Annihilation from Above

By S Evan Townsend

Mining asteroids with robots is common and sometimes the orbit of the rock is changed to facilitate extracting the valuable metals.
One Monday morning, a car bomb detonates in Manhattan. As law enforcement officials scramble to find who's responsible, it becomes clear that it was a distraction. Terrorists have hijacked an asteroid and put in an orbit to hit the Earth. Suddenly the race is on to stop it.
While FBI agent Juanita Flores pursues the bombers, astronauts Howard Drayden and Johnny Park put their lives on the line to save millions. Can Flores find who is responsible while Drayden and Park endeavor to avert the disaster in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781960076670

S Evan Townsend

S. Evan Townsend is a writer living in central Washington State. After spending four years in the U.S. Army in the Military Intelligence branch, he returned to civilian life and college to earn a B.S. in Forest Resources from the University of Washington. In his spare time he enjoys reading, driving (sometimes on a racetrack), meeting people, and talking with friends. He is in a 12-step program for Starbucks addiction. Evan lives with his wife and two teenage sons and has a son attending the University of Washington in biology. He enjoys science fiction, fantasy, history, politics, cars, and travel.

Book preview

Day One

Chapter One

Officer O’Leary had two minutes to live.

He strolled down the Manhattan sidewalk, smiling at the women he passed. Some even smiled back. He was always amazed that the vast majority of them wore black. Something about the city made bright colors scarce.

An unremarkable pickup sat parked on the street in front of the Sino-American Bank. Unremarkable, except that O’Leary couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen a pickup in downtown New York. It was an older model, and he could see the tailpipe as he approached it from the rear. It ran on gasoline!

Oxidized red paint covered its flanks. The tailgate had an oval spot where the maker’s logo would be, but nothing was there now.

No license plate sat affixed to the rear bumper. That, too, was odd.

O’Leary frowned and walked up to the rear of the truck. The bed was covered with a cap making it look more like an SUV. The plastic windows on the cover were dark, and he couldn’t see into the cargo area.

He had less than one minute left to live.

Going to the front of the vehicle, he looked into the empty cab. Tears exposed the white padding of the seats. He tried the door, but it was locked. He located the VIN under the windshield. He’d use it later to identify the vehicle, he decided.

He would die in thirty seconds.

It worried O’Leary that the truck sat in front of a bank. He turned to go inside the building to see if everything was okay. As he did, he tapped the radio link on his badge.

Dispatch, a voice said in his ear.

This is Officer O’Leary, badge number 483903. I have a suspicious vehicle parked in front of…. He looked up to double-check the name of the bank.

The mixture of fertilizer and diesel fuel in the bed of the truck detonated, ripping O’Leary’s body apart. The explosion, which reached the tenth floor of the bank building, shattered glass for blocks around. It undercut the supports of the upper floors, and they pancaked down into the street, girders bending under the weight they were never designed to hold. A crater smoked in the pavement where the truck once sat. The bank was destroyed, and the building was on the verge of collapse. Anyone inside the bank died immediately. People on upper floors, crushed by debris, soon died of their injuries. Some lived long enough to scream out in terror. Storefronts across the street suffered less, but anyone on the street or ground floors of other buildings were brutalized by the explosion’s shockwave, killing them.

#

Christina Reyes worked at her computer when the whole building seemed to tremble. She looked up, and everyone else in the office had the same inquisitive look on their faces. What was that? she asked no one.

Her Augmented Reality, or AR, glasses sat beside her workstation, as she found it distracting to wear them while doing her job.

The room, on the fourth floor of the building, had five long rows of computer terminals. Christina sat in the second to the last row. The office was designed for immediate communication between operators, not privacy. She knew it had been based on how NASA built its control rooms in Houston. On the wall Christina faced, a large screen dominated the room. To the untrained eye, it appeared as a jumble of symbols and lines. Christina could read it all at a glance and knew that her charge, a nickel-iron asteroid, was in the correct orbit.

A large television hung on the side wall next to the Asteroid Resources Company logo, gold-colored and stylized letters ARC. Both were rattling, and Christina worried they might fall down. But neither did.

Was that an earthquake? a woman asked.

In New York City? someone replied.

No one answered, but there were mumbles of agreement. Earthquakes in this part of the world were exceedingly rare.

Turn on the news, a male voice called out. The television usually showed a business channel.

The screen switched to NBC-CNN. Some talking head blathered on about Congress’s new bills or something.

Christina tried to go back to work but found her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t manipulate the hologram controls.

Suddenly a graphic appeared on the television about breaking news. The volume rose as someone in the room used the remote.

The screen showed a street with a huge crater in the pavement. A building was partially collapsed. There wasn’t an intact window anywhere in the picture. Smoke from fires obscured the scene.

Shit, Christina whispered.

Others in the room were expressing their dismay.

Where is that? a man asked.

Looks like a couple of blocks over.

Wow! someone exclaimed.

Christina thought she recognized the street. There was a bank there. She rode the bus by it every day on the way to work.

That’s when the sirens started.

#

Howard Drayden spent a moment checking emails on his ARs and found nothing interesting. He was disappointed he had no communication from his wife. But she was pregnant and sleeping a lot, he knew.

He rolled out of bed and stood, smiling that his body only weighed one-sixth of what it would on Earth. Living on the moon had its perks.

Is this a shower day? he asked the air.

No, his ARs replied. Tomorrow is.

Drayden nodded. Showers were expensive on the moon. Not that water and energy were in short supply, but the cost of recovering the small amount of moisture on the moon made it exorbitant. So, he showered once every three days. NASA was in negotiations to buy water from Asteroid Resources Company, who often found it in the asteroids they mined. That would increase the supply and maybe, Drayden hoped, allow him to shower every day.

He went to the bathroom and washed his face and hands. That took much less water.

Once dressed, he left his miniature room. It was smaller than the berths he’d had on the aircraft carrier.

His first destination was the dining area, where he had a simple breakfast. Meat was almost impossible to get, so he enjoyed hydroponically grown vegetables and some bread. Protein had to come from vegetable sources. After returning to his room to brush his teeth, he strolled toward the command center.

Sir, a woman greeted him as he entered.

Report, Lieutenant Gleason, Drayden snapped with military precision as was his habit learned in the Navy.

We have a supply shuttle coming in from Low Earth Orbit in about two hours. There are no EVAs at the moment, but the morning routine one should start soon.

Johnny Park? Drayden asked.

Yes, sir, he’s on the schedule.

Okay, what else?

Air, water, and heat are all running nominally.

What’s the bad news? he asked with a smile.

ARC is going to be testing their new ion drive at oh eight-thirty hours. They’ll need us to reduce our power usage because they need all they can get.

Drayden nodded. The ion drive used a lot of electricity, and while the colony had plenty to spare with its solar arrays and a small fusion plant, ARC needed more. Understood. You are relieved.

Yes, sir, I stand relieved. On a navy vessel, they would have exchanged salutes, but things were more casual on the moon. She walked out of the room. Drayden guessed that she was headed for her quarters to sleep. Or she might go to the common area for a bit to relax. It didn’t matter. She was off duty and could do pretty much as she wished.

Drayden sat in the one chair in the room. He would be on duty here for six hours before being relieved. Then he had other work to do: personnel reports, documents for NASA, and other work computer time. Working for NASA, it seemed there was a never-ending mountain of bureaucracy to climb.

Park notified Drayden that he was starting his routine external checks. That happened daily. He acknowledged Park’s transmission and told him to proceed.

Drayden was immediately bored. But that was good. When he wasn’t bored was usually some sort of emergency.

To relieve his ennui, he turned on a news channel from Earth. He usually kept the sound low unless he saw something interesting.

Holy shit, he breathed, seeing the crater in the city street. The text on the screen said it was Manhattan. He upped the volume on the monitor. The video was obviously from a drone, as helicopters couldn’t get that low between skyscrapers.

What the hell happened? he thought.

… are refusing to speculate what type of bomb it was or who was responsible, the voiceover said. There are police on the scene. But no official has given out any information.

The voice continued with further details about the time and place of the explosion and speculation about how many might have been killed. Then a terrorist expert, who also had a book to hawk, was introduced.

Drayden turned down the volume.

Hell of a thing, he heard behind him.

Drayden pivoted to see his boss, Captain Jansen, standing in the doorway.

Yes, ma’am. He resisted standing. Again, the moon was more casual than a navy ship, and he was still getting used to that.

Makes me glad we’re on the moon, she said.

Drayden nodded. Yes. And that his wife was in Florida, he thought.

Jansen walked into the small room. Johnson Space Center contacted me and wanted a full security sweep.

Why?

Routine, I guess. You start with our end of the base. I’ll start with the civilians.

Drayden nodded. The civilians were mostly scientists.

Let’s go, Commander, Jansen said lightly.

Yes, ma’am. He turned off the feed from Earth.

If he hurried, he could get the sweep done before the shuttle arrived from the Low Earth Orbit station.

#

Caroline Drayden awakened to the sound of waves. Her bedroom window was open, and she could smell the ocean. She smiled as she rolled out of bed, working extra hard to get her swollen belly up and out. The baby was due in just two weeks. She still hoped her husband, Howard, could come home for the birth. But NASA duty was almost as bad as the Navy for long separations. At least they could call and email more, and the calls were video. That let her see her husband’s face more often. She smiled at the thought of that.

Lucy, the cat, still slept on the end of the bed. It used to be that Lucy would wake Caroline with headbutts, but now Caroline’s bladder usually woke her first.

Her blonde hair grew faster while she was pregnant, so it was a bit longer than usual, down to the middle of her back. She’d thought about cutting it short but liked it long, at least to her shoulders.

Caroline first went to a window. The Atlantic Ocean was blue, with white waves tumbling over the sand. She let out a long sigh of contentment. She had to admit, this post was almost as good as when they were stationed at Pearl Harbor. And the extra money NASA paid over military salaries made it possible for them to afford this home. In Hawaii, they had lived in Navy housing, which, while adequate, didn’t have this kind of view.

Walking to the bathroom, she stopped to scratch the cat’s neck. The tabby mewed and stretched. Then it followed Caroline.

After, she trundled to the kitchen. Caroline turned on the big screen to send an email to Howard. But it flashed large red letters about a bombing in Manhattan. She turned up the sound to hear the news reporters speculate about what terrorist group could have set off the explosive. It was obvious they knew little beyond the fact that the bomb had gone off. She shuddered at the thought of all those poor people. Terrorist attacks weren’t that uncommon, but they always made her fearful. And now she was bringing another life into this world.

She turned off the sound and checked the time. It was after eight. Howard would be on duty now, she realized. Well, she could still send him an email, and he’d get it when he got off work in six hours. Meanwhile, she’d sit in the living room and watch the waves through the windows. People walked on the beach. A few jogged. She could see ships, both freighters and cruise vessels, ply the waters. No launches were planned at the Cape today. Otherwise, she would have gone outside to watch.

She shook her head as the waves splashed on the sand, thinking about New York. Why did people do such horrible things? she thought. Lucy jumped into the chair and laid down next to her. Caroline smiled, scratching the top of her head. Lucy’s purring helped soothe her nerves. Then she remembered she had to feed the cat. And that meant standing up again.

You see what I do for you, kitty, she said softly with a smile.

#

Special Agent in Charge of the Counterterrorism Division of the New York Field Office, Juanita Flores, jumped out of her government-issued car and sprinted toward the yellow tape the police had put up around the explosion site. The tape flashed yellow with LEDs to make it extra visible. She had her blue FBI windbreaker over her fashionable pantsuit. Her shield hung from a lanyard around her neck. She wore her dark hair short, as that was the easiest way to take care of it. She had been on her way to work when she heard of the bombing and diverted to here.

FBI, she said, showing her shield to the cop standing by the tape. The man lifted the plastic band and let her in. Even from here, she could see the devastation of the explosion. Smoke hung over the street, and there were fires that the FDNY were battling.

She spent a moment wondering how many people had died. Probably hundreds. She’d arrived before the NYPD command post, and there were just some uniformed officers and maybe one detective lingering around. No ambulances had even shown up yet.

What’s that smell? another policeman said to no one in particular.

Ammonia, Flores replied as she passed him. Must have been an ANFO bomb. There wasn’t much of a breeze that morning. That was fortunate because the odor still hung in the air.

The cop nodded sagely as if he already knew that. Flores ignored him. Instead, she looked up at the streetlights and the buildings.

Officer! she called.

Yes, ma’am? a nearby uniformed cop replied, turning to look at her.

Flores pointed up. You see these cameras? They have to have video of what happened before the explosion.

Those are city cameras, the cop replied. And they look damaged.

Yes, but they probably worked fine before the bomb went off.

Yes, ma’am.

So, get me that video. Also, check any cameras in nearby buildings and businesses. They might have seen something too.

Um, ma’am, I’m just a traffic officer. You want a detective.

Flores let out a sigh through her nose to keep from excoriating the man in front of everyone. Fine, find me a detective.

Yes, ma’am. He seemed glad to be able to walk away from her.

Another man walked over wearing a cheap sport coat. Flores thought he was young for a detective.

May I help you? he asked.

Flores gave him the same instructions she had given the uniformed cop.

The detective nodded. We’re already on it.

Good, Flores barked. Make sure the FBI gets a copy of everything. According to my ARs’ GPS, the bomb exploded in front of the Sino-American Bank. This is an attack on a foreign asset, and that makes it a federal matter now.

The detective’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened as if he were going to protest. But he just said, Yes, ma’am.

And who’s in charge of the NYPD here? Flores asked.

I am until someone more senior arrives. Probably with the command center.

Okay, I’ll need to talk to them as soon as they get here.

The detective nodded. He, too, seemed happy to pass off responsibility.

Agent Flores, a man called out.

She turned to see Assistant Director in Charge of the New York Field Office, Larson walking toward her. What do we know? he asked as he got closer.

Not much, Flores said. I just got here. But I think it was an ANFO bomb.

That ammonia smell?

Yes.

I also got the NYPD looking for video.

Good. This is going to be a real shit show.

Don’t I know it, she whispered.

The buzzy sound of a drone wafted down. Flores looked up. It had the markings of a local television station on it. The press is here, she said. She thought it was too bad New York City’s anti-drone law had been repealed mostly after intense lobbying by news organizations.

I know. He looked at her for a moment. How come we didn’t have a clue about this, Flores?

I don’t know, sir. It just came out of the blue. None of the terrorist groups we monitor had even a whisper.

Larson shook his head. Yep, a real shit show.

#

Johnny Park cycled through the main airlock. As the outer door opened, he could see the vast lunar plain and the pinpoint stars. He loved EVAs. It was the best part of his job. But, he mused, who would think living on the moon would be boring. His body was wiry, which made the spacesuit smaller and easier to move in. It was, of course, far less bulky than those first astronauts that landed on the moon way back in the 1960s and 70s had.

His first duty that day was a routine check of all communications equipment. That meant climbing to the top of the moon base, but he didn’t mind. His seventy-five-kilogram mass was only twelve and a half kilograms of weight on the satellite. Add in the two kilograms the suit weighed on the moon, and he was still lighter than on Earth.

He stepped onto the lunar surface. There were multiple footprints from previous excursions. Many were his.

A ladder rose up the side of the dome not far from the airlock, so after making sure the portal was closed properly, he walked, following the curve of the building to the ladder. Then he climbed, taking two rungs at a time. NASA safety protocols said to take one at a time, but that was too damn slow. When he reached the roof, he walked to the communications array. He could see Asteroid Recourses personnel working on their new ion drive beside the building. He waved to them, and some waved back. Park smiled.

He took a moment to look around the domes that were the moon base. The largest dome was the airlock the shuttles were unloaded in. There were two smaller domes that held housing for military and civilian personnel. And the middle-sized dome he was on was the main one.

His checklist was displayed on his arm, and he went through it with care. He took his job seriously even though he did ignore the occasional safety protocol. The checks took about half an hour and had to be done every single day. The list would be downloaded to the duty officer as Park worked.

He ran through another checklist on the solar panels that covered most of the roof. They only supplemented the station’s power. There was a small fusion generator that provided most of the electricity.

After that, he’d go back to the surface and walk around the entire perimeter of the base looking for micrometeor damage or anything else of concern. It was easier now when the base was in sunlight, except on the shadowed part of the dome. There he’d have to use the light on the top of his suit helmet.

Chapter Two

Huang looked at the time on his AR glasses. The bomb had exploded a few seconds late, but that wasn’t a problem. What was a problem was that his ass was getting sore from sitting on the cold metal floor in the back of the Nissan panel van, and his legs had gone rigid. He hadn’t thought of this issue when he’d made the plans.

Move and stretch your legs, he told his companions. Don’t get stiff.

The five other men and one woman nodded and complied. Various groans filled the space.

Huang watched the video feed on his glasses. Police were surrounding the bombing site just as he’d planned. Some squad cars had even zoomed by the van, their sirens wailing. Huang didn’t worry that they would discover the van was owned by a shell corporation. They had more important things to think about. Even if an automatic plate reader alerted the police, no officer was going to stop to investigate after the bomb. That was part of Huang’s plan.

A fictional plumbing company’s information adorned the side of the white van. The number for the establishment was random, and Huang mused that if someone called it, they might get a real person.

The local television stations were doing most of Huang’s work for him, flying their drones over the bombing site and showing all the police and emergency vehicles there. But he needed more information, so he gave the order: Release the drone.

Yes, one of his companions called out. She stood and opened a panel they’d cut in the van’s roof and tossed a softball-sized drone through it. As it began to drop, the device automatically sensed it was falling, unfolded, and started spinning its blades. The woman sat and looked at Huang. Launched.

Feed me the video, he snapped. She should have done that automatically. It was all part of the plan.

Yes, she whispered, hanging her head.

The drone video replaced the television feed in Huang’s ARs.

Move the camera around.

That gave him a view of the street, the buildings and the sidewalks. A few cars passed by, and there were some people strolling