Stephen Baxter: Flood

Lily said to Nathan, “A project like Ark One.”

Cripple Creek had been a poor settlement that had become briefly rich when gold was discovered on Pikes Peak in the 1890s. Then when the gold was gone it became a tourist trap. The heart of the town was a row of storefronts that looked like a set from some western movie, with what had been gift shops and ice cream parlors. A faded sign promised tours to the Mollie Kathleen Gold Mine.

Now, in the age of the flood, a shantytown of tents and shacks spread far beyond the core of the old town, a vast community of refugees clinging to the face of the mountain. Homeless were camped right in the heart of town, in the streets and parking lots and the forecourts of disused gas stations.

Thandie’s party was taken to a requisitioned restaurant that had once been a Denny’s. A young soldier was posted at the door, and the window was plastered with signs saying the place was for the sole use of US military personnel and federal government officials. The nestlike shelters of the homeless washed right up to its door. Walking through mounds of canvas and plastic, Lily took care not to step on anybody.

Inside, the restaurant was clean, serviceable, but lacked any character. And sitting alone at a table here, cradling a china mug of coffee, was Gordon James Alonzo. He stood as they entered.

Nathan took command, as always. He walked straight to Gordo and grabbed his hand. “Gordo, you old dog. I haven’t seen you in years.”

Gordo embraced Nathan back. “Yeah, and you owe me my last pay-check, you rascal.”

The former astronaut had to be in his seventies, Lily calculated, but he was as upright and fit-looking and intimidating as he had ever been, his blue eyes still bright. All his hair was gone now, leaving a scalp that was nutmeg brown and polished smooth, an egg carved of wood. He wore a crisp USAF officer’s uniform.

They sat at Gordo’s table, Nathan and Lily, Hammond and Grace, Thandie. The New Jersey crew who had accompanied Thandie set themselves over in the corner, and took off their peaked caps. A young enlisted man came out and offered them all coffee and bagels. As Nathan worked through a round of introductions, Lily tried the coffee. It turned out to be aromatic and fresh, the best she had tasted in years.

“You can thank the Cold War for the coffee,” Thandie murmured.

“I don’t get it.”

“A joke at my expense, Miss Brooke,” said Gordo.“I work at the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station, specifically at the Cheyenne Mountain Directorate. Air and missile warning centers, space control center, and a shitload of other functions, all buried behind concrete bulkheads and steel walls two thousand feet under the mountain. When the Cold War calmed down the base was put on warm standby under NORAD. Which is the North American Aerospace Defense Command.”

“I know what NORAD is,” Lily said testily.“Was once USAF myself, you know, Gordo.”

“My apologies. Anyhow when the flooding began the base was reactivated, to handle security concerns arising out of the new situation. And eventually I myself was reactivated, so to speak, taken out of the Army, brought back into the Air Force, posted here. And now we’re working through seventy-year-old stocks of coffee and beans and candy bars in the nuclear bunkers.”

“And,” Thandie said, “Gordo here is integral to Ark One.”

Gordo glanced around. “We never refer to it that way. Code word is Nimrod.”

“Nimrod, then.”

Nathan was studying Gordo.“I was involved when we conceived the Ark program in the first place. So was Thandie, who was hired to give a briefing. It was an idea somebody cooked up in the LaRei. Which was a rich guys’ club. History now. Anyhow we all came up with projects, ways to beat the flood, and supported each other to get them done. It was always so damned secretive. I built Ark Three, and even I never found out what the other Arks were going to be or where they were built. And then the whole program got taken over by the federal government and I had even less chance of figuring it out. It’s the same now, isn’t it? You’re not going to tell us what this Project Nimrod is, are you, Gordo?”

“Classified, sir.”

Nathan glanced at Thandie. “So why are we here?”

Thandie’s look was guarded. “I know more about Project Nimrod than I should. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Gordo. I’ve been working around the military for years. You only have to keep your ears and eyes open to pick up a hell of a lot. What’s left of the US military is up to something, deep in the heart of Cheyenne Mountain. I won’t say what I think it is. You might want to ask why they would enlist this man as a consultant, however. But one thing is clear. It is designed to save a number of people. A small number, selected for their genetic diversity and their skill sets.”

Nathan snapped, “Save them from what?”

“The worst case.”

He frowned. “Which is?”

“Extinction,” she said.

That stopped the conversation.

Extinction. It had always been a possibility, and then a growing probability, as the flood had kept relentlessly on, and mankind’s ability to cope with its effects had crumbled. Civilization falling was one thing, but if the land itself were covered, if there were no rocks to bang together, no savannah for a roaming primate to inhabit, what then? It was a word nobody used, as if to say it might bring that very event about. But it was there, Lily knew, in the minds of everybody on the planet with any sense of perspective.

Lily watched Nathan. She saw what he was thinking. After all these years, she knew Nathan inside out. If extinction were to threaten, this Project Nimrod might be the only channel by which one’s genes-specifically Nathan’s genes-could pass to the future. That was what Nathan was thinking.

And that was what would drive events now, Lily hoped, Nathan’s usual ruthless calculation impelling him to form fresh plans. Lily could achieve her own purposes by riding on those plans.

But Gordo Alonzo was frowning. “Just what’s going on here? I was told by Miss Jones that we were here to discuss a donation to the project. By you, Mr. Lammockson.”

“That’s news to me,” Nathan said, looking at Lily and Thandie. “You think we’ve been set up by these ladies, Gordo? Anyhow, what kind of donation? I can’t believe you’re asking for money.”

“Not money, Nathan,” Lily said gently. “Something much more precious. Seeds. Zygotes. Your Norwegian archive in the hold on Ark Three.” A treasure Nathan had been protecting all these years, even as the world disintegrated around him and his cruise liner turned into a battleship.

“So why would I give that away?” Nathan asked. But Lily saw him work it out. “Oh, I get it. It’s not a donation. It’s a purchase.”

Gordo was slower on the uptake. “A purchase of what?”

Thandie said, “Gordo, Lily and I cooked this up together. Look-here’s what I know. Ark One needs what Nathan has: the root stock to rebuild a world. It’s one thing the US government programs were slow in securing. And I know you have influence in the project, a lot of influence. There’s a list of candidates for the crew, isn’t there? You can get people off of there, if you put a word in the right ear. That probably isn’t hard. But more important, you personally have at least a chance of getting somebody new on the list.”

Gordo’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s it. In return for this freezer full of grass seed and pig embryos, Nathan wants to buy a place in Nimrod.”

Nathan held his hands up. “Hey, don’t look at me. I didn’t come in here wanting anything.” But, hooked by the prospect of a deal, he was watching Gordo’s reaction. “Just as a theoretical possibility, however. If Nimrod exists at all, if you have this kind of sway. You think it’s possible you could do this?”