Sun's Glare Had Hidden Celestial Visitor Moonbase, on tour. 4:30 P.M.
Isabel Heyman, who usually worked with the special response detail at the White House, had politicked to get the Moonbase assignment. That she'd succeeded was less attributable to her influence than to the fact that the agents usually assigned to the vice president had been working long hours as he plunged into the crucial early primaries. Unlike Isabel, they did not perceive a flight to Luna, with a reduced force that guaranteed round-the-clock hours, as a benefit.
So now Isabel toured the Greenhouse, keeping station on Teddy's left, surveying faces for any telltale suggestion of ill intent, looking for tics or compressed lips, for eyes perhaps a little too narrowly focused, for any sudden movement, for a hand slipped inside a garment.
It was hard, wandering among Moonbase's wonders, to keep her mind on her job. But her training took over, and it was enough just to know where she was.
She would come back, she decided. On her own.
CHAPTER THREE
Wednesday, April 10
1.
Arecibo, Puerto Rico. 8:03 A.M. Atlantic Time (7:03 A.M. EDT).
The radar returns had been coming in for several hours. Tomiko was a monster, 180 kilometers in diameter. But the incredible revelation was its velocity: It was moving at 480 kilometers per second! Yesterday Foster Cardwell would have bet the mortgage that order of velocity wasn't possible.
Cardwell was director of operations at Arecibo. He stood over the display, rubbing the back of his neck. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt stenciled with palm trees and dolphins. "Run it again," he said.
Penny McGruder nodded and keyed in the command. "It's not going to look any different."
A cursor moved unerringly toward a rendezvous with the Earth-Moon system. The comet was passing the Sun now. It would cross the orbit of Mercury later today, and that of Venus early Friday. It would close to within 384,000 kilometers of Earth. Where it would strike the Moon!
"Are we sure?"
They checked everything again.
Saturday night. At ten thirty-five EDT.
"Cardy," she said, "this comet doesn't obey the rules."
He nodded and shrugged.
She highlighted the velocity: 480. What would it do to the Moon?
"It'll be a hell of a show," he said.
• • • Beaver Meadow Observatory. 7:33 A.M. EDT.
Feinberg was ecstatic. Messages of congratulation had already begun pouring in. Tomiko was indeed an interstellar. But even given that, its velocity was difficult to account for. They would have to rethink some of their assumptions.
A variety of emotions washed through him when he saw it would impact on the Moon. There would be a magnificent display, and they'd have an unparalleled opportunity to observe their extrasolar visitor. Why, then, did he feel a sense almost of despair?
He'd have given much to see a mission to the comet. Who knew what they might have learned, given an opportunity to do an inspection. Perhaps they would even have uncovered the secret behind its velocity.
He'd given much thought to the matter. The object was billions of years old. Had to be. It had experienced a series of encounters, each accelerating it until it reached its present rate. It seemed a farfetched explanation. Yet, what other possibility was there?
Hoxon dithered about, worrying that Feinberg's health would suffer if he didn't "get out and get some fresh air."
"In a while," said Feinberg.
"Where's it going to hit? Will we be able to see it?"
"It'll impact on the back side."
"That's a pity."
"Maybe not." Feinberg let his concern show. "Giant comet coming hard." He made a noise deep in his throat, and tapped a key. A single set of numbers appeared on the screen:
7x1029
Hoxon made a face. "Energy release?"
"Approximately."
"Wes, that can't be right."
Feinberg ignored the familiarity. "I'd like to think not," he said. "It's enough to take the top off the Moon." He stared out at the cool green lawn, still damp in the morning light. "There might be a downside to all this." White House Dining Room. 8:04 A.M.
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. President." Al Kerr, Henry Kolladner's chief of staff, loomed in the doorway. He looked unhappy.
The president was seated at his breakfast table with the first lady. Emily Kolladner frowned. She had fought a losing battle for two years to guard the family's privacy, before finally acceding to the reality that a president has no personal life. Henry had tried to find time for her; he usually rose early, worked two hours or so, and then joined her for a casual breakfast. It was supposed to be understood that the meal not be interrupted for any calamity short of nuclear war. Of course, that understanding had been violated almost daily. The first chief of staff, Kerr's predecessor, had lost his job over the issue. Henry smiled at Emily, shrugged, and finished chewing a piece of bacon. "What is it, Al?" he asked.
Kerr stepped into the room and only then did Henry realize he wasn't alone. A middle-aged, officious-looking woman entered behind him. He'd seen her before.
"Mr. President," said Kerr, "you know Dr. Juarez."
Yes. His science advisor. "Of course. Mercedes, how are you?"
Mercedes Juarez wore black slacks and a black jacket with a gold scarf over it. Her hair looked somewhat windblown and her eyes were dark pinpoints. "Quite well, thank you, Mr. President." She opened a leather briefcase. "Sir, we have an emergency." The observation didn't faze Kolladner, who saw two to three dozen emergencies daily. She extracted a picture and held it up for him. It showed a field of stars. One was especially bright. "This is Tomiko," she said.
"Who?"
"The comet, sir."
"Oh. Of course."
"It's very big. It's traveling very fast. And it's coming this way."
Kolladner put his fork down. The room seemed to have gotten cold. "And-?"
"It's going to hit the Moon Saturday night."
"Okay…" He paused for a moment, trying to recover his equilibrium. He'd thought, from her tone, the news was going to be a lot worse. "You're telling me Moonbase is in danger?"
She took a deep breath. "That, too."
He glanced up at Kerr, not understanding where this was going. "Too?" he asked.
Dr. Juarez's eyebrows drew together. "Mr. President." She made a strange face, like a child being forced to eat asparagus. "It's big. We've never seen anything this big before. It's possible it might demolish the Moon altogether."
Kolladner looked at his wife, and at Kerr. Emily's hand touched his wrist. The United States had a multi-trillion-dollar investment in the Moon. He found it hard to consider the ramifications, the idea was so off-the-wall. "There's no mistake?"
"No, sir. There's a fudge factor, but it's not worth discussing."
"How much of a fudge factor?"
"Very little, as far as the actual strike is concerned. Considerably more with regard to energy release."
Henry pushed back from the table. "Okay. I assume they're evacuating Moonbase?"
"We haven't heard anything formally yet, Mr. President," said Kerr. "We've passed them the word, but I don't think they've had time to digest it. But yes, they'll have to move everyone out."
"Yes. I'd think so." He studied the science advisor. "What do you need from me?"
"Mr. President," she said, "it's possible-likely-that fragments will be blown off the Moon. If that happens, we could catch some of the fallout."
"We? The United States?"
"The world."
"Pardon me," said Emily, "but why don't you just tell us what you know?" Emily rarely intervened directly. But she looked exasperated. "Are we really worried about falling moonrock?"
"Yes, Mrs. Kolladner. Maybe a lot of it."
"How much?" asked Henry. "How likely?"