Ark

16

Holle’s call was a summons back to the Academy. By the time she got there, the students were lining up in the big North Atrium on the museum’s ground floor, an open space of three stories of brickwork and a glass roof, where the museum’s cafe had once been housed.

And here was the big, upright sixty-year-old military man who had stood by the President at her podium, his uniform air force blue. With a handful of aides at his side, he climbed on a step, facing the students. A couple of youngsters in uniforms, unknown to Holle, stood beside him, standing military fashion, legs apart, hands behind their backs. The Academy staff lined up nervously by one wall, before a whiteboard.

The officer began to speak while the latecomers were still filing into the room.

“My name is Gordon James Alonzo. My friends call me Gordo. To you I’m the Colonel. If you want to know who I am and what I’ve done, Google me. Do you little assholes still say ‘Google’? Whatever. You’ll learn I was air force trained, and flew shuttles with NASA. And now, at the President’s request, here I am back in air force blue, and taking on this fucking shambles of a space project. That includes turning this kindergarten into something that resembles a crew training academy.” He glared at the Candidates, some of whom were as young as eleven. “I’m not going to spare you, by the way. I’m sure your language is a lot filthier than mine.

And anyhow, if your performance records are anything to go by, most of you aren’t going to be around here long enough for my foul mouth to make a difference one way or another.

“I looked over the records of the classes that were going on here just this morning. Sociology! Ethics! Jesus Christ. And I’ll tell you one thing.” He looked at the staff. “There’ll be no more treasonous abider bullshit here. Is that clear? From now on things are going to change. Your training, those of you who survive the cull, will be wholly based on aspects of the actual project you’re working on. Ship’s systems-propulsion, comms, environment control, life support, G amp;N, that’s guidance and navigation, pressure suits, cockpit integration. Oh, and general relativity and all that horseshit. Also wider aspects of the project, planet-finding, recovery systems, mission planning, training programs. If you’re smart you’ll pick a specialism and dive into it. Make yourself indispensable to the program-indispensable to me. Don’t try to hide. If you do, you’ll be out.

“Everything will be purposeful. Even your recreation time will be focused on the physical aspects of the mission. No more fucking soft-ball. Ben, make a note,” he said, turning to an aide. “We ought to get a centrifuge up here. And we need to get some flight training, or anyhow flight experience. How about a Vomit Comet? At least we could rig up a zero-G table. And so on and so forth.” He glared at the Candidates. “Any questions?”

There was a long, stunned silence. Then, to her own surprise, Holle found herself raising a hand. “Colonel-why ‘Project Nimrod’?”

His eyes narrowed. “Fair question. I guess you don’t major on Bible studies here. Genesis 10, verses 8 to 10: ‘And Cush begat Nimrod: he began to be a mighty one in the earth… And the beginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Accad…’ This is only generations after the Flood of Noah, and there is Nimrod, already King of Babel. I guess you know what happened in Babel, right? Chapter 11, verse 4. ‘And they said, Go to, let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven.’ ”

Wilson Argent put his hand up. “But, Colonel-are you comparing Ark One to Babel? God punished them when they built the tower.”

“So He did. But why? Genesis 11:6. ‘Now nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ God feared us. And that’s why we’re calling ourselves after Nimrod.”

“Wow,” Wilson said. “You’re challenging God? Sir.”

“Why the hell not? It was the President’s idea.” He glanced over at the staff members lined up before a whiteboard. He pointed at Harry Smith, who flinched. “You! Write it up on that board. Yes, now. ‘Nothing will be restrained from them, which they have imagined to do.’ ”

Harry found a stylus and wrote up the words, which were translated into a bold font by the board’s character-recognition software.

Alonzo put his hands on his hips. “And as for you pampered little assholes, I want to make it clear to you right from the git-go that things are going to be different around here. Daddy’s money got you in here. It won’t keep you here-not unless you prove you’re more valuable than the competition. And here’s the start of that competition.” He looked over his shoulder. “Come forward, you two.”

The two youngsters behind him stepped up, looking uncertain. One wore air force blue, the other a kind of police uniform. They snapped to attention, straight and tall.

Alonzo glared at the students. “You kids in this pansy palace don’t know the half of what’s going on out there in the real world. Well, these two are no older than many of you, but they’ve been out there. Mel Belbruno here is what I used to be, an air force brat. But he’s been in a cadet corps since he was ten, and has gotten himself experience with what’s left of NASA. He’s a real life space cadet, and he’s precisely the kind of student that ought to be working on this mission.

“And this here is Matt Weiss. Matt’s in a police cadet corps with Denver PD. You want to know where Matt cut his teeth? Out on the front line, on the coastline of what’s left of America, a coast that recedes every day. Matt has been out there helping senior DPD officers choose whose children get to land and whose don’t, and implementing those choices. Which of you has experience to compare with that?”

Kelly Kenzie put her hand up. “Colonel Alonzo, I don’t deny the validity of what you say. But there’s no room here, on the course. We’ve all been training specifically for this mission for years. If these two are to join-”

“Good point, blondie. I’ll have to make room,” he said with a cold brutality. His gaze swept along the row.

Holle saw people cringe back as if from a laser beam. She told herself to stand tall.

Alonzo stared at Kelly, who’d asked him the question. And then he pointed at Don Meisel, who stood beside her. “You. Redhead. Pack your bags. As of now you’re filling Matt’s place with DPD.”

Don was shaking. “Me? You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know my name! And I didn’t say anything-”

“Exactly. Kid next to you had the guts to speak out.” When Don didn’t move, he spoke with an ominous calm. “You still here?”

Don turned and walked. He pushed past Holle, his face red, eyes burning with humiliation and anger.

“And in the morning,” Alonzo said, “I’ll pick the second ejectee. Now go to work.” He turned on his heel and walked out.

All Holle felt was a cold horror. Since the day she’d joined the group, Don Meisel had been one of the obvious leaders. She’d even imagined he might make captain. And now he was gone, just like that. If Don Meisel could lose his place so arbitrarily, then who might go tomorrow?