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

warning was just a ruse. We couldn’t have been more surprised when the signal came over our ham
radio. 10 It was a live human voice, tired, frightened, and cutting out after only a few seconds. It
was all I needed to board the Verne and head over to the Yang.
As soon as it came over the horizon I could tell that its orbit had shifted radically. As I closed the
distance, I could see why. Their escape pod had blown its hatch, and because it was still docked to
the primary airlock, the entire station had depressurized in seconds. As a precaution, I requested
docking clearance. I got nothing. As I came aboard, I could see that even though the station was
clearly large enough for a crew of seven or eight, it only had the bunk space and personal kits for
two. I found the Yang packed with emergency supplies, enough food, water, and O2 candles for at
least five years. What I couldn’t figure out at first was why. There was no scientific equipment
aboard, no intelligence-gathering assets. It was almost like the Chinese government had sent these
two men into space for no other purpose than to exist. Fifteen minutes into my floatabout, I found
the first of several scuttling charges. This space station was little more than a giant Orbital Denial
Vehicle. If those charges were to detonate, the debris from a four-hundred-metric-ton space station
would not only be enough to damage or destroy any other orbiting platform, but any future space
launch would be grounded for years. It was a “Scorched Space” policy, “if we can’t have it, neither
can anyone else.”
All the station’s systems were still operational. There had been no fire, no structural damage, no
reason I could see to cause the accident of the escape pod’s hatch. I found the body of a lone
taikonaut with his hand still clinging to the hatch release. He was wearing one of their pressurized
escape suits, but the faceplate had been shattered by a bullet. I’m guessing the shooter was blown
out into space. I’d like to believe that the Chinese revolution wasn’t just restricted to Earth, that
the man who’d blown the hatch was also the one who had attempted to signal us. His mate must
have stuck by the old guard. Maybe Mister Loyalist had been ordered to set off the scuttling
charges. Zhai—that was the name on his personal effects—Zhai had tried to blast his mate into
space and had caught a round in the process. Makes for a good tale, I think. That’s how I’m going
to remember it.
Is that how you were able to extend your endurance? By using the
supplies aboard the Yang?
[He gives me a thumbs-up.] We cannibalized every inch of it for spares and materials. We would
have liked to have merged the two platforms together but we didn’t have the tools or manpower
for such an undertaking. We might been able to use the escape pod to return to Earth. It had a heat
shield and room for three. It was very tempting. But the station’s orbit was decaying rapidly, and
we had to make a choice then and there, escape to Earth or resupply the ISS. You know which
choice we made.
Before we finally abandoned her, we laid our friend Zhai to rest. We strapped his body into its
bunk, brought his personal kit back to the ISS, and said a few words in his honor as the Yang
burned up in the Earth’s atmosphere. For all we knew he might have been the loyalist, not the
rebel, but either way, his actions allowed us to stay alive. Three more years we remained in orbit,
three more years that wouldn’t have been possible without the Chinese consumables.
I still think it’s one of the war’s great ironies that our replacement crew ended up arriving in a
privately owned civilian vehicle. Spacecraft Three, the ship originally designed for prewar orbital
tourism. The pilot, with his cowboy hat and big, confident Yankee grin. [He tries his best Texas
accent.] “Anyone order takeout?” [He laughs, then winces and self-medicates again.]