than Julien Delacroix comparing notes with the
members of the clique, regarding the trajectory of Chocolate
Orange, VB Aerospace was seen as solely concentrating on the Mars
mission.

Brandt chose to
make an announcement, exclusively within VB Aerospace, which would
ultimately provoke accountability protest against those
organisations officially responsible for Earth’s survival beyond
2039.

He summoned
Julien to his flight deck.

“I know we’ve
all been working to the original launch date of 2033, but something
has come up and we need to think again.”

“You mean to
delay it until we are more certain of the asteroid impact
location?”

“Perhaps that
is how it should be perceived, but the driver behind this is
somewhat more sinister.” He switched on one of the video screens
and Julien watched in amazement, as he recognised the speaker, but
not the environment.

“That’s Ivan
Kolorov….”

“Shh, just
listen.”

The Soyuz
facility in the background was one of the most closely guarded
installations on the planet. The video feed was from some previous
internal presentation, recorded for preservation and posterity, but
with ‘eyes only’ access. Kolorov had altered the original
voice-over.

“Herr Brandt,
good evening. Finally, I am able to confirm what I said on my last
transmission. Not only has the launch date been brought forward,
but by a significant amount of time. It will be approximately two
months ahead of yours instead of one month behind. I cannot believe
there are corners we can cut to achieve this safely, but the
decision has now been taken. What do you want me to do?”