"We've begun to hear of individual acts of heroism, people throwing themselves into the path of torrents to rescue others from overturned automobiles, a young woman in Tallahassee who lifted an automobile off a child's chest amid rising waters, a helicopter pilot in Hawaii who snatched three teenagers from a roadway and had to outrun a tidal wave.
"The world is drawing together. We're putting aside politics and ancient rivalries and all the other causes that divide us, and we're acting, for the first time in our history, as a single family. It is this fact that gives me great hope for the future. That persuades me we can come back from all the damage we've sustained over the last two nights, from the terrible losses we've taken, that we will rise from this calamity stronger and better than we have ever been before. That we will memorialize those who have died by rebuilding their world. That we will do it together, and that when we have finished, we will have created a civilization that will give pride to men and women as long as we inhabit this globe.
"Unfortunately, none of this will be possible if we don't turn aside the Possum. So let me tell you what the situation is: You already know that, if left on its present course, the Possum will come down in Kansas at four-fifty-six A.M. tomorrow.
"We don't intend to let that happen. With the cooperation of the Lunar Transport Authority, we're going to put the entire fleet of space planes on the rock. We're going to anchor them down and then we're going to fire their engines, and we're going to accelerate the Possum so that it crosses Earth's orbit early. That will get it out of the way. We expect it'll remain a neighborhood nuisance for a while after that, but we'll be able to deal with it at our leisure.
"Will it work?
"I've seen the same interviews you have. Some experts say no. Furthermore, a lot of people don't trust the government very much. They think it's either dishonest or incompetent or both. Okay, I'm not going to argue that point tonight. We can address it later after we've solved the more pressing problem of our survival.
"Will it work?
"I can't guarantee success. But I've been close to the effort to detour the Possum right from the beginning. I suppose you could say no one's closer. In fact, I can look out my window here and you'll notice it's only a few hundred feet away.
"I'm not a mathematician. The physicists who've planned this mission are confident. We've assembled the best people from around the world to make it happen. So I'll tell you this: If it's humanly possible, we'll get it done. Meantime, I ask you to keep calm, trust us to persevere, and we'll come through this together.
"Thank you. We'll keep you informed."
3.
WE REGRET NEWSNET SERVICE IS TEMPORARILY OFF-LINE DUE TO RELOCATION OF NEWS AND PROCESSING CENTER FROM CHICAGO TO TORONTO. CHECK THIS SITE TOMORROW. Skyport Orbital Lab. 1:10 P.M.
Andrea was a useful addition. She took over the communication systems without undue delay, learned to monitor the data feeds that provided information from hundreds of remote and manned facilities and relay it to appropriate consumers, and showed a natural talent for mollifying researchers who weren't satisfied with the quality or alacrity of responses.
The lab, and the various facilities it served, were now almost exclusively concerned with the fallout from the collision between Tomiko and the Moon. A subsidiary branch of specialization had appeared almost overnight: an interest in Tomiko itself, and the suspicion that it was something more than simply a comet. That notion was rapidly developing into a full-scale argument. But like philosophical and religious debates, it appeared to be an argument that would lead nowhere. The comet had vaporized, and if anything unusual had lain within its frozen exterior, it was hard to see how any of it could have survived.
Meantime, the return of POSIM-38 had claimed primary attention. People who wanted details, say, on energy release or gravity fluctuations during the collision were being put on hold. Virtually every instrument under the lab's auspices was aimed at the Possum.
For her part, Andrea was delighted to be back at work. Windy had even signed papers to grant her status as a temporary employee. (It turned out the government had rules against using volunteer professionals without paying them.)
By this time a small network of stations directly involved in the effort to get rid of the Possum were linked directly to the Lowell. These stations included the Lyndon Johnson Space Center in Houston, Feinberg's temporary location at Hartsfield, the Mauna Kea Observatory in Hawaii, Palomar in California, an advisory post at Cambridge University, and the AstroLab. All other communications to the Lowell were funneled through the Orbital Lab.
Most of these were either for Keith Morley from his producers, or for the president. The latter were, for the most part, scrambled.
Andrea was a professional. She did not try to eavesdrop, but it was her duty to stay on the circuit until she was sure connections had been made. In so doing she'd learned that Evelyn Hampton, the chaplain, and Rachel Quinn had all received book and movie offers. She also knew that the president had spoken to the families of Tony Casaway and Bigfoot Caparatti; that Hampton had called Jack Chandler's son.
She wondered about Chandler. He hadn't been on the microbus, but she knew he'd volunteered to stay behind. What had happened?
A new Lowell radio operator had appeared. The voice was familiar, but she couldn't place it. "This is Andrea Bellwether," she said. "Do I know you?"
"Yes you do, Andrea," the voice said. "This is Mark."
"Chaplain, hello." They'd been only casual acquaintances at Moonbase, but now he seemed like an old friend. "You're the comm officer now?"
"Yes. Bottom of the barrel, you know. I'm glad you got back all right."
"Thanks," she said. "I think you had a rougher ride than I did. Tell me, are you going to get rid of that thing?"
"I hope so. I think Charlie Haskell will go after it with a pickax if he has to." Percival Lowell Utility Deck. 1:19 P.M.
Evelyn and Saber stripped off their p-suits. Lee Cochran was gracious enough to keep his back turned. "I think we did pretty well," he said.
They had. They'd established that four of Feinberg's preferred sites were located on solid ground, and eliminated two others. Three to go.
Evelyn was stiff and sweaty, but she felt good. She'd come through the most desperate crisis of her life and had been nothing but extra weight the whole time. Until today. Today she'd gone out with Lee and Saber and they'd wrestled the laser drill around, bored holes, collected samples, gotten back inside, and waited while Rachel moved the ship to another niche on the rock's surface, where they got out and did it all again.
They were accomplishing what they needed to and they were running ahead of schedule.
She cleaned off in the scrubber, changed back into her blouse and slacks, and went to the galley for a quick lunch. Mark Pinnacle looked up as she walked in. "Hail the conqueror," he said. "We've got some great videos of you and Lee with the tractor."
"Thanks." She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a QuikPack. Turkey sandwich with cranberries. "Save me one to put over my desk."
Lee walked in. "That is a very big boulder out there," he said. "Seven pairs of rockets don't seem like much against it."
"Seven is historically a sacred number," said the chaplain. "Seven sacraments, seven sins against the Holy Spirit, Japan's seven gods of happiness, the Seven Against Thebes. Maybe we'll add to the canon."