For the remainder of that week, several other scientists spoke, and many questions were asked and sometimes answered. Some clarity was added to the team’s understanding of the situation facing them, but no great breakthroughs occurred.
Heather knew she was supposed to be on vacation that week, but didn’t say anything, and no one else seemed to remember. She was enjoying the new routine in which others had to prepare for the sessions, instead of her. She wasn’t sure when it would feel right to take another vacation — perhaps never again.
“Program P-Seventeen, Session Five Fifty-Five, twenty-six June 3667,”
Ginny said for the tape.
“All team members are present,” Ben announced.
“I didn’t think anyone would miss this one,” Heather said, standing up.
Many smiles greeted her from the three layers of the circle.
“Learning Mode will never end, but the generals and I agree it’s time to start talking about . . . you know . . . possible actions.”
The three generals in the room all nodded.
“I want to start with some warnings, some of which our beloved generals may not like.”
“When did that stop you before?” General Ko-fenral asked with a grin.
Heather just smiled back and a number of people chuckled.
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 169
“My first warning is that we dare not limit our thinking in any way at this point in the process. We are going to truly brainstorm, and anyone who censors themselves, or anyone else, is washing dishes after lunch, with me inspecting each one.”
Doctor Po-selem made funny haunting noises.
Heather smiled. “If Susan thinks we should nuke all sources of pollution, I want to hear it.”
The timid psychologist cringed.
“And if George thinks we should paint peace symbols on every military vehicle, that goes on the list too.”
General Ba-kerga almost cracked a smile.
Heather turned to the blackboard and wrote both ideas while her audience chuckled. When she turned back around, Doctor Ko-silma had her hand in the air.
“You mentioned that there came a time when all deforestation stopped, and even the cutting of a single living tree was illegal. But that came far too late. I know from the models Chris and I did that this wouldn’t be a complete solution, but if it could be made to happen now, it might be part of a solution.”
Heather was writing as the chemist spoke.
“The human population has to start falling in a controlled manner,” Doctor Tu-feltin the historian began, “but I have no idea how that could be accomplished. If we don’t, nature will do it for us starting in about 3717, if your memories are correct.”
“Fossil fuels could be heavily taxed,” Colonel Ma-soran suggested, “at least beyond a certain small amount so poor people don’t freeze in the dark.”
Heather continued getting the gist of each idea onto the blackboard, and every time she turned back to the team, another hand was in the air, ready to speak.
The ideas continued to flow for the rest of the morning, and more came up during lunch. Heather made sure the security guards, and Maria, knew that their suggestions could just as easily save the world.
When the team returned on Wednesday morning, they were greeted by
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 170
large sheets of paper pinned to the walls wherever there was space, each displaying their ideas in Colonel Ma-soran’s neat lettering.
On Friday, the flood of ideas was starting to slow, most just slight variations on previous suggestions. As eleven o’clock was passing and the room had become very quiet, Lieutenant Ta-nibon’s hand crept up.
“Ben?” Heather called.
He was silent for a long moment as his tape recorder reels continued to turn. Finally, he spoke just one word. “Pray.”
If the room had been quiet before, they could now hear a pin drop.
Eventually, General Bo-seklin cleared his throat and stood.
Heather took her seat.
“Although new ideas will continue to be welcome, we certainly have something to work with. Heather and the team were supposed to be on vacation last week, but we were . . . how do I say this? . . . in the middle of something.”
Smiles filled the room.
“I appreciate all of you sticking with the process, as it may have been the most important time for this team . . . maybe for much more than this team.”
He could see several people nodding.
“I’ve been on the phone all week, and I learned that the Department has five political scientists, highly educated and experienced, and they actually do have top-secret-umbra clearance.”
“Cool!” Heather said softly.
“They were busy this week, but they’ll be here all next week, and during that week, the building will be closed to non-military personnel while the staff gets some hard, cold opinions on our situation and our many ideas. It will all be hypothetical to them, although they’ll know from the program number that it has something to do with a psychic ability. That’s a good thing, I think, as it will keep them from taking it too seriously and therefore feeling inhibited about chatting with us openly.”
He noticed Heather nodding agreement.
“We’re not trying to get them caught up with the team, intellectually or socially, nor will they have any decision-making power.”
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 171
Several people looked relieved.
“So . . . the team and Heather are on a belated vacation next week, and you will need to go somewhere,” he asserted, looking at Heather, “even though I’m sure you’ll be dying of curiosity.”
“I can die of curiosity in the mountains or on the beach.”
Many people chuckled.
“Maria!” the general called.
She stepped out of the kitchen, oven mitts on her hands.
“You
will
not be on vacation next week, as we’ll have ten to fifteen at every meal, every day.”
She
nodded.
“We’ll come back for one week to process what the political scientists had to say, then take our regular vacation, which you will get, Maria.”
She nodded again, then begged, with body language, to tend her oven. The general nodded and she dashed away.
As Friday afternoon passed, Heather slowly wound down from the most intense month of her life.
During lunch, she overheard some professors expressing a preference for one sort of action to change the future, over another. At the Inner Support Team meeting later in the afternoon, some officers began speculating about which actions the military could best pursue. As the three generals chatted, while getting ready to go home, they clearly wanted to emphasize certain options to the political scientists.
What Heather never heard was what she knew her friend Susan already believed — that none of the options would, in reality, be acceptable to the world.
“Good morning, sleepy!” Ginny said from a couch when Heather staggered out of her room the next morning.
The twelve-year-old stood on the hardwood floor in bare feet and pajamas.
A moment later, a huge yawn escaped her. “Do you get to come with me?”
“Yep. Lisa’s jealous, but she’s a colonel now.”
“I figured Sam would make her stay next week. Part of me would love to
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 172
be a fly on the wall. Another part of me doesn’t even want to know . . .”
Both females burst out chuckling and Ginny nodded agreement.
While Heather stretched, got breakfast, and packed, Lieutenant Do-forva called lodges and resorts to make reservations. With summer at hand, only the less-popular had openings, which Heather preferred anyway. By noon, they were on the road.
“It feels funny driving a car,” Ginny said after a lull in other conversation about a hundred miles along, “when I work for a top-secret team that knows we are destroying our future with Carbon dioxide.”
“Yeah, I know. Makes me feel a little . . . dirty . . . too. But individual action would have no effect.”
“Not even a tiny bit that would add up if lots of people drove less?”
“Nope. It’s built into the market system. If you and your friends don’t buy fuel, that causes the price to drop a little because of less demand. The lower price motivates others to use more.”
“Oh. Makes the situation sound pretty hopeless.”
Heather was silent and thoughtful as they motored their way into the mountains.
After hiking around a small alpine lake, the pair collapsed into soft meadow grass beneath towering pine trees. Squirrels scampered from branch to branch, and a deep-blue sky over-arched the entire idyllic scene.
“There they are, Ginny, doing their best to pull Carbon dioxide out of the air, keep the Carbon, and give us the Oxygen to breathe . . . and burn.”
Lieutenant Do-forva frowned. “And . . . they can’t keep up.”
Heather
nodded.
Ginny continued frowning. “I felt a little sick as we were driving through those logging areas on the way here.”
“Me too. We’re creating the problem on both ends. Too much CO2, not enough trees.”
After a long and thoughtful silence, Ginny sighed. “So . . . correct me if I’m wrong . . . the only way to avoid . . . you know . . . would be to fix it on all sides
— less people, less burning, and more trees.”
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 173
Heather didn’t say anything, but she smiled.
The huge orange fireball of the sun was setting over the ocean as the pair sat on a sand dune partly covered with wiry grass. A pleasantly-cool sea breeze blew their hair back toward the green hills behind them. Gulls wheeled overhead, eyeing the humans for possible handouts.
“As I remember,” Ginny began, gazing at the waves, “the ocean is soaking up some of the CO2, but is slowly loosing that ability.”
“Right, as it gets more acidic. In the process, most sea creatures will die, leaving almost nothing but jellyfish. Scientists think it will become alkaline again someday, and then be able to absorb much more Carbon dioxide.”
“In time to help?”
Heather took a moment to think about how to respond. “Help the planet, and whatever remnants of life are still hiding in deep, slightly-cooler places, maybe.”
Ginny frowned as she realized what Heather hadn’t said.
They returned to the city in time for Heather to spend most of Saturday with Brian. They arrived at the top-secret facility to find the security lamp off and one of the sleeping rooms occupied.
Heather glimpsed the man on Sunday at breakfast, tall and dark-haired, about forty, sporting a colonel’s stripes. He spent most of the day in General Bo-seklin’s office with various members of the command and security staff.
Since the security lamp remained off, and no one was volunteering any explanation to her, Heather guessed she should stay inconspicuous. She danced to soft music with the studio door closed, watered plants, filled the bird feeder, and met with Susan in the bomb shelter.
She wasn’t sure if the need to remain inconspicuous would extend to the important team meeting the following morning, and hoped someone would tell her.