Fixed her then with what hoped resembled gimlet eye; suggested she brief me. Obvious from her reaction: Something scary afoot. Bad joke if somehow I knew something vital, perhaps learned by accident on travels, failed to pass on to proper person through ignorance of relevance.
Gayle eyed me appraisingly. Appeared to think it over; then nodded. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “But ‘scary’ isn’t the word. ‘Nightmare’ is more like it:
“Those friendly, fun-loving folks who brought us the End of the World didn’t expect to lose the war. They planned carefully. Over a course of many years they conducted thorough intelligence studies of America and every other military power of any consequence. By the time they struck, they were confident that they had allowed for every contingency.
“Fanatics in the truest sense of the word, they could hardly conceive of the possibility of failure. But even that minuscule chance was unacceptable; they couldn’t stand the thought of someone else winning — even if they lost. So they laid in some ‘insurance,’ just in case.”
Gayle shuddered; but recounted facts quickly, efficiently, without omission, exaggeration, as I dressed.
And if anything, “nightmare” understated proposition: Even in nightmare would have difficulty envisioning people fanatic enough to carry out murder on such a scale. And to conceive so implacable a revenge after own deaths would require thought processes far removed from anything heretofore recognized as human.
Aggressors known as Bratstvo (translating as “Brotherhood”): select cadre of ideological zealots recruited from all over behind Iron/Bamboo curtains; cabal pervading bureaucratic/military hierarchies at highest levels, using governmental resources for own purposes. Fanatics all, dedicated to proposition that ideologically pure, totalitarian communism destined to achieve unopposed sway throughout world. Scorned as ideologically lax even limited wrong-mindedness, free expression, capitalist ambitions tolerated by own governments. Regarded established methods of achieving objective — subjugation through propaganda, sabotage, terrorism, military force, etc. — as soft-headed, inefficient. Hit upon notion of cleansing planet of unbelievers in single bold stroke; starting afresh, without competition.
Would have worked, too, but for unanticipated effectiveness of Free World’s intelligence agencies (enhanced, unbeknownst even U.S. leaders, by AAs’ subtle contributions — in which effort Teacher prime mover!); plus unexpected targeting accuracy, sheer firepower contained in retaliatory arsenal. Bratstvo’s headquarters designed, constructed, anticipated proof against even direct, near-direct hits — but not so many; became 40-mile-wide, 15-mile-deep crater; all outlying facilities vaporized as well. Cleanup, according to satellite reports, total. Many targets still glowing.
But same Free World authorities who refused to believe zealots’ ultimate goal elimination of everyone not sharing beliefs, until warheads, plague, exploded across planet, also discounted AAs’ evidence of contingency plan; took no steps to gather up loose ends.
Leaving fledgling hominem population with problem: Parked heretofore unnoticed in geosynchronous orbit over central Asia is Doomsday Machine, strontium-90 bomb, programmed to commence reentry upon failing to receive periodic coded signal — next of which due in 11 days; frequency, content known only to long-dead fanatics.
Big strontium-90 bomb: genuine multi-ziloton planet-wrecker, if intelligence reports correct; explosion comparable to asteroid impact. Targeted for deep waters overlying Murray Fracture Zone, 700 miles west-southwest of San Francisco. Programmed to sink to ocean floor before detonating.
Blast effects threefold: First, will puncture Earth’s crust like balloon (less than three miles thick at that point), sending massive lava tsunamis radiating out across upper mantle’s molten surface, cracking tectonic plates, resulting in catastrophic worldwide seismic convulsions. Accompanying seawater tsunamis, though hundreds of feet in height, of negligible significance by comparison.
Second, will hurl uncountable cubic miles of vaporized sea water, mud, rock into stratosphere, where will circulate with planetary atmospheric convection, showering strontium-90 fallout first across North American continent, eventually whole world.
Strontium 90’s half-life 29 years — if bomb not stopped, Earth uninhabitable by unprotected humans for something like next two centuries!
Finally, resultant atmospheric pollution will trigger real-life Fimbulwinter, destroy what little may remain of biosphere.
“But the Bratstvo were no slouches at intelligence work either; it was even money that they knew as much about us as we did about them. We had to assume that they had traced back along our intelligence line and knew where most of us lived and worked.
“We also had to assume that they would have operatives here during the attack to try to ferret out our plans — suicides, possibly; or, perhaps more probable, they might have succeeded in concealing the fact that they had a vaccine for the lethal virus. In either case, they would have searched our homes and offices as soon as we left and couldn’t have missed that message.
“We normally destroyed such communications immediately after reading them; and I doubt if any of the Harpers would be guilty of such a basic oversight. More likely, the computer somehow retained it and burped part of it back up, due to the electromagnetic side effects of all those bombs going off at once.
“We expected terrific electromagnetic pulse effects, and had our stuff well shielded against it. But their catalytic warheads emitted in a peculiar region of the spectrum and generated hardly any normal EMP at all; that’s why utilities and so forth continued to work for a while afterward. But they did generate something; and whatever it was, it had an interesting, if temporary, effect on some computers.
“But if Bratstvo agents had found that message, the destination alone would have enabled them to deduce our plans. They would have been able, during the initial confusion, to beat us to the launch centers and sabotage the shuttles, which would have ended our hopes for good.”
“Well, apparently they didn’t see it,” I observed; “or there weren’t any agents after all. Anyway, now I see why you almost jumped out of your skin when I mentioned finding it.
“Meanwhile, you said ‘shuttles’? What are we doing about the bomb?” Spoke without thinking; without considering relative ages, backgrounds, educations; participation, contributions to date. But Gayle registered, accepted “we” in spirit offered; no hint of condescension.
“Once we learned what they’d done, we started laying plans of our own,” she said thoughtfully, as I finished dressing, followed from room, down corridor, outside. “We pooled our money — there turned out to be quite a lot of it — and built a large, totally self-contained shelter complex in a salt mine located in a theoretically seismically-stable area in Kansas. But we needed to ride out the attack close enough to JPL and Vandenberg to protect those facilities from looting and/or vandalism, so we built a smaller shelter under Mount Palomar. It’s nowhere near as geologically stable, but we weren’t expecting much in the way of earthquakes unless we aren’t able to stop the bomb — in which event, of course, we don’t know if even the Kansas shelter will hold up.”
“Why did you need to be close to JPL and Vandenberg?” I prodded.
“Patience; I’m coming to that.
“Both shelters are well concealed and very heavily shielded. We were as concerned about stray outbound radiation, which might give our positions away, as we were about incoming hard stuff from bursts and fallout. You wouldn’t have found the Palomar shelter unaided.