by Bob Goddard
In the last minutes of its flight, said the commentator, the Shenlong Spaceplane would encounter increasing dust and debris from the comet coma. This would damage the craft due to the enormous speeds involved, but would not affect the outcome. The five cambots which were following the ship would encounter the comet coma some 5, 10, 30, 60 and 120 minutes later. They would also be destroyed, but not before they had relayed back to Earth the closest possible views of the event.
6:15 – twelve minutes to go. Nadia looked around the packed, tunnel-like canteen at her fellow colonists. Bright faces and wide eyes were illuminated by the glow from the screens. A few were conversing in excited whispers but most were captivated by the events unfolding before them. Few showed any sign of the fear which had knotted her own stomach. They have no idea, she thought, that the success of this mission is hanging in the balance.
Halfway down the Lunchbox she could see Will standing with Tamala and Darren. Tamala was transfixed by the screen in front of her, but Will had his head tilted to listen to something Darren was saying. Nadia wondered how much Tamala had told her boyfriend. From his relaxed smile she guessed he knew little more than the others. Just as well. They would all find out soon enough.
She looked back at the screen as the commentator explained they were now looking at the view from cambot 1. It showed a bright cloud of comet dust with the speck of the space plane visible in the centre. Then it was back to the flight deck where the two crew members, he said, were having their last words with their relatives in private.
The image cut to a smart-dressed presenter sitting behind a desk at the Chinese space agency’s media centre. A voice was translating his words into halting English: “… historic occasion. The technical ability of mankind has reached the necessary level to combat this threat just when it was needed.”
He went on to praise the brave crewmen and thank the international community. Their co-operation had been vital in helping China to mount this incredible mission. As he delivered the state propaganda, Nadia turned away, craning her neck to search through the crowd for Lian. She hadn’t seen her come in to the Lunchbox and deduced she was watching alone in her room.
The voice switched to the ISCOM commentator and Nadia looked back at the screen. There was now a split image from the five cambots, each showing a different view of the comet hurtling towards them. Then there was a view from the flight deck which was experiencing some vibration. The voiceover explained that the ship was now encountering gases and fine dust from the comet. A forward facing camera from the space plane showed a brightening glow as the ship met the oncoming blizzard of particles and its heat shield bore the brunt of the soaring temperatures.
6:25. Two minutes to go. Nadia’s mouth was dry with anxiety. She looked down at the coffee mug in her hand and tried to drain another few drops from it, but she had finished it quarter of an hour ago.
Now cambot 1 filled the screen, zooming in to show the rear of the spaceplane being swallowed by a swirling fog of dust. The ship was lit up by the friction.
6:26. She took a quick glance at her fellow watchers. Nobody was talking now. All were staring intently at the screens.
6:27. Nadia’s training had kicked in and she was taking short, shallow breaths. She knew most of the others would be holding theirs. Then the screen lit up in an eye-scorching flash and went blank. Cambot 1 was fried.
“That’s it!” yelled the commentator. “That’s the detonation we’ve all been waiting for.” His voice was high-pitched with excitement.
The image returned with a split screen view from cambots 2, 3, 4 and 5. They showed views of a diminishing glow.
“This massive release of energy is now heating up the side of Comet Santos,” explained the breathless voiceover. “It will produce the out-gassing required to push it on to a safe new course.”
The glow had gone now and the four remaining cambots were adjusting themselves to the lower light levels. It was impossible to make out anything meaningful from their images.
6:30. The screen was filled with the view from cambot 2, the next in line to enter the maelstrom, but there was nothing to see but a dense swirling cloud. As the minutes ticked by and a murmur grew among the assembled colonists, the image on the screen began to shake. Bright specks were visible for the briefest instant before the screen went blank again. Cambot 2 was dead.
6:38. Cambot 3 was providing the main picture, with the other two remaining cameras presenting smaller images in the bottom corners of the screen, but none of them told the watchers what they wanted to know. Was the comet altering course as planned and predicted?
By 6:45 the crowd was talking among themselves and some were back at the counter for fresh drinks, when someone pointed to one of the screens and shouted: “Look…it’s split in two!”
It did indeed appear from the cambot 3 image that there were now two centres to the fuzzy comet cloud and they appeared to be moving apart. It was even clearer, if more distant, on cambots 4 and 5.
Then the commentator was speaking again. “We have noticed that there now appears to be two nuclei to Comet Santos and we are seeking clarification. Is this an optical effect due to the out-gassing, or has the comet separated into two pieces as a result of the explosion.”
The cambot 3 image was now shaking, indicating that the little drone was entering the expanding gas and dust field ahead of the comet. Its picture became increasingly blurry and then blinked out as the camera was destroyed. Cambots 4 and 5 showed, ever more clearly, two diverging centres to the comet’s coma cloud. Then the images from these last two cambots were replaced by a view of the mission control room and a voiceover in Chinese.
The ISCOM commentator sounded bemused by these developments. “Well… we seem to have lost the views from the two remaining cambots. We are now seeing the mission control room in China.” There was a lengthy silence.
“It appears the technicians in the Beijing Aerospace Command and Control Centre are evaluating all the data.” Another long pause.
“As we said earlier, we expect it to take up to an hour to get an accurate fix on the new trajectory for Comet Santos. It is now… 28 minutes since the detonation.” He was struggling for words and Nadia, who had been standing near the door, took the opportunity to slip out unnoticed. She would use the lull in proceedings to check in on Lian and make sure she was okay.
For the rest of the colonists crowded into the Lunchbox there was little to do but wait and chat among themselves. The ISCOM commentator tried to fill the void: “Information is streaming in to the control centre from all of the telescopes – both ground-based here on Earth and on the Moon and, of course, those in orbit too.”
“All of this data has to be processed by the computers here at the mission control centre in Aerospace City. This is the nickname of the Chinese space complex based in a suburb northwest of Beijing.”
Minutes ticked by with no further comment. In the mission control room there appeared to be many operators sitting staring at screens with a couple of people running between stations, looking agitated. The picture finally switched to a presenter sitting at a desk speaking Chinese.
The ISCOM commentator chipped in. “Well… there appears to be some information being given by the Chinese presenter now, but no translation at present. We will just have to be patient and await developments.”
Nadia, who had spent ten minutes chatting with Lian, slipped back in to the Lunchbox. She was just in time to hear the ISCOM commentator say: “Ah, we’re getting a translation in English for you now. I’ll let you hear what they are saying…”
A halting and heavily-accented voice: “… the mission has successfully achieved significant change to Comet Santos. The nucleus of the comet has now been split into two parts. Our technicians are currently processing the data from twenty three telescopes. This will plot the new trajectories of these two pieces of the comet. When this information is confirmed and verified, it will be released.”
Nadia checked the time again. It
was now 7:06. It would be at least twenty minutes before the final verdict. She didn’t blame Lian for sitting alone in her room where she could follow the broadcast without feeling self-conscious. Nadia hoped that when this was over Lian’s parents would accept her calls and restore her peace of mind. She’d had a rough few days and still seemed quite fragile, despite the medication she was taking. The Moon was no place for a mental breakdown.
It was 7.35 when the sound of trumpets announced the start of the Chinese national anthem. The colonists packed into Armstrong’s canteen looked up to the screens to see the Chinese premier standing at a lectern. He looked inscrutable as the old revolutionary song urged its citizens to Arise! Arise! Arise!
Then he was speaking and a translator followed in English. “We would like to thank all those involved in the unprecedented operation to deflect Comet Santos.”
He paused before continuing: “It is with a heavy heart that I must report that this mission has been only partly successful.”
There were gasps of surprise from the Lunchbox audience and someone shouted: “What! You got to be joking?”
“The comet has broken into two parts,” the premier said. “The smaller piece – approximately one third of the comet – will miss planet Earth as planned.” He stared at the camera for a while before continuing. Nadia thought his eyes looked unutterably sad. He cleared his throat and went on.
“However, the larger part of the comet was not deflected sufficiently to miss our planet. It will impact the eastern side of the North Atlantic Ocean.”
There were more gasps and a scream. Nadia glanced at the colonists. Most were staring open-mouthed at the screens. They’d had no idea the mission could fail.
“There is nothing more that can be done to prevent this,” continued the Chinese leader. “The impact will take place approximately sixty six hours from now. Please heed the advice that your government will issue shortly. It is imperative that all citizens obey the rule of law and co-operate fully for the good of all. Stay tuned to your national news service for information.”
The old man lowered his neatly-coiffured head before raising his eyes again. “I am deeply sorry. I wish all citizens of the world the best of fortune in the testing times to come.” He lowered his head then turned and walked away.
For a few seconds there was silence in the Lunchbox. People looked at each other in disbelief and shock. Then everyone was talking at once, there were shouts and shrieks and sobbing colonists making for the canteen exit.
Nadia was among them. There was nothing she could do while their emotions were inflamed like this. She would consult with ISCOM and her father, then put out a vidcast urging them all to get back to work. It was now more critical than ever that the colony reached self-sufficiency in the next few weeks. Their survival, she knew, would depend upon it.
8. The Aftermath
Moon, 2087
Will Cooper felt sick. These past few days he had been praying that Comet Santos would not splash down in the eastern Pacific Ocean and wipe out his home, his country, his memories. Ginny and his parents could have flown in his dad’s tiltrotor over the mountains to the Terra Vivos shelter. They would escape the terrible tsunami, but California would be devastated.
Now that he knew the bulk of the comet would impact the North Atlantic instead he felt a deep sense of guilt. Had he somehow wished this catastrophe on to the peoples of Europe, Africa and the east coast of America? Instead of relief he felt nauseous and panicky. He had an awful vision of a mile-high tsunami sweeping millions to their deaths. He knew there was no way all those countries could be evacuated in less than three days.
Last night, helping Tamala and Darren organise ball games, he had forgotten about the comet. The challenge of creating team sports inside a five-metre wide tube and one-sixth gravity had diverted and absorbed his thoughts. They had divided a length of corridor into four with netting and the 40 or so players into eight teams. They took turns at soccer, basketball and volleyball, making up new rules to allow for the limited space and tiny gravity. They let air out of the balls to reduce their bounce but still had to invert the volleyball game to play shots under the net.
It had been hilarious and frustrating, energetic and bruising. All agreed it had been great fun and pledged to play again the following night. After this morning’s devastating news, Will wondered if there would be fewer Lunies willing to play games, or more looking to escape from reality. As he unbolted the last of the shock absorbers from the old tractor he hoped there might be more like him, seeking sanctuary in competitive exercise.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Tamala was shaking uncontrollably when Darren got her back to her room. She wanted to call her sister and parents right away, while they were still at the restaurant, but couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering. Eventually, after he’d massaged her shoulders and she’d sipped some water, she calmed down enough to make the call.
“Elina. Mama. Papa. Are you still there?” It seemed like an eternity, waiting for a reply. Finally her screen blinked and Elina appeared.
“Tamala! Yes, we are still here. But everyone else has rushed out into the street. They are going crazy. What happened?” Elina looked strained and tired. Behind her Tamala could see her parents’ bewildered faces.
“The comet broke in two, Elina. One piece will miss the Earth, but the other… the other… Oh, I can’t bear to think about it.” She broke into sobs. “The other – the larger part – will crash into the Atlantic Ocean on Thursday night or Friday morning. It will be a disaster, Elina. Millions of people will die. You must protect yourselves, there is no time… no time to lose.” Her voice faltered as more tears fell.
Elina’s brow furrowed. “How should we protect ourselves? What are we protecting ourselves from, Tamala? The Atlantic is a very long way from here. Surely the sea cannot reach Malawi?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe falling rocks… maybe fire and earthquakes, Elina. The government should be issuing advice on what you should do. Are you still watching the news broadcast?” Another long wait for an answer.
“Yes, we are, but there has been no official statement from President Chibongwe. And I wouldn’t trust him anyway. It was he who told us the deflection could not fail! He will be too busy moving himself and his family into a luxury shelter somewhere to worry about us. You know what African politicians are like, Tamala.”
“Okay. Look, here is what I will do. I will call you again in two hours, Elina. Take Mama and Papa home and get them started collecting drinking water in any sealable containers they can find. And food - especially canned and dried food which will keep for a long time. I have two minutes call time left. I will find out what is best for you to do and call you at…” she checked the time, added two hours for Malawi, “at ten o’clock, Malawi time. Be ready for my call. Bye Elina… and love you Mama and Papa!”
Tamala swiped her screen to end the call and preserve her precious minutes. Then she turned to Darren. “We’ve got to find the best advice for my family in Malawi, Darren. When you call your parents, find out what they are being told. In the meantime I will check out the newsfeeds for other African countries. And Aljazeera, they will be on the ball, for sure.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
Lian Song sat and stared at her blank screen. After the chilling announcement by her premier, she had dutifully tuned to CCTV, the Chinese news channel, to see what advice her government would give. Without a pause, a presenter had read out a list of do’s and don’ts while an animation showed citizens exactly what actions they should take between now and Friday morning. It had obviously taken days to prepare, which meant only one thing: They knew all along that the deflection would fail. Or, at the very least, they knew it had a limited chance of success.
That was when she had turned her screen off and sat immobile and unblinking while the events of the past few days scrolled like a video in her head.
It all made sense now: The announce
ment last Friday of the comet’s new and deadly course and the dramatic mission to deflect it. The international co-operation with China’s technology and fire-power. The hero-worship for the two men sent on the suicide mission. The suppression of the media and the certainty of success. The denial then reluctant admission of the mining operation. The deflection’s abject failure followed immediately by the well-prepared advice to keep calm, stay indoors, tape up windows and hide under a table.
Lian weighed up the evidence. Her country had committed the gravest crime against humanity, but had done everything in its power to cover it up. They had acted like the saviours of the world while planning for failure. They had deceived her. They had deceived everyone. And now they were telling two billion people to hide under their tables while Armageddon rained down upon their heads.
If she had harboured any doubts before, now Lian was certain. And she was deeply ashamed. She might have sat there for hours, mourning the loss of her dreams, her certainties, her purpose in life, but her comm chimed with an urgent message. It was a vidcast from Nadia Sokolova.
“Fellow colonists, this is Governor Sokolova with an urgent and important message. Please view this as soon as it is safe to do so.” She looked cool and businesslike, the epitome of The Ice Maiden.
“As you know, we learned this morning that, despite the best efforts of the international community, the deflection mission has succeeded in redirecting only part of Comet Santos. The bulk of the comet will collide with planet Earth at approximately 1.30 hours on Friday morning. It will land in the North Atlantic Ocean.
“Action is being taken to evacuate and protect as many people as possible, but with less than three days to the impact there will be a grave loss of life.
“I have asked that ISCOM makes a special request to national governments to give priority for evacuation and shelter to the immediate families of all Moon colonists. They have promised to do whatever they can to help our loved ones reach a place of safety before the comet strikes.