World War Z_ An Oral History of the Zombie War ( PDFDrive )

SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA
[Clearwater Memorial is the newest hospital to be constructed in Australia and
the largest one built since the end of the war. Terry Knox’s room is on the
seventeenth floor, the “Presidential Suite.” His luxurious surroundings and
expensive, almost unobtainable medication are the least his government can do
for the first and, to date, only Australian commander of the International Space
Station. In his words, “Not bad for the son of an Andamooka opal miner.”
His withered body seems to liven during our conversation. His face regains
some of its color.]
I wish some of the stories they tell about us were true. Makes us sound all the more heroic.
[Smiles.] Truth is, we weren’t “stranded,” not in terms of being suddenly or unexpectedly trapped
up there. Nobody had a better view of what was happening than us. No one was surprised when
the replacement crew from Baikonur failed to launch, or when Houston ordered us to pile into the
X-38 1 for evacuation. I wish I could say that we violated orders or physically fought with one
another over who should stay. What really happened was much more mundane and reasonable. I
ordered the scientific team, and any other nonessential personnel, back to Earth, then gave the
rest of the crew the choice to remain behind. With the X-38 reentry “lifeboat” gone, we would be
technically stranded, but when you think of what was at stake then, I can’t imagine any of us
wanting to leave.
The ISS is one of the greatest marvels of human engineering. We’re talking about an orbital
platform so large it could be seen from Earth with the naked eye. It’d taken sixteen countries over
ten years, a couple hundred space walks, and more money than anyone without job security would
admit to finally complete her. What would it take to build another one, if another one could ever be
built?
Even more important than the station was the incalculable, and equally irreplaceable, value of
our planet’s satellite network. Back then there were over three thousand in orbit, and humanity
depended on them for everything from communications to navigation, from surveillance to
something even as mundane yet vital as regular and reliable weather prediction. This network was
as important to the modern world as roads had been in ancient times, or rail lines during the
industrial age. What would happen to humanity if these all-important links just started dropping out
of the sky?
Our plan was never to save them all. That was unrealistic and unnecessary. All we had to do was
concentrate on the systems most vital to the war effort, just a few dozen birds that had to remain
aloft. That alone was worth the risk of staying.
Were you ever promised a rescue?