Accidental Hero

He stared at the navigator display. The numeric codes indicated his laser beacon and tractor beam were locked on Asteroid Beta 1296, the next stop for the ore transporter shuttle. He checked the transport bay capacity—room for 18 tons more of asteroid ore before the return to base

Suddenly the numbers, which normally fluctuate up and down with the serpentine route through the asteroid belt, froze. They held on one orientation. He felt the shuttle move into a direct line, not the gentle jockeying back and forth around the field of millions of dust particles, fragmented rocks, and planetoids. The spacing between the asteroids, 600,000 miles, allowed a lot of room for error, the chance of collision remained low. The potential deviation into greater outer space created the danger for the shuttle pilot.

“Shuttle Argos reporting. I have a navigational anomaly. My auto system seems to be holding on one bearing. Anyone nearby? Over.” Frank Williams spoke into his helmet microphone. Silence. “What the hell,” Frank spoke to the empty shuttle cabin, tapping his index finger on the navigational display on his dashboard. “This is Williams here, Operations Center, do you copy?”

No response crackled back on the radio communicator. “Williams here. My auto pilot seems to be stuck. I think I am on a trajectory to exit the belt into open space. Anyone there?”

Only white noise hissed across his communicator.

The good news he thought was, as he tried to recall any training for this type of event, that the shuttle had not struck anything and somehow his navigational bearing continued slipping through a large opening in the belt with no objects in the way. He looked at his fuel gauge. Three quarter tank, at least enough fuel for several trips back to base.

Frank drew a deep breath and looked at the dazzling field of red, white, and silver rock formations moving away from him on his right. The floating mountains and cliff faces reminded him of home, southwest New Mexico, with the red rock formations and the spiral shaped “hoodoos” of the painted desert. The chunks of the space-based desert landscape moved past him at 25 kilometers per second. The inky expanse of open space on his left grew larger every minute.

****

The soft blue light of the control room up lit Director O’Neil’s craggy features. The hard edge frown lines and crowfeet of the 50-year-old appeared to soften with the light. He stared into the tracking screen of the Douglas Mining Company. He followed the blinking silver bullets that represented the transport shuttles and heavy robotic boring machines.

“Still no word from Williams?” he asked his young assistant, Danielle Demetri.

“No sir, we are getting no radio communication, he might be in the shadow of a solar flare or behind a larger planetoid. He is near Ceres, and the magnetic field is large enough that it can distort communications,” Danielle responded.

“Have all the other manned shuttles returned to base?” O’Neil checked a long list on an adjoining computer screen.

“We have all the manned craft back to base, with the exception of Williams.” Danielle scrolled through several pages of data on her screen. “Only robotic equipment is in the field.”

“What is the latest on the approaching comet? Is it still on close encounter with Earth?”

“Yes, NASA still projects a definite impact on its current course. It should be passing the Belt within two hours or so. It could pass through William’s vicinity.”

“The poor bastard, he’ll be incinerated. A ten-mile-wide, gigantic snow ball of rock and gas, headed for the blue planet.”

“Your orders, sir?” she asked.

“Keep trying to reach him. If he’s having mechanical problems, maybe we can get a tractor beam on him. But I can’t risk more men to bring one hauler back.” O’Neil wiped his brow with his giant meat hook sized hand. He had the build of a wrestler, not a mining colony chief.

Another technician walked over to Danielle and O’Neil. “Sir, we have a notice on a message beamed from Earth. President Prumt’s press conference is coming over. There’s about a 30-minute signal delay.”

The big screen above the control center flickered with static and then came into focus. Several of his staff gathered around O’Neil’s work station.

The screen showed a group of six bureaucrats surrounding the president as he stepped to a podium framed in a wall display of oversized American flags. The President wore his stylish blue suit with a neon crimson tie. His reddish hair had been twisted and pulled into a large bun on the top of his head.

He looked across the room and began his remarks. “I know you are all anxious to hear about the efforts to deal with the comet now in transit to a potential, but unlikely, encounter with our atmosphere. Before I address the nation on this limited public concern, I would like to report a few economic updates. The stock market continues to grow, the jobs report is solid, and we will soon be lowering interest rates again. My administration continues to achieve great things. Very large and wonderful things.”

Several reporters began to shout at once: “Sir, how likely is the comet to hit earth? What is the military doing to stop it? When will it hit? Are you evacuating cities that can be destroyed? What is happening, sir, what is your plan?”

“Please calm down. There is no reason for panic or fear. Remember, our economy is the strongest in ten years. We have the largest fleet of space military vehicles. We have an armada of attack satellites. No reason for concern. The comet won’t even come close. The doomsayers who calculate impact are engaging in fake news. Don’t worry! I will handle it!”

The reporters continued their agitated shouting. Digital camera flashes silently lit the room. Many of the bureaucrats shifted nervously and looked sideways or to the ceiling. One clearly rolled his eyes.

A young woman reporter moved up to the podium, within a foot, violating the personal space of the President. “Mr. President, Mauna Kea Observatory scientists have published calculations on the trajectory of the comet. They predict a collision, somewhere between Chicago and New York City. The explosion will be catastrophic. How will you stop it?” Her eyes were wet with tears and her shoulders shook with tension.

“That’s fake news. No reason for alarm. I can have the Space Force launch missiles at it and blow it into harmless fragments. We have a plan.”

The reporters began to drift out of the room, looking like shock victims at an automobile accident. The transmission abruptly cut-off without explanation.

An awful silence descended on the mining control room. The technicians surrounding O’Neil were dumbfounded.

Finally, a young miner spoke. “Well that’s reassuring. We will simply nuke the comet away. Does our President have brain damage?” No one countered him.

O’Neil looked around the room. He tried to state in his calmest and most decisive voice. “We need to relocate to our deepest mine shaft, well inside Vesta. We need to hunker down for at least a month.”

Danielle stepped into action. “I will send out a draw down and set up all of the atmospheric domes. We will connect them to the oxygen synthesizers.”

In all the rush for emergency actions, no one thought about the plight of Frank Williams.

***

Without optical stimuli, Frank began to slip into a coma of boredom. He had given up on fixing the navigation. Nothing worked, the slow veer into the inky void continued. He began to drift into a dream state, images of his wife, son, and dog emerging randomly. He felt he could almost see and touch his wife Joanne’s face in the windshield of the shuttle.

He opened a pocket hologram from last Christmas. On his annual leave, the family had created an image in the backyard of their vacation cabin in Sedona. The hologram provided animation to the scene, he could see his son Jack throwing a ball for Jasper, the beagle with the tan and white coat. The sunny barking of Jasper filled the audio. The desert sun had been simulated with a blazing sunset of lavender, purple, yellow, and red. He wished he could transport across the solar system to be with them now.

He never saw the comet. It came from the engine side of the shuttle. The impact flattened most of the shuttle. He felt a massive G force from an incredible acceleration. The comet had struck him at a slight angle, only a few degrees. As with all forces in nature, it created a very small rebound, a slight skip, like the comet finding a random speck in the deep purple sea of the universe and rising slightly and to the right. A small, almost unmeasurable, turn from its course. Because Earth’s gravitational pull is negligible at the asteroid belt, it was enough to move the comet off a small green target, 124 million miles away. Frank lost consciousness before his craft melted into the comet.

***

Joanne and Jack sat on folding chairs in front of a small stone monument on the edge of the cemetery. About a hundred people gathered around. The President arrived last, striding across the field of crosses and tombstones.

After the minister had said the prayer, and the line of relatives had said their good byes, the President stepped to the microphone.

“Franklin…. I mean Frank Williams was a very brave man. We all owe him great gratitude. It took great courage…amazing courage…The best and most fantastic courage to sacrifice his life for us. He is truly a hero. A huge hero. Really big hero. He managed to knock the comet off course. It probably was going to miss us, but he made sure it did not reach us. I thank him, the nation thanks him. Oh…yes the flag.”

The President took the neat triangular folded flag and stepped over to where Joanne and Jack sat, overcome by their tears. He pushed the flag into her hands.

“Thank you, Mrs. Williams,” the President said with an awkward smile.

Joanne motioned for him to bend over to hear her.

“Bullshit! You are a liar,” she whispered only to him.

As she walked away from the gravesite, she said to no one in particular. “Lies, all lies.”