With a quick scan, the audio tech in New York saw that all was in order at his end and in Siberia. "All systems are go and live, boss," he replied as he fought the urge to turn away from his own battery of instruments and join in watching the descent of the asteroid.
Again the production manager barked into his mike. "Anna. Vandergraff. Someone say something. Anything!"
For the longest time, the production manager heard nothing over the earphone of his headset that fed him audio from the various journalists, experts, and people chosen to be interviewed. There was not even the crackle of static. Just an unnerving silence as everyone held their breath and watched.
From one of the live feeds, the words, "Dear God in heaven," finally broke the silence. No one knew who had spoken those words, but the sentiment expressed by that one person reached several of the experts almost simultaneously.
Not yet attuned to what those experts were seeing, the production manager turned to an assistant. "What? What's going on?" he called out, first to those around him, then to people scattered about in various locations. "What's going on? Anna? Tim? Anyone? What's going on out there?"
Though the team in Siberia heard the frenzied words of the production manager, none of them replied. Anna, now totally unconcerned with what Antonio was doing with the camera, reached up and pulled her earphone out without taking her eyes from the growing fireball that was growing nearer. The cameraman, who had always asked himself the question of what he would do in a no-win situation, struggled to maintain his composure as he tracked the progress of the asteroid now bearing down on him. For his part, Tim Vandergraff stood transfixed. The thoughts that passed through his mind before he died would never be known, but winning a Pulitzer was probably not one of them. Only their Russian guide, far too inebriated to appreciate what was going on, met death with anything resembling serenity.
In the Red Devil's Pub, the sudden loss of picture announcing that a large chunk of the asteroid had impacted was met with a stony silence. As at the news network itself, several seconds passed before anyone in the room managed to speak. "Well," a solemn Navy SEAL quipped, "looks like the media pool just got a little less crowded."
Though every man gathered in Red Devil's had seen people die, and reveled in the graveyard humor they all used to soften that brutal experience, no one laughed, no one offered a retort. Instead, one by one, each of the highly trained killers stood up, turned his back on the blank screen and walked away, wondering if he would be the next to be called upon to face death.
Chapter 9
For twelve hours after the primary impact of Nereus 1991 HWC, the remnants of the asteroid continued to rain down on central and eastern Siberia. Like the first major chunk of cosmic debris, those bits and pieces that followed refused to adhere to the predictions of the experts, leaving the Russian leadership in a quandary.
The shock wave generated by the fragment that had killed the World News Network crew had not yet finished running its course before a lively debate in Moscow broke out over what to do. Some members of the Russian security council favored additional evacuations of civilians from the area, now defined by an expanded footprint. Others pointed out that the means to organize and effect those evacuations didn't exist. Even if they did. as the Minister of Defense pointed out. there was no way of knowing for sure if the people they reached were being moved away from danger or being placed in harm's way. In the end. the paralysis created by this debate ate up what little time authorities on the spot had, leaving them no option other than to simply urge the populace in that new danger zone to seek the best shelters available and ride out the storm.
Not everyone in Moscow was dumbstruck into inactivity while the rest of the nation was reeling from the disaster then unfolding in the eastern province. At a military airfield chosen for its remoteness. Colonel Demetre Orlov slowly made his way down the line of commandos who stood at attention in full combat gear, patiently awaiting inspection by their commanding officer. At a time when most units within the Russian Army had no discipline to speak of, Orlov insisted on maintaining the most rigid standards that he dare impose. Though this created a palpable degree of coolness between him and his men, it left no doubt in anyone's mind as to who was in charge. Besides. Orlov found that the gulf that separated him from his men due to his policies and manner permitted him to view both their abilities and loyalties objectively. Far too often he had watched as senior officers found themselves in difficult straits because they had allowed feelings of camaraderie with subordinates cloud their judgment. Faced with the sort of missions that were routinely assigned him, as well as his concerns over individual loyalties that were never far from his mind, a lapse in judgment, for any reason, was the last thing the Russian colonel needed.
The aloofness that Orlov jealously guarded did not leave him lacking in an understanding of the men under his command. He knew which of his soldiers were crack shots, and who were the most nimble. He knew who had to have everything expected of them explained in great detail, and who had the mental agility to grasp complex situations and concepts quickly. As he slowly went from man to man, Orlov regarded each of his soldiers with the same critical eye. Yet there were some he passed with nothing more than a quick once-over and a nod, while stopping before others and checking their every piece of equipment and weaponry. No one complained about this inequity. That was not because complaining in this unit would do no good, which was true. Rather, each of the men Orlov was looking at understood that they were only a piece of the whole, a single cog in a complex machine. They also understood that not every man was the same, that there wasn't a man among them who had at his command all of the talents necessary to deal with every situation they were expected to face. So a man who was a bit slow mentally was tolerated because he had the brawn to shoulder the heaviest loads. And no one made fun of the man who wore glasses but was an absolute whiz when it came to dealing with electronics.
Pausing before one of his more outspoken soldiers, Orlov took time to tighten a strap on the man's harness that he thought was too loose. As he retained his ramrod posture of attention, the soldier gazed over his commander's shoulder off into the distance. Though the sun had disappeared below the western horizon hours before, the eastern sky still glowed with bright hues of red and orange. This caused the soldier to smile. "It has always been said that you would one day lead us all straight to hell, Colonel. I just never thought that day would actually come."
Without looking up from the strap he was adjusting, Orlov replied, "You are an atheist, Stephonich. What could you possibly know of hell?"
"I am a practical man, Colonel. I know that on this earth of ours, there are some places that are said to be paradise, and other places that are not so nice. While I never expected to visit the paradise so many of our leaders promise they will one day lead us to, I was hoping to avoid those other places."
Finished, Orlov stood upright and faced the soldier. "If that is so, why did you volunteer for this unit?"