Finale

Prudhoe Bay Drill Rig 253

"Holy Howling Jesus! What's with this wind?"

"Dunno, Doc, but it's getting worse. Too much worse and these rigs are going to fold. If we're on them, we'll likely die."

"If we're not on them, we'll likely drown! At least this way, I don't have to worry about swimming in all this gear!"

"How close are you?"

"About fifteen more minutes. Make sure that the plane is warmed up and ready to go, as soon as we get done here, we're going to evac. Get everyone else on the plane now. No gear, no bags, no nothing, just them and their arctic wear, that's it. We'll pack them in like sardines, that'll keep them from bouncing around too bad."

"Already in progress, Doc! And we've got an armed airman making sure that no one brings anything extra onboard."

...

"Aw, come on! He's a cat! I carry him inside my parka, I'm so round he won't take up any more room! Have a heart!"

"Living breathing creature?"

"Yes!"

"Two legs?"

"Two sets of two legs, but takes up less than one set of two legs!"

"I'll buy it, get in, and keep that damned cat out of sight."

...

"THAT'S IT! WE'RE DONE! MAKE FOR THE PLANE!"

The waves have been pretty regular to this point, but a new set of temblors throw a new curve into the mix. Janet and Paul make it to the plane, but the director is swept off his feet only yards from the plane. A matter of a few feet height above sea level was the only difference. One could wish for some heroic or tragic scene, but there's no time. The director is gone before anyone notices, and the plane must take off. The next wave would sweep it from the land.

"Paul! The Director! Where is he?"

With pain in his voice, "If he's lucky, he's already dead."

"Paul!?!"

"I just got the call from HQ, the crust is cracked all the way down to the Moho layer already, and it looks like it's going to keep going. All the other teams are reporting the same. There's no way this is going to stop.

"Best outcome? The lid pops up, seawater rushes in, and we have a massive Krakatoa that's going to echo around the Earth from pole to pole. The blast wave alone will level anything in its way. The tsunami that will surely follow will do for the rest. Some humans might survive somewhere, but it'll be pure chance and no guarantee that we'll have enough to restart humanity in any given location."

"Bad outcome? The lid pops completely off, the oceans drain into the enlarged basin, the steam blows the lid to smithereens and it rains down everywhere. After the blast wave and probably before the Tsunami in most places."

"Worst outcome... The lid pops, the oceans drain, then the lid comes back down hard. The steam explosion blows the world apart."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"If you'll help me work the math out, maybe... It's a totally wild assed idea, but it just might work."

Washington D.C.

"Paul, Janet, thank you for coming."

"Mr. President..."

"I know, he was a good man, and we'll remember him as long as we can. Now, my secretary said you might have an idea."

"Yes, Mr. President."

...

"So let me sum this up. You want to use everyone's ICBM to hit the fissure in selected locations. Repeatedly. The hope is that this will let enough water in to cool the magma that's welling up, enough to tack-weld the basin back in place. Have I got that right?"

"Largely, Mr. President. There's a lot of details on exactly where, what size, and when the missiles impact. In some cases, it may be better to use bombers. At least they'll be able to adjust for extreme wind that might push a missile off course at the last moment. Honestly, we should leave the delivery methods up to the people who know the systems best. They just have to be aware of all the conditions at the locations, which are subject to change without warning."

"How long to decide?"

"Honestly? You should decide go/nogo right now. If it's nogo, Janet and I will have time to get back to our families."

"And if it's go?"

"We stay, lend whatever help we can to calculating the best positions based on the latest data we have."

"A moment please."

Janet and Paul watch as the President walks over to the window. The storm outside is not only unseasonable, it already has 2356 deaths attributed to it. Of course, the storm front covers the entire United States from coast to coast. Contact has already been lost with Hawaii, and the worst is feared.

"It's only going to get worse the longer I wait, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Very well, who else do we need to coordinate with?"

"Russia. Unless you want to start throwing nukes their way and pray they don't shoot back."

"We were fortunate, one of their Academicians was in the states for a geology conference. I understand he occupies much the same position as Janet and you. He said you might even remember him."

"Georgi?"

"Yes, that was the name. He's in the situation room, making sure that the latest data is available to all. Go talk to him. By the time you have him on-board with the plan, I'll have nuclear release of our entire arsenal to you. Work with General Quatermain on delivery systems, and ensure that the people making the decisions have your best guess at what the weather is doing. We've got some bright boys from NOAH here too. We're feeding them all the data we get. For doom and gloom, you just can't match a depressed weatherman."

Situation Room

"Mr. President, Mr. Primere, all the coordinates for the first way have been locked in. We await your final authorization for launch."

"Premier! On the count of one two three turn?"

"Yes. Alternate numbers, we say the last together and do it. Please start, Mr. President.

"One..."

"...Two"

"Three..."

"TURN!"

"Mr. President, NORAD reports all missiles away and on course."

"Thank you, General. Premier?"

"We report the same. Bonus issue though."

"Like we don't have enough already? Shoot."

"Rockets traveling so little way they will have power all the way to target and be driving down may make some small difference."

"Doctors?"

"We hadn't considered that, but as long as the bomb goes off, I don't see how the rocket fuel is going to make much difference."

"Now I know you're Geologists."

"Why?"

"The rockets can steer, as long as they have fuel; and they'll be driving through any soft stuff before they detonate. They'll get that much deeper into whatever hole the previous blast made."

"Um, Mr. President?"

"Yes?"

"D'OH!"

Some laughter makes everything feel a bit lighter. They're still looking at the death of the world, but maybe this will work. It's a million to one shot, but it just might work.

"What was that incredible scream from?"

"The unborn child of whatever it is."

"The tremors have almost stopped, Mr. President."

"FIBS is reporting the sound from all around the world, including one fellow who was on a mountain with a view over the basin. He came out after each bombardment and looked. He finally saw something that looked like iridescent golden bird feathers and a hint of a wing."

"What size?"

"Best estimate based on his claim is that it was a Phoenix, about the size of the core of the earth,"

"What happened to it?"

"Mr. President, if it subsided under the basin, then most likely one of the missiles drove straight into the heart and killed it."

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