Children of a Dead Earth Book One by Patrick S Tomlinson Page B

waiting for someone to light the fuse. During a short time in the twentieth century, what propelled the Ark had been the single greatest threat the continued survival of mankind had ever faced. Hidden away deep inside the engineering section, literally tens of thousands of thermonuclear bombs sat at the ready. But instead of being put to use destroying entire continents, they had, somewhat ironically, been harnessed to ensure the salvation of the entire species.
    The Ark was Project Orion taken to proportions never dreamed of by the men who had first proposed its brilliant insanity. Benson had once heard the ship’s propulsion described in the crudest of terms: a sixteen kilometer long pogo-stick that shits atomic bombs. Crude, but entirely accurate. Bombs were thrown out the back, then detonated. The aft dish absorbed the immense shockwave from all the violence and converted it into forward momentum. The kilometers-long shock absorbers helped to even out the concussion enough that the force didn’t convert everyone inside into red pudding.
    Repeated thousands of times, the bombs had accelerated the Ark to her current velocity of fifteen thousand kilometers per second, carrying her almost a dozen lightyears away from the star of her birth. And in less than two weeks, a torrent of nuclear bombs that had once threatened Armageddon would slow the Ark back down and deliver mankind to the Promised Land.
    Benson’s little pod finally drifted far enough that he could fit the entire Ark into his peripheral vision. The surrounding stars provided dim illumination, and Tau Ceti itself was still so far away as to only be the brightest among them. But in the absence of any other lights to pollute his eyes, he could still see the ship clearly. For over two centuries, every human life had taken place inside this enormous, ungainly, beautiful girl. Every birth, every death. Every intimate moment, every argument. Every crime, and every act of charity.
    A tiny blob intruded into his view. It took him a moment to realize what it was. It was a tear, suspended by microgravity into a perfect sphere. He was crying.
    â€œDetective, are you all right?”
    Benson wiped his eyes. “Yes, I’m better. I think I have a handle on it. Sorry.”
    â€œAs I said, it’s not unusual your first time out.” Hekekia’s sarcastic voice had softened. It sounded almost paternal. “I should tell you, you’re the first person in a hundred years to be so far out. You weaseled your way into a heck of a view.”
    â€œThat I did,” he agreed solemnly.
    â€œYou’re almost on top of the object. We need to spin the pod back around. Are you ready to proceed?”
    â€œYes, I think so.”
    â€œOK. We’re keeping a close watch on your vitals. If you start to feel the attack return, try to focus on the arm of the galaxy to keep yourself oriented.”
    Benson took a deep breath and stole one more look at the Ark. As huge as it was, weighed against infinity, it seemed tiny, fragile. Vulnerable.
    â€œRoger that,” he said finally. “Go ahead and get me back in position.”
    The pod shuttered once more as the thruster pack fired. Slowly, the Ark fell back out of view, replaced by a great milky band of stars that was the galaxy seen edge on. It looked like a single grand stroke of a mad painter’s brush. Suspended right in the middle of it, like an ink stain, a shadow moved against the stars.
    â€œI’ve spotted the target,” Benson said. “Can we get a light on it?”
    The black smudge turned white a heartbeat later.
    â€œWe’re about to decelerate the pod to bring you to a zero/zero intercept. Ready?”
    Benson clenched his stomach and grabbed his shoulder straps. “Do it.”
    The pod shook as he was thrown forward into his harness. A fog formed ahead of the pod as escaping propellant gasses hit the floodlights. A few seconds later, the shaking stopped