Apophis

DEDICATION

For Jacob, who has eagerly awaited this story and encouraged me along the way. Thank you for your love and support!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The Martian Journal quotes are paraphrases of quotes attributed to Adolf Hitler.

Disclaimer: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 Caron Rider

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1532923692

ISBN-10: 1532923694

ASIN: B01CESCPF8

Smashwords ISBN: 9781311365965

Smashwords Edition, License Notes: Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support. Mark Coker

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Part I Before Impact

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

Part II After Impact

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

Epilogue

Preview of Far Away Kingdom

Preview of Silver Knight

About the Author

Prologue

Space is huge. Vast. Endless. Or so it seems.

An asteroid of immense size, traveling since the beginning of creation, was on a path to destruction. Hurtling through space as always, it became a concern of an ancient civilization. Their astronomers plotted its course, double-checked their findings, and then notified the appropriate agencies of the results. A ship launched and, using an artificial gravity generator, the path of the asteroid was altered so it missed their world and all others in their system. They were saved!

The asteroid continued its journey for another 25,000 years until it reached a remote region of space on the very edge of the galaxy where one of the spiral arms flared out. Once again, it was on a collision course with a planet. The world's astronomers detected the approaching menace and named it Apophis. They recorded all the possible data and notified the appropriate government officials, but they had no means to alter its course. So they waited for their fate and the fate of their world to be decided.

A world we call Earth.

PART I

BEFORE IMPACT

1

Just because the government tells you not to worry doesn't mean there is nothing to worry about. The Avante-Garde

It will be a global catastrophic event, Sir. The room was quiet after the grim announcement. As each thought about the alarming information contained in the copies of the thick confidential report handed out earlier, the scientist could smell the sweat of the other three men sitting around the oblong, cherry wood table. In the conference room, one entire wall was made of glass. Usually, the thick, heavy drapes were closed, but because of the prestigious company, they had been left open so that the busy workers monitoring computer screens on the other side could covertly glance into the room. It was not every day that they saw the President of the United States in person, or the two secret service agents standing on either side of the solid oak door.

The scientist, Eric Sanders, Director of the Office of Science and Technology Policy in the Executive Office of the President of the United States for the 1997 term, could not continue to look President Hennessy in the eyes. He remembered when Stan The Man Hennessy had run for office with his 'Right Man for the Job' shtick. Eric had even voted for him. He removed his glasses and began polishing them with a handkerchief, watching the movement intently – a movement born of long habit rather than the need to remove any speck of dust.

Do we know where the asteroid – this Apophis – will strike? Hennessy didn't appear to grasp the full concept of what they had been telling him. He looked stunned. Eric wondered if his chest felt as tight as his own. He didn't blame Hennessy if he couldn't quite believe the situation would actually occur – none of them wanted to believe. He was sure he had not become President to decide how to protect the entire world. He thought he had only wanted to look out for the U.S. and its interests, or at least that's how Eric would have felt had he been elected in that position. He had never had such ambitions—he was glad. But somehow this was worse. He knew the probability was high that the world as he knew it would end. Probably higher than when the dinosaurs had been killed off.

The Secretary of Defense, Gary Sumpter, coughed slightly before replying. It's too soon to tell. Though he had complete authority, direction, and control over the Department of Defense, he had never served in the armed forces. This ensured civilian control of the military as he had been appointed by Hennessy. Eric didn't think Sumpter enjoyed sitting in on a meeting heralding such hellish news. He was the one giving the news and didn't like it either.

Dave McElvy cleared his throat before speaking. As Senior Adviser to the President, he would be critical in controlling the population before the asteroid's collision with earth. He was responsible for the White House Office of Strategic Initiatives, Intergovernmental Affairs, and Political Affairs. Dave would handle communication and act as a public liaison. It really doesn't matter where it hits, Sir. The debris from its impact will be thrown into the atmosphere and lower orbit. It will spread across the entire globe. The larger chunks will rain down relatively quickly. The problem is that they will burn on re-entry causing the temperature to rise dramatically. It's theorized this could create firestorms, perhaps globally, as the air heats up and dries out. The smaller particles, along with the soot and ash from the fires, will remain in the atmosphere blocking sunlight and heat. The planet's temperature will then plummet, and in the dark, colder climate the surviving plants will die off.

And you say it will hit in thirty years? This cannot be happening. Hennessy pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed the beaded sweat from his forehead. History will remember my presidency as the one which implements whatever protocols I decide on today, he added.

Yes, Sir. We are still taking readings to be sure, but thirty years is the approximate time frame. McElvy didn't bother to comment on how history would remember Hennessy because there might be no one left to remember him at all. Eric doubted that at that point anyone would even care.

Dr. Sanders, we know it's coming. Can't we just blow it up? Mr. Sumpter asked with a hopeful note in his voice.

Eric thought Sumpter had entirely too much control over explosive devices. He responded, Sir, we can certainly try. However, it's traveling at 25 kilometers per second. That is roughly 56,000 miles per hour. It would be like shooting a bullet at another bullet that has already been fired. The distances and velocities are against us. There are too many variables in outer space to contend with quickly, not to mention possible mechanical failure. To rely only upon that effort would be extremely foolish. If we wait until it's close enough to be sure to hit it, we would then have the potential of several large meteors hitting us rather than just one.

Dave as Senior Adviser spoke again. Sir, we cannot afford to wait, and we cannot afford to trust in one effort. It is our recommendation that we try all four of the plans outlined in the document before you.

You actually want to place people on Mars? The President asked incredulously.

Yes. Dave and Eric answered simultaneously.

Look, I understand more than most people about the scientific breakthroughs that have occurred, even just during my tenure as President. Yet this just seems to be straight out of a Jules Verne novel mixed with a little Stephen King. Hennessy put away his handkerchief, then asked, And you think these genetic modifications would be enough to ensure their survival?

Yes, Eric replied. He knew it sounded incredible but knew it was possible. He had studied genetics for twenty years and run his own lab for the past seven. He'd made rabbits glow in the dark and cloned sheep. The plans outlined in the report would work. He was sure of it.

But then what?

After the effects of Apophis have dissipated, the Martian colonists would be free to return to Earth, he assured the President.

But they'd be transformed to live on Mars. How would they survive here? Hennessy wanted to know.

The genetic modifications would only be for each generation. Should the decision be made to revert to the normal human physiology, then it could be accomplished very quickly and within one generation.

The President rubbed his temples while the men around the table waited for him to speak. I like the idea of sending a probe to the asteroid containing an engine to change the asteroid's trajectory. Why aren't we just doing that? he asked Eric.

That will be our first mission, Sir. However, it will take years to build and send the probe. Then it will be years for it to even rendezvous with Apophis. Plus it's the whole bullet scenario mentioned earlier. It will be incredibly challenging and might be as much as two decades before we will know if it's successful or not. If we have not been pursuing alternatives – well, Sir, then we would have no real options for the survival of the human race.

You truly believe that all human life will be extinct if the asteroid hits us?

Eric shook his head. Not necessarily. He thought about the Toba super-eruption in Sumatra, Indonesia. One of Earth's largest known eruptions, the catastrophe caused a global volcanic winter lasting about a decade and then a 1,000-year-long cooling period.

"If nothing else, history has shown us that humans are incredibly adaptive. Our DNA contains proof that about 75,000 years ago when Mount Toba erupted, the human population declined to about 5,000 breeding females. And yet here we are today. It's the reason we think there is so little diversity in the human genome.

But those few that do manage to survive the asteroid will be in a stone age world. They will not have the means nor the knowledge to survive easily. Think about it, Sir. Those that survive the initial impact must first combat extreme heat. Then, with the blocking of the sun by debris and dropping temperatures, they will have to find food—most people will not even be able to grow it. Many people will simply starve to death. Those who survive starvation then must deal with disease. Their immune systems will be compromised by a lack of nutrition, and sickness will take its inevitable toll.

Dave gained the President's attention. Sir, what we are recommending will ensure not only the survival of humans but the survival of knowledge and technology. Humans would take a hit, absolutely, but they would have access to all of the information we do now. Civilization could easily be restarted in small communities after the effects of the asteroid impact have faded.

And you recommend, let me see if I have this right, he looked down at his opened report, an engine to modify the course of the asteroid, a group of people to go underground in a bunker, a group to be genetically modified for life on Mars, and a group to be put into stasis?

Both the scientist and the adviser nodded. Eric held his breath. If only the President would sign off on the projects, he would be thrilled! He was careful not to show it, taking out his handkerchief to polish his glasses once more. He wasn't happy Apophis was coming, no, but, at last, he would be able to expand on his genetic projects.

The expense will be astronomical.

They nodded again causing the President to sigh heavily. Very well, we send the probe, we prepare an underground facility, and you may attempt the stasis and genetic changes. But this is to be above Top Secret. No one is to know that we fear the asteroid will strike the Earth. We are sending a probe for informational purposes only. If the general public is made aware that Apophis will hit us, we will have mass hysteria!

2

Why do people always think that shooting the messenger will change the future? It won't. The Avante-Garde

Several years later

Wes knew this was his big break! He'd been scrounging one story after another, just barely hanging onto his job at the paper. The nut jobs he'd talked to! But finally! he was on to something. This might even be his version of Watergate. The members of the Nixon administration broke in and bugged the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate Hotel, along with various other illegal activities, leading to the resignation of President Nixon. Investigative journalists Woodward and Bernstein broke the story for the Washington Post, leading to the Post winning the Pulitzer Prize for Public Service in 1973. Now, he, Wes Greevy, had been led to another government conspiracy and cover-up. He was sure a lot of money was also involved. The story could be the defining moment of his career. He had several different sources, but he felt sure Jessica Pierce was going to be the ultimate whistleblower.

Wes was careful and methodical. It's what made him a great reporter. He had studied Jessica for several weeks. She was a creature of habit, and every morning she stopped to grab a paper at the 555 Newsstand on 12th Street. Wes hadn't decided if she really wanted to read the latest political news or simply check out the fashion magazines to see the latest trends. Either way, to find such information the local newsstand was ground zero, and the ones in DC carried it all.

Another useful role, as far as Wes was concerned, was that they also functioned as havens for regulars who liked to meet and discuss the latest issues. After all, it's where he originally overheard two of Jessica Pierce's co-workers talking about an asteroid named Apophis and the government cover-up about it hitting the earth. They didn't want the population to panic. Ha! thought Wes, likely story. They were far more worried about stockpiling goods for themselves and leaving the rest of the country to fend for itself. Then he saw Jessica arrive.

He wondered if she thought it mattered what the paper had to say—somehow made her feel connected to society—especially since most everyone was going to die in a couple of decades. He, personally, wanted to remember everything he could about society. He wondered if she would go into a bunker reserved for politicians, their families, the scientists, and their support personnel.

Hello, Jessica. She whirled around at the sound of her name.

Excuse me? Do I know you? she asked. He was a thirty-something, dark-haired man in blue jeans, Nike's and a thin trench coat—just an everyday kind of guy. He knew she wouldn't recognize him.

He shook his head. No, my name's Wes Greevy. I'm a reporter. I want to talk to you about Apophis.

She started to visibly tremble. Sorry, don't know what you mean. She tried to brush past him, but he reached out, putting a hand on her upper arm.

Please, I already know the government has buried the knowledge about it striking the Earth. You won't be letting anything out of the bag.

Look, you're cute in a Columbo kind of way with your rumpled coat and all, but I don't know what you mean.

He knew bravado when he saw it. She shook like a leaf in a wind storm. Right. Only certain people will be spared, is that it? Are you one of them? Is that why you're not willing to talk to me? What about your family? Have you warned them so that they would have time to prepare? Or are you just going to let them die a brutal and agonizing death?

 She shrugged and shook her head, then responded, I don't know what you're talking about. But he could tell she did.

Now, please, leave me alone. She jerked her arm free from his light clasp.

If you change your mind, take this. He held out his business card to her. Please, call me, Jessica. Think about it. If we expose the cover-up, then more people will be prepared to survive an asteroid strike.

She rushed away from him down the sidewalk without responding, but she took the card with his number.  

A few weeks later, Wes drove his pride and joy, a limited edition 2001 Volkswagen Beetle, silver with red leather interior, to a meeting with Jessica. Sure it was a few years old, but it was in prime condition. He downshifted and turned right off of East Basin Drive to pass through the gate to the dome-shaped Thomas Jefferson Memorial. He had agreed to meet with her on the steps below the portico facing the Potomac River.

 She had called, she said, because the guilt was nearly too much for her to bear. There would be no place in the bunker for her family. She had signed not only a non-disclosure stating it would be treason if she spoke about Apophis and the programs initiated because of it, but she had also agreed to only one spot in the bunker for herself. At the time, she hadn't considered her parents or her sister. She hadn't even thought to wonder what would happen if she ever got married or had children. None of it had seemed real. It was so far in the future.

She said that after meeting him, she'd thought about him and his questions all that day and the next and the next. Of course, it could be a trick. The government spending our tax dollars just to see if she would spill the beans after having signed documents that would put her in jail, or worse, if she told. The problem was, she wanted to tell but knew Dr. Sanders would have her head on a platter. If they found out she had opened her mouth, she would definitely be prosecuted. Maybe even executed. They still killed people for what they considered treason, right?

The background check he had initiated had shown that she had started working for Dr. Eric Sanders before the people participating in the Near Earth Object Program at the Kitt Peak National Observatory had discovered Apophis. After the initial furor of potential impact, it was announced that while the asteroid would come close to the Earth, it would fly by with no impact, though if you were at the right place at the right time, you might catch a glimpse of it in the sky.

Wes had done his homework after getting the initial tip about the programs. From the research he had done, he knew that observations had to be taken over time to refine the calculations to determine the orbit, destination, and impact probability. It just seemed they'd decided pretty quickly that Apophis wasn't a danger.

He parked and went around to the steps, and taking them two at a time, finally sat about half way up and near one side. Wes waited only a few minutes before she showed up. She moved quickly, looking around at the other people with suspicion. When she reached him, she sat down, her back ramrod straight and obviously nervous.

Can I record this? he asked.

She gave a jerky nod.

What can you tell me? he asked once he'd pushed the button on his micro-recorder.

They're all crazy. They're not going to warn anyone. Her hand shook as she reached up to push her long, blonde hair behind an ear.

Warn anyone about what?

You know, the asteroid, Apophis. What you were asking me about the other day.

So you think it's going to hit the Earth and not just pass us by like NASA is reporting?

She nodded. Oh, yeah, it's going to hit all right. Somewhere in the Sahara. The northern part of it, I think. And they are trying some freaky experiments because of it.

He frowned. This was the first he'd heard of any experiments. Was he talking to another crackpot? His various sources had confirmed what he'd overheard about the asteroid and the fact that NASA was denying that it would strike the Earth, but he knew nothing about any experiments. Instead, they were telling him about an attempt to change the asteroid's trajectory with a probe. This was going to be good. Tell me what you know. Just start at the beginning. He watched her take a deep breath and pause as if trying to order her thoughts.

Sure I typed the original project report, but I thought it was one of those 'here's our sci-fi thoughts, now give us some funding' type of documents. None of it seemed real. None of it would happen. Now.... She paused and rubbed her forehead.

Now? he prompted.

God, after the last few weeks, my entire world has been turned upside down. There's a lab. Money's been shunted from some black ops slush fund to pay for these experiments. And those experiments.... They're horrible! That's why I'm meeting with you.

She was quiet for a moment, then added, I don't normally see the experiment documentation. That's left up to Cora, but Cora called in sick a couple weeks ago, and I had to complete Dr. Sander's notes.

Cora? Cora who?

Jenkins! What does it matter? My God, he's experimenting on babies. Little babies. And they're dying. She was breathing quickly, almost panting. Sweat had popped out on her forehead, and she scrubbed at it again with her hand.

You're sure? Wes couldn't believe it. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong source after all. She seemed a little off and way too nervous. Why would anyone do that? Do you have any proof?

She nodded. I made a copy of the report, renamed it to 'task list', and emailed it to my personal email address. Hopefully, no one will notice. Give me your email and I'll forward it. She pulled out her BlackBerry to access her electronic mail. He handed her another card containing his address and she began typing on the near microscopic keyboard.

I don't understand. Why would they be experimenting on babies because of an asteroid?

They think that if they genetically modify them, then the babies can survive the coming disaster where others won't.

But that's crazy. He was flabbergasted.

She nodded. Also, I think they're killing homeless people.

Homeless people? Why would they do that?

I'm not sure, something about fluids, blood and proteins, peptides, I don't know what all. She finished typing and turned slightly to face him. I can't be a part of killing babies. People have to be told. Someone has got to put a stop to it.

He reached out to touch her hand, covering her phone. She opened her mouth to continue but suddenly blood blossomed out from her lips spraying his face. Her head jerked forward, and she fell against his side. As his arms closed around her, he felt a biting pain in his upper chest, and he twisted, falling backward. The momentum carried her forward onto his chest,