“You were expecting this? And just let it happen?”
“We were expecting something Doctor. It is not the mark of an intelligent person to assume that he can administer what amounts to a historic ass-kicking and not get some form of come-back. The question was never whether something would happen but what and when. We knew that we had to be able to close a portal or one day, one of them would bite us in the ass. Put the two together and we have Project Starglider. Dumping magma through a portal is an interesting concept though, it has several advantages over the way we would normally address the problem of a city we didn’t like very much.”
Kuroneko got the unpleasant feeling that he’d just seen the birth of a new part of America’s strategic arsenal. “You take this attack very lightly Sir.”
“Not in the least. I find the concept of opening a volcano directly over one of our cities to be quite disturbing. Not least because if they can do it once, they can do it again. So we can expect to see another attack like this. That raises a lot of questions for my colleagues and I to address, one of which is why they chose Sheffield and what that might tell us about future targets. But that is for us to think about, your job Doctor is to make sure there are as few of these attacks as possible.”
Dr Kuroneko realized that everyone was staring at him. He gulped, then stared at the table for a second. When he brought his head up, his eyes were hardened with determination.
“First we must understand what happened. What data have the Brits sent so far?”
Incident Command Centre, Sheffield Airport, United Kingdom
After many years of being virtually empty, Sheffield City Airport had been scheduled for closure in early 2008. The defense build-up allowed the runway to be kept open and the ILS operational for contingency use, but there was still no scheduled traffic. Now the tiny apron was packed with transport aircraft, offloading fire-trucks and earthmoving equipment before departing full of casualties on stretchers. The lava flows had crept ominously close, buffeting the approaching aircraft with thermals, but for now the wind was blowing the smoke and toxic fumes away from the site. Less than a mile off the M1 motorway and possessing a largely vacant business park, the airport was an obvious choice for the forward command centre, and control staff from all the emergency services had been streaming in all day. Not all the traffic had been civilian; the airport now featured two Rapier FSC launchers and several hastily dug machine gun emplacements.
Chief Fire Officer Howard Spurrier had been on duty for thirty hours now, but between the adrenaline and numerous cups of black coffee he hadn’t noticed his fatigue. In fact he had no choice but to stay focused on the details of the operation least the horror of it overwhelm him. He’d lost over a hundred of his own people so far, with more killed by collapsing buildings and falling rocks every hour. The other services were taking similar casualties as they risked their lives to pull civilians from the rubble. As for the city itself… well, his original calm detachment had vanished as soon as he stepped out of his doomed former command centre. The sight of whole crowds being pursued by the lava, screaming, blistering, bursting into flames before falling and being consumed by the rushing inferno… they’d all be haunted by it for the rest of their lives.
“CFO Spurrier I presume?”
He jerked his gaze from the electronic map projection and stared at the newcomer. She was tall, dark haired, casually dressed and wearing what struck him as an indecently placid expression.
“Who the hell are you?” Howard snapped.
“Keavy McManus. I’m the vulcanologist… you should’ve been told I was coming.”
Assistant CFO Colin Lloyd had spent most of the last twelve hours talking into a headset and updating the tactical picture. He cupped the microphone inside his hand for a moment and announced in a hoarse voice. “Sorry sir… slipped my mind… she’s the best available, the home secretary approved her personally.” Colin immediately went back to assigning tasks to the newly arriving units.
“You’re an academic?” Howard’s expression left no doubt that he had little time for academics telling him how to manage a disaster. “Find a desk, stay out of my way, let me know if discover anything relevant.” He turned back to the map.
Keavy strode over and stood in front of him, forcing the man to look at her. “Yes, I write papers and I teach. I’ve also helped plan relief and containment operations in Hawaii, Iceland and Italy. I probably have more practical experience with lava flows than anyone in Britain – and you have none, so you’d better start listening to me.”
Howard blinked. “Ok then, Miss McManus.” He pointed at the map. “We’re trying to use the Don valley to pipe the lava through the central industrial area. The plan is to turn the Meadowhall region into a cooling pond…”
Keavy cut him short. “I know, I brought myself up to date on the plane, they emailed me all this stuff. You’re not thinking long term enough though. I assume you want to save the motorway viaduct if possible?”
“Yes, and the new rail freight terminal, they’re finally rebuilding the Tinsley marshalling yard you know…” Even after all the destruction, Spurrier just couldn’t help letting a little pride creep into his voice. “Wait, how long do you think this eruption could last?”
Keavy was scanning the inventories, rosters and situation reports littering the table. “It’s Mrs. McManus by the way… Anyway, can’t tell for sure of course… the survey team isn’t set up yet, military still wouldn’t let them through last time I heard… You see the thing is…”
She looked up. “To get that kind of pressure they had to be draining from well inside the throat – but not too deep, since it isn’t spraying up thousands of meters. The flow rate slackened off in the first hour, then built up again. On earth, lava like that would come from a shield volcano. My guess is draining all that lava off the top of the vent triggered a full scale eruption, most of which is getting sucked through to us. Could be days, weeks or months before it lets up… no way to tell without seeing the geology at the other end.”
It was Keavy's turn to gesture at the map. “If it doesn't let up ash buildup and fumes will render this whole area uninhabitable anyway. But we can buy the crews enough time to dismantle and move the factories. Now, about your dyke placement…”
Cliffton Council Estate, Nottingham, United Kingdom
The screen flicked between grainy images of burning and collapsing buildings, of streams of glowing lava progressing inexorably through city streets and of people running in terror from it all. Some were apparently less terrified than others, because they'd taken the time to record the disaster on their cellphones and digicams. The later images were clearer but less dramatic; they showed bulldozers flattening buildings and creating ramparts from the rubble, lines of fire crews trying to halt the advance of the flames and rescue crews carrying stretchers out of damaged buildings. The montage ended on images of gridlocked roads lined with armed soldiers and refugees wandering aimlessly about.
Meanwhile the text continued to scroll across the bottom of the screen: 'Central Sheffield destroyed by volcanic activity, thousands dead, presumed demonic attack may be linked to High Peak incident. Prime Minister asks nation to remain calm and stay vigilant for any further Baldrick activity…'
"The city has now been completely sealed off by army units. This is the closest we can get, as the government has made it clear that civilians will not be allowed through the perimeter."
The BBC News correspondent was standing on a flat roof, lit by a harsh floodlight. The sky behind him was filled entirely by a diffuse orange glow, the smoke now completely obscuring the area around the portal. A deep rumbling was clearly audible.
"The lava still appears to be flowing… the fire services are starting to get the fires under control, but they're contending with toxic smoke and collapsing buildings."