They called it the Zyrwicki Process, because Zyrwicki was the only one who understood it. That was why he was alone now in the specially modified starship headed out past the moon, straight towards the asteroid. He was the only one who understood it, and thus he was the only one who could save Earth.
NASA had found it weeks ago. The other agencies on Earth confirmed. The asteroid was big, and mean, and it was headed straight for them. An assessment of planetary defenses revealed they had nothing capable of stopping it. Panic of obliteration was enough that certain countries disclosed weapons they’d been keeping secret, which led to some embarrassment as everyone else admitted they already knew. It didn’t matter. The nukes, the hypersonics, nothing was big enough. The asteroid was bigger.
Then Zyrwicki, a quiet little scientist, spoke up at a conference of NASA leaders and politicians. He’d worked out a process, he said, that could synchronize photon arrays into a unitary tachyon-constrained band capable of substantially reducing the asteroid’s mass. When everyone translated that into English, one Senator blurted out, “You mean like a super-laser?”
“Well, yes,” Zyrwicki said.
“Cool!” the Senator said. “Let’s build ‘em!”
It was then that Zyrwicki decided on refusing to disclose precisely how the process worked. He gave instructions on how to build the necessary equipment, up to a point, but he obstinately stopped there. No one ever made him say more. This infuriated the Senator and a lot of other people, who had envisioned a great many fun things one could do with a super-laser besides blow up an asteroid. Zyrwicki wouldn’t budge.
Now he was here, in the starship officially named Rescue Flight One, but which most people colloquially knew as the Big Gun. He looked over the controls. Everything looked as it should. The asteroid rose in his viewscreen.
Zyrwicki began to panic. His heart raced. He hadn’t wanted to be here. He’d learned to fly, even though he’d hated every minute. He’d learned to pilot the darned ship. Now here he was, and all he had to do was press the button, and he knew the process would work but my God the asteroid was so big and what if he just backed off and let someone else do it, surely someone else could do it, there had to be another way-
He closed his eyes and pushed the button.
The strains of classical music floated through the starship. Wrong button.
For the first time in his life Zyrwicki swore. He’d hoped for that last comfort. There was nothing else for it. His panel was lighting up like a Christmas tree. He took a quick breath, kept his eyes open this time, and pressed the right button.
The process bearing his name thrummed to life. The Big Gun fired off. The asteroid disappeared in a ball of light.
Back home the assembly of NASA people and politicians cheered. “Wait,” said the Senator, “where’s the ship? Where’s the Big Gun?”
The cheers stopped. There was a flurry of tapping keys and a blur of screens. “Sir?” one scientist said. “The ship’s gone. Whatever that…process was, it took the ship with it.” He couldn’t hide the admiration in his voice.
There was a long pause as everyone took in what that meant. Then, “Damn,” said the Senator.
This story was written with the prompt for the first challenge of Scoot’s writing competition in mind. I didn’t make the competition myself, but a story started running in my mind anyway, and I thought I might as well write it out.
Thanks for reading,
Michael