“No, that won't work,” General Draper said, shaking his head. “If we provided you with a suitable environment and all the manpower and funding you needed, how long would it take to be set up and ready to deal with about one hundred thousand people or more, and put them into this sleep state for twenty years?”

“One hundred thousand!” Matt repeated. The question completely threw him - the logistics alone were inconceivable. “If the facility was large enough, had enough power, and was ready for us to start work on today, we might be ready in about five to ten years.” Even as Fitch said this he could see the displeasure on the General's face and he continued hurriedly. “Sir, if I had a better idea regarding what you need, I could give you more accurate answers.”

“Okay, Colonel,” Draper said after a pause. He slid a small black notebook binder across the table to Matt.

The first thing Matt noticed was the words TOP SECRET in large red letters.

“You're not to discuss this with anyone. I don't pretend to understand the scientific part of this, in fact, the folks at NASA don't understand it fully either, but it seems that in less than three years some blasted comet is going to irradiate the Earth's atmosphere. The radiation levels will be high enough to kill almost everything on the planet.”

Matt's mouth dropped open and the color drained from his face.

“We're working this problem from several angles. The data has been confirmed, it's definitely coming here. The chances of us stopping the comet or altering its path are about a million to one. Underground bunkers are a possibility, but the problem is that everyone would need to stay in them for at least ten years – probably more like twenty. Of course, there's no way to get more than a tiny percentage of the people into them; but still, it's better than nothing. Your sleeper program is about the only possibility, but even if we could get the one hundred thousand units ready, we're still talking about saving less than one out of every four thousand people in this country.”

Suffering a mixture of mild dizziness and some nausea, Matt responded quietly. “Sir, please tell me this is a hypothetical scenario.”

“No, Colonel, this is about as real as it gets.”

Matt stood and walked over to the bar. “In response to your earlier question, sir, I no longer think it's too early for a drink. What can I get you?”

“Scotch,” the General responded.

Matt filled two glasses with a couple of generous fingers of scotch and hurried back to the table. “Sir, from what I remember a comet is mostly ice. I don't remember radiation being a common concern.”

“Apparently, that's true. There's something very unusual about this particular comet though, and we don't have any clear answers.”