Post-Human Trilogy

There was a thump against the hull of SpaceShip3’s roof as the mechanized claws detached themselves, and the vehicle began to drop away from its mothership. Craig’s posterior immediately came out of his bucket seat, only his harness keeping him from hitting the ceiling. The seconds ticked by, painfully slowly as the ship continued to drop a safe distance from WhiteKnight3.

Next, the hybrid rocket came to life. To Craig, it felt as though the hand of God had taken hold of the ship and thrust it forward, the nearly unimaginable power seemingly too much to be manmade. Barely controlled technology blistered its way up a steep incline, and the ship throttled through the upper edges of the atmosphere. Craig could hardly move his neck in his suit and helmet, but he managed to turn his head just enough to catch the spectacular view from the closest window. The blue of the sky began to recede, first becoming an indigo before finally giving way to black.

Suddenly, the engines stopped. It took Craig a moment to accept that the silence wasn’t simply the result of the engines having been switched off; it was the silence of space that was so unsettling. There was no more shimmering and shuddering of the fuselage through turbulence, no more sounds of wind drag stressing the wings. SpaceShip3 was now living up to its name, a ship in space, the truly endless ocean of blackness enveloping Craig for the first time in his life.

“You’re an astronaut now, Doc,” Commander Wilson observed, his tone cheerful. Craig looked up to see his commander unstrapping from his seat at the front of the cabin and floating free in the microgravity of sub-orbit. “Congratulations.”

Craig wanted to reply, but there were no sufficient words. Instead, his breath caught in his mouth. He hurriedly unbuckled his own seatbelt and stepped up quickly, amazed that the floor didn’t welcome him as it had every other moment of his life. Instead, it let him go, his body floating freely through the cabin. “My God,” he whispered.

“Boys, remove the seats,” Wilson ordered the rest of the team. Each of them, already unharnessed and floating through the cabin, began detaching the seats from the floor of the ship. “Doc, you’re with me. It’s time you got briefed.”

7

“Twenty-three hours, twelve minutes, and…” Wilson checked the time readout on his aug glasses. “…and thirty seconds ago, the USS Independence fired a Trident 2 missile toward Shenzhen, which is, as you now know, our drop point.”

Craig swallowed hard when he heard his fears confirmed. “Holy hell. Trident 2s are equipped with sixteen separate warheads.” Sam was right, he thought. They’re going to drop me right into nuclear fallout.

“That’s right,” Wilson replied. The screen at the front of the ship showed a top view map of the missile’s trajectory. “It split into sixteen, with one warhead hitting its true target and the other fifteen forming a perimeter 200 miles in diameter—basically, the manmade gates of Hell.”

“What was the true target?”

“Hopefully, the Chinese A.I. mainframe.”

Craig was silent for a moment. “Holy hell.”

“You said that already,” Wilson replied with a grin as he slapped Craig hard on the back. “This is the big one, Doc, but with all the secrecy beforehand, I’m sure you already had your suspicions.”

“I did. It’s something else to have it confirmed, however.”

Wilson nodded, though the muscles near his eyes tightened ever so slightly, making Craig suspect he was being read. “Intelligence believes the A.I. mainframe was located in a bunker about one kilometer below the surface. Our mission is to get in, get boots on the ground, and assess whether or not the strike was effective or ineffective. Basically, to provide ocular proof that the Chinese A.I. threat has been eliminated.”

“Why can’t that be confirmed with satellites?”

Wilson turned to the screen and swiped it, bringing up a live satellite image of the east coast of mainland China.

Craig let out a low whistle in response to seeing the image. A colossal dust cloud larger than the state of Texas had enveloped the area, making it impossible for the satellite to peer through. “Dear Lord. This is… Biblical.”

“What you are seeing is the result of decades of desertification in China, combined with sixteen nuclear detonations sending yellow dust into the sky. Even with the best resolution in the world, there’s no way we can confirm the kill from space,” Wilson further explained. “The Joint Chiefs don’t trust drones either, and if we don’t get in there and confirm the kill, the Chinese may be able to recover the A.I. or the wreckage and reconstitute somewhere else. As you can see, this mission is as top secret and high priority as they get. If we’re successful, this war is over.”

“So the perimeter the other nukes created is all about giving us a head start.”

“That’s right,” Wilson confirmed. “The Chinese still don’t know we can do suborbital insertions, so they’ll concentrate their energy on protecting the perimeter until it’s safe to enter. We’re gonna beat ‘em to the punch by jumping as soon as the fallout has reached the surface. With any luck, it’ll take the Chinese anywhere from several minutes to an hour to mount a HALO insertion.”

“And we’ll already be finished,” Craig added. “What if the A.I. is still functional?”

“Let’s hope not, but if it is, it’s defenses should be utterly destroyed. We’ll be packing more than enough explosives to finish the job.”

“All of that sounds reasonable,” Craig replied, “but there’s one glaring omission. If the Chinese are going to be collapsing in on us, I get how we’re going to beat them to the punch on the insertion, but what about the extraction?”

Commander Wilson turned his head quickly, appearing once again to try to read Craig’s face. “I thought maybe you’d be able to fill us in on that aspect, Doc.”

“Me?” Craig responded, perplexed.

Wilson’s smile returned, but this time there was something different—something behind it—an impurity. “We’re not idiots, Doc.”

At that moment, Craig realized that things were far worse than he’d previously thought. “Are you telling me the extraction is supposed to occur after we’re dead?”

Wilson’s eyes narrowed. “You seriously didn’t know that already?”

“Hey, Commander, honestly, if this is their plan, I had no previous knowledge of it. I thought I was here to provide medical support. That’s all.”

After a moment of continuing to read Craig’s face, Wilson finally nodded, apparently satisfied that Craig wasn’t playing poker and there was no bluff to call. “Okay. Well, it doesn’t matter whether I believe you or not. The fact is, there’s an extraction plan, but it seems pretty farfetched. When we heard they were sending a MAD bot along with S.A. body bags, we put two and two together.”

“What’s the official plan?” Craig asked.

“The exoskeletons are our only transportation. With the respirocytes and the exoskeletons working in tandem, we’re supposed to sprint for over an hour to the top of Maluan Mountain. Stealth Blackhawks will apparently be there to meet us.”

“Sounds like a pretty typical extraction,” Craig observed.

“Yeah, but these helicopters are supposed to make it through what will likely be a hell-storm of Chinese air patrols in the area,” Wilson pointed out. “It won’t be impossible if their side is in enough disarray, but it seems like a long shot to me. If I were a betting man, I’d have to say it looks like we’re about to punch a one-way ticket.”

“So,” Craig began as he lightly pivoted on the balls of his feet to keep his upright position in the microgravity, “you think the real plan is to leave us stranded on the mountain? And that, with our respirocyte supply dwindling, our only chance of survival will be to put ourselves into suspended animation?”

“That sounds like the most likely outcome,” Wilson replied.