by Bob Goddard
She raised a gloved hand to block out the sun while she took a long and wistful look at the Earth. It was mostly in shadow with a bright crescent illuminating the left side. Although she couldn’t make out the shape of any continents, Nadia new that the bright splash at the top was Antarctica and the white glimmer at the bottom was the north polar ice cap. Viewed from the Moon’s South Pole, the Earth was, of course, inverted from the usual ‘north at the top’ image that most people took for granted.
Would she recognise any of it after the cataclysm to come? She let out a long sigh, then turned to face the menace. Comet Santos now dominated the sky opposite the sun, its bright head and feathery tail of dust and gas blotting out the stars.
“Damn you to hell,” she muttered at the ball of ice and rock before looking away, focussing on the dome-topped round building before her and tapping on her sleeve-mounted comm.
“Are you in there, Thijs? I’ve come to inspect your new plass shield.”
After a brief buzz of static came the Dutchman’s voice. “Is it you, Nadia? I thought Will was coming.”
“He is too busy and I needed a break. Anyway, I love it up here. You have the best views on the Moon.”
“Yes, but we have no time to look at it these days. We are tracking the comet and the larger pieces of debris to find out where they are going to land.”
“You mean… there are other pieces capable of impacting the surface, besides the main body?”
“For sure. We are computing trajectories for eleven comet fragments that are over fifty metres in diameter. One is two hundred and ninety metres. We think all these could reach the surface of the planet.”
“Chyort!”
“Pardon?”
“Sorry. I was cursing in Russian. I thought one impact was bad enough, now you tell me there will be twelve!”
“Most will land in the sea, Nadia. Their effect will be minor by comparison.”
“You had better let me have the precise impact sites as soon as you know them please Thijs… in case I need to issue any further safety advice.”
“I will do that. Now, I am half into my suit already.” His voice pitched up, as if he was struggling with something. “I will join you to check out this new shielding. Then I’m on my way for supper, so I will ride down the mountain with you, Nadia.”
She was 200 metres away, staring at one of the four radio telescope dishes mounted below the plane of the main optical telescope when her comm chimed again.
“Just leaving the airlock now, Nadia. Where are you?”
She turned and started bounding towards him, her boots kicking up spurts of dust. “I’m here. I was checking out one of the radio antennae. You don’t think they need shielding too, Thijs?”
“No. Not really worth it. If one of them takes a hit it will be easy enough to repair the mesh of the dish. It’s the main observatory and all the electronic hardware that’s most at risk.” He joined her in front of the curved plass wall that had been erected three metres away from the south side of the circular building. It had been formed from a single 10-metre length of 40 millimetre tube, slit along one side and opened out like a book.
“Looks pretty good, eh?” he asked her, as she shook the edge of the thick plass panel.
“Yes, it looks sturdy enough.” She looked up at the titanium wire stays that angled down from the top edge to pegs hammered into the regolith. “And it should stop anything up to the size of a pea. Let’s hope nothing larger comes this way.”
“It should be mostly dust,” he said, as they moved along the outer, convex face of the shield. “Maybe some the size of sand grains. But all the big stuff kicked out by the deflection mission, that should miss the Moon by thousands of kilometres.”
“Thanks to God for that,” she replied, grimly. “There’s nothing more to do here. Let’s go and see what the Lunchbox has to offer.”
9. Something’s Not Right
Moon, 2087
Will Cooper stared into his bowl of vegetable soup and wondered about the conversation he had just had with Ginny. He’d been longing to speak to her all day. He’d been desperate to hear her voice and see her smile, but half afraid of how she would react to the morning’s awful news.
The strange thing was, she didn’t seem too upset. It was as though she had already accepted that the comet would hit the Earth and was relieved it wasn’t going to splash down near their home in Monterey.
She was quiet for a while after Will explained the likely outcome for people living near the impact zone and around the Atlantic coasts. Then she said: “Please don’t tell me any more, Will,” and changed the subject. She asked about his work, how things were progressing at Armstrong Base, was he still getting enough to eat?
She told him she had spoken to his father yesterday and urged Will to do the same with the few minutes he had remaining. Yes, his father had told her she had a place with them in the Terra Vivos shelter. Yes, she would be ready on Thursday. He needn’t worry about her.
Ginny had said, “I love you honey. Let’s get this thing over then come on home to me, soon as you can. I’ll be here… waiting for you.” She gave him a big sad smile. “Now, go call your father, Will. I’ll speak to you again same time tomorrow. Bye honey.” And she’d reached towards her screen and ended the call leaving him feeling desolate.
He’d called his dad and had an awkward and stilted conversation with his remaining two minutes. Now he was sitting in the Lunchbox staring at his meal, his appetite missing in action. Something wasn’t quite right back home, but he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.
“It’s that bad, huh?”
He looked up to see Nadia and Thijs Jansen standing holding trays of food. She had a quizzical smile.
“What… er, what is?”
“The soup, Will,” she said. “You’ve been staring at it for the past five minutes. Looks like you’re afraid of it. Mind if we join you?”
“No. No, please do. Sorry, I was miles away there.”
“In California?” She raised her delicate eyebrows as she slid onto the bench seat opposite.
“Yeah. In California.” He took a deep breath then let it out in a long sigh. “I’m just hoping they know what’s coming and have a real good plan for this.”
“But you said your parents and Ginny had places booked in a shelter of some kind?”
“Yeah, the Terra Vivos shelter in the Mojave Desert. An old nuclear bunker converted into a luxury retreat for the rich and famous.”
“Sounds ideal. So what’s the worry?”
“I don’t know. Can’t help feeling something’s not right.”
“Nothing is right, Will. Everything is screwed up. Thijs’s family have to fly to South Africa to find shelter.”
“The Netherlands Air Force is flying them out tomorrow morning,” the Dutchman said. “But they will only take six. The rest of my family have already set off to drive to Ukraine.”
“Jeez,” said Will. “That sounds like a helluva trip.”
“There is no guarantee they will make it. It is over 2000 kilometres and the roads are choked. They’ll have to recharge five or six times on the way. It’s cost everything they own to buy places in a crummy hole in the ground.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good,” Will shook his head. “I’m sorry to hear that, Thijs. But at least once the dust has settled they will be able to go back home and start again.”
“I don’t think so, Will. Almost all my country is at or below sea level. Once the tsunami has breached the defences there won’t be any homes or even any land to go back to. The Netherlands won’t exist.” He looked like a man staring into the abyss.
They were all quiet for a few moments, then Nadia spoke: “We don’t know for sure what the outcome will be. It might not be as bad as they have predicted. So I suggest we keep our hopes and our spirits up.”
Thijs looked up at her and nodded reluctantly.
“And we must eat this food before it gets cold. We will fe
el pretty stupid if our families and our homes are okay, but we die of starvation. Right?”
Will smiled and picked up his spoon. His appetite had returned. The vegetable soup was actually quite good and the chicken, bean and mushroom curry that followed was tasty too. Even if it had hardly any chicken in it. He had no trouble clearing his plate this time.
They were discussing the new plass shield at the top of the mountain, when Tamala arrived at their table with her arm around Lian’s shoulder. The Chinese woman was looking down, avoiding eyes with her face almost hidden by her hair.
“May we join you?” asked Tamala.
“Of course,” said Will as he slid along his bench seat to make room. “Sit here, Lian, while Tamala fetches some food.” He patted the seat beside him.
He thought he heard her mumble a thank you as she manoeuvred slowly into a sitting position.
“It’s quite good tonight,” he said cheerily. “Vegetable soup and chicken curry without the chicken. Tastier than it sounds.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, then slowly raised her face to look at him and he saw her swollen lips, bruised jaw and black eye.
“Jeez,” he hissed under his breath. She looked like she’d been hit by a train.
“And thank you for rescuing me.”
Will reached out to put a protective arm around her shoulders then felt self-conscious and withdrew it.
“Hey, it was nothing. Pleased I caught the sonofa…” he faltered. Maybe this wasn’t the right company for workshop talk.
“Anyways,” he checked to see he had finished all his food then rose from his seat, “gotta get going. New tube’s almost hooked up. Need to do the pressure checks.”
“Will,” said Tamala, as he turned to go, “are you going to help us with the sports again tonight?”
“Uh, I guess so. Did we resolve the safety issue… blocking up the corridor when there are workers in the farm?” He looked to Nadia for an answer.
“Yes,” she said. “We will use the western corridor this time and reprogram the doors on that side to open only in emergency. Safety won’t be compromised.”
“Okay.” Will turned to Tamala. “I’ll see you and Darren at 19 hours to get set up. Gotta go. Bye.” He flashed a brief smile at the group and was gone.
When Tamala returned to the table with food and drinks, Lian was listening to Nadia describing the plass shield she had been to inspect on the top of Mt Malapert.
“I’d been meaning to ask about that, Nadia,” said Tamala as she slid into her seat. “Why isn’t the main observatory buried under regolith like the rest of Armstrong Base? Wouldn’t it be better protected from meteoroids that way?”
“It would…” said Nadia with a smile, “but it contains our main optical telescope which can’t see through rock...”
“And the whole structure rotates,” added Thijs, “to provide a 360 degree view of the sky, so it wouldn’t work.”
“Oh!” said Tamala. “Of course. Silly me. It’s a good job I’m not in charge of engineering, isn’t it?” She put her fingers to her lips to cover an embarrassed smile.
“And it’s a good job Will’s not in charge of personnel,” said Nadia. “We are very fortunate to have such a great collection of experts and specialists here at Armstrong. With so many skills and talents we should be able to achieve anything.”
She looked at Lian and added: “But we must keep our emotions under control.”
“I’m trying, Nadia,” Lian whispered.
“No, Lian. I didn’t mean you. I was referring to the Japanese man. Everyone is feeling anxious and angry, scared and confused. We cannot afford any more incidents like this morning. We will have to keep a close eye on our colleagues and report any odd behaviour. The coming days and weeks will be the greatest test for us all.”
* * * * *
Moon, 2087: Wednesday, February 12th
Doctor Yasmine Rozek pulled down the plastic hood of her bio-hazard suit, switched on the fan to inflate it, then stepped through the door to Unit 35, the recycling tube two-thirds of the way down the farm. It was one of four waste processing units at Armstrong, the one from which two workers had reported sick that morning.
The first, a young Indonesian woman, had called her during breakfast. She was waiting outside Yasmine’s door with a rash and breathing difficulties, she said, and Yasmine guessed it was stress-related. A swab from her skin and inside her mouth soon dispelled that idea. The diagnostic software flagged up a new and peculiar bacterium.
She had barely installed the woman in an oxygen tent in the sick bay when a man showed up with the same symptoms. Both patients worked in Unit 35.
Now, with one of the medical auxiliaries monitoring their vital signs in the sickbay, Yasmine was hoping to find out what had made them ill. It didn’t take her long to locate the source. Her bio-hazard sensor wand started buzzing halfway along the tube and led her to a weeping filter assembly that looked as if it hadn’t been serviced in weeks. A reddish dribble of goo was leaking from the end cap and dripping in a puddle on the floor below. She filmed the scene in detail, then called Nadia and replayed the video-clip while she described the scene.
“So, this is the same strain of bacteria?” asked Nadia.
“Yes, a perfect match. I’m guessing they’ve picked it up on their shoes and it has transferred to hands and respiratory tracts the same day. Incubation period is usually three to five days but, as you know, bacteria evolve differently here in our low gravity. What’s unusual is it seems to have multiplied without a biological host. I’m hoping that means it is not well adapted to human systems and we can snuff it out fast.”
“No more infected, besides those two?”
“Not so far. I’ve confined all those who have been through here in the past week to their quarters. I will go and see them as soon as I leave here.”
“Do you need help there, Yasmine?”
“No, thanks. It’s best that exposure is confined to as few as possible. I have a sterilisation pack with me and once I’ve cleaned up this mess I will visit the other workers and sterilise their rooms, clothing and shoes and take swabs. I think I’m on top of it, Nadia. Thanks.”
“Okay. Good work, Yasmine. Keep me informed, please.”
* * * * *
Earth, 1504
Sam loved this time of year. Up in the high pastures with his sheep and goats, amid the fresh grass and meadow flowers, he felt at one with nature and free to be a man again.
It was not that he didn’t love his wife – in fact he adored her – but Lucy did have a habit of bossing him about. To have these few weeks every year with nobody telling him what to do felt wonderful. Just him and his animals and the vast sky stretching over the hills and out across the Crabbing Sea.
Lucy didn’t mean to make him feel small, he knew that. It was just her way. She treated her brothers – and her father Yonaton when he was home from the sea – exactly the same. Like naughty children who needed a strict mother to issue orders and keep them in line.
They all accepted her unspoken status as head of the household with good humour. Jack and Ifan rolled their eyes, smiled and got on with it. Mammed did as he was told without question and Yonaton complied with a cheery, “Yes, my dear”. They knew she was compensating for the loss of her mother. She was being Esther for the sake of the whole family and they loved her for it. But Sam did find it irksome at times, so this spring-time escape to the high pastures always came as a welcome change.
Once the newborn lambs and kids were big enough to follow the flock, he drove them up into the hills. His faithful ram Titan lead the way and his two sheepdogs ran behind, nipping at the heels of stragglers. After spending the winter on the over-grazed lowlands, they needed the new spring grass of the high meadows to fatten up and produce rich milk for their young.
It was usually seven or eight weeks before the hot summer sun scorched the thin upland soil and turned the hillsides brown. Sam reckoned he had another week before he would have to le
ad his flock back down to the where the riverside pastures would now be lush with fresh green growth.
He’d had a good season so far. His 12 goats and 25 sheep had produced a record number of healthy offspring that would bring a good price when he took them to the market. He had only lost two so far this year to the pack of wolves that roamed the hilltops, thanks to his new secret weapon.
Winson the blacksmith had suggested it last year after Sam lost three lambs and two kids to the ravenous beasts. It was a metal spike that he could carry on his belt and clip on to his staff whenever they threatened to attack. A few sharp jabs had sent the wolves yelping in retreat and it was now an effective deterrent. He only had to clip the shiny spike to his staff and wave it in the air to send the pack slinking away in search of easier prey. He would treat Winson to a choice cut of mutton when one of the older sheep was butchered, later in the year.
As he sat on a rock and watched his flock nibble their way across the slope below him, Sam felt relaxed and content with his life. He was totally unprepared for the shock that was coming up the hillside to greet him.
* * * * *
Moon, 2087
“This is what they are calling The Road of Tears.” The reporter turned his head and the camera followed his view to reveal a scene of desolation. Abandoned vehicles littered the sides of the road as far as the eye could see. A few straggling groups of people carrying bags, some with loads on their backs or heads, were plodding wearily away into the distance.
“I am standing on the E80, the main highway leading east across southern France, near the city of Montpellier. Most of these vehicles have Portuguese or Spanish plates. They were abandoned here by their owners when they ran out of fuel last night or earlier this morning. The filling stations for these hydrogen-fuelled cars ran dry yesterday. The drivers and their families, fleeing Comet Santos, have had to continue on foot.”
He turned his head the other way and the camera followed in time to film a mini-bus crammed with passengers slipping past almost silently.