THUNDERSTRIKE!
 
A Novel By
 
Michael McCollum
 
 
Sci Fi - Arizona, Inc.
Third Millennium Publishing
A Cooperative of Online Writers and Resources
 
 
 
PART 1:  VISITOR FROM THE DEEP BLACK
 
CHAPTER 1
 
For millions of years, the sun had merely been the brightest point of light in 
the sky, a cold beacon little different from the thousands of others visible in 
the ebon firmament.  Now it was growing perceptibly larger month by month, year 
by year.  The change was not without precedent.  A billion years earlier, the 
planetoid had collided with a bit of orbiting debris out beyond Pluto.  The 
force of the impact had altered its orbit forever.  One hundred eleven times the 
planetoid had plunged deep into the fires of the inner Solar system, whirled 
quickly around the sun, and then retreated once more into the cold black.  The 
ordeal had been presaged each time by a brightening of the distant yellow star.
About the time the sun began to show a visible disk, the ice plains and cliffs 
began to stir with ethereal winds as hydrogen and oxygen frost turned slowly to 
vapor. Initially these winds were as insubstantial as wraiths, little more than 
individual molecules escaping the planetoids weak gravitation.  Later, when the 
sun had grown still larger in the sky, the snowy surface began to emit gentle 
puffs of gas, dust, and vapor.  Weak though it was, the planetoids gravity was 
sufficient to wrap it with a wisp of vacuum-thin fog.  By the time the flying 
mountain crossed the orbit of Uranus, the fog had grown thick enough to obscure 
it from anyone who might pick it out among the background stars.
#
Amber Hastings sat at her desk and wistfully watched Farside Observatorys big 
hundred-meter-effective compound telescope swing ponderously into position. Her 
vantage point was almost directly up-sun from the giant instrument.  As she 
watched, lengthening black shadows stretched across the floor of Mendeleev 
Crater.  The view was from one of the pylon cameras situated to provide a 
panoramic view of the Solar Systems largest astronomical instrument.  In the 
background, the grey-brown wall of the craters western rim thrust above the 
curved horizon in stark relief unsoftened by atmosphere.
The telescope appeared to be a species of giant metal flower springing forth 
from Lunas airless, sterile soil. The flowers hexagonal leaves reflected their 
surroundings with the distortion of parabolic mirrors.  At three places around 
the instruments periphery, flat mirrors were lifted skyward on cherry picker 
booms in semblance of weirdly jointed stamens.  The likeness to an alien plant 
was heightened by the telescopes dust dome, whose eight sections lay folded 
back like the petals of a rose.
Amber watched as the giant instrument finished pivoting toward a section of sky 
near Galactic-South. Starlight was reflected from the telescopes 
five-meter-diameter mirrors into the Number 3 concentrator, which sent the 
highly focused image to the beam director.  From there, the photons were 
directed into the instrument room of the observatory fifty meters below the 
crater floor.  There the light was sampled by an array of sophisticated devices 
in the hope that it could be made to yield its secrets.
Amber Elizabeth Hastings was a typical Lunarian - tall by Earth standards (180 
centimeters) and tending toward lankiness. The shorts, singlet, and slippers, 
which were normal attire for Lunas air-conditioned cities, did little to hide a 
full, if large boned figure.  Amber was a Nordic blonde with blue eyes.  In 
contravention of the short hairstyles preferred by most Lunarian women, she wore 
her hair at shoulder length.
Amber had been born twenty-five years earlier in the small community of Miners 
Luck, located near Darwin Crater in the Nearside Highlands. At age eighteen, she 
had entered the University of Luna with the intention of becoming an 
Environmental Engineer.  She had quickly decided that a life spent in the bowels 
of Lunas cities held no attraction for her, and had begun to search for a new 
profession.
Attending a university is supposed to prepare one for later life. In Ambers 
case, it had only emphasized her antipathy to the usual courses of study.  The 
only class she enjoyed during her freshman year was Introduction to Astronomy.
Like most Lunarians, Amber had never paid much attention to the sky. Lunas 
underground cities gave few opportunities to stargaze.  Since Amber had been 
raised on Nearside, whenever she did have occasion to study the sky, the view 
overhead had always been dominated by the Earth.  Compared to the Mother of Men, 
the tiny pinpricks of light that were the stars seemed pale and insignificant.
Introduction to Astronomyhad opened her eyes to the universe beyond Luna. She 
had marveled at the spiral sweep of the Andromeda Galaxy, been awed by the 
blazing blue-white glory of the Pleiades, and had sighed over the muted 
multispectral beauty of the Horsehead Nebula.  Each new revelation had caused 
her to want to learn more.  Therefore, at the end of her first year, Amber had 
switched her major to astronomy, intending the change to be a stopgap until she 
could find something permanent.
Three years later, and somewhat to her own surprise, Amber had found herself the 
recipient of a Bachelor of Astronomical Science degree. With it had come an 
offer for a job on the staff of Farside Observatory.  She had accepted happily 
amid visions of quickly making a brilliant discovery.  Reality had turned out to 
be less glamorous.
As in so many other fields, the computer revolution had changed astronomy 
forever. Gone were the days when a lone scientist bundled up against the cold 
air and spent the night in the observation cage of a giant telescope.  Gone too 
were the weeks and months spent poring over photographic plates with magnifiers, 
or in tediously plotting the absorption lines of stellar spectrums.
A modern astronomer could sit in his easy chair anywhere in the Solar system, 
work out an observation program, and transmit his request and charge number to 
his observatory of choice. In due course, he would receive multispectral views 
and numerical data, all neatly annotated.  In between request and result, the 
process was virtually untouched by human hands.
In the last quarter of the twenty-first century, an observatorys computers 
pointed its telescopes and directed them to track the stars through the sky. The 
computers controlled viewing times and exposures, recorded the data, and 
produced the reports.  Sometimes while analyzing data, the computers chanced 
upon discoveries unrelated to the objects under study.  When this happened, they 
sought the attention of the human staff.
 Thus, it was that Amber Hastings was monitoring the big telescope when the 
observatorys computer signaled for her attention.
What is it? she asked, stifling a yawn.
I have an asteroid/comet discovery report, the machine said in its too perfect 
baritone. Do you wish to review it now?
Might as well, she replied. I dont get off duty for four more hours.
As the most junior of Farside Observatorys staffers, Amber had been assigned as 
Intra-System Specialist, which meant that she was in charge of confirming and 
recording new sightings of comets and asteroids. In her three years with the 
observatory, she had checked out half-a-thousand sightings.  The excitement had 
long since worn off.
 The screen in front of her lit to show a starfield.  She recognized Open 
Cluster NGC 2301, which had been the subject of a long observation program two 
weeks earlier.  Surrounding the cluster was a thicket of stars.  Amber let her 
gaze sweep quickly across the screen.  At first, she saw nothing out of the 
ordinary.  Then her eyes were drawn to the lower right hand corner of the 
screen.  There she found a dim smudge of light.
That it? she asked as she reached out to touch the image with her finger.
Affirmative, the computer responded. This frame was taken ten days ago at 
13:12:15 UT
Amber read off the objects position data, noting that it was nearly in the 
plane of the ecliptic and off in the direction of Monoceros. What makes you 
think its a comet?  That area is near the Rosette Nebula and that big patch in 
Orion.
The spectrum is that of a typical comet coma shining by reflected sunlight.
Dopplered?
Yes.
How far?
Sufficient to indicate a velocity of 10 km/sec inbound along the observation 
vector.
Interesting, Amber mused. Size estimate?
None.
Distance estimate?
None. This is the sole view of the object.
Amber nodded. One of the great frustrations of astronomers was the lack of a 
method for determining distance from a single photograph.  To triangulate an 
objects position, it was necessary to obtain two views from widely separated 
points, or three views taken at different times from a single vantage point.
Amber noted the details of the original sighting, including the fact that only 
one-quarter of The Big Eyes 400 mirrors had been active. It was not unusual for 
the telescope to be split into three independent clusters, each of which would 
then study a different section of sky.  Indeed, it was this ability to pursue 
multiple observations that enabled Farside Observatory to keep up with demand.  
Even so, the waiting list for the big telescope was a long one.
When will The Big Eye be able to recheck this sighting? Amber asked.
Eight months, barring cancellations or unscheduled maintenance, the computer 
responded.
Amber sighed. Swing the 60 centimeter into position and get me a second view.
I am unable to execute your command. That section of sky is no longer visible.  
It set behind the western rim three days ago.
How long before it rises again?
Two weeks.
Very well, Amber replied. Schedule a 60 centimeter observation as soon as 
possible following its reappearance.  If you do not find the object at its 
previous position, run a standard survey for three fields-of-view around that 
point.  Notify me when you have completed your task.  Repeat.
The computer repeated Ambers orders, then returned the screen to its picture of 
the Big Eye. Amber returned to her other work and forgot about whatever it was 
that the computer had discovered.
#
Thomas Bronson Thorpe bounded into the black sky in a jump no Olympic athlete 
had ever dreamed of. The sound of his own breathing was loud in his ears as he 
rose a dozen meters above the pockmarked plain.  The sun was below the horizon, 
but the crescent Earth, with a slightly fuller Luna beyond it, was high in the 
sky.  The blue-white radiance of Earthshine cast a twilight glow over The Rocks 
barren landscape.  As he reached the top of his arc, Thorpe let his practiced 
gaze sweep across the small world.  Everywhere around him lay the clutter of 
heavy industry.  To most, it would have seemed a horizon-to-horizon junkyard.  
To Tom Thorpe, every empty gas cylinder and bit of used cable was a testament to 
humanitys triumph over an uncaring universe.  
Contrary to its name, The Rock contained very little stony matter. In fact, it 
was nearly pure nickel-iron.  For billions of years, the asteroid had followed 
its elliptical path around the Sun, occasionally passing close to the beautiful 
blue-white world that was Earth.  Because of the asteroids small diameter (4 
kilometers) and the ten-degree inclination of its orbit, The Rock had evaded 
notice for much of history.  Its anonymity had ended in 2037.  In that year, it 
had approached to within two million kilometers of Luna, The Rocks closest 
passage in more than a century.
The asteroid might have escaped notice even then had its discovery been left to 
the optical astronomers. They had their instruments focused far beyond cislunar 
space, indeed, outside the Solar System altogether.  Their interest lay in 
exploding galaxies and distant quasars.  They left the mundane business of 
adding yet another minor planet to the list of known Earth-approaching asteroids 
to others.
Luckily, the volume of space between Earth and Moon had long been saturated with 
traffic control radars. As The Rock made its approach, one such radar suffered a 
breakdown in its ranging circuits.  Rather than report only those signals it had 
been designed to see, the radar began registering everything in sight.  When it 
announced a swiftly moving object two million kilometers beyond Luna, the 
traffic control center at Luna City quickly took notice.  The center tracked the 
rogue asteroid for more than an hour before it drifted below their local 
horizon.  The traffic controllers computed the path of the mystery object.  They 
reported the information to the System Astronomical Union, where it languished 
for two decades.
There had been schemes to mine the mineral wealth of the asteroids as far back 
as the mid-twentieth century, and actual attempts early in the twenty- first. 
All had failed.  The time and distance involved in travel to and from the 
Asteroid Belt had made the mines too expensive to operate.
In the year 2060, a graduate student by the name of Halver Smith chose asteroid 
mining for his doctoral thesis in Business Economics. Smith concluded that there 
was nothing inherently uneconomical about such operations.  Indeed, a cubic 
kilometer of asteroidal metal delivered to Earth was worth more than the 
combined gross domestic products of the three largest nations.  The problem 
remained the delay inherent in shipping supplies to the Asteroid Belt and 
returning product to Earth.
Smith suggested a solution to the problem. Instead of traveling to the Asteroid 
Belt, he reasoned, why not move an asteroid into orbit about the Earth.  This he 
dubbed the Mountain to Mohammed Method.  Such a plan would require the 
discovery of the proper asteroid in the proper orbit.  To buttress his 
arguments, Smith searched the Astronomical Unions data banks for likely 
candidates.  It was during this search that he came across the report of the 
close approach of 2037.
Halver Smith was rewarded a Ph.D. in Business Economics. His proposal had not, 
however, been thought very practical.  After graduation, he used a small 
inheritance to invest in a new process for extracting rare earths from low-grade 
ore.  It had proven a once-in-a-lifetime investment.  Halver Smith had quickly 
earned a fortune.  As his wealth grew, he began to seriously consider putting 
his thesis into practice.
Tom Thorpe was a newly minted graduate of the Colorado School of Mines when he 
answered Halver Smiths advertisement for vacuum qualified mining engineers. The 
job, he soon learned, was the exploration of an Earth-approaching asteroid.  He 
and a dozen other young vacuum monkeys had clustered around the viewports of the 
Prospecting ShipSierra Madre as it made its final approach.  At first sight of 
their destination, Perry Allen, the most vocal of the group, exclaimed:  Its 
nothing but a goddamned rock!  The name might as well have been applied with 
quick drying adhesive.
They spent the next month swarming all over the asteroid. They drilled deeply 
into its surface and assayed the purity of their samples.  They probed even 
deeper with powerful sonic beams.  Their analyses confirmed that The Rock was a 
treasure trove, a nearly pure chunk of nickel-iron seamed with copper, silver, 
and gold.  Ten months later, Thorpe had found himself back on The Rock, this 
time in the company of a full crew of mining specialists and a shipload of heavy 
equipment.
Better be careful with that jumping! a womans voice said in his earphones. 
Id hate to see you break anything.
Thorpe gazed down at the figure standing on the plain some thirty meters below 
him. The figure in the red-orange vacuum suit was anonymous.  Only in his minds 
eye could he see the short, slightly plump figure of Nina Pavolev.  Two years 
his junior, Nina was his executive assistant, and his sometimes lover.
Ive been doing this for ten years now, he said over the general 
communications band, and havent broken my neck yet!
Thats what they all say just before they do!
Thorpe settled slowly back toward the surface, grounding a full three minutes 
after the gentle push had sent him skyward. He took the impact with flexed 
knees, absorbing just enough energy to keep from rebounding into the sky.
When I was a boy back on Earth, I always dreamed of flying like an Eagle. Now I 
can.  It is exhilarating.  You ought to try it.
No thank you. Life is too short to take needless risks.
You dont know what youre missing, he persisted.
Ill take your word for it. Shall we begin the tour, Boss?
Anytime youre ready, oh conscience mine!
Tom Thorpe had not remained a vacuum monkey. In the three years following his 
return to The Rock, he had moved up to gang boss, then shift leader.  Those had 
been the years they had spent turning The Rock into the Solar Systems largest 
spaceship.  The modifications had begun by blasting a thrust chamber out of the 
heavy end of the asteroid, the end they had dubbed The Acorns Cap.  While 
Thorpes crew worked at excavating the chamber and its connecting tunnels, other 
crews installed giant clusters of attitude control jets.  These had begun the 
long process of lengthening the eight-hour day of the asteroid.  Shortly after 
the despinning process began, Perry Allen was killed in a freak accident.  Tom 
Thorpe found himself thrust suddenly into the position of Second Assistant Power 
Engineer.
One of his new duties had involved overseeing the operation of The Rocks 
propulsion system. Like most large spacecraft, the asteroid was powered by 
antimatter.  Thousands of power packs had been shipped from the big power 
satellites.  These were simple toroidal pipes filled with hard vacuum and 
surrounded by self-sustaining magnetic fields.  Each contained enough antimatter 
to power a normal spacecraft for a hundred round trips to the Moon.  Yet, each 
fed The Rocks massive ion engines for less than a day before exhaustion.
It had taken four years of powered flight to move The Rock into an orbit that 
ranged from 800,000 to 1.2 million kilometers above the Earth. With the end of 
powered flight had come reassignment for all personnel.  Thorpe was promoted to 
the position of Supervisor, Surface Operations.  Later he was advanced to 
Assistant Manager of Operations, and finally, to Manager of Operations.  Despite 
his rise to the asteroids top job, he still made it a point to inspect The 
Rocks various facilities once each week. 
Thorpe and Nina Pavolev hooked up to one of the many guide cables that ran 
across the surface of the asteroid. Soon they were making their way toward the 
horizon in a series of giant bounds.  After a few hundred meters, the large 
Mylar covered panels of the solar furnace began to rise above the horizon.  
Thorpe shouted a warning to Nina to adjust her faceplate glare shields, and then 
did the same just as the sun rose above the horizon.  The two paused long enough 
to let their eyes adjust before moving on.
Off to their left, Thorpe could see the warning beacons that stretched in a line 
around The Acorns Cap. That end of the asteroid was still hot from the 
nuclear cauldron that had operated there.  The annihilation reaction had boiled 
a million tons of The Rocks substance into space.  It would be a more than a 
century before the area around the thrust chamber would be cool enough for 
mining.  Even then, it was doubtful that the metal would be needed.
Thorpe leaned back and gazed up at three large conical shapes that were taking 
shape overhead. These ore bodies were The Rocks delivery system for refined 
metal.  Constructed of vacuum foamed iron, each OB had a specific gravity less 
than one.  When dropped into the Earths atmosphere, they quickly slowed to a 
few hundred kilometers per hour.  At the end of their long dive, they splashed 
down into an ocean and then bobbed to the surface.
The schedule says theyll be hoisting a billet in a few minutes, Ninas voice 
said as it echoed in Thorpes earphones. Care to watch?
Sure. Well see how that new lift supervisor handles his crew.
Thorpe led Nina along the guide cable for another quarter-kilometer. As they 
bounded along, a series of three towers slowly rose above the horizon.  They had 
the appearance of old-style launch gantries.  As they approached more closely, 
they could see a thick plate of grey metal lying on the ground at the center of 
the triangle formed by the towers.
The towers were The Rocks elevator cum launch pad. Cables ran up the outside of 
each gantry, looped over the top, then back down to where they were attached to 
the corners of a hexagonal metal billet.  During launch, the cables were reeled 
in by electric winches, causing the plate to accelerate skyward as it rose up 
the towers.  When it reached the top, the winches would be declutched.  The 
plate would continue upward at a speed well above local escape velocity.  The 
billet would rise until it approached the hovering reentry vehicles.  Brakes 
would then be applied to slow the unreeling cables.  If properly done, the 
nickel-iron billet would come to a halt just as it reached the working level two 
kilometers overhead.
As the two observers watched, the heavy nickel-iron plate began to levitate. It 
rapidly gained velocity.  In a matter of seconds, it was floating skyward, 
unimpeded by the trailing cables.  Thorpe watched until it had dwindled almost 
to invisibility.  He was about to turn away when something happened.  The plate, 
which had maintained absolute stability during its long climb, suddenly began to 
tumble.
Whats the matter? Nina asked, her fear evident in her voice.
One of the cables has snapped! Thorpe yelled as he craned his neck to look 
skyward.  He caught a glimpse of a descending snake-like shape, shouted a 
warning, and turned to run.  The next thing he felt was a searing pain in his 
right leg.  His scream dwindled to inaudibility in less than a second as his 
suit was enveloped in a cloud of red fog.
 
CHAPTER 2
 
Amber Hastings sat in the Farside Observatory Staff Lounge and enjoyed a 
breakfast of waffles smothered in strawberry syrup, hot buttered toast, and tea 
laced with levosugar. She watched the lounge viewscreen as she ate.  Normally it 
would have been tuned to the newscast from Luna City.  Instead, someone had 
patched into a view from one of the surface cameras.  It showed a large wheeled, 
articulated vehicle making its way along the rough track leading from Hadleys 
Crossroads.  The undulating crater floor made the transports headlamps dance 
across the screen, leaving phantom trails of activated phosphors in their wake.
The transport was a TransLuna Greyhound Lines rolligon. It made the 
120-kilometer run twice each month - once at the start of the long lunar night 
and again just before dawn.  Hadleys Crossroads was the closest stop on the 
CircumLuna Monorail Line, and the point through which all of the observatorys 
supplies were shipped.
As she savored her breakfast, Amber considered (not for the first time) the 
paradox of siting one of humanitys most advanced scientific instruments in the 
wilderness. It was a paradox familiar to astronomers of all eras.  Astronomers 
on Earth had long fought a losing battle against the encroachment of 
civilization.  No matter how remote a mountain they chose for their instruments, 
eventually the sky would begin to reflect the lights of a nearby city.
Light pollution was no problem for Farside Observatory, but oxygen pollution 
was. In the airless environment of Luna, spacecraft exhausts sprayed monatomic 
oxygen over hundreds of square kilometers.  Monatomic oxygen poisoned the 
special optical coatings onThe Big Eye s mirrors, and any appreciable amount of 
it would seriously degrade the telescopes performance.  To protect against such 
damage, the director of the observatory had banned all spacecraft within 
seventy-five kilometers.  Thus, the only way in or out was overland.  Amber 
would be due for leave in another couple of months.  She was looking forward to 
going home, but not the four-hour rolligon ride to reach the monorail.
So there you are! a voice said from behind her.
Amber looked up to discover Niels Grayson standing over her. Grayson was one of 
the senior astronomers and Ambers mentor.  Rumor had it that he would be the 
next Director of the Observatory if old Doctor Meinz ever decided to retire.  
She hoped the rumor was correct.  The other candidate for the job was Professor 
Dornier, who topped Ambers list of the people she would rather not work for.
Hello, Niels, she said. Looking for me?
That I am, my most beautiful assistant.
Im youronly assistant.
Which only proves my point. Mind if I sit down?
Be my guest.
Grayson sat on the aluminum bench across from Amber. He cradled a low gravity 
cup in his hands, and sipped coffee from it.  He gestured toward the screen.  I 
notice the roll-ons coming in.
Right on time. I wonder if supply remembered to send that new interferometer 
this time.
They said they would. Still, with them that doesnt always mean much.
If theyve messed up this time, Im going to ask permission to go to Luna City 
and rearrange some skulls.
Youll have to stand in line. Doing anything tonight?
There was something in Graysons tone that caused Amber to regard her supervisor 
with suspicion. The question had been almost too casual.  Not a thing.  Why?
I thought you might want to come over to the apartment for dinner. Margaret was 
saying just the other day that she hasnt seen you in weeks.
We saw each other in the gym not two days ago.
That must have been after she made the comment.
Come on, Niels, I know you. You have an ulterior motive.  Who else is going to 
be there?
We do have a VIP coming in on the rolligon, he said, gesturing at the screen. 
I thought Id have him over as well.
Who is he? University brass?
Worse.
Government!
He nodded. Auditor from the Office of Scientific Appropriations.  Hes here to 
see that we arent wasting the Republics money.
Surely they arent talking about cutting our budget again!
Could be.
But they cant! We are operating shorthanded as it is.  Next thing you know, 
well have to go on double shifts.
I dont think it will gothat far, Grayson replied. Still, the director has 
asked me to entertain our guest.  Maybe it will soften his report if we treat 
him nice.  How about being a fourth for a few games of bridge?
I dont know, Niels. The last time I played hostess for you, that astronomer 
from Australasia kept trying to paw me all evening.
This wont be like that. It is just a quiet dinner party with a few hands of 
bridge afterward.  Director Meinz has it straight from the chancellor that our 
visitor is a fanatic for the game.  Youre the best player on the staff, and we 
cant very well play three handed.
Right. What time do you want me there?
My apartment, 20:00 hours. Dress casual.  Margaret will have drinks waiting.
#
Amber sat at her desk in the lower levels of the administrative section and 
powered up her terminal. The screen instantly lit to display her day list.  She 
let her eyes scan down the list with practiced efficiency.  There were the usual 
reports and summaries to get out, data to correlate, and at the bottom, a 
private message from Director Meinz.  She keyed for acceptance.  It was an 
official invitation from the director requesting her attendance at Niels 
Graysons apartment that evening.  The message was dated late the previous day.  
Its tone betrayed far more anxiety than had Niels invitation at breakfast.  
Amber dictated a reply and wondered just how serious the fiscal problems of the 
observatory really were.
As soon as the computer beeped its acceptance, she returned to her review of the 
days activities. She noted an item three levels up from the directors message, 
frowned, and keyed to engage the computers voice circuits.
Yes, Miss Hastings? the machine answered promptly.
Whats this Item Nine on my day list?
That is the reference number for the observation you requested fifteen days 
ago.
Refresh my memory.
The matter of a comet sighting in Monoceros. You asked that an observation be 
made by the 60 centimeter instrument as soon as that portion of sky was once 
again visible.
Oh, yes. Put it up on the screen!
Her workscreen changed to reveal a starfield. She had seen the same field two 
weeks earlier while working graveyard shift.  She glanced at the region where 
the comet had been.  It was still there.
Overlay the two images, she ordered.
The screen seemed to blur for a moment, then refocused as the computer 
synchronized the two views. The fixed stars were dimensionless points, but the 
target object now showed as a pair of tiny diffuse clouds.
Engage blink comparator mode!
For a moment, nothing happened. Then one image disappeared.  It reappeared a 
second later just as its twin vanished.  Amber sat looking at the screen as the 
fuzzy dot jumped back and forth at the rate of one jump each second.
Is that enough to get an orbital fix? she asked.
It is, the computer responded. The object is some 1.2 billion kilometers from 
the sun.  Its orbit is a very long cometary with perihelion somewhere beyond 
Mars.
How long a cometary? Amber asked.
On the order of nine million years.
Amber whistled softly under her breath. One of Sols errant children was making 
an infrequent visit to the inner system.  If the computers estimate of the 
orbital period was correct, this was only the five hundredth time this 
particular object had approached the sun since the birth of the Solar System.
Size estimate?
Not possible. The comet nucleus is obscured by the coma.  Perhaps it would be 
visible in a larger instrument.
That damned sixty! Amber muttered.  The telescope she was being forced to use 
was one of the observatorys lesser instruments.  It was equipped solely for 
visible light work and had a photo array system dating back twenty years.  It 
was, in the words of more than one junior staffer, a piece of junk.
Show me the orbital tolerance, Amber ordered.
Again, her screen changed. This time it displayed a three dimensional chart of 
the Solar System.  A series of ellipses appeared on top of the concentric 
circles that represented the orbits of the planets.  The ellipses ranged from 
red to violet, with green representing the nominal orbital path.  The red and 
violet were the two possible extremes when all sources of observational error 
were taken into account.  The rainbow of colors intersected between Saturn and 
Jupiter, then diverged in both directions.  The point where all lines came 
together was the current estimated position of the object.
Amber let her gaze follow the objects inbound path to where it crossed 
Jupiters orbit. Show me a speed up of the orbital motion along the nominal 
path.
Working.
As she watched, the family of ellipses disappeared, leaving only the emerald 
green line on the screen. A golden comet symbol swept inward, picking up speed 
as it went.  As it approached Jupiter, the golden comet merged with the big 
planets white banded sphere.
Stop! Center on Jupiter and enlarge ten times.  Begin again at the point where 
the comet comes on screen.
The screen changed scale and the scene repeated. The golden comet slid down the 
green arc while the Jupiter symbol curved sedately toward the comet.  This time 
the two icons passed within a few millimeters of one another, then separated.
I note a close approach situation here, Amber said, more talking to herself 
than the computer. What is the minimum separation distance?
On the nominal orbit, the comet will pass within one hundred thousand 
kilometers of Jupiter.
Thats practically a collision!
That is true.
Have you considered the effect of Jupiter on the comets orbit?
Insufficient data, the computer replied with matter-of-factness that Amber 
found irritating. The possible range of approach orbits makes such a 
calculation meaningless.
Compute it anyway. Show me the departure orbits for red, yellow, green, blue, 
and violet orbits.
Executing.
Amber mused about the situation as the new lines slowly appeared on the screen. 
Jupiter was the hundred-kilogram-bully of the Solar System.  With mass 
two-and-a-half times that of all the other planets combined, the King of Worlds 
tugged at its neighbors across vast distances.  It had been Jupiters influence 
that had prevented a planet forming where the Asteroid Belt orbited.
As the computer had predicted, the uncertainty in how close the comet would 
approach Jupiter had a dramatic effect on the post-encounter orbit. One orbital 
path showed it being flung completely out of the Solar system.  Another showed 
the comet plunging into the sun.  A third showed it going retrograde after a 
hairpin turn around the giant world.
It was clear that an encounter with the King of Worlds was in the making and 
that almost anything could happen.
#
Im so glad that you could come, Amber.
My pleasure, Margaret, Amber replied as Niels Graysons wife ushered her 
through the door of the senior astronomers apartment. Margaret Grayson was a 
tall redhead whose face and figure belied her fifty years.  Over the years, she 
had assumed the role of supreme arbiter of matters social in observatory 
society.  She was also a first rate photo interpreter.  Amber had found reason 
to be impressed with her abilities each time the two had worked together.
What a beautiful jumpsuit. Is it new?
Amber felt an inner glow from the compliment. She was clad in a stylish gray 
garment, with matching black pearl earrings and necklace, and high-topped formal 
boots.  The jumpsuit had cost her a weeks wages the last time she had been 
home.  One of the reasons she had accepted Niels Graysons invitation was the 
opportunity to show off a bit.  Not really.  Ive had it for a while.
Well, its lovely.
Thank you. Is Niels here?
He and our guest are in the study. Come along and Ill introduce you.
Amber followed Margaret through the spacious underground apartment to Professor 
Graysons study. The room was furnished with the metal furniture common to lunar 
dwellings, and the walls were cluttered with astronomical photographs.
Ah, here is our other guest! Grayson exclaimed as the two women entered the 
room.  John, may I introduce my assistant, Amber Hastings?  Amber, this is John 
Malvan of the Office of Scientific Appropriations.
Mr. Malvan, Amber said, holding out her hand to the government man. Malvan was 
about fifty, with white hair and the lined face of someone who carries his work 
home from the office.  It took her a moment to realize that he was also missing 
his right arm.
A privilege to meet you, Miss Hastings, Malvan replied, gripping Ambers right 
hand firmly with his left.
We arent very formal here at the observatory, Mr. Malvan. Please call me 
Amber.
Very well, Amber. My name is John.
Hello, John.
Now that the introductions are over, Margaret Grayson interjected, Ill go 
check on dinner. Amber, would you care for a drink?
I can help myself, Margaret.
Very well. I will leave you professionals to talk shop.  See you in a few 
minutes.
Hmmm, Ive got to step out for a moment, too, Niels said to Malvan. Ill get 
those papers we discussed earlier.
With their host and hostess gone, Amber and Malvan stood in awkward silence for 
a few moments before he said, Professor Grayson has been telling me about his 
work on supernovas.
Amber nodded. Niels is the reigning expert on Supernova 1987A.  That is it over 
there on the wall, third photograph from the left.  If you want to know anything 
about its origin, development, or ultimate fate, you only have to ask him.
Ah, yes. He mentioned that earlier today.  I would think you astronomers would 
have something more recent to study.
Amber laughed. I wish we did!  Really good supernovas do not come along very 
often.  There are only one or two per century in the galaxy, and most of those 
are hidden from us by interstellar dust.  In fact, only nine major supernovas 
have been observed over the last two thousand years.  The brightest was Keplers 
Star in October 1604.  That was followed by a four-century drought that ended in 
1987.
So S-1987A is really the only supernova observed since the invention of the 
telescope! Malvan replied.
The only close-in supernova, Amber agreed. Of course, there are the 
supernovas we see in other galaxies, but they are too far away to get much real 
information from them.
Fascinating! he said in a way which made Amber think he really meant it.
They continued discussing supernovas in general until Amber sensed that Malvan 
was losing interest. She changed the subject by asking, How long do you plan to 
be here, John?
He shrugged. This is just a get acquainted trip.  Ill be reviewing your 
accounting system and records structure for the next ten days, then head back 
for Luna City.  After that, we will be running a wall-to-wall inventory on you.  
That will take a month or so to arrange, and another month to accomplish.  Well 
be calling on the observatory staff to help out on that.
What have we done to deserve this? Amber asked, trying to make it a joke.  
Somehow, it did not come out that way.
Just routine, he assured her. Parliament is facing a tight budget this year 
and they want to make sure that they get value for appropriated funds.
Are you saying that they are likely to cut our budget again?
I really couldnt say, Amber. That is not my department.  I just do the 
audits.
At that moment, Niels Grayson rejoined them. He had a large sealed file folder 
in his hand.  Sorry it took so long.  Couldnt find my damned briefcase.  How 
are you two doing?
Excellent, Malvan replied. Amber has just been explaining the significance of 
supernovas to me, and I in turn am educating her on government appropriations.
I hope she put in a good word forour appropriation, Grayson said.
Believe me, she has been a most effective advocate!
Margaret has dinner ready. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?  Afterward, 
well set up the game.
At dinner, Niels asked Malvan how long he had been a government auditor. To 
everyones surprise, he told them that he had been employed by the Republic of 
Luna only three years.  Before that, he said, I was an ice miner.  I had to 
give it up when I lost the arm.
Mining accident? Margaret Grayson asked.
He nodded. Got it caught between a chunk of ice and a rock wall.  Crushed it 
beyond repair.
Sorry to hear that.
Malvan shrugged. I was lucky.  It could have punctured my suit, too.  Anyway, 
Id always had a head for figures, so I got this job after going through 
retraining.
Do you miss being a miner? Margaret asked.
Malvan laughed. Mrs. Grayson,anything beats ice mining.  Problem is, most 
things do not pay as well.  Enough about me.  What does this charming young lady 
do here at the observatory?
Im Intrasystem Specialist, Amber answered.
And what does an Intrasystem Specialist do?
Amber explained her task. When she finished, Malvan said, It sounds exciting.
It isnt.
Youre being too modest, dear, Margaret said. Why, I heard you sent a 
sighting report off to the Astronomical Union just this afternoon.
Whats this about a sighting report? Niels demanded.
I sent you a copy, Amber replied. Youll find it on your defile.
To Andromeda with that, young lady! You know I am always behind reading my 
mail.  Whats happened thats important enough to alert the union?
Amber explained about the comet sighting and the close encounter with Jupiter. 
She finished by saying, ...  Of course, I cant really tell much with only 
three weeks of separation data with which to work.  Still, I thought it best to 
alert the union as soon as possible.
How long to closest approach? Grayson asked.
Fifteen months, give or take a few weeks.
Any idea of the size of this body?
Amber repeated what the computer had told her. She added, Coming out of the 
Oort cloud, it could be a relatively large nucleus.
Oort Cloud? Malvan asked.
Thats where comets come from. It extends from Pluto halfway to the nearest 
star.  Mostly it is just the odds and ends left over when the Solar system 
coalesced.  With a nine million year orbital period, the comet penetrates deeply 
into the cloud.
Are you saying this comet comes from a point halfway to the nearest star?
Not that far. A couple of thousand astronomical units, Grayson replied before 
turning to Amber.  What are you observing with?
The sixty centimeter, and it isnt up to the job. Think I can get access to The 
Big Eye?
Well we can certainly see what well be disrupting.
John Malvan hoisted his glass. This would seem to call for a toast!  After all, 
it is not every day that a new comet is discovered.  To our young Galileo here!
As glasses clinked around her, Amber squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. To be 
toasted for something as inconsequential as a comet sighting was embarrassing.  
She hoped that Niels Grayson would not repeat the story to anyone.  The other 
young staffers would kid her unmercifully about it.
#
Get back in that bed!
Tom Thorpe glanced around at the sound of the nurses voice. She had caught him 
leaning on his crutches, rummaging through the closet of his hospital room.  His 
frown deepened as he turned his back on the guardian in white and continued his 
search.  Finally, he said, I know they delivered street clothing for me while I 
was down in therapy, Nurse Schumacher.  What have you done with the packages?
If you must know, Herr Thorpe, the delivery robot left them at the nurses 
station. That is hospital policy.  Now get back into that bed until Dr. Hoffmann 
releases you.  Or shall I call an orderly to have you forcibly restrained?
No thanks, Thorpe replied. I can be a good boy for another few hours.
Thorpe slowly climbed back into the narrow hospital bed that had been his home 
for the past month. Despite his argument with the nurse, he was glad for the 
rest.  He had forgotten how heavy Earth gravity was.  The fact that he was on 
Earth at all indicated how close to death he had been after the accident.  
Normal procedure called for a strict regimen of diet and exercise before 
returning to standard gravity.  To do otherwise risked heart failure.  His 
presence in a hospital bed in the Swiss Alps was evidence that heart failure had 
been the least concern of his rescuers.
Thorpe remembered very little of the accident, although a month in bed had given 
him plenty of time to read the report. The lift operation had gone perfectly to 
the point where the cable operators began slowing the load.  One of the cable 
brakes had seized, causing the Number Two Cable to jerk to a halt.  The sudden 
stop had placed too much strain on the cable, causing it to snap somewhere 
between tower and load.  Relieved of its tension, the broken cable had rebounded 
like a cracked whip.
In one way, Thorpe had been lucky. If the ten-centimeter-thick cable had landed 
on him, there would not have been enough left to identify.  As it was, the 
broken end crashed down a hundred meters from where he and Nina had been 
standing.  The impact shattered the strands of the cable and sent a cloud of 
shrapnel in their direction.  One piece hit Thorpe just below his right knee, 
punched a hole through his vacuum suit, and shattered his leg.  His suit had 
depressurized immediately and unconsciousness had quickly followed.
Stabbing pains in eyes and ears are usually the last things a victim of rapid 
decompression ever feels. Thorpe remembered thinking that as he blacked out.  As 
soon as Nina saw the cloud of red vapor explode from Thorpes leg, she began 
calling for help.  She had then stripped the slip ring harness from her suit and 
used it to tie a crude tourniquet around Thorpes thigh.  The tourniquet had 
sealed well enough that she was able to repressurize Thorpes stricken suit.  
The emergency response team had arrived three minutes later.  They had stuffed 
Thorpe into an emergency bag and inflated it on the spot.  After that, it had 
been a race to see how quickly he could be gotten to an Earthside hospital.
Doctor will see you now, Mr. Thorpe.
Tom started at the touch of a hand on his arm and the sudden voice close by his 
ear. He opened his eyes to see a different nurse leaning over him.  He glanced 
at the window.  From the angle of sunlight, it was obvious that time had passed. 
 His exertions had tired him enough that he had fallen asleep.
Thorpe managed to pull himself to a sitting position in time to see the familiar 
figure of Dr. Eric Hoffmann stride through the door. Hoffmann was balding, with 
an ever-present unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.
Good morning, Herr Thorpe. How is your leg?
It hurts.
Sehr gut!
You wouldnt say that if you were on my side of it.
I would say that were I in agony! Remember, we were not sure that we would be 
able to save the leg when you first arrived.  It is the reason you were sent 
here to Bern.  Believe me, a dull ache is a very healthy sign.
It still hurts.
The doctor subjected Thorpe to a twenty-minute physical that included the usual 
prodding and poking. He finally signaled the end by saying, All right, you may 
replace your gown.
Well, Doctor, am I fit enough to get out of here?
The doctor nodded. You seem to be well on your way to recovery.  Your eyes have 
lost that bloodshot look, and your eardrum has healed nicely.  I have looked at 
your test results, and you seem not to have been permanently affected by the 
anoxia.  Finally, despite the pain, the pins in your leg are grafting onto the 
bone as expected.  Where do you plan to go when you leave here?
The company has checked me into a convalescent home on Oahu.
Ah, Hawaii! A lovely place.  Frau Hoffman and I vacationed there five years 
ago.  Well, soak up a great deal of sun and keep off that leg, at least until 
after the cast is removed.  That should be in about two weeks.
Thank you, Doctor. Uh, Im sorry if I havent been the best patient at times.
The doctor shrugged. I have had worse.  I understand you were looking for your 
clothes this morning.  I will have Nurse Schumacher bring them to you now.  I 
will order the pharmacy to send up something to ease the pain.  Enjoy yourself 
in Hawaii, Herr Thorpe.  Perhaps when you are healed, you will come back 
toSchweiz for the local skiing,Ja ?
Perhaps, Herr Doktor!
Gut! Now, I must attend to my other patients.  Goodbye and good luck!
 
CHAPTER 3
 
Halver Smith watched the holoscreen that dominated one wall of his office. The 
view was from an aircraft circling 4000 meters above the Pacific Ocean at a 
point three hundred miles southeast of Honshu, Japan.  The picture was being 
relayed to Sierra Corporation headquarters via one of Smiths private satellite 
channels.  As the aircraft circled, its camera operator tested his equipment by 
panning the ocean below.
The steel-blue water was studded with whitecaps kicked up by a cold north wind. 
When Smith had checked the weather for the area, he had shivered and muttered 
thanks that he was not there in person.  He let his gaze scan the screen, 
searching for one of the tiny black shapes bobbing on the surface of the sea.  
Three large ocean-going tugs had been arrayed around a five-kilometer circle 
from which all surface traffic had been cleared.  They were waiting for a 
delivery.
As Smith watched, the scene shifted. The steel blue of the sea was replaced by 
the pale blue of the sky.  The screen readouts showed that the camera was now 
looking upward and to the west.  Suddenly there was a black dot at the center of 
the screen.  The dot quickly expanded into a disk, and then turned to a blunt 
cone as the camera tracked the incandescent target.  Despite its small size on 
the screen, Smith knew the cone to be quite large - some 250 meters in diameter. 
 As it plunged through the atmosphere, the cone trailed a long streamer of 
superheated air.
There was a moment of disorientation as the ore body flashed past the highflying 
camera plane. For an instant, Smith found himself looking at the cones upper 
surface with its forest of internal bracing.  Then the view switched to a camera 
mounted on one of the waiting tugs.  The surface camera followed the ore body 
through its last few seconds of flight.
The cone impacted less than a kilometer from the waiting ship, sending a vast 
geyser of steam and spray skyward. A few seconds later the camera ship was 
rocked by a loud thunderclap.  The sound was relayed to the speaker in Halver 
Smiths office.  The thunder was followed by a meter-high wave that raced away 
from the point of impact.  Nothing was visible for long seconds save the rapidly 
boiling sea.  Then a rust colored mass rose slowly into view from the depths.  
The water around it continued to boil vigorously as the ore body bobbed 
peacefully on the surface of the sea.
There was a sudden tilt to the scene as the tugboat changed course and headed 
directly for the impact point. Halver Smith did not wait to see the rest.  It 
would be hours yet before the three tugs had the million ton mass under tow, and 
a week or more before the rusting construct could be dragged ashore at the 
Kyushu smelter.  Neither operation was Smiths concern, however.  Sierra 
Corporation had fulfilled its obligation to Nippon Steel the moment the ore body 
had bobbed to the surface.  From then on, it was the Japanese corporations 
headache.  That was just as well.  Smith had troubles of his own.
There were those who counted Halver Smith among the richest men in the world. 
They were right as far as they went.  The problem was that they never went far 
enough.  They saw his estate overlooking San Francisco and his holdings in 
Mexico, the South Pacific, United Europe, and Australasia, and they counted him 
rich.  They noted his 28% ownership of Sierra Corporation, his portfolios 
overflowing with gilt-edge stocks, his paintings and sculptures, and they envied 
him.  They noted his luxury ground cars and aircraft, his personal yacht,The 
Sierra Seas , and they declared him amega-mogul - one of those monied 
individuals whose lives were luridly chronicled by the least responsible segment 
of the mass media.  What they did not see was that great wealth brought with it 
great responsibility and that paper worth does not always translate into 
liquidity.
Halver Smith was something of a gambler. Just out of college, he had gambled one 
hundred thousand credits on an unproven process for extracting samarium, 
yttrium, and praseodymium from low-grade ore.  He had won big.  Later he had 
gambled everything that he could capture an asteroid.  That gamble would pay off 
handsomely in the future.  The splashdown he had just witnessed was proof of 
that.  Now, however, the project had left him deep in debt.  His load of fiscal 
obligations was straining Sierra Corporation to the limit.  Halver Smith was 
walking a tightrope.  One slip and his hard won empire would collapse around 
him.
Unlike many in his class, Smith actually worked for a living. He was often the 
first executive at his desk in the morning and the last to leave at night.  He 
had always been something of a workaholic, and his affliction had grown worse 
since the death of his wife in a boating accident five years earlier.  He never 
allowed himself to forget that there were people counting on him.
Having watched another successful delivery, he turned back to the days work. He 
had slightly more than half an hour before his afternoon appointment.  In that 
time, he might well dispose of the stack of papers in front of him.
The first report came under the heading of Imitation is the Sincerest Form of 
Flattery. With the arrival ofThe Rock in high Earth orbit five years ago, 
Sierra Corporation had largely cornered the market in refined metals.  Despite 
horrendous start-up costs, Smith could still deliver a ton of iron to the 
smelters for less money than most surface mines.  Where his competitors were 
forced to sift through one hundred tons of ore for each ton of refined iron, 
Smiths ratio was closer to 2 to 1.  Even his slag was valuable.  It contained 
nickel, iridium, gold, silver, and a host of other valuable metals.
It had not taken long for the smart money to realize that what Sierra 
Corporation could do, others could copy. Even whileThe Rock was in transit, 
several other asteroid capture attempts had been organized.  Of these, only 
System Resources, S.A. had reached the orbital operations stage.
Their asteroid was named Avalon. It had originally circled the sun just beyond 
Venus, and was one of the Alten class of minor planets - so named because Alten 
was the first known asteroid whose orbit lay entirely inside that of Earth.  
Avalon was one of the asteroids Halver Smith had considered in his doctoral 
thesis.  He had rejected it because of its size.  Avalon measured 9 X 10 X 12 
kilometers and was shaped like a lopsided potato.  It was several times more 
massive thanThe Rock , and correspondingly more difficult to move.
Smith had followed the progress of the Avalon Project with considerable 
interest. System Resources had been nudging the asteroid into an expanded orbit 
for the past four years.  At the moment, Avalon was midway between Earth and 
Venus.  Current estimates called for it to arrive in five years.
The report Smith held in his hand was SierraCorps monthly projection of 
Avalons effect on the iron market. Estimates called for refined ore to drop 20 
percent in price immediately, then gradually slip another ten points as both 
operations went to full production.  As Smith read the monthly projection, he 
found a reason to frown.  The analysts pointed to recent pronouncements by 
Carlos Sandoval, System Resources CEO, that they would begin mining operations 
while Avalon was en route.  The first ore bodies were expected to reach the home 
planet within the year.
Despite his intention to get through his paperwork, Smith was still pondering 
the problem when 16:00 hours rolled around.
#
Mr. Thorpe is here for his four oclock, Smiths secretary said over his 
office intercom.
Send him in, Marla. Then ring down to the commissary.  Have them send up a 
plate of rolls, a pot of coffee, and one of tea.  Also, if they have any of 
those clairs left over from lunch, have them send two of them as well.  Its 
too nice a day to diet!  Smith had a weight problem that he fought 
sporadically.  His staff had noted with amusement that the iron willed mover of 
worlds had no will power when it came to chocolate.
Halver Smith met Tom Thorpe at his office door. Smith had not seen Thorpe except 
via telephone screen for more than a year.  The first thing he noticed was the 
gaunt look of a man recovering from a serious injury.  Otherwise, Thorpe had 
changed little.  The mining engineers 195-centimeter height, muscled body, and 
rugged features still gave him the look of a professional athlete.  Smith knew 
from Thorpes file that he was 35.  He could easily have passed for five years 
younger.  The only indication of his age and responsibility was a sprinkling of 
grey amid his dark brown locks.
Hello, Thomas, Smith said warmly as he held out his hand. Good to see you 
looking so well!
Thank you, sir. You are looking fit yourself!
Smith patted his waistline. If only it were true.  Come sit down.  Hows the 
leg?
It still gives me a twinge now and then. The doctors say thats normal.
Smith nodded. I broke my arm once.  Between the itching and the aches, it 
almost drove me crazy.  Still, it healed eventually.  Come, lets get you 
seated!  Smith maneuvered the younger man to the conversation group that 
dominated half his office.  When the two of them had settled into powered 
chairs, Smith asked, How was Hawaii?
Great, sir. Ive done nothing but lie on the beach, fish, and chase women for 
the past month.
Catch any fish?
Yes, sir. Both times I went out. 
And the women?
Uh, the fishing was good in that department, too.
Good! We like our employees happy.  Smith leaned back in his chair and felt 
the cushions reconfigure themselves.  He rested his elbows and stared at Thorpe 
through steepled fingers.  You know you scared me half to death!  What the hell 
were you doing out on the surface, anyway?
Making my weekly rounds, sir.
The reports I received say that you were damned lucky Nina Pavolev was there.
Yes, sir. Ive been trying to decide how best to thank her.
What she did calls for a Paris original, at least.
Yes, sir. Know of any good dress shops in town?
Smith laughed. Check with my secretary.  I swear, that woman must spend two 
hundred percent of what I pay her on clothes.
Thank you, sir. I will.
Smiths mood changed. He stared at his subordinate for nearly a minute before 
speaking again.  You know, of course, that Ive been receiving progress reports 
on your recovery.
I didnt, but it doesnt surprise me.
The doctors all agree that your body is mending nicely. They are not nearly as 
confident about your mental state.  I understand that youve been having 
nightmares.
Thorpe hesitated, and then nodded slowly. Every night at first, not nearly so 
often lately.
Care to tell me about them?
Not much to tell. I dream that I am underwater.  I struggle toward the surface, 
but never quite make it.  About the time I think I am going to drown, I wake up 
gasping for air.  My heart is pounding and my bodys covered with cold sweat.
Smith nodded. Understandable for a man who has survived explosive 
decompression.  Still, I wonder if it is wise to put you back in harness so 
quickly.
Sir, Im ready! Hell, the nightmares are not caused by the accident.  I have 
not been able to sleep comfortably on Earth since I first went to space.  Its 
the gravity thats suffocating me!
I can do something about that. I have had a special project in mind for about a 
month.  Id like you to take it over for me.
You arent sending me back toThe Rock ?
Smith shook his head. Not right away.  Eric Lundgrens going a good job filling 
in for you at the moment.  He can handle things until youre ready.
Im ready now!
Smith sighed. Youre a good man, Tom, and I appreciate your desire to get back 
to your job.  Still, I cannot overlook the doctors opinion.  They say you could 
suffer burnout if we rush things.
Theyre wrong, sir. I feel fine.
Good. That means there will be no problem if I send you to Luna.
To the Moon, sir? Why, for Gods sake?
Smith got up from his chair, crossed the room, and retrieved several reports 
from his desk. One was the Avalon report.  Read that.  When youre finished, 
well discuss it.
Smiths secretary arrived with the refreshments while Thorpe leafed through the 
report. She poured Smith a cup of coffee and Thorpe one of tea with lemon.  She 
then arrayed a plate of cookies between the two men.
Wheres my clair? Smith demanded.
Dr. Reynolds confiscated it in the elevator. He said that if he caught you 
eating any chocolate, he would personally administer your shots this week.  He 
claims to have a dull needle hes been saving.
You can tell Dr. Reynolds that I will get him for this.
Yes, sir.
Smith turned to Thorpe, who had put down the report to watch Marla leave the 
room. What do you think?  Are they really going to begin mining operations 
before they get Avalon into parking orbit?
No reason not to. The only thing that stopped us was the need to get permission 
from the various international commissions.  We still managed to do a lot of 
preparatory work.  Avalons crew has more free time than we did, and all of 
their certificates are in order.  Why not get some of their investment back 
early?
Thats what I thought, Smith said. He handed Thorpe a second report.  What do 
you make of that?
Again, Thorpe scanned the document. Its an announcement by the Astronomical 
Union concerning a new comet.
See anything unusual about it?
Thorpe shrugged. Only that its going to pass close to Jupiter.  Otherwise, it 
appears to be a fairly typical piece of sky junk.
Look at the last page. Theres an approximation of the new orbit there.
Thorpe turned to the page indicated and studied the columns of figures. I can 
see why the astronomers are excited.  This baby has seen the Oort cloud for the 
last time.  From now on it will be circling between Venus and Saturn.
It strikes me that some people might find such an orbit to be commercially 
attractive.
Thorpe frowned. Why?  Every stone in the Asteroid Belt has a smaller velocity 
gradient with respect to Earth.  No serious developer would give this eccentric 
an orbit a second look.
That was my own first thought, Smith agreed. Its a bad deal when you 
consider the physics of the situation.  Still, I wonder how the media will react 
to this close encounter with Jupiter?
Thorpe shrugged. Theyll give it a big play, I imagine.  Didnt a comet hit 
Jupiter some time last century?
Smith nodded. Schoemaker-Levy Nine.  I looked it up.  It made all the 
headlines.  Now, what if some smart operator announces that he is going to 
capture this new soon-to-be-famous comet?  Will the average investor be smart 
enough to recognize it as a gimmick?
Not much chance of anyone doing that, is there?
Perhaps one in ten, Smith replied. Enough to justify action on our part.
Action, Mr. Smith? Why?  So long as we dont fund such a hair-brained scheme, 
what do we care?
We care, Thomas. The last time there were rumors of a capture being organized, 
our stock dropped 17 points in three days.  I will be spending much of the next 
year in delicate negotiations to refinance our debt.  Any such ripple in our 
stock price would seriously erode my negotiating position.
If someone does try to organize a capture, well merely put out the truth. That 
will stop them cold.
Smith shook his head. Any such statement would only call attention to the 
capture program.  Investors would think we were afraid of the competition.  We 
might confer legitimacy on the charlatans and begin a feeding frenzy on the 
exchange.
Then how do we parry? Thorpe asked, confused.
We block the attempt before there is one.
How?
We obtain the comets exploitation rights ourselves. If we own the rights, no 
one else will be able to move.
Damn it, Mr. Smith, we need another asteroid like we need a tax audit! It isnt 
even metal.  If I remember right, most comet nuclei are conglomerations of 
mush.
I didnt say that we wouldexercise our claim. I merely suggest that we assert 
it.
But the only way to lay claim to an astronomical body is to establish a 
permanent presence. Mounting an expedition to settle this comet nucleus will 
cost a fortune.
That is the normal method of laying claim, Smith agreed. It is not, however, 
theonly method.  There is a special clause in the law.  Smith handed Thorpe a 
computer printout.  Read the last section of the statute, the one entitled, 
Rights of Discovery.
Thorpe did as directed. His frown turned gradually into a look of understanding. 
 It says here that all rights belong to the discovering individual/organization 
for ten years after the initial report to the Astronomical Union.  After that, 
the permanent presence clause takes over.
So you see, Thomas, it wont be necessary to occupy the comet nucleus in order 
to claim it. We merely have to purchase the exploitation rights from the 
discoverers.  In this case, that is Farside Observatory, Luna.
Thorpe glanced down at the hardcopy of the old statute. It says 
individual/organization.  Doesnt that mean that the rights belong to this A. 
Hastings?
I wish it did, Smith replied. It would be cheaper to deal with an individual 
than with an observatory.  However, the legal department points out that the 
astronomer works for the observatory - is on the staff, in fact - and that he 
was using observatory equipment at the time of the discovery.  Both points give 
the observatory a strong claim to being discoverer-of-record.  I want you to 
proceed to Luna and negotiate an option on those rights.
Wouldnt it be better to send someone from legal?
They could negotiate a contract well enough, Smith agreed. Remember our goal, 
however.  If we are to protect our stock, no one must suspect that this is a 
ruse.  If I were truly interested, I would send one of my best technical 
experts.  Therefore, I have to send that same person now.  Your presence on the 
Moon will be the factor that makes this whole thing believable.
How much should I offer?
Were still calculating that. You will have a number before you leave.  It will 
be sufficiently generous that no one will question our sincerity ... I hope.
#
Amber Hastings sat in her office and reviewed the data she had collected on 
Comet P/2084(G). The catalog number was new, having been assigned the previous 
week by the Astronomical Unions Department for Classification and Nomenclature. 
 Amber still found it strange to refer to the inbound body by its official 
number.  Before being registered, she had merely called it the comet or simply 
it.  Other staffers had taken to calling itAmbers Accident andHastings 
Horror .  The latter name had been adopted by an irate deep space astronomer 
after Amber suggested divertingThe Big Eye to look at her discovery.
Normally a classification number was all that distinguished a comet from its 
brethren. This particular comet, however, was destined to become famous.  
Already the observatory had received inquiries from news organizations 
throughout the system.  There had even been a cable from the editor ofThe 
Callisto Scientific Station Online Gazette .  All had asked for more details on 
the close encounter and the post-encounter orbit.  The interest from the press 
had convinced the Astronomical Union that this particular comet deserved a name. 
 Therefore, in accordance with long tradition, they asked its discoverer to 
suggest one.
They want me to name it? Amber had asked Niels Grayson when he told her about 
the AUs request.
Thats your right as discoverer. If you dont suggest something, theyll 
probably just tack your name onto the designation.
You meantheyd name it after me? 
Its traditional, you know.
They cant do that!
Why not?
Because.
Good answer, Grayson had said with a chuckle. But unless come up with a 
better suggestion, theyll do it.
The idea of having aComet P/Hastings in the annals of astronomy did not sit well 
with Amber. She would read horror stories about what happened to young 
astronomers who made important discoveries.  Better by far, she decided, to 
suggest a name of her own and save herself a future fraught with professional 
jealousies.
Naming a comet, she quickly discovered, was not something one does in a vacuum. 
Nearly everyone at the observatory had a favorite name.  It was a situation 
guaranteed to make enemies, as she learned when Director Meinz called her to his 
office.
You wanted to see me, sir?
Ah, there you are, Amber! Meinz said.  Come in and sit down.  I want to 
congratulate you on your discovery.
It was more the computers discovery than mine.
Yes, there is that, isnt there? Have you considered what you are going to name 
it?
I havent really given it much thought, sir. Too excited, I guess.
Be careful with your selection, Meinz warned. After all, this is one of the 
greatest honors our profession can bestow.  You wouldnt want the Committee on 
Names to reject your choice.
Do you think they would, sir?
He nodded. If they thought you were being frivolous, or had made an 
inappropriate choice.  I would not call it Buttercup or anything silly like 
that.  No, to clear the committee requires a name with special significance to 
the community of astronomers.  Tradition limits your choices to two categories.  
You can name it after a figure from mythology, although that is seldom done in 
the case of comets.  Or else, you can choose to honor an individual who has made 
a significant contribution to the field.  You might, for instance, name it after 
someone here at the observatory.
Youre the only one at Farside Observatory worthy of such an honor, sir.
The director had beamed at what Amber had not intended to be a serious 
suggestion. Comet P/Meinz, eh?  It does have a certain ring to it.  But, of 
course, I do not want to sway you.  You are discoverer-of-record.  That makes 
the name your responsibility.  Just remember what I said about the committee.  
And, should you choose to honor a prominent astronomer ... say someone such as 
myself ... it can only enhance your career.
Following her interview with the director, Amber became a lot more cautious 
about whom she discussed the matter with. Her caution did not stop the 
suggestions.  By the end of the week, she had collected 28 suggested names.
She did not like any of them.
 
CHAPTER 4
 
Tom Thorpe lay in his acceleration couch and watched Luna grow large as the 
landing craft fell toward the plain known as Oceanus Procellarum (The Ocean of 
Storms). The screen at the front of the ferrys cabin showed a magnified view of 
that region, including Copernicus and Kepler Craters.  Thorpe searched midway 
between the two until he found a scattering of lights silhouetted against the 
dark surface.  These, he knew, marked the location of both the capital city of 
the Moon and its busiest spaceport.  He fancied that he could see the 
fifty-kilometer spur of the Luna City mass driver, but realized that was 
probably too much to ask.  As the ferry fell, a countdown clock reeled off the 
seconds to engine ignition.
Impressive, isnt it? his seatmate asked.
Thorpe turned to the man who had boarded the craft at Luna Equatorial Station, 
then dozed off immediately after strapping in. His attention had been so 
absorbed by the landing that he had not noticed his companion was awake.
Quite impressive, he said.
The man, who was in his mid-fifties, gestured at the viewscreen. This is my 
favorite part.  Not many people appreciate Lunas beauty, but Ill match the 
vista of a lunar highland against any sunset Earth ever produced.
It has a certain raw majesty, Thorpe admitted.
Damned right it does! Who says that scenery has to be blue, white, or green?  
By the way, my name is Hobart.  John Mahew Hobart.
TheJohn Mahew Hobart?
Guilty as charged. I take it youve heard of me.
Thorpe nodded. John Hobart was the leader of the Nationalists in the lunar 
parliament.  He was a firebrand orator who was tireless in his defense of the 
Republic of Luna and its ten million citizens.  My company lobbied parliament 
when you first proposed your tax on exporting ice.
Lobbied on which side?
Not yours, I can assure you. My name is Tom Thorpe.  I work for Sierra 
Corporation.
Hobart frowned for long seconds, then smiled as recognition hit him. Thorpe!  
Of course, you are Operations Manager aboardThe Rock !  I thought the name 
sounded familiar.  My assistant talked to you just before the vote.  He was 
quite impressed with your grasp of the issues.
Apparently not enough to sway your opinion.
Hobart laughed. That would have taken an act of God.  Still, you gave us a run 
for our money, and I always respect a worthy adversary.
Likewise.
The Nationalists had sponsored a tax on exported ice, arguing that those who 
depleted Lunas natural resources should be made to pay for the privilege. The 
argument had struck a responsive chord with Lunarians.  Compared to the surface 
of the Moon, the Sahara Desert has a flooding problem.  Little wonder that the 
inhabitants had strong feelings about water.  It did not help that they could 
see an unlimited supply of the stuff hanging directly overhead.  Although 
Earths stock was vastly greater than Lunas was, its deep gravity well made 
tanking water to orbit impractical.  Lunas weak gravity had thus made it the 
largest exporter of ice in the Solar System.
Lunas tax had come as a shock to the space habitats. Besides its obvious uses, 
water was the raw material from which oxygen and hydrogen were electrolyzed.  
The Lunar tax had doubledThe Rock s yearly cost for consumables.  Despite this, 
Thorpe could not really blame the Lunarians.  For, unlike the people of Earth, 
those who lived beyond the atmosphere knew the value of a kilo of ice.
The countdown clock slowly worked its way down toward zero. As it did so, Hobart 
cautioned Thorpe to make sure he was strapped in securely.  His announcement 
preceded the pilots by a few seconds.  There followed a brief period of 
anticipation as the lunar surface grew rapidly larger.
As the clock reached zero, magnetic fields were rearranged and a few nanograms 
of antimatter injected into the ships thrust chamber. There they encountered a 
powerful jet of water.  Antimatter encountered normal matter and combined in a 
burst of raw energy.  The resulting temperature rise turned the water directly 
into plasma.  Within milliseconds, an incandescent plume leapt downward from 
between the landing crafts huge splayed feet and its descent began to slow.
#
Mr. Thorpe?
Yes.
Im Grandstaff, SierraCorp representative here in Luna City.
Hello, Thorpe replied to the small balding man who met him outside of lunar 
customs. Tom could not help thinking that someone with Grandstaffs knobby knees 
would do well not to wear shorts.  I take it that you received Mr. Smiths 
instructions.
Yes, sir. I have arranged a preliminary meeting with the Chancellor of the 
University.  Hell see you at 14:00 tomorrow.
And when do I leave for the observatory?
Ive booked passage for you on the Circum-Luna Monorail four days from now.
Why so long?
The last leg of the journey will be overland. The next scheduled run to the 
observatory leaves the first of next week.
Perhaps I could charter a ship.
Oh, no! Grandstaff explained the observatorys pollution problem and the 
extremes to which the astronomers went to protect their telescopes.
Thorpe sighed. Then I guess I wait.  Care to recommend some of the local 
sights?  This is my first trip to the Moon, you know.
Well, sir, Grandstaff replied, theres the day excursion to the Tranquility 
Monument. That is very popular.  Then, of course, there are the nightclubs on 
the Grand Concourse.  Or, if youre a history buff, you might tour the sites of 
the revolution...
You could do worse, a voice said.
Thorpe and Grandstaff turned to see John Hobart standing behind them. The MP had 
cleared customs in a matter of seconds and Thorpe had thought him long gone. 
Good afternoon, Citizen Hobart! Grandstaff effused.  His manner made Thorpe 
wonder if he were about to genuflect.  May I introduce Thomas Thorpe...?
Weve met, Willy, Hobart replied. Im afraid I forced Mr. Thorpe to listen to 
my snoring during much of the approach.
You hardly snored at all.
Thats not what my wife tells me. What brings you to Luna, Mr. Thorpe?  
Business or pleasure?
A little of both. Mostly I am recuperating.  The doctors thought it would do me 
good to get off Earth.  The gravity, you know.
Oh, have you been sick?
Before Tom could reply, Grandstaff told Hobart about the winch accident.
Youre damned lucky to be alive! Hobart exclaimed when Grandstaff finished.  
Coming that close to the grim reaper must change a persons outlook.
Well, I dont complain about getting up in the morning as much as I used to.
That brought a laugh. Ill bet you dont!  How long will you be staying in Luna 
City?
Thorpe gestured toward Grandstaff. My guide tells me that Ive got four days to 
kill.
Im having a small gathering of friends at my home tomorrow evening. I would be 
honored to have you as my guest.  Youre invited, too, Willy.
Thank you, but my wife has made other plans, Grandstaff said.
May we count on you, Mr. Thorpe?
I dont want to put you out.
Nonsense! We Lunarians are too damned clannish.  You cannot blame us.  We are 
ten million people to Earths eight billion!  It is enough to give anyone an 
inferiority complex.  Still, we need to occasionally meet strangers to remind 
ourselves that there are other people in the universe.  Besides, movingThe Rock 
was a major accomplishment.  Im sure my guests will be fascinated to hear how 
it was done.
Very well. Ill come.
Excellent! I am in Pressure Four, Third Sublevel, Kepler Corridor.  If you can 
get that close, just ask anyone where my apartment is.  Dinner will be served at 
20:00 hours.  You might want to get there a few minutes early for drinks.
Thank you.
My pleasure.
When the legislator had moved off, Grandstaff turned to Thorpe. Amazing!
What is?
You sit next to the man for a few hours and he invites you home. I know people 
who have been trying to wangle an invitation to Hobarts for years!
Thorpe shrugged. We crossed swords on the ice tax.  Maybe he wants to rub my 
nose in the fact that we lost.  Or maybe he needs to send a private message to 
Halver Smith.
You may not be far from the truth there, Grandstaff replied. The smart money 
is betting that Hobart wants to be the next prime minister.  He may want your 
perspective on a Nationalist administration.
#
The outer office of the Chancellor of the University of Luna was an airy place 
filled with wall hangings, green-growing things, and aluminum furniture finished 
to look like wood. The chancellors secretary, a decorative blonde, sat at a 
horseshoe desk and worked on her computer console.  At the same time, Thorpe and 
Grandstaff sat in the waiting area and leafed through recent issues ofThe 
Transactions of the Society of Lunar Educators andSolar System Higher Education 
Review .  Though Grandstaff appeared to actually be reading the impenetrable 
jargon, Thorpes attention kept wandering in the receptionists direction.  
Twice she had caught him staring at her.  Each time she had responded with a 
distant, professional smile.  Thorpe was considering how to open a conversation 
when a chime sounded.  She picked up her earphone, listened for a few seconds, 
and then nodded.  She turned to them and said; The chancellor will see you 
now.
Thorpe and Grandstaff were greeted by a man with bushy eyebrows and an unruly 
mop of white hair. Chancellor Cummings was an academic whose talents were for 
administration rather than scholarship.  Twenty years of battling Parliament for 
funds had honed his persuasive skills.  He exuded confidence as he strode across 
his office to greet his visitors.
Hello, Willem, he said to Grandstaff. I havent seen you around the health 
club lately.  Where have you been working out?
Grandstaff shook the chancellors outstretched hand. Please, Robbie, you dont 
want to give Mr. Thorpe the idea that I lie around the sauna all day.  He might 
report me to Mr. Smith.  Id have to go back to working for a living then.
Turning to Thorpe, Cummings said, Im Robert Cummings, Chancellor of the 
University.
Thorpe shook hands and allowed himself to be directed to a plush chair in front 
of Cummingss desk. The top of the desk held an intercom, computer screen, and 
gold picture frame.  In the frame were holograms showing a middle-aged woman and 
three children.
Is this your family?
It is indeed! the chancellor boomed. Those pictures are quite old, however.  
The five-year-old girl is getting married next month, and my eldest son just 
presented me with my fourth grandchild.  I am happy to say that Ingrid, my wife, 
is still as beautiful as ever.  Are you married, Mr. Thorpe?
Tom shook his head. Ive spent most of the past decade onThe Rock .  Not much 
opportunity to meet the right woman, Im afraid.
That will make you a popular man in Luna City. Government service seems to 
attract young women.  And since many of our young men are off working in the ice 
mines, the situation bodes well for the single male.
If Id known that, Id have come to Luna earlier.
The chancellor offered his visitors refreshment. When all three had low gravity 
cups filled with steaming liquid, he leaned back in his chair.  Im always glad 
to be of assistance to Citizen Grandstaff, Mr. Thorpe.  I must tell you, 
however, that he has not told me why you wanted this conference.
Thorpe leaned over to retrieve his briefcase, opened it, and withdrew the 
Astronomical Unions announcement of the coming close encounter with Jupiter. He 
handed it over to Cummings, who perused it without comment.
As you can see, Mr. Chancellor, Farside Observatory discovered this object six 
weeks ago. The observatory is, I believe, a branch of your university.
The chancellor nodded. Semi-autonomous.  If you wish anything of the 
observatory, you will have to speak with Director Meinz.
I will be at the observatory next week. As head of the observatorys parent 
organization, we felt that you would like to be briefed concerning our 
intentions.
By all means.
Thorpe repeated the cover story he had been given. The gist of it was that 
Sierra Corporation was actively considering the exploitation of the comet 
nucleus if its post-encounter orbit proved to be economically viable.  He went 
on to explain the legal requirements for ownership of the comet.  Halfway 
through his presentation, the chancellor hunched forward.  It had just occurred 
to him that there was money to be made here.
When Thorpe finished, Cummings asked, Are you saying that you want tobuy this 
comet from the university?
Its much too early for that, sir. There are too many unknowns to make an 
accurate projection of the post-Jupiter orbit.  In addition, we have yet to 
receive data as to the asteroids size or composition.  All of these factors 
weigh heavily on the profitability equation.  I have been sent to purchase an 
option againstfuture exploitation rights.  If the comet later turns out to be 
commercially viable, we will be willing to negotiate a long term mining lease at 
that time.
 Cummings frowned as he slowly stroked his chin.  It seems to me that you are 
being hasty about this, Mr. Thorpe.  Why risk anything until your questions are 
answered?  Why not wait until after the close encounter?
Thorpe smiled. If we wait, then our competitors will also see the commercial 
possibilities.  By taking a small risk now we establish a strong bargaining 
position later.
It would seem to be in the universitys interest to enhance the competition, 
not limit it, the chancellor replied. Why should we give SierraCorp a monopoly 
position?
You shouldnt, Mr. Chancellor. If you are certain that the post-encounter orbit 
will fall within certain highly restrictive tolerances, then your best 
negotiating stance is to wait and hold an auction.  If, on the other hand, you 
are uncertain as to what that orbit will be, then you had best hedge your bet.  
Secure whatever benefits you can get out of it now.  The longer you wait, the 
more chance the observatorys rights-of-discovery will be rendered worthless by 
new data.
And if they turn out to be worth a great deal, SierraCorp wins and we have sold 
a valuable resource for a pittance.
Not at all, Thorpe responded. Our option will not specify the final lease 
price.  If someone offers you more, then take it.  All we ask is that we be 
allowed to match anyone elses final bid.
How much are we talking about for an option?
Thorpe named the figure that Halver Smith had authorized to begin the bidding. 
The university chancellors eyes got momentarily larger.  That is very generous 
of Mr. Smith.
We want you to know that we are serious, Thorpe replied with his most sincere 
look.
How do we proceed from here?
I will travel to Farside Observatory to confirm the data I have in my 
possession. I will need to know the comet nucleuss composition and size.  We 
are interested in certain organic materials found in comet nuclei.  If we 
discover that material in this particular nucleus, then Ill be ready to sign a 
letter of intent on the spot.
Ah, yes, Cummings replied. I may have given you a wrong impression earlier.  
While Farside Observatory is autonomous in many things, matters such as these 
require university concurrence.  Its a matter of legality, you understand.
Of course, Thorpe responded. Once the director and I have signed the letter 
of intent, I will return here to obtain your signature as well.  That is the 
proper procedure, is it not?
Most proper, Mr. Thorpe. I will get a message off to Director Meinz this 
afternoon.  Im sure that you will find him most helpful.
 
CHAPTER 5
 
Had it been visible from space, Luna City would have looked like nothing quite 
so much as a giant bulls-eye. Since it was underground, however, the citys 
shape was apparent only to someone who took the time to study a map.  Tom Thorpe 
did just that as he plotted the route from his hotel to John Hobarts apartment.
Luna City was situated 200 kilometers southwest of Copernicus Crater. The site 
had first been occupied in 2005 by one of the United States early lunar 
settlements.  The colony had expanded a decade later with the discovery of 
subsurface ice deposits.  Later, automatic tunnel boring equipment had carved 
out six concentric rings five hundred meters below the surface.  As soon as each 
tunnel was sealed and pressurized, it was occupied by new immigrants from Earth.
As the population grew, those first six tunnels had been widened, 
cross-connected, and added to. Eventually, five additional habitat levels were 
carved from the lunar bedrock.  Each new level was carved out of bedrock one 
hundred meters below its predecessor, and with one or two more concentric rings. 
 The sixth (and most recent) level included twelve rings in all.  Tom Thorpe 
stood in front of a public screen and punched in his destination.  A ruby red 
line marked the route to Hobarts apartment.  A moment later, he found himself 
holding a three-dimensional guide map on which the citys truncated conical 
shape was apparent.  Confident that he could find his destination - or at least 
find his way back to his hotel if he got lost - he stepped out onto the Grand 
Concourse.
The Grand Concourse was a spiral gallery cut into the side of the large manmade 
cavern that dominated the city center. The cylindrical cavern was more than one 
hundred meters in diameter and extended five hundred meters from floor to domed 
roof.  The cavern functioned as the citys air reservoir and social center.  An 
artificial sun hung suspended from the apex while the green of a park spread 
across the cavern floor half-a-kilometer below.  Lining the long walkway were 
the entrances to theaters, restaurants, hotels, specialty shops, bars, and 
sidewalk cafes.  The concourse rose 20 meters in each turn, with five complete 
turns between main levels.
It was 19:00 hours when Thorpe stepped out onto the concourse from the lobby of 
his hotel. The artificial sun had been turned down to a pale blue color to 
simulate terrestrial twilight.  In another hour, it would be switched to the 
deeper blue of night.  Multicolored lights had been turned on up and down the 
spiral ramp, causing the wispy clouds that floated through the cavern to 
fluoresce in the twilight.  Twin streams of Lunarians moved upramp and down as 
young couples and families strolled leisurely past shop windows.
Thorpes hotel was midway between Levels 4 and 5 on the west side of the central 
cavern. John Mahew Hobarts apartment was on Level 3, 150 meters overhead, and 
in the northeast quadrant of the fourth concentric ring.  Thorpe had briefly 
considered strolling up the concourse to Level 3.  He gave up the idea when a 
quick calculation informed him that the distance along the spiral walkway was 
more than two kilometers.  His injured leg had begun to ache as it always did by 
days end, and even in lunar gravity, Thorpe was not confident of his ability to 
climb that far.
Instead, he walked toward the blue-and-white sign denoting a public airlift, 
then walked down a short corridor to reach a vertical shaft. Rising air tugged 
at his clothes as Thorpe let himself fall forward into the shaft.  Had he been 
on Earth, he would have crashed into the impellers located two hundred meters 
below.  At one-sixth his Earth weight, however, the high velocity air wafted him 
upward.  He wobbled as he fought to maintain proper position - spread-eagled, 
back arched, stomach pushed out as far as it would go.  He watched the lighted 
level indicators sweep past.  When he reached Level 3, he grabbed for the 
polished railing that ran around the shafts periphery and nearly missed.  Once 
he had it, he swung his body out of the air stream and landed lightly on the 
Third Level landing stage.  He then walked down a short corridor and back out 
onto the concourse.  As he left the lift enclosure, his ears were still ringing 
from the noise.
Consulting his map, Thorpe found that he was still on the wrong side of the 
central cavern. The city planners had allowed for this by installing a series of 
footbridges across the chasm.  The bridge did not look substantial enough to 
hold a mans weight, let alone the combined load of the stream of humanity 
currently moving across it.  Despite his years onThe Rock , Thorpe felt 
trepidation as he stepped out onto the slowly oscillating bridge.  He crossed 
without looking down.
Ten meters upramp from the bridge he found a large corridor with the 
signNortheast Radial displayed in glowing white letters. He stepped on one of 
two moving slidewalks and allowed himself to be carried outbound.  The fourth 
circumferential ring was a kilometer distant from the Grand Concourse.  He 
reached it in five minutes.  Once there, he stopped a passerby and asked if she 
knew where he might find the residence of John Mahew Hobart.  Five minutes later 
Thorpe found himself in a short cross-corridor whose furnishings marked it as 
one of the richer sections of the city.
  #
Ah, Mr. Thorpe, glad you could come! Hobart enthused when he greeted the 
SierraCorp representative at the door.
Im a little early, Thorpe replied. I wanted to give myself some time in the 
event I got lost.
Think nothing of it. I am pleased that you made it at all.  We have stories of 
tourists who have been lost for days.  Come in and meet my wife and the other 
guests.
Hobarts home had been sculpted to resemble a natural cave on Earth. Mostly it 
was open space, with conversational groupings clustered in various natural 
looking chambers, each separated from the others by a thin screen of artificial 
stalactites and stalagmites.  Likewise, passages to other rooms were disguised 
as natural openings.  Soft, indirect lighting illuminated the space from behind 
sculpted walls.  Hobart led Thorpe past a small pond filled with lilies and 
goldfish to where several people stood clustered around a well stocked bar.
Thomas Thorpe, I would like you to meet my wife, Nadia. Nadia, this is Mr. 
Thorpe, Operations Manager forThe Rock .
Hello, Mr. Thorpe, Mrs. Hobart said, holding out her hand. She was a handsome 
woman in her late forties.  Her black hair was streaked with grey, but 
otherwise, she could have passed for a decade younger than her true age.  She 
wore an evening gown which bared more flesh than it covered, but which was 
conservative by Lunarian standards.  Im pleased you could come.
Im grateful that you could have me, Thorpe replied.
Hobart got him a drink and introduced him to the rest of the guests. It quickly 
became apparent that this was a gathering of the Nationalist Party of Luna and 
its faithful.  Just as the introductions were concluded, a soft chime sounded 
and Hobart excused himself to answer the door.
So, you were involved in movingThe Rock ? one of Hobarts other guests asked. 
Thorpe turned to the man who had been introduced as Harold Barnes, an official 
of the Bank of Luna.
Thorpe nodded. From the first scouting expedition until six weeks ago when I was 
injured in an accident.
Yes, the bankers wife said from beside him, John told us what happened. You 
must have been terrified!
Not at the time. I remember worrying that we would fall behind our production 
schedule.
How unspeakably brave! the matron cooed.
Thorpe laughed. Ive had the shakes plenty since, I can assure you.
Just how muchdid it cost to moveThe Rock ? Barnes asked.
A lot! Thorpe responded.  You would have to ask Halver Smith for the exact 
figures.
I doubt he would tell me.
I doubt he would, Thorpe agreed.
Barnes was unfazed by the answer. My bank has studied the economics of asteroid 
capture.  They estimate it to be ten times as expensive as a similar project on 
Luna.  Why is that?
Lots of reasons, Thorpe replied. The Rockmasses 300 billion tons.  A 
propulsion system to move that much mass does not come cheap.  Then there is the 
time involved in the project.  It took four years, you know.  That bears on the 
cost of money, insurance, and wages.  Finally, there is the fuel cost.  We ate 
up nearly ten kilograms of antimatter gettingThe Rock into Earth orbit.
Tenkilograms, did you say? Thats quite a lot, isnt it?
Thorpe nodded. About two years production for one of the big power 
satellites.
It was my impression thatThe Rock orbited quite close to the Earth. Almost hit 
it, in fact!  Why so much antimatter?
Its true thatThe Rock s initial orbit occasionally brought it quite close to 
us. However, it was also inclined ten degrees to the ecliptic.
The what?
The plane in which the Earth orbits. Change-of-plane is the most costly of all 
space maneuvers.  Eighty percent of the antimatter we burned went to 
realigningThe Rock s orbital plane.  After that, getting from solar to 
terrestrial orbit was easy.
In my business, Mr. Thorpe, we are often asked to consider financing such 
ventures. Would you recommend such a project?
Thorpe shrugged. Like most things, it depends.
Depends on what?
First Id have to see the orbital mechanics involved. How much delta V - that 
is velocity change - is required over what period?  Then I would take a hard 
look at the companys technical expertise.  Finally...
Harold Barnes! a voice said from behind Thorpe. Are you pumping our guest for 
free advice?
Thorpe turned to see Mrs. Hobart standing behind him. She came forward and 
grabbed him gently by the arm.  You will have to excuse him, Tom.  Compared to 
a Lunarian, a Scot is a spendthrift, and our bankers are the worst of the lot.  
Harold here will pump you for free advice all night long if you let him.  
Harold, one more offense and Ill have to banish you from my parties.
Barnes bowed to his hostess. A fate worse than death, Nadia.  I will abide by 
your proscription.
In the meantime, I need to borrow our guest. She led Thorpe to where the two 
of them could sit on a park bench next to the indoor pond.  I apologize for not 
having seen that earlier.  Im afraid Luna is still a frontier, and some of the 
social graces tend to be lost on us.
Thorpe smiled. Not as much of a frontier as where I come from.  Your home is 
lovely.
Thank you. John had it built special.  I am a native of Earth, and in the early 
years of our marriage, I used to complain about being forced to live in a cave.  
This... She let her arm sweep around the living area, is his revenge.
Its still beautiful.
We like it. I see you have finished your drink.  Would you care for another?
Perhaps a glass of wine. I have to navigate back to my hotel tonight.
Nadia Hobart got up and returned with a glass of white wine, then asked Thorpe 
how he was enjoying Luna City. He explained that he had not seen much yet, but 
that he had several days in which to sightsee.  She suggested a list of sights 
within the city, and recommended a tour operator who would take him to the 
Tranquility Monument.  They were still discussing the local points of interest 
when the cook announced that dinner was served.
During dinner, Thorpe again found himself answering questions aboutThe Rock . 
The conversation turned to his accident, and he spent a few minutes explaining 
how it had happened.  Whether from the alcohol or through some trick of memory, 
he remembered that fateful day vividly, causing his leg to throb.  After he 
finished, the conversation turned to local matters.  He sat and listened quietly 
until dessert was served.
After dinner, several of the guests made their excuses and left. Thorpe was 
thinking of doing the same when Hobart invited him to his study with two other 
men.  One turned out to be Harold Barnes, the banker.
Bourbon, Mr. Thorpe?
Just a small one.
Its quite good, the MP said as he filled a small glass with long sides to 
control the liquid in the low gravity of the Moon. We distill it ourselves.  It 
would make an excellent export item if it werent for certain reactionary 
elements on Earth who forbid it.
Thorpe nodded. Earths import restrictions were an irritation for all the space 
habitats.  Surrounded as they were by an inexhaustible supply of vacuum, space 
distillation was easy and cheap.  Fearing the competition, Earths distillers 
had long ago banded together to outlaw the importation of extraterrestrial 
liquors.
When each man had a glass, John Hobart turned to his guest and said, How goes 
the comet buying business?
I beg your pardon, Thorpe replied as he fought to keep his expression neutral.
His attempt at nonchalance was met by a broad smile. Come now, Mr. Thorpe.  
Surely, you must realize what resources I have at my disposal.  Your appointment 
with Chancellor Cummings was recorded in the university computer.  It did not 
take my search routine long to find it.  After that, I merely telephoned the 
chancellor and asked what you wanted.  Tell me about this comet.
Thorpe gave the Lunarians the same story he had told the chancellor. As he 
worked through it, he got the distinct impression that this was not what they 
had come to hear.  Finally, when hed finished, Hobart asked:
Do you really think this interloper from the deep black is suitable for 
mining?
Thorpe shrugged. No way to tell until we see the post-encounter orbit.  We also 
need to know the composition and size.  Our decision depends on whether certain 
minerals are present in the comet.  Still, its enough of a possibility that Mr. 
Smith doesnt want to pass it by.
I got the impression that Willy Grandstaff was surprised when I invited you 
here tonight.
He said that such an invitation is most unusual.
That it is. I almost did not issue it.  I made it to the spaceport tube station 
before turning back to find you.  My associates and I have been discussing an 
idea for quite some time.  Wed like your opinion.
Hobart leaned back in the lounger and clasped his hands across his midsection. 
Some people have likened Luna to a giant mining concern.  We tunnel everywhere. 
 We tunnel after ice deposits, are forever hollowing out new living volume, and 
dig for those metals we need for our industries.  We get our metals from the 
same source as Sierra Corporation.  We mine asteroids for them.  The difference 
is that your asteroid is free flying, while ours crashed down on the Moon 
billions of years ago.
Because of all this tunneling, we find ourselves perennially short of heavy 
mining equipment. Despite all our efforts, the equipment manufacturers never 
seem to catch up.  Therefore, we are forced to ration the machinery we devote to 
ice mining, habitat construction, and metals extraction.  In order to increase 
the production of one commodity, we have to cut back in the other two areas.
Ice is critical to us, Mr. Thorpe. The health of our economy depends on it.  It 
is the source of our water, air, and much of our chemical fuel.  At the moment, 
our inability to expand ice production is stifling our economic growth.
Build more heavy machinery.
That requires additional factories, which require additional resources we dont 
have. What do we do without while we are building the factories?  No, we need 
something which will boost ice production over the short term and give us the 
time to make long term investments.
A good trick if you can do it.
We think weve found a way, Hobart said. It has occurred to us that if we 
were to stop all metals extraction, we could devote that equipment to ice 
mining.
But then youll need another source of metals.
It has been suggested thatThe Rock could be that source.
You want us to supply you the way we supply Earth? Thorpe asked.
Precisely. And well pay for the metal in ice.
At what rate of exchange?
One to be worked out, Harold Barnes said. Ten tons of iron for every ton of 
ice would be a reasonable exchange.
Youre talking a hundred thousand tons of ice a year. The Rockdoes not need 
that much.  What do we do with the surplus?
Sell it to the other habitats, Barnes said. Believe me, it would make quite a 
profitable sideline.
What about your own ice exporters? This will put them out of business.
Well see that they are compensated for the loss.
Its an intriguing offer, Thorpe said. Theres only one problem.
What is that? the fourth man asked. Thorpe remembered that he had been 
introduced as an official of the miners union.
How do we get the iron down to you? We use aerodynamic braking for deliveries 
to Earth.  Since Luna does not have an atmosphere, that will not work.  Nor can 
we use rockets to land the cargoes.  It wouldnt be economical.
We have a great deal of empty territory, Mr. Thorpe, the union official said. 
Why not just drop it into some remote crater?
You dont know what youre asking, Thorpe replied. You cant just drop a 
million tons of iron moving at a few kilometers per second onto the Moon!  Youd 
spray chunks of Luna all over the place, not to mention the pieces that would go 
into orbit.
What if you drop your ore body into deep regolith? Wouldnt that be akin to a 
water landing?  Hobart asked.
I suppose if the material was loosely packed in the first place. We could give 
the ore bodies wider frontal areas to spread out the load.  But where would you 
drop it?
Are you familiar with the Orientale Basin?
Ive heard of it.
The basin is a large mare on Lunas western limb. A large meteor struck there 
four billion years ago.  Since Orientale was never flooded with magma, the basin 
floor is composed of loose ejecta from the impact.  It is 4 kilometers deep in 
places.  The compaction quotient is such that it should act almost like a liquid 
during any such impact.
What about material splashing? Thorpe asked.  With your weak gravity, no 
telling where the loose rocks would come down.
That, of course, will have to be studied in more detail, Hobart agreed. Is 
SierraCorp interested in such a proposition?
More than interested, Thorpe replied. Tell you what.  I will report this 
conversation to Mr. Smith and get back to you after my return from Farside 
Observatory.  Fair enough?
Very fair, Mr. Thorpe. We in turn will refrain from discussing the idea with 
Senor Sandoval of System Resources until we hear from you.  After all, an 
asteroid in hand is worth more than one in transit.  More bourbon?
Thorpe looked down at his glass, which was nearly empty. Perhaps one more, 
Citizen Hobart.  Well drink to a profitable enterprise for all concerned!
No, Mr. Thorpe, Hobart said. We will drink to the Republic of Luna.  May it 
ever be strong!
 
CHAPTER 6
 
Tom Thorpe sat beside the driver in the control cab of the rolligon and watched 
as the powerful headlamps of the vehicle illuminated the lunar night. Despite 
the panoramic view, there was not a great deal to see.  It was three days after 
local sunset and the Farside landscape was as dark as the blackest night on 
Earth.
It had been twelve hours since the Circum-Luna Monorail had deposited Thorpe at 
Hadleys Crossroads, and four hours since the rolligon had begun the 
120-kilometer journey to the observatory. Since Thorpe was the only paying 
passenger this trip, he had been directed to sit next to the teenage driver.  He 
had seen little since leaving Hadleys except the constantly changing pattern of 
tires tracks left over from previous trips.
With nothing interesting in view, Thorpe had used the time to organize his 
thoughts. The morning after the dinner party, he had summarized Hobarts 
proposition in a long email to headquarters.  He had then booked a seat on the 
day tour to the Tranquility Monument.  There he had viewed another set of tracks 
- the strange, corrugated boot prints laid down by Armstrong and Aldrin more 
than a century earlier.  The marks of their sample scoops were as distinct as 
the day they had been made; yet, the blue field and red stripes of their flag 
had faded almost to invisibility.  Thorpe had gazed down on a small suitcase 
with a top full of prisms as it lay in the fine lunar soil.  He had followed the 
astronauts tracks where they had moved between the scorched landing stage of 
their ungainly lunar module and the small seismograph they had deposited in the 
grey-brown soil of Luna.
To accommodate tourists, the lunar government had built an open framework 
geodesic dome above the site of the original moon landing. From this framework, 
they had suspended a series of pressurized transparent tubes.  Here and there, 
the tubes descended to within half-a-meter of the crust.  This allowed visitors 
to observe the site at close range without adding their own footprints to those 
of Armstrong and Aldrin.
Upon his return to Luna City, Thorpe was surprised to find an answer to his 
email waiting in his message queue at his hotel. Upon decoding, it read:
#
Am most interested in trading iron for ice. Continue your present assignment, 
but obtain further details.  Obviously, I picked the right man to send to Luna.  
This must be why they pay me the big bucks!
 
(signed)
Halver Smith
#
That had been the end of Thorpes vacation. He had spent his remaining days in 
Luna City studying the economics of ice mining and the selenology of the 
Orientale Basin.  What he learned encouraged him.  There was no obvious reason 
why iron could not be delivered to the Moon in million ton lots.
Thorpe was suddenly shaken out of his mood as the rolligon rounded a corner and 
started to slide in the direction of a steep drop off.
Isnt it dangerous to drive this fast at night? he asked after the driver had 
regained control. Like Thorpe, the driver was encased in a lightweight vacuum 
suit.  His suit was metallic blue, although the original hue was hardly 
recognizable beneath a thick layer of soil.  Thorpes own suit was day glow 
orange and bore the emblem and registration number of Verns Suit Rental, 
Hadleys Crossroads, Luna.  It, too, was heavily soiled.  Its interior smelled 
of too many unwashed bodies.
Better driving at night than in the daytime, the driver responded in his 
clipped Lunarian accent. Hate to get caught by a solar flare without my lead 
underwear,
That isnt what I meant. Shouldnt you slow down?
Naw! I have driven this track a hundred times.  Know it like the back of my 
hand.  Oof!
Thorpe felt his stomach try to climb into his throat as the rolligon hit a bump 
and bounced two meters into the black sky. They were in zero gravity for two 
seconds before the vehicle landed with a thump and a spray of dust.  The driver 
turned his head and grinned.  His cowlick was clearly visible against the 
background of the instrument lights.  Sorry about that one, boss.  Thought I 
was over far enough to miss it.  That mogul near tipped me over last trip!
Then slow down, damn it!
Nothing to worry about, boss. The track is smooth as glass from here on in.  
Observatorys just over that next hill.
Thorpe sat up straight to gaze forward. They had been seeing the lights of 
Farside Observatorys surface installations sporadically since they had climbed 
over the craters rim.  True to the drivers word, as soon as they topped the 
hill, a cluster of white lights appeared in the middle distance.
How far? Thorpe asked.
This here mound is called Twelve Klick Rise.
Twelve kilometers?
Little less now. Call it eleven-and-a-half.
Where are the telescopes?
See the main beacon? the driver asked, referring to the strobing red light 
mounted on a tower in the center of a cluster of glow lamps.
Yes.
TheBig Eye is to the left of that. You cant see it because its mostly painted 
black.
Thorpe settled back in his seat, disappointed. He had expected the big 
telescopes to be gleaming under flood lamps.  Of course, there was no reason to 
illuminate them against the lunar night, and every reason not to.  A stray beam 
directed into the mirrors could well destroy an astronomical observation.
They continued down the track and within fifteen minutes pulled up to a 
Quonset-style surface building covered with a thick layer of lunar soil. The 
driver spoke briefly into his radio and a heavy pressure door swung open.  The 
driver pulled his vehicle inside.  The door closed, and the rolligon was 
buffeted by air as the surrounding volume was pressurized.
Thorpe felt his suit go limp around him, but waited until the driver signaled 
that it was safe to remove his helmet before doing so. The air was cold and had 
a metallic taste to it.
End of the line, Mr. Thorpe, the driver said, laughing. Hope I didnt scare 
you too much.
Good thing I went to the head back at the crossroads. That last bump would have 
made me wet my pants for sure.  Thorpe unbuckled his seat belt and got to his 
feet.  Now that the ride was over, the misery of it was beginning to fade 
slightly.
Come on, lets get you below. You can leave that suit in the locker room.  Ill 
be down to pick it up after I hook up to the lox tanks and make arrangements to 
get my cargo off loaded.  Approach control said Director Meinz will meet you 
below.
Thanks for the ride, Thorpe said, gathering up his kit bag from behind the 
seat. It was an experience.
The teenager grinned. Wait till you see me on the return when Im running 
light.  Ill really show you some fancy driving!
#
Mr. Thorpe? I am Hermann Meinz, Director of the Observatory.  This is Niels 
Grayson, Senior Staff Astronomer.
Thorpe shook hands with the two men hed found waiting as he exited the lift 
from the surface. The Director was a thin man.  His face gave the impression of 
having been stretched too tightly across his skull.  He was hairless save for a 
fringe of white running around the back of his head.  Thorpe estimated that the 
director was in his seventies.  Grayson was in his mid-fifties, dark, and 
muscular.
Youll want to get out of that suit, the senior staff astronomer said. Use 
the Number Three cubicle.
Thorpe thanked Grayson and turned to the indicated suiting cubicle. He stripped 
off the suit and abandoned himself to an orgy of scratching.  After he was 
through, he noted with pleasure that the cubicle contained the usual damp sponge 
for cleansing the skin.  After sponging down, Thorpe slipped into singlet, 
shorts, and slippers.  He then combed his hair before gathering up his kit bag 
and the vacsuit, and returning to where the reception committee awaited him.
Shall we adjourn to my office? Director Meinz asked.
By all means, Thorpe replied. He hung the suit on a hook where the rolligon 
driver could find it, then followed the astronomers down a long corridor past a 
series of emergency pressure doors.
As they walked, they passed offices filled with computer terminals and photo 
interpreting equipment, storerooms, and work places whose function was not 
obvious. Despite its isolation, the observatory appeared to have all the 
amenities, including a fully equipped gymnasium.
They came eventually to Professor Meinzs office. Thorpe was directed to a chair 
in front of the directors desk, while Grayson took the one beside it.  Meinz 
sat down behind the desk.  Behind him was a wall-size mural showing the 
hundred-meter-effective telescope with the sun behind it.
Chancellor Cummings has briefed us on the purpose of your visit, Mr. Thorpe. I 
must say that I am surprised that Sierra Corporation is interested in Comet 
P/2085(G).
Is that the comet which will pass close to Jupiter?
It is. I was even more surprised to discover that Farside Observatory has a 
commercial interest in the matter.
Thorpe shrugged. Mr. Smith had our legal department research the history of the 
Space Claiming Act.  The provision giving discoverers sole rights for a decade 
was intended to protect the scientific value of newly discovered bodies.  I do 
not think the prospect of licensing a commercial developer was ever considered.  
Whether they thought of it or not, you own the rights and can do with them as 
you will.  We hope you will option them to us.
Why, Mr. Thorpe? Niels Grayson asked.  Even if it achieves the most desirable 
orbit possible, the comets velocity at perihelion will be on the order of 50 
kilometers per second.  That hardly makes it an attractive candidate for 
capture.
Thorpe nodded. Halver Smith had predicted that the astronomers would be quick to 
spot the weak point in their cover story.  He had an answer ready.  I never 
said anything about capture, Professor Grayson.
But the chancellor told us...
Thorpe nodded. He told you that we want to capture this comet and bring it into 
high Earth orbit.  That was an assumption on his part, one that I did not 
correct.  If our competitors learn of our interest, perhaps they too will reach 
the wrong conclusion.
Then I truly dont understand, Grayson said.
What makes this particular asteroid potentially valuable is not its velocity, 
but the plane of its orbit. The asteroid will leave Jupiter very nearly in the 
ecliptic.  That is correct, isnt it?
Grayson nodded. Within plus or minus two degrees.
That is what caught Mr. Smiths eye. For some time, he has been evaluating an 
inexpensive method for placing loads into modified Hohmann transfer orbits.  To 
work, they have to be launched from the ecliptic.  If we can satisfy that one 
criterion, we can ship refined organics profitably across interplanetary 
distances.
I know of no such work being done, Meinz said sharply. 
Thorpe smiled as he had been told to do and said, Im sorry, but Im not at 
liberty to discuss it. Trade secret.
The director muttered something about foolishness, and then leaned back in his 
chair. Grayson turned to Thorpe and said, I understand that you need additional 
information before you can make a decision.
I need to know something about the size and composition of the comet nucleus. 
Neither was discussed in the Astronomical Union announcement.
That is because the nucleus is obscured by the surrounding gas cloud. We cant 
see it yet.
Not at all?
Not with the equipment weve been using.
That implies that you havent been using the proper equipment, Thorpe said, 
gesturing at the mural behind Meinzs desk.
If you refer toThe Big Eye , you are correct.
May I ask why not?
The problem is one of access. There are quite a number of important observing 
programs in progress just now.  Even with its multiple object capability, there 
are only so many directionsThe Big Eye can look at any given moment.  Im afraid 
its booked solid for the rest of the year.
How long would it take to scan for the comet nucleus?
One to four hours, depending on viewing conditions inside the coma.
Surely there must be some slack in the schedule. No one worksthat close to the 
margin.  What do you do if you have a mechanical problem?
We reshuffle as best we can, Meinz replied. And if we come up with any spare 
time, we have a long waiting list.  Im afraid P\2085(G) doesnt even make the 
list.
It could be worth a substantial sum to the observatory. Doesnt that give it 
priority?
Meinz cleared his throat. Point well taken, Mr. Thorpe.
So how about it? Is SierraCorps offer worth an hour ofThe Big Eye s time?
Meinz did not answer for nearly a minute. Finally, the director leaned forward 
and said, It will take a few days to arrange, but well see if we cant free up 
the hundred-meter-compound for an hour or so.
Excellent, Thorpe replied. Now, if you dont mind, Id like to turn in.  Ive 
been awake for twenty hours straight.
By all means, Meinz replied. Professor Grayson will show you to your 
quarters.
#
Thorpe slept in late the next morning. It was not often that he allowed himself 
the luxury.  However, save for a tour of the observatory that afternoon, he had 
nothing scheduled.  By the time he had bathed, shaved, brushed his teeth, and 
dressed, it was nearly 10:00 hours.
Thorpe managed to locate the staff lounge after getting lost twice. The dining 
facilities were typical.  A large sterile room had been filled with a dozen 
small tables, a holovision screen, and a food dispenser.  Here and there, the 
walls were adorned with holograms showing scenes from Earth.
The lounge was empty save for one man working with a hand computer and a pile of 
printout forms. Thorpe noticed that he was typing one-handed.  It took him a 
moment to notice that the man was missing his right arm.  He could not help 
thinking that had things gone a little differently with his accident; he might 
have been missing a limb himself.
Thorpe nodded to the man, then preceded to the food dispenser. Thirty seconds 
later he found himself holding a covered tray on which rested two pieces of 
toast, a sealed carton of orange juice, and a large mug of coffee.  He carried 
the food to a table near the main entryway and sat down to enjoy his breakfast.
Mr. Thorpe?
The husky contralto voice caught him with a mouth full of toast. Thorpe glanced 
up to see a tall blonde woman standing over him.  Her hair was fluffed up around 
her heart-shaped face in a manner typical of low gravity environments.  The next 
thing he noticed was the deep blue of her eyes, the upturned nose, and the wide 
mouth fixed in a friendly smile.  Like him, the woman was wearing singlet, 
shorts, and moon slippers.  On her, it looked good.  Thorpe hurriedly swallowed 
and nearly choked as he scrambled to his feet.
Why, hello!
Youare Mr. Thorpe, arent you? the woman asked, her expression turning to one 
of mild concern.
Thats me.
Hi, Im Amber Hastings. Professor Grayson will not be able to guide you today 
after all.  He is tied up in a meeting.  He asked me to extend his apologies and 
to take over for him.  I hope you dont mind.
The day I mind a beautiful woman, is the day Ill lie down so they can throw 
dirt over me.
How gallant! she said. Despite her attempt at sophistication, Thorpe noticed a 
sudden reddening of her complexion at the compliment.  Mind if I sit down?
Please do.
She folded her long legs beneath the table and sat across from him.
Care for a piece of toast? he asked.
No thank you. It is only two hours until lunch.  I dont want to ruin my 
appetite.
I thought of holding out, but Im famished. It must have been the ride in the 
rolligon.
Amber laughed. Everyone feels the same way.  Its the natural response to 
having survived the trip.
I can believe that, Thorpe agreed, especially considering the way that young 
man drives!
Oh, you had Varl for a driver? Consider yourself lucky.  Compared to his 
sister, hes the soul of caution.
You cant be serious!
Absolutely. I will be going home on leave come the sunrise run.  I just pray 
Varl will be at the controls.  I understand youre here to rent our comet.
He nodded. If the answers to a few questions come back positive.  In fact... 
Thorpe stopped and stared at his guide.  Hastings?  Of course, youre the 
astronomer who first discovered it, arent you?
Actually, the observatory computer discovered it. I just reported it.
I should have recognized your name right off, Thorpe said. Somehow I had the 
impression you were a man.
Im not.
So I see, Thorpe replied, using a tone that implied much more.
Keep it up and youll turn my head.
Thats the idea.
Neither of them spoke while he finished his juice and coffee. As soon as hed 
drained the last of the black liquid, Amber suggested that they begin the tour 
immediately, go until lunch, and then pick up again in the afternoon.  He agreed 
readily.  As they left the cafeteria, Thorpe missed seeing the one armed man 
write something in his notebook.
Amber led him down two levels and along a corridor until they came to what was 
obviously a control room.
This is where we runThe Big Eye , she said, gesturing to a horseshoe shaped 
console. That is, this is where we direct the computer which controls the 
telescope.
Why isnt anyone here?
Were on night operations schedule at the moment. The only thing that can go 
wrong at night is that one of the telescope segments might drift out of 
calibration.  If that happens, the computer signals the duty staffer, and he 
attempts to correct the problem.  If he cant, he calls maintenance.
I suppose you shut down during the day.
Oh, no! Luna has no atmosphere to scatter light, so the sun does not faze us at 
all.  We arevery concerned thatThe Big Eye might transit across the sun when 
changing positions, however.  If Sol is ever allowed to occupy the telescopes 
prime focus - even for an instant - the heat flux will destroy the telescope.  
We have all sorts of safety interlocks built into the system to prevent that 
from happening.  Even so, one of us is always on duty here whenever the sun is 
up.  In fact, I was on day duty when the computer first notified me that it had 
discovered the comet.
Discovered how?
It caught the coma in a photograph.
May I see it?
Certainly, she replied.
She had him stand to one side while she sat in the operators chair. A few deft 
strokes on the keyboard caused the large viewscreen to fill with stars.  One of 
them looked different from the others.
Even though this is our first view of the comet, it is also our best. That is 
because this picture comes fromThe Big Eye .  The numbers across the bottom 
indicate the date and time, the fact that 102 mirror segments were active, and 
that the Number Two collector and photo-intensifier were in use.
Any evidence of the nucleus itself?
Not in this view, but then that particular combination isnt very sensitive to 
that sort of thing. Amber let her fingers dance across the keyboard, and the 
scene was replaced by another.  It showed the same starfield, but the view was 
less detailed, as though taken from a greater distance.  This is our second 
view, taken three weeks later.  It is the one that I used to make the 
preliminary estimate of the comets orbit.  Of course, weve been refining that 
first estimate on a weekly basis ever since.
Yes, I know, Thorpe answered. I have copies of all of the Astronomical 
Unions updates.  Id be interested in what youve learned that isnt in the 
reports.
Not much, Amber responded. Weve seen traces of all the usual constituents:  
water vapor, carbon monoxide, methane, nitrogen, hydrogen cyanide.  That does 
not surprise us.  Most of the long term cometaries show similar patterns of 
volatile out gassing.
Thorpe nodded. Professor Grayson mentioned that last night.  He also said that 
you couldnt put a figure to the objects size yet.
Not yet. It could be anywhere from a small snowball to a large moon.
I imagine you astronomers will learn quite a lot from the close encounter with 
Jupiter. After all, this sort of thing doesnt happen very often!
It happens more often than you might think.
Oh?
I dont mean that we see asteroids or comets zipping to within two million 
kilometers of Jupiter every day. This will definitely be the closest encounter 
observed by human beings since SL-9 plowed into the planet back in the late 
twentieth century.  Old Jupe has quite a reach on him.  He is responsible for 
the orbits of about half the periodic comets in the Solar System.  Believe me, 
on the scale of the universe, this is pretty small potatoes.  If it were not, 
they would assign someone more senior than a junior staff astronomer to follow 
up.  In fact, Amber predicted, Id be willing to bet that ten years from now, 
no one will even remember Comet P/2085(G).
In the future, Thorpe would have reason to regret not taking that bet.
 
CHAPTER 7
 
The main control room forThe Big Eye was crowded with onlookers as a study of 
Cepheid variables in the Andromeda Galaxy slowly wound to an end. The Andromeda 
study was the last of three concurrent observation programs that had been 
running, three in a never-ending stream of demands for the big telescope.
The decision as to when to break intoThe Big Eye s schedule had been a complex 
one. As the Moon rotated slowly on its axis, the constellations danced a slow 
minuet across the sky.  Stars rose in the east, spent a week climbing the vault 
of the heavens, and another descending.  Finally, 14 days after their first 
appearance, they dropped from view behind the western rim of Mendeleev Crater.  
They were out of sight for two weeks before climbing once more into view.  Even 
a one-hour postponement in the viewing schedule meant that all future programs 
had to be checked to ensure that their subjects remained above the horizon.
As the time remaining clock clicked off the last few minutes of the Andromeda 
Cepheid program, Amber Hastings worked steadily at putting the final touches on 
the comet-viewing program. Unlike the 60-centimeter telescope,The Big Eye would 
study the comet in wavelengths extending from the near infrared to the far 
ultraviolet.  The telescope would remain split into three sections for the first 
30 minutes.  Each would be optimized for a different portion of the spectrum.  
ThenThe Big Eye s 400 active segments would be combined into a single powerful 
instrument.  The remainder of the viewing program would be spent trying to pick 
out the tiny spark of the nucleus amid the general haze of the coma.  If that 
proved impossible, Amber had provided an option for detecting the nucleuss 
presence.  It had been this alternative that had dictated the precise scheduling 
of the comet observation program.
The region through which Comet P/2085(G) was currently passing was one of the 
most thickly populated in the heavens. Amber had arranged the coma observations 
to take advantage of this.  By analyzing the spectra of stars shining through 
the gas cloud, she could map the comas structure.  That would allow her to make 
deductions concerning the nature of the unseen nucleus.  In addition, should the 
nucleus happen to occult one of the myriad background stars that would give her 
a direct measure of its size.
Viewing program recorded and locked in, Amber reported as she finished her 
work. Two minutes to go before we take control.
Hermann Meinz nodded. He, Grayson, and Tom Thorpe all stood in a loose clump 
behind Amber.  Several other members of the observatory staff stood patiently 
behind a rope barrier.  Even John Malvan, the government auditor, had taken time 
off to watch the excitement.  Thorpe had met Malvan at a dinner party thrown by 
Niels Grayson and his wife two evenings previous.
Hello, Thorpe had said after being introduced. I saw you the first morning I 
was here.  You were in the lounge working on some papers.
Malvan nodded. Its about the only place Ive found where I can spread out 
properly.  I must say that I was pleased to hear of SierraCorps interest in 
leasing the comet.  The royalty payments will go a long way toward ending the 
observatorys financial problems.
I imagine they will, Thorpe replied, feeling guilty. Had Halver Smith truly 
intended to mine the nucleus, the yearly payments would have exceeded the 
observatorys operating costs.  Too bad there would never be a production lease. 
 Still, the option payment was more than generous.  It would alleviate the 
current crisis.
 Observation program is ending, Amber announced to her audience.  Stand by to 
reposition telescope.
Galaxy M31 faded from the screen, to be replaced by a panoramic view ofThe Big 
Eye . It was still night topside, but light amplification circuits showed the 
telescope as a fuzzy green image.  As the telescope pivoted, the movement was 
less a turning of the main structure than a group of independent movements by 
its mirrors.  It was almost like watching something alive stir from a long 
sleep.
Two minutes later Amber announced that the telescope was locked on target and 
that data was flowing. Simultaneously, a crowded starfield appeared on the main 
screen.  There were so many stars that it was difficult to spot the hazy patch 
of light that was their target.
Whats happening? Thorpe whispered after ten minutes with no apparent 
activity.
Were taking data, Grayson said in a normal voice. As he spoke, a low tone 
sounded.
What was that?
The computer has enough information to reconstruct the comas structure, Amber 
answered over her shoulder. She typed a command into the control board to put an 
image up on the screen.
The screen showed a diagram that bore a striking resemblance to the contour 
lines on a map. The pattern of concentric circles overlapped several background 
stars.
The nucleus is at the center of the isophote rings, Grayson said, pointing to 
the diagram.
The what? Thorpe asked.
Lines of constant brightness. I think we are going to get lucky.  The pattern 
center is damned close to that Magnitude Eight star.
Almost as though his words were a signal, Amber exclaimed, Ive got 
occultation!
Thorpe looked up to see an electronically generated box flash on the screen 
where the star had been. It was gone, covered up as the invisible nucleus of the 
comet interposed itself between star and telescope.
Occultation has ended, Amber reported 15 seconds later.
Damn, that took a hell of a long time, Grayson muttered beside Thorpe.
What does that mean? Thorpe asked.
It means that the nucleus is larger than any of us thought, Director Meinz 
replied.
How much larger? Thorpe asked.
A hell of a lot larger, Grayson responded.
A sudden silence descended over the control room as Amber went to work 
converting the occultation time into a size measurement.
Tom Thorpe used the lull to consider the import of this information. If the 
nucleus were larger than a few kilometers, there would be no possibility of 
nudging it from its post-encounter orbit.  The energy required would be 
prohibitive.  Here then was Halver Smiths defense against stock manipulation.  
Should anyone be foolish enough to announce a capture program, it would be a 
simple matter to discredit him or her with a few well-placed calls.
Somehow, the thought of saving Sierra Corporation the cost of the exploration 
option did not make Thorpe as happy as it should have. After pondering this for 
a moment, he concluded that he was feeling let down.  It had been exciting to 
watch the data pour in and to have the comets cloak of mystery peeled away.  
Something inside him wanted the excitement to continue.  For the first time, he 
understood what drove astronomers to spend their lives peering into the deep 
black.  The years of lonely observation could be made worthwhile in a single 
moment of discovery.
The end of the hour came quickly. As Amber turned control back to the computer, 
onlookers began drift away, leaving the principals clustered around the control 
station.  One of the few onlookers to remain was John Malvan.
It will take quite some time to reduce all of this data, Amber said, looking 
at Thorpe, but I can give you some preliminary conclusions. I make the 
nucleuss diameter to be between 400 and 500 kilometers.  It is definitely a 
volatile-rich comet nucleus, although one that appears remarkably solid.  Does 
that sort of body meet SierraCorps specifications?
Thorpe opened his mouth as he prepared to deliver the bad news, and then closed 
it again. An odd thought had just occurred to him.  He struggled to keep a 
straight face as he asked Amber amplify on her findings.
She explained that the nucleus was large enough that it was probably a solid 
body rather than the loose conglomeration of snowballs that characterize most 
cometary nuclei. Their coma observations proved that the nucleus was mostly 
water ice in composition, although all of the other impurities common to comets. 
 Since the nucleus was a solid body, it would be unlikely to break up under 
Jupiters gravitational influence.
Well, Mr. Thorpe, Director Meinz said. Are you prepared to sign a letter of 
intent?
Thorpe paused and appeared to be struggling with a decision. After half a 
minute, he looked at Meinz and said, I will need much more detailed data on the 
composition, Mr. Director.
Youll get as much as our computers can wring out of sixty minutes of 
observations by the systems largest telescope.
Very well, Thorpe said. Well take a chance.  Shall we say five minutes in 
your office?
Meinz tried mightily to disguise his relief as he answered, That will be fine, 
Mr. Thorpe.
At the back of the control room, John Malvan frowned. Something was bothering 
him and he could not figure out what it was.
#
Halver Smith sat and contemplated the flames flickering in his library 
fireplace. He was old fashioned enough to want to burn natural wood, and rich 
enough that he could afford it.  He had long maintained that neither gas nor 
synthetic celluloid could ever compare with the crackling fire and pungent odor 
of real pine.  This particular night he watched the flames in the darkened room 
as he contemplated the future.
As he had explained to Tom Thorpe two weeks earlier, SierraCorp was facing a 
short-term liquidity crisis. Only Smith knew how critical the situation really 
was.  As business schools the world over teach, there are only five ways in 
which capital can be obtained.  It can be earned, borrowed, withdrawn from 
savings, obtained through sale of assets, or received as a gift. The Rock s 
capture had been largely financed through borrowing and gifts - which was all 
the sale of stock really was.  For a long time, it had seemed that those two 
sources would be sufficient.  Once the banks saw projections of asteroidal iron 
sales, they were generous with easy credit.  The same projections had ensured 
that stock sales were brisk.  A public fascinated by the project had snapped up 
the stock issues almost before they were released.
The price of SierraCorp shares had nearly doubled in the five years it had taken 
to moveThe Rock to Earth orbit.  Their value had risen another thirty percent on 
the day the first ore body splashed down off the coast of Brazil.  Nor had the 
stock been hurt by glowing press reports concerning the amount of iron 
SierraCorp would be delivering.
Three years later, reality had taken hold as actual production figures displaced 
fictional ones. With the continued progress of the Avalon Project, the bloom had 
further gone off Halver Smiths rose.  For the first time, SierraCorps stock 
began to slip in value.  The decline of the stock had triggered the banks to 
reevaluate their attitude.  Suddenly, Sierra Corporations line of credit was no 
longer unlimited.  Requests for loan extensions were denied while new loans were 
negotiated for shorter periods at higher rates.
Nor were the investors and banks Smiths only problem. The same politicians who 
once spoke in support of space iron were now muttering about the loss of jobs at 
home.  The same surface mining operations that had once been polluters of the 
air and water were now home grown industry.  Talk of protectionism was in the 
air.  Both United Europe and the North American Union had laws pending to tax 
space iron.  Two African nations had banned the import of space iron altogether.
Smiths immediate problem was how to refinance some of the long-term notes that 
were coming due. If he could refinance at reasonable rates, it would giveThe 
Rock time to reach full production, thereby ending the liquidity crisis forever. 
 It was the skittish financiers who most worried Smith.  That was the reason he 
had dispatched Tom Thorpe to the Moon.  Better to waste a little money now than 
to risk a panic in asteroid mining stocks when someone announced the formation 
of a capture program.
As he sat and gazed into the fire, Smith considered his remaining sources of 
ready cash. With investment and borrowing cut off, and with no savings worthy of 
the name, there was only one option left.  He would have to sell assets.
The only facility that would bring a high enough price was the Sierra Skies 
PowerStat. Smith had acquired Sierra Skies to provideThe Rock with a ready 
source of antimatter on its long flight to Earth orbit.  The station would bring 
a good price, but its sale would be a danger signal to every financial analyst 
in the system.  Once word got around that Halver Smith was shedding assets, it 
could well trigger a feeding frenzy by banks and investors.  As Smith considered 
the problem of raising money without seeming to need it, he was interrupted by 
one of his servants.
What is it, Emil? he asked, squinting into the sudden bright light from the 
hallway as the servant opened the library door.
The night operator at headquarters is on the screen, sir. She asks if you will 
take a phone call from the Moon.
The Moon? Who?
Thomas Thorpe, sir.
Ill take it in here.
Yes, sir.
Smith turned on the light next to his chair and was momentarily dazzled. He then 
swung the telephone screen into place and activated it.  The features of one of 
the operators at Sierra Corporation headquarters faded into those of Tom Thorpe.
Hello, Thomas. Where are you calling from?
Three seconds later, Thorpes features came alive. Good evening, sir.  Farside 
Observatory.  I hope I didnt disturb you.
Not at all. What news?
Both the observatory director and I have signed the Letter of Intent.
Good! Smith replied.  Give me the details.
Please go to scrambler.
Smith blinked, then reached out, and engaged the scrambler. There was a moment 
of interference that quickly cleared.
Scrambler engaged. Now what the hell is this all about?
Matters have changed, sir. I had to make a quick decision.  I hope it was the 
right one.
Explain!
Thorpe described all that he had learned at the observatory, including the fact 
that the comet nucleus was 500 kilometers in diameter.
Say again, please, Smith ordered.
That is five hundred ... five zero zero! ... kilometers in diameter.
Why did you sign the letter? Surely you must know anything that large cant be 
moved!
Agreed, sir. We did a little calculation.  The nucleus masses at least six to 
the sixteenth power tons.  Thatssixty million-billion tons !
So why do it?
Because, sir, Thorpe said, thats sixty million billion tons ofice ! Water 
ice, methane ice, ammonia ice.
So?
Ive been studying the economics of ice mining. There is a very large market 
for it everywhere in space.  I remembered something you wrote in your thesis on 
asteroid mining.  You said that the early mines in the asteroid belt would not 
have failed if their product had been worth just five times more than it was.
Smith nodded. I remember the paragraph well.  So what?
So, ice is ten times more valuable than iron! By your calculations, it is the 
one thing that can be shipped interplanetary distances at a profit.  Anyway, I 
took a chance that you might want to get into the ice mining business.  You can 
always say that I exceeded my authority and denounce the whole deal.
There was a long pause while Smith adjusted to the fact that he was the proud 
owner of an interplanetary iceberg. He had read somewhere that all the water on 
Earth massed 1.2 billion billion tons.  That meant that twenty such icebergs 
would fill every ocean on the planet.  What, by the fickle gods of Wall Street, 
was he going to do with that much ice?  It was sheer lunacy to think of taking 
on another major enterprise with Sierra Corporations finances in their current 
sad state.
Yet, this could also be the miracle he had been hoping for. What was needed was 
a new factor in the equation, something to stir the pot.  If Sierra Corporation 
were suddenly to announce a new asteroid mining venture, it would breath new 
life into the investors and banks.  He would, in effect, be changing the 
subject.  An expedition to the comet would be necessary, of course.  Anything 
less would appear phony.  Still, initial exploration need not be expensive.  If, 
like the option payment, they kept Smiths creditors at bay for a while longer, 
the money would be well spent.
Did you hear me, Mr. Smith? Thorpe asked anxiously from 400,000 kilometers 
away.
Smiths grim features slowly dissolved into a smile. I heard you, Thomas.  Do 
not worry, I will hold up my end.  I am not sure exactly what we are going to do 
with our prize, but I am willing to invest in an expedition to look it over.  
You may have just solved more problems than you know!
#
At the same time Thorpe was on the telephone to Halver Smith on Earth, another 
call emanated from Farside Observatory. John Malvan was attempting to get in 
touch with John Hobart.  After fifteen minutes of working his way up through 
levels of subordinates, he finally found himself face to face with the leader of 
the Nationalist Party of Luna.
Yes, Citizen Malvan? My secretary said that this is a matter of utmost urgency 
to the Republic.
Yes, sir.
You look familiar. Do I know you?
Im an auditor for the Committee on Scientific Appropriations. We met at a 
party about a year ago.  I doubt that you would remember me.
You used to be an ice miner, didnt you? One of the talents that served Hobart 
well in politics was an almost photographic memory for peoples names and faces. 
 Minus an arm, as I recall.
Yes, sir.
I remember you, the politician responded. In truth, that was about all he 
remembered, but long practice had taught him to leave the impression that his 
memory of a caller was complete.  What can I do for you, Citizen?
Theyve made a discovery here at the observatory that I think you should know 
about, sir... Malvan went on to detail essentially the same information Thorpe 
had given to Smith.  When he finished, he said, I thought you ought to know 
about this.
And you say the director of the observatory has already signed this Letter of 
Intent?
Yes, sir. I remember it bothered me at the time, but I hadnt thought it 
through.
I can still intervene. An ice asteroid 500 kilometers in diameter, you say?
Yes, sir. Then you agree that this might be important?
You were right to call me. Keep your ears open and keep me informed.  Copy down 
this number!  Hobart held a card on which his private telephone number was 
printed.  The call would be automatically routed to his office, home, or 
personal phone day or night.
When Malvan finished copying the number, he said, Ill keep you informed.
Good by, Citizen Malvan. And thank you!
John Hobart sat and stared at the telephone screen for long seconds after it 
went blank. The ramifications of this comet were both frightening and exciting.  
They would have to be studied before anything final was allowed to happen.  
Which meant that a certain chain of events had to be stopped immediately.
Hobart reached out and pushed the buzzer for his secretary.
Yes, sir?
Please get Chancellor Cummings on the phone, Miss Cates. I want to speak to him 
about a matter of some urgency.
 
CHAPTER 8
 
Attention, All Passengers! Sunrise in thirty seconds.  Take all necessary 
precautions.
The announcement echoed through the Circum-Luna Monorail as the string of stubby 
cylinders pierced the darkness of the long lunar night. Tom Thorpe searched the 
horizon for some sign of impending dawn.  At first there was nothing but dark 
beyond the triple-pane window.  A moment later, the train topped the scarp it 
had been climbing and the sun was a full hands width above the horizon.  The 
transition from pitch black to blinding light was nearly instantaneous.
Thorpe grunted in pain as twin daggers thrust themselves into the backs of his 
eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, but not fast enough to prevent green 
afterimages from swimming in front of him.  Damn, that was fast!
Thats why they warn you, Ambers voice said from beside him. I should have 
said something.  I saw you staring out the window, but did not realize that you 
were not aware of what was coming.  I assumed you knew the danger because of 
your work onThe Rock .
Unlike Earth, where dawn is heralded by a gradual brightening in the eastern 
sky, sunrise on any airless body is a more violent affair. The only warning 
comes when higher elevations are illuminated by the sun.  In cases where no 
higher ground is visible, the onset of each day is like switching on a light, 
especially at 300 kph.
Thorpe peeked out through slit eyelids, and then slowly opened his eyes fully. 
After staring at the back of his own hand, he let his gaze sweep the interior of 
the passenger module.  The one thing he avoided was the window and the furnace 
landscape beyond.  Just thinking about it made his eyes water.  I dont think I 
damaged anything.
I can ask the steward for an ice pack if your head hurts.
Not necessary. Besides, I would just as soon not admit to such a fool stunt.  
He might think me a tourist.
She laughed. A fate worse than death!
Having finished his business at Farside Observatory, Thorpe had arranged for 
passage on the pre-dawn rolligon to Hadleys Crossing. He had been surprised to 
discover Amber Hastings already aboard when hed climbed through the open 
hatchway into the passenger cabin of the big vehicle.
What are you doing here? he had asked as he took the seat next to hers.
Im going home on leave!
Thats right. You mentioned that, didnt you?
She had nodded, the gesture barely visible through the helmet of her vacuum 
suit. I worked late last night to clean up all the loose ends from the comet.  
I didnt want to have to wait another two weeks for the next run.
Glad youre here. Having someone to talk to will take my mind off Varls 
driving.
Thorpe quickly discovered that Amber did indeed take his mind of the journey. He 
became so absorbed in her company that he barely noticed when the rolligon 
became spaceborne for nearly five full seconds.
They had confined their conversation to small talk at first, but matters had 
quickly turned more personal. Thorpe found himself telling her the story of his 
life.  She had reciprocated with tales of what it was like to grow up in the 
underground warrens of Luna.  Afterwards, they had sat in silence for long 
minutes until a wild maneuver by the rolligons driver touched off a round of 
jokes.  By the time they reached Hadleys Crossing, they were nearly choking on 
laughter inside their suits.
They had been lucky in that theyd only had to wait two hours for a monorail to 
Luna City. Fifteen minutes out of Hadleys, the speeding train intercepted the 
terminator, giving Thorpe his painful lesson.  Ten minutes after that, Amber 
pointed to a jagged mountain that rose above the horizon.
See that peak over there?
Thorpe glanced across the stark landscape at the distant peak, and nodded.
That is Devils Scarp. They lost a scouting expedition back there just after 
the turn of the century.  Five men vanished without a trace.
How can anything vanish on the Moon? They must have left tracks.
She shook her head. They were using a moon jumper.  Last word was that they 
were setting down near the scarp.
Landing accident?
Probably.
Thorpe nodded. He had seen the rocket craft that served the same function as 
aircraft did on Earth.  A moon jumper looked a lot like the Apollo lunar 
modules, or the landing craft that had ferried Thorpe to the Luna City 
spaceport.  Four splayfooted legs surrounded a rocket motor with a pressurized 
cabin on top.  The jumpers did not fly like aircraft.  Rather, they launched 
themselves into ballistic paths, and then slowed their plunge with rockets for 
landing.  The one thing they did not leave was tracks.
And no one found any remains?
Amber shook her head. No trace.  Some think that they set down on a slope and 
started a slide that buried them.  Me, I often wonder if they arent just 
sitting out there waiting for someone to come along.  Maybe in a billion 
years...
I take it that Luna isnt that well explored, Thorpe said.
Its hardly explored at all. Especially here on Farside.  Oh, we have orbital 
pictures, of course.  That is not the same as ground exploration.  Remember that 
Lunas surface area is 38 million square kilometers.  That is roughly 
one-quarter the land area of Earth.  Our population is only ten million and even 
the simplest trip outside requires careful preparation.  You can see the 
problem.
You have done remarkably well considering the amount of time people have lived 
on the Moon. Look at Earth.  It was only a couple of hundred years ago that 
human beings finally explored it all.  Even now, there are parts of the deep 
oceans that no one has ever visited.
Earth, Amber said wistfully. Id like to see it some day.  Especially the 
oceans.  It must be frightening to actually be in water over your head!
Youll probably get a chance to find out for yourself before long.
Why do you say that?
You are the discoverer of Comet P/Hastings, arent you?
Amber groaned. Please, that joke isnt funny!
Its no joke. I talked to Niels Grayson before we left.  He said that the 
System Astronomical Union has tentatively chosen that name.  I understand that 
its a long tradition to name comets after their discoverers.
Imnot the discoverer! The observatory computer found the damned thing.  All I 
did was punch a few buttons.  She told him of her problems when she had been 
asked to name the comet.
You cant fight it, you know.
Fight what?
Fame and fortune. The media will not let you.  I can see the stories now:  
Beautiful Young Astronomer Discovers Spectacular New Comet!
That is precisely why I dont want the damned thing named after me, Amber 
replied. Its going to be a circus once they discover just how spectacular its 
likely to be.  For someone so new to the profession to gain such notoriety is 
damaging.  Look at Clyde Tombaugh.  He discovered Pluto when he was my age, then 
went on to do some first class work on galactic clusters.  No one remembers that 
later work.  All they remember is Pluto!
Maybe the comet will be a dud, Thorpe said facetiously. That way no one will 
notice.
Amber shook her head. It will be hardnot to notice this one, Tom.  With its 
mass, it will sprout a tail a billion kilometers long.  Worse, the orbital 
period will be less than a decade.  In the years it sweeps close to Earth, it 
will likely extend across the entire vault of the sky!
Just how close is it likely to come?
She shrugged. No way to tell until after the encounter with Jupiter.
No chance of it running into anything important is there?
No chance at all, she said, laughing. A planet is just too small a target.
Then how do you explain all the shooting stars in Earths skies over the 
years?
Simple. There are an awful lot of them!  The ecliptic is crowded with the 
flotsam left over from the Solar systems formation.  The vast majority of that 
debris is too small to be dangerous.  The Earth is struck by something as large 
as a kilometer about once every million years.
Yet Comet Hastings will orbit in the ecliptic.
Nearthe ecliptic, Amber replied, her manner suddenly serious. If its orbital 
inclination is more than plus or minus three thousandth of a degree, it can 
never, ever run into the Earth.  Please do not suggest that it can, not even in 
jest!  Every reporter in the system will want my opinion on the coming 
apocalypse.
I promise, Thorpe said, raising his hand in the three-fingered Boy Scout sign. 
Amber dissolved into laughter.  Thorpe joined her.  Suddenly their conversation 
of the last few minutes seemed unbelievably silly.
#
The main transportation hub for Nearside was the Luna City Spaceport. In 
addition to being the jumping off point for the ships of deep space and the 
local suborbital craft, all surface routes converged there.  The main station 
for the Circum-Luna and Tycho Monorails was a sprawling complex in the 
spaceports northeast quadrant.  The train on which Tom Thorpe and Amber 
Hastings were passengers passed through the big airlock at Luna City Station 
some nineteen hours after departing Hadleys Crossing.  Twelve of those hours 
had been spent in transit.  The rest were the result of numerous stops to 
discharge and take on passengers and cargo.
Unlike the high-speed machines of Earth, the T-L-M lacked any hint of 
aerodynamic sleekness. Its shape was dictated not by the wind, but rather by 
reliability and maintainability considerations.  Not even the engineers who had 
designed the monorail modules thought the result beautiful.  To Thorpes eye, 
the chain of cars looked like six beer cans strung together by a slightly 
drunken model builder.
By the time the train arrived at Luna City Station, Thorpe and Amber had been in 
one anothers company for more than 25 hours. That included six hours in which 
they had snuggled together under a single blanket and tried to sleep.  There 
were few better ways to get to know another person, especially one of the 
opposite sex.
Home at last, Thomas! Amber said as the distant sound of expanding air reached 
them through the hull of the monorail.  The sound brought with it a sudden 
swirling of expansion fog against the cabin windows.
Amber got out of her seat and stretched to get the kinks out of her muscles. 
Thorpe admired her form frankly as she did so.  She then turned to the overhead 
rack where the hand luggage had been stowed.
Here, let me help you with that, Thorpe said as he hurriedly got to his feet. 
She handed him two pieces of hand luggage and his briefcase containing the 
partially executed letter-of-intent.  He juggled all three pieces until they 
were comfortable, and then followed her toward the airlock at the back of the 
module.
The air outside had the cold, metallic taste of having just come from 
high-pressure storage. Amber led the way to an escalator that passed into an 
upward sloping tunnel.  Half a minute later, they entered a large dome with 
windows set around the perimeter.  Thorpe had been in this dome before.  It was 
Luna Citys main transit hall.
As they moved toward baggage claim, Amber led Thorpe to one of the windows and 
pointed to a series of towers that marched across the lunar plain.
The mass driver, she said. My father used to bring me here to watch the cargo 
pods.  Id never seen anything go so fast in my whole life.
Thorpe nodded. People still clustered at the ends of airports and the fringes of 
spaceports on Earth.  Entire families could be seen holding picnics under the 
trees as they watched the big airliners and even larger spaceships.  Two 
centuries after the Wright brothers, a large percentage of the human race 
remained fascinated by machines that flew.
Here comes one now! Amber said, pointing at the most distant tower.  A stubby 
cylinder appeared in the distance, shot across the gap between two towers, and 
raced for a third.  At each tower, it picked up momentum.  Within seconds it had 
closed the distance to the transit hall, flashed by, and was gone.
Thorpes attention was diverted as he caught sight of Willem Grandstaffs 
reflection in the window. SierraCorps lunar representative was just emerging 
from a tunnel leading from the Luna City tube station.  Grandstaff halted, 
scanned the crowd, saw Thorpe, and waved.  Thorpe waved back and Grandstaff 
started across the open expanse between them.  Thorpe turned back to Amber.  
Are we still on for tonight?
I wouldnt miss it! Formal dress?
He shrugged. Any way you like.
Definitely formal, then. Ill meet you in the lobby of your hotel at 20:00 
hours.
I can pick you up.
Amber shook her head. She had a twelve-hour layover between the arrival of the 
monorail and the departure of the moon jumper for Miners Luck.
I doubt you could find my friends apartment, Amber said. They live in one of 
the new residential rings down on Sixth Level.  You would get lost for sure.  
No, Ill see you at your hotel.
At that moment, Willem Grandstaff reached the two of them. Thorpe introduced him 
to Amber, and made sure that Grandstaff knew she was the discoverer of the 
comet.
Good afternoon, Citizen, Grandstaff said, bowing deeply. I understand that 
your discovery is quite a find.
Its big! Amber said with a laugh.  How suitable it is for your purposes, I 
cant say.  I only hope that Halver Smith isnt wasting his money.
Grandstaff laughed. Mr. Smith seldomwastes money.  He has been known to make 
some very long term investments, however.
Thorpe checked the chronometer hanging at the apex of the dome. It was 15:00 
hours on a Friday evening.  Their appointment with Chancellor Cummings was for 
16:00.  If they were late, it would be Monday before he could get his 
letter-of-intent signed.
Wed better hurry, he told Grandstaff. Weve got an appointment in an hour.
Plenty of time, Mr. Thorpe, the representative replied. The university is 
only fifteen minutes from here by tube.
#
Amber waited on the platform of the tube station while Grandstaff and Thorpe 
entered one of the small cars that shuttled between the spaceport and Luna City. 
She waved as the car accelerated away from the platform and entered a brightly 
lit tunnel.  Thorpe waved back, twisting in his seat to do so.  He watched her 
out of sight, and then turned to face forward.
What news from Earth? he asked.
Mr. Smith has been running financial simulations ever since you reported to 
him. He is very excited about it.  Once we have the exploitation rights sewn up, 
he will begin preparations to float a new issue of Sierra Corporation stock...  
Grandstaff went on to explain Smiths plan to reinvigorate SierraCorps 
finances.  Grandstaff finished by stating, I wouldnt be surprised if Mr. Smith 
offers you command of the expedition!
Grandstaffs account caught Thorpe by surprise. He had not talked to Smith since 
that night he had called from the observatory.  Thorpe had been both relieved 
and gratified when the SierraCorp chairman had backed his signing of the 
letter-of-intent.  He had assumed Smith had seen the same commercial potential 
that he had.  It was a shock to learn the big boss was using the comets future 
notoriety to sell stock.  Wasnt that precisely what he had sent Thorpe to Luna 
to prevent?
Are you sure about all of this? Thorpe asked.
Grandstaff nodded. I received a long coded email yesterday.  Mr. Smith was 
emphatic that we are to obtain that option as quickly as possible.  He 
authorized doubling the payment if necessary.  Is something the matter?
Nothing, Thorpe replied. He settled back in his seat to consider how best to 
make his case to Smith that Comet Hastings was far more than an expedient 
financial ploy.  With proper support, vast mountains of ice could be en route to 
Luna and the space habitats within a few years.
Ten minutes after leaving the spaceport, the car pulled into the university tube 
station. The University of Luna occupied one entire quadrant of the outermost 
ring on the citys fourth level.  The car entered a loading area and Thorpe 
climbed out while Grandstaff settled his account with the machine.
It was a five-minute walk from the station to the chancellors office. En route, 
they passed serious faced students hurrying between classes.  At the midpoint of 
their walk, they came to a large cavern at the center of the university complex. 
 The cavern reminded Thorpe of a miniature Grand Concourse.  It had a small 
artificial sun suspended from the roof and a forest of green arrayed up each of 
the high walls.  Grandstaff led Thorpe along a corridor fronting the cavern, 
then turned down a short corridor leading to the Office of the Chancellor.
The blonde receptionist looked up as they entered the office. She directed them 
to sit while she notified the chancellor of their arrival, and then told them 
that they could go in.
Ah, Mr. Thorpe, welcome back! Cummings said as he advanced across the office 
to shake Thorpes hand.  I understand you had a successful trip!
It was certainly an interesting one, Mr. Chancellor.
You have the letter-of-intent with you, of course.
Thorpe put his briefcase in his lap, opened it, and extracted the letter. He 
passed it across the desk.  All that is required is your signature, after which 
we will transfer the funds to the university bank account.
Everything certainly appears to be in order, Cummings said after a full minute 
of studying the document. He did not, however, reach for a pen.
Grandstaff prodded him gently. If you will add your signature, Mr. Chancellor, 
we wont take up any more of your valuable time.
I would very much like to do that, Willy. The university needs the money.  
Unfortunately, I cannot.
I dont understand, Thorpe said.
Gentlemen, I was informed this morning that an emergency bill has been 
introduced into Parliament that will make the Comet Hastings discovery rights 
the property of the Republic. Under the circumstances, I cannot very well sign 
away those rights.  To do so could cost me my appointment as chancellor.
Whats Parliaments interest in this? Grandstaff asked.  Who introduced the 
bill?
John Hobart. He has plans for the comet.  Rather than use it as a source of 
organics, he proposes to ship it in quantity to Luna and alleviate our water 
shortage.  Cummings shrugged.  So you see, gentlemen, my hands are tied.
Thorpe and Grandstaff quizzed the chancellor gently for another ten minutes 
before excusing themselves. Both men hid their disappointment until they were 
outside the universitys jurisdiction.
Well, what do you suppose happened? Grandstaff asked.
Someone figured out what we were up to and got word to Hobart.
Someone at the observatory?
Who else?
Any ideas?
Thorpe shrugged. It could have been anyone.
Miss Hastings?
I doubt it, Thorpe replied. If she had a hand in this, I think she would have 
given me a hint on the trip here.  No, it was probably Director Meinz or Niels 
Grayson.  They must have begun thinking in non-astronomical terms and realized 
just how valuable that much ice might be.
Mr. Smith is counting on us to obtain those rights for him. What we need is 
some method of placing a legal claim on the nucleus.  It wouldnt have to be a 
very strong claim, just one good enough to make the Republic amenable to 
reason.
Thorpe thought for a moment, and then brightened. I may have just the thing!
 
CHAPTER 9
 
The Grand Concourse was a mass of milling humanity as Tom Thorpe and Amber 
Hastings made their way upramp against a Friday night crowd. The reason for the 
general downslope motion could be heard wafting up from the park below.  The 
Luna City Philharmonic, assembled on the cavern floor two hundred meters below, 
was playing a medley of songs dating from the days of the revolution.
As they strolled, Thorpe could not help stealing sidelong glances at his 
companion. The Amber Hastings he had left in the tube station had been rumpled.  
Her bloodshot eyes, smudged face, stringy hair, and wrinkled clothing were 
testimony to the long hours spent in transit.  The Amber Hastings who had 
arrived at his hotel was a woman transformed.  Gems were sprinkled through her 
blonde tresses, which were now piled atop her head.  Her face was thinner than 
it had been, and her red-limned mouth wider.  Her skin glowed with the inner 
radiance that can only be produced by the most expensive cosmetics.
Her face and coiffure were accentuated by her jumpsuit. The black fabric was a 
random pattern of opacity and translucence that sparkled with her every 
movement.  The deeply plunging bodice accentuated her barely concealed breasts, 
while the costumes back was virtually non-existent.  Slits in the fabric gave 
glimpses of Ambers long legs, which were sheathed in a pair of flare-topped 
boots.  A belt of golden links, along with matching necklace and earrings, 
completed the outfit.
My God, when you said formal, you meant it! was the first thing Thorpe had 
said to her.
Like it? she asked, pirouetting for his inspection. I borrowed it from my 
college friend, the one Im staying with.
Its beautiful! I had no idea you would go to all this trouble.  All I have is 
a tunic and shorts.
No one looks at what a man is wearing.
Not while hes in the same room with that outfit, he agreed.
Amber blushed. Thorpe liked the way she turned slightly red all over at his 
compliment.
I asked the hotel concierge for a few suggestions concerning restaurants. Only, 
Im not sure the ones he recommended are fancy enough.
Ive already input our reservation request at Luigis, she replied. The city 
central computer has us down for 20:30 hours.
 Where is this restaurant?
Upramp about a kilometer from here.
Come on then, he had said, offering her his arm. Lets start hiking.
Luigis turned out to be an auditorium-sized cave decorated to resemble a forest 
clearing on Earth. The sky overhead was black, with myriad stars sprinkled 
across it.  Low on the horizon, a yellow harvest Moon was rising through a gap 
in the trees.  Somewhere in the background, they could hear the sound of rushing 
water, and with it the chirp of insects and the croaking of frogs.
Beautiful! Thorpe whispered to Amber as the maitre d led them to their table.
I thought you would like it. Its the best simulation on Luna.
Halfway across the clearing, a distant white city came into view. The city was 
situated on a series of hills across a broad river valley.  It shimmered in the 
moonlight without a trace of artificial illumination save for the flickering 
yellow glow of oil lamps behind many windows.  A carpet of dirty white rocks on 
the hillside turned out to be herds of sheep bedded down for the night.  Nearby 
was the campfire of the herdsman.
The maitre d seated them at their table and then withdrew. Whoever had designed 
the restaurant had somehow managed to maintain their panoramic view while 
masking out all save the closest tables.  Thorpe sat and gazed in admiration 
around him.  After a moment, though, he chuckled.
Whats the matter? Amber asked, following his gaze.
Thats a mistake over there, he said, pointing. That square building on the 
first hill is The Parthenon, while the circular one in the distance is The 
Coliseum.
So?
So, one is in Athens and the other in Rome. Theyre a good thousand kilometers 
from one another.
Right next door to each other considering how far both are from here.
I guess thats right, Thorpe agreed.
They began dinner with champagne that had never been anywhere near France. 
Afterward, they ordered.  Thorpe had the veal Parmesan and Amber, the scallops 
tortellini.  While they waited, they switched to red wine and ate hot buttered 
bread sticks.
Dinner went quickly as Thorpe told Amber more stories about life onThe Rock . 
Before he knew it, he was finishing a bowl of spumoni while Amber sipped the 
last of a cup of tea.  Music wafted through the restaurant and couples began to 
drift toward a dance floor that moments earlier had been a mountain meadow.
Care to dance?
Id love to.
They danced together through three different tunes with hardly a word between 
them. For himself, Thorpe was acutely aware of the warmth of her, and the smell 
of her perfume.  The last dance was a slow one.  Amber fitted herself to him and 
lowered her head to his shoulder.  Thorpe let his hand drop to the small of her 
back, where he lightly caressed her bare skin.  He could sense her smile rather 
than see it.
They continued that way until the music dwindled into inaudibility. With the 
halt, Thorpe sighed deeply and said, I could do this all night, but I think we 
need to discuss business.
Amber lifted her head from his shoulder. Business?
Come on, lets go back to the table and Ill explain.
They returned to their seats where Thorpe signaled for more wine. When their 
glasses were again full, he broached the subject on which he had been thinking 
furiously since leaving Chancellor Cummingss office.
Ive been in contact with Earth, he lied. Mr. Smith has had the legal 
department researching the Space Claiming Act.
So?
So, the law states that rights-of-discovery shall reside in the 
individual/organization first reporting the discovery.
Amber nodded. Which is why you and Director Meinz signed that 
letter-of-intent.
Precisely. When I left Earth, the legal department was of the opinion that all 
rights belong to the observatory.  They are not so sure anymore.  They think you 
may also be entitled to rights-of-discovery.
Me? Amber asked, startled.  But I didnt do anything.  The computer 
discovered it.  All I did was file the sighting report.
That may be all that is required. The question is whether the slash in 
individual/organization meansand oror .
But Im on the observatorys staff. How can I have any claim on an observatory 
discovery? 
Im not saying that you do. I am saying that the legal department thinks youmay 
have one.  You know how lawyers are.  They are paid to anticipate the worst.  
They have advised Mr. Smith that things will be cleaner if we include you in any 
agreement we reach with the observatory.
Ambers brow knit together in confusion. I dont understand.
Its simple really. The Sierra Corporation is ready to pay you one hundred 
thousand selenes if you will sell us an option on your First Discovery Rights.
How much?
One hundred thousand selenes.
Amber blinked. She then reached for her wineglass and drained it in a single 
gulp.  Did you say ... one hundred ...thousand ?
I did.
For what?
Your signature on a letter-of-intent similar to the one that Director Meinz has 
already signed.
But thats silly! I donthave any rights-of-discovery.
Whether you do or dont is a matter for the lawyers. In the meantime, wrapping 
up this loose end is worth the price to Mr. Smith.  Believe me, he can afford 
it.
She refilled her glass and took another sip of wine. When do you propose 
bestowing this windfall?
Right now. Thorpe reached into his coat pocket and extracted two identical 
sets of papers, each wrapped in the light blue backing of legal documents.  He 
handed one to Amber and kept the other.  I didnt want to bring this up 
tonight, but this would seem my last opportunity.  After all, youre going home 
tomorrow and Im headed back toThe Rock .
When she had finished reading, Amber looked up and said, This is insane!
He shrugged. My advice is to take the money before the lawyers change their 
minds.
But it isnt right!
I dont see you twisting my arm.
She chewed on her lower lip and gazed down at the letter Grandstaff had drawn up 
earlier in the day. Maybe I should have a lawyer look at this.
Suit yourself. I would point out, however, that it is virtually the same 
agreement Director Meinz signed.  All it does is give us the exclusive right to 
negotiate for an exploitation charter.  Should you conclude that someone else 
has made you a better offer, we ask the right to match it.  Oh, and should 
either of us become convinced that the other is negotiating in bad faith, the 
aggrieved party has the right to petition the International Court of 
Arbitration.
Thats all it does?
Thats all. Id be willing to repeat what I just said before witnesses if you 
like.
Its not necessary, she replied.
I think that it is. Waiter!
The waiter appeared, Thorpe explained his need, and a few minutes later, they 
had four witnesses - two waiters, a waitress, and a cook. He repeated what he 
had told Amber about the letter-of-agreement.  Afterward, he asked Amber and the 
witnesses to sign the document, and then used one of the restaurants hand 
terminals to punch in generous tips for the four employees.  When the round of 
signatures was complete, Thorpe folded each of two copies of the contract.  One 
he gave to Amber and the other he returned to his jacket pocket.
Thank you for your services, he told the hovering witnesses. When they had 
dispersed, he asked Amber for the number of her bank account.  He then used the 
terminal to punch in a transfer of 100,000.  When he finished, he handed the 
instrument to Amber to verify the transaction.
She looked at him, wide eyed from the credit balance that showed on the tiny 
screen. Thats all there is to it?
Thats it. Thorpe said.  He lifted his glass.  I think this calls for a 
celebration, dont you?
#
You lied to me!
Tom Thorpe gazed at Ambers angry features staring out of the telephone screen 
and carefully considered his reply. As he did so, he found it particularly 
difficult to concentrate.  One reason lay in the dull throb behind his temples 
caused by the previous evenings festivities.  A more serious impediment was the 
way his train of thought short-circuited as he remembered how lovely Amber had 
looked, and how happy she had been.
Following Luigis, they had made their way back to his hotel via several of the 
Grand Concourses bars. The concert in the park had long since ended, giving 
Amber no shortage of strangers willing to toast her good fortune.  Somewhere 
between the third and fourth stops, Thorpe had taken her into his arms for a 
first tentative kiss.
Later, they had sought out a dark corner to try again. This time their 
explorations were carried out with an intensity that neither could deny.  
Afterward, it had seemed only natural that Amber accompany him to his room.  The 
rest of the night had been a kaleidoscope of intertwined limbs, seeking mouths, 
and passion.  Eventually they had fallen asleep in one anothers arms.  Thorpe 
had awakened just before noon to discover Amber gone and a note on the 
nightstand:
#
Darling,
 
I thought about waking you, but decided that one of us should get some sleep. It 
is 06:00 hours and I have a moon jumper to catch.  I had a wonderful evening.  I 
hope you will write me at the observatory once you are back on The Rock.  
Perhaps we can take our vacations together next year.  If you are not interested 
in continuing our relationship, I will understand.
 
You were wonderful!
Love always,
Amber
#
Thorpe had spent what was left of the morning nursing his hangover and trying to 
get over the feeling that he had lost something important. As soon as he was 
able to speak coherently, he would put through a telephone call to Halver Smith 
on Earth.  Grandstaff had already informed the home office of the attempt by the 
Lunar parliament to freeze them out.  Thorpe told his chief about the agreement 
with Amber Hastings.  He then went on to detail his plan to thwart parliament.  
Smith listened quietly, asked a few questions, and then gave his approval to 
proceed.
Five minutes later, the phone in Thorpes room beeped again. He reached out to 
answer it and found himself face to face with an angry Amber Hastings.
You lied to me! she repeated. I just called Director Meinz.  He says that 
Chancellor Cummings refused to sign your letter.  You tricked me.  Why?
Where are you calling from? he asked, more to buy time than out of any desire 
for the information.
The spaceport. My flight was delayed.  I remembered some things at the 
observatory and decided to check in.  That is when Meinz told me.  Why did you 
lie to me?
I never told you that Cummings had signed the letter.
You let me believe he had.
Thorpe sighed and nodded. That I did.  I felt bad at the time, and even more so 
now.  My only defense is that what I did was necessary.
Necessary for what?
Thorpe told Amber about the bill that had been introduced in Parliament 
nationalizing Farside Observatorys claim. He finished by asking, What else was 
I to do?
Ambers anger cooled visibly as he spoke, to be replaced by an emotion he could 
not identify. But how can the paper I signed possibly change anything?
He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a tone from the telephone. 
A line of text scrolled across the base of the screen informing him that John 
Mahew Hobart was waiting to talk to him.
Did you tell Director Meinz about our agreement? he asked.
Amber nodded. Not more than ten minutes ago.
Care to bet who he called as soon as you hung up?
I dont understand.
Never mind. Bad joke.  Hold on a moment, I have another call.
He switched over to find himself looking at the leader of the Nationalists. 
Hobarts features were distorted from being thrust too close to the phone 
pickup.  He, too, looked mad.
What the hell is this I hear about you making some kind of a deal with Amber 
Hastings, Thorpe?
You hear correctly.
What are you up to?
Im protecting my companys interests, Citizen Hobart, just as you are 
protecting those of the Republic. Care to discuss the matter?
Hobart blinked once, thought it over, and then pulled back from the phone. His 
transformation of mood was as quick as any Thorpe had ever seen.  I would be 
very interested in discussing it.  When and where?
This evening. You choose the place.
My apartment at 1800.
Fine. Do you mind if I bring Miss Hastings along?
Bring anyone you like.
Ill see you then.
Hobart switched off, causing Ambers call to automatically reconnect. He told 
her of his conversation with Hobart.  Shall I pick you up?
I can find my own way.
Very well. See you then.
Youre damned right you will!
When Amber was gone, Thorpe turned away from his screen and reviewed what had 
just happened. It was, he decided, the best he could have expected.  He had 
never been one to agonize over what might have been.  He turned his attention to 
marshalling his arguments.
# 
Hello, Mr. Thorpe. Nice to see you again, Nadia Hobart said as she ushered 
Thorpe into her home.  John is in his study.
Its a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Hobart. I hope Im not intruding.
Nonsense, she replied as she gave him an appraising look. When you marry a 
politician, you learn that a great deal of work gets done outside office hours.  
Now, if you will follow me...
She led Thorpe to the same room where John Hobart had outlined his plan to trade 
iron for ice. When they arrived, Thorpe found Amber already there.  She was 
seated in one of Hobarts easy chairs, sipping from a high-rimmed glass of 
rose-colored liquid.  Hobart got up from a similar chair and strode across the 
room in the easy, space-devouring glide of a native Lunarian.  Ah, Mr. Thorpe.  
Welcome!
Hello, Thorpe replied as he grasped the MPs hand. Hello, Amber.
Tom, she responded with an almost imperceptible nod of her head.
I asked Miss Hastings to show up early. I wanted to find out precisely what 
happened, Hobart explained.  Refreshments?
Please, Thorpe replied. He took a seat next to Ambers and said, Im sorry 
you missed your flight.
No problem, she replied. Im scheduled on tomorrows jump to Miners Luck.
Hobart handed Thorpe a low gravity glass similar to the one Amber held. This one 
was filled with clear liquid.  I believe you expressed appreciation for our 
lunar vodka the last time we met.
Thorpe took the drink, sipped from it, and pronounced it excellent. He then set 
it down on the small table that served as the focus for the circle of chairs.  
Hobart took his own seat and smiled in Thorpes direction.  There was very 
little humor behind the smile.
I now knowwhat happened, Mr. Thorpe. However, I cannot figure outwhy it 
happened.  Other than to enrich Miss Hastings bank account, I see no purpose in 
your actions.  Care to enlighten us?
Thorpe shrugged. I arrived in Luna City to find my company about to be frozen 
out of its interest in Comet Hastings.  I acted to establish a legal claim we 
can pursue in court if necessary.  Naturally, wed prefer a compromise.
Hobart studied his opponent for long seconds, and then said, Why do you think 
youve established a claim? Since Miss Hastings possesses no rights-of-discovery 
with regard to this comet, she cant very well sell them to you.
I think she does have them, Thorpe replied.
That and a deci-selene will get you a pint of air at any dispensary in this 
city. The fact remains that the Space Claiming Act gives all rights for a period 
of ten years to the discovering institution.  That, Mr. Thorpe, is Farside 
Observatory, Luna.
The Space Claiming Act speaks of the discovering individual/organization. 
That is Amber and Farside Observatory.
Dont be ridiculous, Hobart replied. Shes an employee of the University of 
Luna, paid with public funds, and utilizing public owned equipment.  The 
rights-of-discovery are the exclusive property of the Republic and its 
citizens.
Then perhaps you should call it Comet Farside Observatory.
Hobart smiled in spite of himself. Touch!  Perhaps we should.  What are your 
intentions in this matter?
To come to an amicable agreement, if possible, Citizen Hobart; or to assert 
Miss Hastingss rights in court, if necessary.
How can you assert a right that even she doesnt believe she has?
Thorpe shrugged. That is a matter for the courts to decide.
Do you really think theres any court on Luna who will go along with such an 
outlandish contention?
I doubt it, Thorpe replied. However, since Comet Hastings is nowhere near 
cis-Lunar space, your courts lack jurisdiction.  The matter will have to be 
referred to the International Claims Court in The Hague.
Hobart was quiet for a moment, then understanding slowly dawned on him. And how 
long is the backlog in the Hague court these days?
Just under twelve years.
Hobart nodded. By which time the observatorys rights-of-discovery will be 
totally useless.  The comet nucleus will go to whoever first establishes a 
permanent presence on its surface.
Precisely.
After a long pause, Hobart continued. You spoke of a compromise, I believe.
I did.
What exactly did you have in mind?
A joint expedition to explore the nucleus following its encounter with 
Jupiter, Thorpe replied.
From their reactions, he could see that the suggestion had caught both Hobart 
and Amber off guard. The MP blinked in surprise, while Amber shifted nervously 
in her chair.
I beg your pardon, Hobart said.
Were assuming a great deal based on one telescope observation. What if the ice 
proves to be less extensive than the astronomers believe, or if the 
post-encounter orbit predictions are wrong?  I am suggesting that the Republic 
of Luna and Sierra Corporation jointly send a ship to take a good look at the 
prize.
What sort of arrangement do you have in mind?
Sierra Corporation will provide the ship, most of the crew, and some of the 
scientific personnel. You will provide your own people to fill out the roster, 
also someone to look after your interests.  Finally, we split all costs 
equally.
Whats to stop us from mounting such an expedition on our own? Hobart asked.  
Luna has ships, too.
Of course you do. And most of them are busy doing important things.  Divert 
them and you are liable to suffer those economic consequences we discussed the 
last time I was in this room.  In addition, we would be forced to get a 
restraining order to stop you.  Now if SierraCorp provides a suitable ship, 
there will be no adverse impact on your economy.  Besides, we have expertise you 
need.  It is, after all, our business!
Who represents SierraCorp on such an expedition? Hobart asked.
That is up to Mr. Smith, Thorpe replied. However, I plan to request that he 
consider me for the job.  Perhaps Amber could represent Luna.
What about it, Miss Hastings?
Sorry, but I must decline.
I understand, Hobart said. It will be a long voyage, possibly one filled with 
hardship.  You are probably wise not to go.
You dont understand at all, Amber replied. There was a sudden light behind 
her eyes, as though she had made an important decision.  I plan to go, all 
right.  However, I will look after my own interests when I do.  After all, if 
Thomas is right, I own half a comet!
 
PART 2:  ENCOUNTER WITH JUPITER
 
CHAPTER 10
 
Having crossed the orbit of Saturn, the planetoid made straight for the largest 
of Sols children. One hundred eleven times it had swept in toward the sun.  
Always before, fate had placed Jupiter far distant from its path.  Not this 
time.  On this approach, the planetoid was aimed directly at the world which 
more than any other gathered wandering bits of flotsam to its breast.
#
Tom Thorpe floated in front of the telephone screen in the crouching position 
the human body assumes in the absence of gravity. It was a position that made 
him appear at ease.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  It was all 
Thorpe could do to keep his anger under control as he waited for the 
space-to-ground circuit to clear.
Mr. Monets office, a young woman answered after a few seconds delay.
Is he there?
Who may I say is calling?
Tom Thorpe.
And the subject, Mr. Thorpe?
The Comet Hastings expedition.
Please wait a moment.
Thorpe found himself gazing into a computer generated light pattern that was 
supposed to be soothing. In his case it was not working.
Ah, Mr. Thorpe, Nathan Monet, Sierra Corporations comptroller said as he came 
on the screen. What may I do for you?
You can tell me why your people turned down my order for antimatter, Monet!
We in the comptrollers office feel that you were being somewhat ... shall we 
say, overzealous?
What the hell are you talking about?
To be blunt, Mr. Thorpe, my analysts have checked and find that your request 
for fuel is far in excess of what you really need. Your own mission plan calls 
for the expenditure of 4.5 grams of antimatter and eight million kilograms of 
monatomic hydrogen.  Yet, you requested nine antimatter grams.  That is exactly 
double your projections.
I know that, Thorpe growled.
If I may remind you, Mr. Thorpe, my department has been charged with ensuring 
that we obtain maximum efficiency out of our limited funds and Mr. Smith has a 
belt tightening campaign in progress at the moment.
Tighten someone elses belt. I need that antimatter!
We feel that five grams would be more than sufficient for your needs, Monet 
said.
Thats only ten percent above our rock bottom needs.
Eleven percent. My people have checked industry practice and ten percent energy 
reserves are quite common.
On the milk run to Luna Equatorial Station! Damn it, we are going out to chase 
a comet!  We have to assume that things wont go precisely as we planned them.
A good manager doesnt allow such deviations to occur, Mr. Thorpe. My staff 
assures me that our allocation is more than fair.
Your staff isnt risking their collective asses. I am.  So is every man and 
woman spacing aboardAdmiral Farragut .  Either we get the full nine grams or we 
dont leave orbit.
My God, man! Do you know what antimatter closed at on todays market?
I know what my life is worth. More importantly, I know what Mr. Smith will say 
if he has to settle this dispute.
The comptroller stiffened. You are, of course, free to take the matter to him.  
I doubt he will approve squandering the corporations funds, however.
Thorpe took a deep breath and decided to approach the problem from another 
direction. Look, the price of antimatter is expected to rise steadily for the 
next couple of years, right?
That is correct. Apparently, the Avalon Project is expending far more energy 
than was originally appreciated.
Then we merely sell any excess on the open market when we get back. Even 
figuring the cost of money, we should be able to break even.  We might even turn 
a profit.
The comptroller looked thoughtful. Thorpe could see that he was mentally 
balancing immediate costs against future benefits.  Finally, he said, Well 
certainly consider that option, Mr. Thorpe.  No promises, of course.
When will I have your decision?
At the mission briefing.
Fine. See you the day after tomorrow.
As soon as the screen went blank, Thorpe muttered an obscenity and turned to 
face the hatchway behind him. Lifting his feet, he sought a firm purchase on the 
bulkhead, and pushed off for the freighters control room.  Karin Olafson looked 
up as he sailed through the control room hatch.  She could see from his 
expression that things were not going well.
I take it the battle with the bean counters is yet to be won, Captain Karin 
Olafson of Independent Space FreighterAdmiral Farragut said. Olafson was a 
stocky woman with close-cropped blonde hair, a ready smile, and a motherly 
manner.  At age 45, she was nearing the end of her active career as a ships 
master.  That was one of the reasons she had chartered her ship to Halver Smith 
for the next three years.  The money would go a long way toward a comfortable 
retirement.  The idea of adventure had also appealed to her.
I think I scored some points, Thorpe replied as he moved to the acceleration 
couch next to the one the captain occupied. He grabbed hold of the armrests and 
levered himself to a sitting position.  He doesnt want to escalate the fight 
to Mr. Smith.  He knows he will lose.  It was just a matter of finding a way for 
him to dismount his hobby horse gracefully.
And did you?
Well find out at the mission briefing.
I hope so. I dont relish embarking on a three year voyage with only ten 
percent energy reserves in my toroid.
You wont have to, Captain. What about the rest of your preparations?
You get us that antimatter and well be ready for launch. As you saw during 
your approach, weve got the telescope affixed to the bow.
Any problems with that?
The damned things so heavy that we had to weld it directly to the thrust 
column butt plate. Where the hell did you get that antique, anyway?
Out of a museum, of course.
The six-mirror instrument had been the first compound telescope ever built. It 
had seen active use at Mount Hopkins Observatory for 75 years before retirement. 
 Since then, it had been one of the prime exhibits in the University of 
Arizonas Museum of Astronomy.  Obtaining it had proven childishly easy.  Thorpe 
had merely mentioned that it would be used to study the approach of Comet 
Hastings to the Jupiter system.  The museums board of governors had then voted 
unanimously to loan the 4.5 meter-effective-diameter instrument to the 
expedition.  They had replaced the telescopes antique controls with modern 
electro-mechanical actuators, and removed its heavy azimuth-mounting pedestal.  
Even so, it was large enough to cause Captain Olafson concern about her ships 
structural integrity.
The telescope was a peace offering. It was Thorpes way of apologizing to a 
certain lady astronomer for the shabby way he had treated her.
 #
Amber Hastings lay by the pool with her eyes closed and let the warmth of the 
sun soak into her skin. On the table beside her lay a laptop computer.  She had 
been Smiths guest for several days while she slowly became accustomed to Earth 
gravity.  In between sightseeing trips, she worked on the operational plan for 
the expedition to the comet that bore her name.
It had been eight months since the observatory computer had first notified her 
of the patch of haze in the sky, and half a year since Luna and SierraCorp had 
agreed to fund a joint expedition. A lot had happened in that time.  The most 
important thing was that SierraCorp had chartered a converted freighter, 
theAdmiral Farragut , to transport up to a dozen scientists and their equipment 
to Jupiter.  Once there, the ship would refuel with reaction mass while awaiting 
the arrival of the comet.
The scientists would observe the comets passage through the Jovian system, then 
pursue it after it left Jupiter. If all went well, they would land on the 
nucleus and spend the next year-and-a-half aground.  The expedition plan called 
for them to ride the comet through perihelion, and abandon it after it began the 
outbound leg of its orbit.
Taking a break from your studies? a voice asked.
Amber opened her eyes to see Halver Smith standing over her. He was attired in a 
frayed pair of pants and wore a shirt with several ragged holes in it.  From the 
stains on his clothing, it was obvious that he had been digging in the dirt.
The sun is so warm that I thought I would take a nap, she said.
You havent forgotten to put on your lotion have you?
She shook her head. Im lathered up from head to toe with sunscreen.  Did you 
want anything, Mr. Smith?
Its Halver, remember?
Very well, Halver.
Im going riding. I thought you might want to go along.
Me? she asked. On a horse?
Sure.
Amber shivered. She had seen her first live horse just two days before and she 
still was not sure she believed such a thing existed.  Like so many things on 
Earth, horses went against good, solid common sense.  On her previous visit to 
the stables, it had taken all of her courage to stroke the sleek brown flank of 
a mare with the unlikely name ofChampion Lady Terwilliger Von Smythe .
But what if I fall off?
He shrugged. Then you get up and get right back on again.  Ive fallen dozens 
of times.
Amber did not know what to make of this statement. Earth gravity was such that 
she was sure that any such fall would be fatal.
It would be an experience to tell my grandchildren, I suppose.
That it would, he agreed. Come on.  If a fat old man an ride a horse, anyone 
can.
Half an hour later, Amber found herself in the saddle following Smith along a 
bridle trail that meandered through the woods of his estate. She had very nearly 
decided that she was not going to die and was beginning to enjoy the experience. 
 They were riding across a broad meadow filled with small yellow flowers, Do 
you mind a personal question?  Smith asked from beside her.
Id have to hear the question.
What did you do to Tom Thorpe when he was on Luna?
Amber felt her cheeks begin to redden. What do you mean?
I mean that he hasnt been the same since he got back. He does his job, but he 
does not seem happy.  Sometimes people will catch him staring off into space, 
brooding.  I have talked to his friends onThe Rock .  They all agree that hes 
never been particularly introspective before.
Why do you think I had anything to do with the change?
Smith smiled. By the time you reach my age, young lady, you learn to recognize 
the symptoms.
Symptoms?
If you ask me, I think our Mr. Thorpe is in love. Any idea who the lucky woman 
might be?
Amber did not answer. She did not have to.  Her suddenly flaming skin did it for 
her.
#
When viewed from space,Admiral Farragut looked like something a child would 
build out of construction sticks. The long-range freighter was a collection of 
geometric shapes some one hundred fifty meters long.  The vessel was comprised 
of three distinct sections, each of which could be detached from the ship should 
the need arise.
The engine module was a maze of spherical tanks and interconnected piping at the 
ships stern. Six long cylinders nearly obscured the central core that 
wasAdmiral Farragut s main source of power.  The cylinders were hydrogen tanks 
arrayed in a hexagon around the engine core.  A blackened exhaust nozzle jutted 
from the antimatter thrust chamber, and high temperature radiators could be seen 
poking out between the fuel tanks.
In front of the long-range tankage, the freighters heavy thrust keel became 
visible for a few meters before disappearing into the large cylinder that was 
the freighters cargo module. The ships cargo holds were all built into the 
forty-meter-diameter cylinder on which clusters of oversize reaction control 
jets had been mounted.  These jets not only controlledAdmiral Farragut s 
attitude in space, but also would be used to land the cargo module on the 
surface of the comet nucleus.  Landing jacks had been welded to the module to 
provide for this capability.
The freighters forward section contained the habitat sphere. The twenty-meter 
diameter module contained all of the control systems used to fly the ship.  It 
also provided passengers and crew with a comfortable environment in which to 
work.  The control room was located at very center of the sphere, with living 
quarters, supply bins, tankage, auxiliary power system, and workspaces 
surrounding it.  The sphere, which would also be detached and landed on the 
comet nucleus, possessed its own reaction control jet clusters and landing 
jacks.
Finally, the open framework of the compound telescope jutted forward fromAdmiral 
Farragut s prow. Because the telescope was rigidly welded to the freighters 
hull, it would be pointed by aligning the entire ship.  Since the ship would 
coast for 99% of the voyage, this was not a problem.
Tom Thorpe watched the freighter drop away as his ferry craft began the long 
fall back toward Earth. He saw none of the ugliness that would have been 
apparent to someone accustomed to the sleek aircraft of Earth.  In space, form 
follows function, and it is function that determines beauty.  IfAdmiral Farragut 
could get him where he wanted to go, Thorpe would gladly overlook its aesthetic 
imperfections.
#
John Malvan was also en route to Earth. He had left Luna City a week earlier and 
had proceeded first to Luna Equatorial station, then to Newton Station in 
geosynchronous orbit.  His schedule called for a three-day layover at Newton, an 
inconvenience that bothered him not at all.  Of all the transit stations, Newton 
offered the greatest array of diversions for travelers.  Malvan spent the three 
days preparing for the long journey to come.  That his preparations consisted of 
visits to the gambling decks and sojourns with female entertainment specialists 
was no ones business but his own.
However, there is a limit to the amount of dissipation even the heartiest soul 
can tolerate. By his third night aboard, Malvan was looking forward to a quiet 
evening in which to rest and recuperate.  He began by searching out a small bar 
frequented mainly by station personnel.  He ordered his drink from a 
well-stocked liquor dispenser, moved to an empty table, and sat down.  He 
quietly nursed his drink for half an hour as he watched the bar fill following 
the end of day watch.
He was about to leave when a pretty, young woman in the uniform of the station 
staff approached and asked if she could share his table. He gestured with his 
one hand and told her that he would be honored by her presence.
His tablemate introduced herself as Barbara Martinez and asked him for his own 
name. After Malvan had given it to her, she explained that she was a computer 
programmer for Sky Watch.  By the time Malvan had explained who he was, the two 
of them were on a first name basis.  They talked together for an hour.  Then, 
despite his vow that he would spend his last evening aboard quietly, Malvan 
found himself suggesting that Barbara join him for dinner.  She quickly accepted 
the offer.
During dinner, they had talked mostly about the coming expedition and what it 
would be like to ride a comet on its journey around the sun. Barbara, it turned 
out, knew considerably more about comets than did Malvan.  She was an 
astrogeologist who had done her doctoral thesis on comet formation.  She told 
him how she envied him.  During the dessert course, she invited him to visit her 
compartment.
Their lovemaking bore no resemblance to the impersonal gymnastics he had 
experienced with the professional joy girls. Rather, it had been a quiet, 
relaxed striving with one another; the sort of thing that takes place between 
long time friends.  Sometime during the night, Barbara had sat up in bed while 
still astride his loins, looked into his eyes, and asked, Will you remember me 
when you are out at the comet?
He had smiled. Ill remember this night fondly forever.  It is not often a man 
of my age gets the opportunity to make love to a young, beautiful woman.  I 
still dont know why you picked me up in that bar.
Does it matter?
Not especially. Still, one cannot help but be a little suspicious at such good 
fortune.  About the only thing that would kill my mood is if you told me that I 
remind you of your father.
She laughed. Hardly.  My father is at least a decade younger than you are.
He groaned. Now that was uncalled for!
Are you really interested in why I sought you out?
He nodded. I think my ego can take it.
Youll think me awful.
Try me and see.
It was your arm, she said, gesturing toward the stump where his right arm 
should have been. To be honest about it, I was curious.  I wondered what it 
would be like making love with a one armed man.
And how was it?
She shrugged, moving her entire body in a way that caused a delicious stirring 
deep within Malvan. About the same, I guess.  How did you lose it?
Mining accident. I was caught by a slide while we were drilling for ice under 
Mare Nectaris.  I was lucky.  The two men working by my side were killed.
Do you ever wish it hadnt happened?
Not much point in that, is there? Besides, Ive learned to cope.  He 
accompanied his words with a loving tweak.  Her squeal cut off further 
conversation and they returned to the business at hand.  Later, they slept.  In 
the morning, she fixed breakfast and accompanied him to the door when it was 
time to leave.
Will I see you again? she asked.
I should pass this way in about three years. I will be happy to look you up if 
you like.
She sighed. Ill probably be an old married lady by then.  Still, you never can 
tell.  Look in the station directory.  If you find my maiden name listed, give 
me a call.
Ill do better than that. I will call whichever way it works out.  If you are 
married, I will invite you and your husband out for the best dinner in Newton 
Station.  If single, well repeat last night, assuming Im still up to it by 
then.
She laughed. After a three year voyage?  Id be willing to lay odds on that!
You could be right. What if I bring you a piece of comet?
Id like that.
Then its a date?
Its a date, husband or no husband. Would you like me to accompany you to the 
embarkation portal?
Not necessary. You have to get to work.  Ill find my own way.
With that they kissed and Malvan had left whistling. He made his way to where 
ships docked to the station hub.  There he had waited in a pleasant fog of 
remembrance.  Only after he was onboard the ferry to Earth did he put his short 
vacation out of mind and begin to concentrate on his mission.  As he did so, he 
thought back to the bizarre sequence of events that had brought him to this 
particular time and place.
Malvan had certainly not intended to apply for the expedition when he had 
alerted John Mahew Hobart to the true nature of the comet. He had merely wanted 
to tell someone about the possible treasure trove.  Hed been surprised when 
Hobart subsequently asked that they meet in Luna City.
Good of you to come, John, the MP had said upon receiving Malvan in his 
office. Did you have a pleasant journey?
Tolerable, Malvan said with a shrug.
I imagine you are wondering what could be important enough to drag you halfway 
around Luna.
Yes, sir.
Hobart explained the deal he had made with Tom Thorpe regarding an expedition to 
the comet. Malvan nodded.  He had first learned of the expedition from Professor 
Grayson.  He was sufficiently intrigued by the details of what had happened that 
he nearly missed Hobarts next statement.  How would you like to represent Luna 
on this expedition, John?
I beg your pardon?
We would like you to represent Lunas interests on this expedition. If you 
agree, it will mean a jump of three grades and a nice boost in salary.  More 
importantly, it will gain you friends in Parliament, not the least of whom will 
be myself.
Why me?
Why not? You were an ice miner before your accident and have worked as a field 
auditor since.  Both skills will be useful on the coming expedition.  You are 
honest, a hard worker, and a patriot.  Who else would have warned me that this 
planetoid of ice was headed our way?
Malvan shrugged. I thought it my duty.
You thought correctly. You prevented a great injustice.  I only wish we had 
been able to save the full rights for Luna.  Even so, we may have prevented our 
own exploitation along with that of the asteroid.  Now we have to consolidate 
our position.  For that, Luna needs someone with your knowledge and experience.  
I also need something from you.
What is that?
Hobarts gaze locked with that of the auditor. I need to know that whoever we 
send on this expedition is loyal to Luna and to me.  I think you are that man, 
John.
Dont you trust Halver Smith?
In truth, I do. It is in their interest to deal with us.  After all, who else 
will buy their ice?  However, I learned long ago to hedge my bets.  If we find 
that we cant deal with SierraCorp, then we will have to develop the comet 
alone.
How do we do that if they own half of it?
Hobart looked at Malvan with serious eyes. That is the sort of hypothetical 
question a politician never answers.  Just remember, we are a sovereign nation 
and they are not.  We are not bound by terrestrial law.  That comet is important 
to us, more important than any convention regarding the ownership of 
astronomical bodies.  If we find our interests threatened ... well, lets 
remember that sovereign nations sometimes resort to military means to secure 
their interests.
Are you saying...?
Im not saying anything, Hobart replied. Im merely trying to explain the 
importance of this expedition.  Will you accept the commission I am offering 
you?
Malvan was silent for nearly a minute. Finally, he said, Put that way, Citizen 
Hobart, I dont see how I can refuse.
 
CHAPTER 11
 
The pre-launch briefing for the Comet Hastings Expedition was held in the San 
Francisco headquarters of Sierra Corporation. In a city where real estate had 
been overvalued for two centuries, Halver Smiths solution to the problem 
oflebensraum was unique.  The Great Earthquake of 2016 had forced authorities to 
raze the old federal penitentiary on Alcatraz Island.  For half a century, the 
rubble lay undisturbed save by goats grazing at the hardy grass of the island.  
Smith had purchased the island at auction during one of the citys periodic 
fiscal crises in the early seventies, and had proceeded to build his corporate 
headquarters there.
SierraCorp Headquarters was dominated by a tall needlelike spire that soared 
half-a-kilometer above San Francisco Bay. During the areas frequent bouts with 
fog, it could be seen thrusting up out of the thick blanket of white.  Four 
large domes surrounded the central tower.  Each served as headquarters for a 
different SierraCorp division.  The island, much of which had been turned into a 
park, was connected to the mainland by an underwater tunnel.
 Amber Hastings kept close watch on the crystalline buildings as Smiths private 
jumper swooped toward a rooftop landing on the central spire.  Even before the 
machine stopped oscillating, Smith had thumbed the hatch open and stepped out.  
Amber gathered up her folio case and followed.  A stiff, cold wind caught her 
unaware.  She stiffened with shock as a thousand pinpricks assailed her body, 
and felt a moment of panic as the world spun around her.  The next she knew, 
Smith had steadied her with a firm grip and was leading her toward a downward 
sloping stairwell.
Something the matter? he yelled above the keening of the wind when they had 
gained the shelter of the stairs.
She blinked at him as she tried to calm her racing heart. Sorry.  For a moment, 
I thought I had fallen down an airlift.  I guess I had an attack of vertigo.
Smith pushed his tousled hair back into place. My fault.  I did not think to 
warn you.  It cant be blowing more than thirty or forty kph up here.  I call 
that a gentle Frisco breeze.
One of the reasons I came to Earth, she responded with a shaky laugh, was to 
experience weather. I guess that was it!
A very mild form, I assure you. Follow me and well get you inside.
He turned and led her through two sets of doors whose arrangement reminded Amber 
of an airlock. Beyond lay a glass enclosed observation deck that completely 
circled the tower.
Come here, and Ill show you something you didnt see on the approach!
Amber followed Smith around the central stairwell to the other side of the deck. 
As she walked, she noticed that the entire building thrummed from the force of 
the wind.  It made her wonder just how sturdy a structure it truly was.  All 
such questions were instantly forgotten as she was treated to a sudden panoramic 
view of the Golden Gate Bridge five kilometers distant.
Its beautiful! she said, her voice hushed in reverence. It looks just like 
the view-wall in the Forty-Niner Bar and Grill in Luna City.
This is no view-wall, Smith replied. Its the real thing.
They certainly knew how to build for eternity, didnt they?
That they did, although the bridge requires continuous work to keep it in 
repair. There are half a dozen robots whose only task is to keep the ironwork 
free of corrosion.  Considering the care it gets, it should stand for centuries. 
 That is, unless someone tears it down first.
Oh, they wouldnt!
There have been suggestions to do just that. Big as it is, the bridge is too 
small for the larger surface craft to pass under it.  The shipping people have 
suggested replacing it with a tunnel.
That would be a tragedy! Amber said.  Like most Lunarians, she knew Earth as a 
collection of scenes purveyed by view-walls.  This old bridge was one of her 
favorites, and to her mind, a landmark as permanent as the pyramids.
Halver Smith noted the sudden look of distress on her face, and smiled, Dont 
worry, no one will touch it if I have any say in the decision. Now then, we had 
best be getting to our meeting.  Wouldnt do to have the boss late for his own 
briefing.
Smith led her to a lift at the center of the observation deck. Thirty seconds 
later she found herself in a large rotunda on the ground floor.  The manmade 
cavern had been finished in polished marble, and was illuminated by light that 
filtered down through translucent windows.  No sooner had she stepped from the 
lift than a familiar voice called her name.
She turned to see Tom Thorpe striding purposefully across the floor of the 
rotunda. He carried a large bunch of red flowers cradled in the crook of his 
arm.  Suddenly, all the things Amber had thought to say to him vanished from her 
thoughts.  They stood in awkward silence for long seconds.
Hello, Thomas, she said, finally.
Hello, yourself.
Are those for me?
 He grinned and handed over the flowers.  Sorry, I nearly forgot I had them.
She buried her nose in their blooms. Umm, roses!  My favorite.
Its good to see you again.
And you.
What say we have lunch after the briefing to bring each other up to date?
All right.
At that moment, Thorpe seemed to see Halver Smith for the first time. Uh, 
everyones in the conference room, sir.  Were ready to start.
Good! Lets get to it.  Weve a lot of ground to cover.  Without looking back, 
Smith walked toward one of the sets of double doors that punctuated the 
perimeter of the rotunda.
#
The conference room was circular, as was the double concentric ring of small 
tables at its center. There were two chairs at each table, with each persons 
place marked by a color-coded name card - blue for expedition members, white for 
others.  Thorpe directed Amber to the seat next to his own.  Amber, glancing at 
the blue tag with her name on it, commented on the foresight of whoever had 
arranged the seating.  Thorpe merely grinned.  She took her place and gently 
laid the roses down in front of her.
Smith took his own seat. By the time he withdrew several note cards from his 
pocket, the sudden scraping of chairs had passed and everyone was in their 
proper place.
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, Smith began in a loud, clear voice. As 
most of you know, I am Halver Smith, your host.  If I have not had the 
opportunity before, let me now welcome you to San Francisco and Sierra 
Corporation Headquarters.  A few housekeeping items before we get started:  
These briefings are scheduled to last all week.  Our purpose here is to resolve 
any outstanding issues regarding this expedition, so do not hesitate to speak up 
if anything is bothering you.  Restrooms may be found outside the door and to 
your right.  In addition, I am told that the kitchen staff will arrive with 
coffee, tea, rolls, and fruit in another few minutes.  This is to be a working 
meeting, so dont hesitate to get up and walk around if you feel the need.
Smith glanced again at his notes, and continued. Now then, a few introductions 
before I turn the meeting over to those who will do the actual work.  First, the 
woman who made all of this possible, Amber Elizabeth Hastings of Farside 
Observatory, Luna.  Amber, please stand and take a bow!
Amber rose to a round of applause. She smiled self-consciously, acknowledged the 
accolades, and then quickly sat down.  Smith went on to introduce Roland 
Jennings, the Republic of Lunas consul general.  The consul made a quick speech 
emphasizing the spirit of cooperation between the Republic and Sierra 
Corporation.  Jennings then introduced John Malvan, Lunas representative on the 
expedition.  The auditor did not bother to stand.  He acknowledged the 
introduction with a casual wave.
When the consul finished, Smith introduced Tom Thorpe; Karin Olafson,Admiral 
Farragut s captain; and several of the scientists who would be on the 
expedition. The chief scientist was to be Professor Chen Ling Tsu of the 
University of Hong Kong, expert in the field of asteroid formation and 
structure.  His deputy, and Ambers new boss, was Cragston Barnard from the 
University of Luna City.  Barnards wife, Cybil, was also going along in the 
capacity of ships doctor.  As Smiths introductions continued around the table, 
it became apparent that the expedition would be evenly divided between 
SierraCorp employees and Lunarians.  Smith concluded the introductions by 
saying, We will now begin the formal briefings.  I give you Thomas Thorpe!
#
Thorpe rose from beside Amber. We are about to embark on an epic voyage, ladies 
and gentlemen, he began.  It will be a voyage lasting three years.  Our first 
stop will be Callisto Scientific Station, where we will await the comets 
passage through the Jovian system.  That will be the last time we are in contact 
with civilization.  Should anything go wrong after Callisto, there will be no 
one to help us.  Whatever the problem, we will have to handle it ourselves.
As you have undoubtedly noticed, this expedition is composed of equal numbers 
of terrestrials and Lunarians. In such diversity lies our greatest strength.  We 
cannot allow that strength to be transformed into weakness by interplanetary 
parochialism, factionalism, or partisan Earth/Moon politics.  I therefore ask 
each of you to suspend whatever allegiances you bring to this expedition.  For 
the next three years, you must consider yourself citizens of space and ofAdmiral 
Farragut .  By this, I do not mean that Citizen Malvan cannot report to his 
principals on Luna, or I to mine on Earth.  Ido mean that each of you must place 
the needs of the expedition first.  Is there anyone here who feels that they 
cannot abide by these rules?
When no one spoke, Thorpe nodded. Very well.  We will have Articles of 
Organization ready for your signatures this afternoon.  Now then, I fear I have 
talked too much.  Therefore, if no one has any objections, I will ask Miss 
Hastings to brief us on the latest findings regarding the comet.  Amber?
Holocube down, please, Amber said to the empty air. There was a brief whirring 
sound as a large transparent cube appeared from out of the ceiling.  First 
slide, please.
The cube filled with a starfield and a view of Comet Hastings taken byThe Big 
Eye less than two weeks earlier. The coma of the comet was still only a dim 
smudge of light.
You are all familiar with the comets basic statistics, Amber said as she 
glanced around the tables. The nucleus is nearly spherical, with a diameter of 
500 kilometers and a mass of some sixty million billion tons.  Measurements of 
the rate at which the coma is building indicate the nucleuss temperature to be 
in the range of 10 degrees Kelvin.  That is very cold for an object a billion 
kilometers from the sun.
Any new data on the comets composition? Professor Chen asked from his seat 
half a dozen places to Ambers right.
She turned to look at him. We still show the spectral lines for water, ammonia, 
cyanogen, and a few other impurities in the comets coma.  We cannot, of course, 
use coma measurements to determine the percentage of stony material in the mix.  
If other comets are an accurate guide, there ought to be some.
Any evidence of free oxygen, nitrogen, or helium?
Weve seen hydrogen and oxygen in the coma in excess of that which resulted 
from photo disassociation of water molecules, and there are traces of nitrogen. 
We have not detected any helium.  That is hardly surprising since any pools 
would have boiled away during previous solar passages.  Amber turned her 
attention back to the general audience.  Im afraid that most of the details of 
the nucleuss composition will remain a mystery until we actually get there.
Amber ordered her second slide displayed. The holocube changed to show a 
three-dimensional diagram of the asteroids projected path through space.  The 
orbit was a single white line leading to Jupiter and a fan shaped rainbow of 
color extending away.
We have been watching the comet very closely these past six months, and have 
quite a good projection of its current orbit. It will sweep in from deep space 
to cross Jupiters orbit 200 days from now.  The distance at closest approach 
will be approximately 2 million kilometers.  Jupiters gravitational pull will 
swing the comet through approximately 20 degrees of angle.  The multicolored 
lines represent the possible range of post-encounter orbits.
Those post-encounter orbits fan out across 4 degrees of arc, Miss Hastings, 
Chen Ling Tsu said. Surely you can pin them down closer than that!
I wish we could, Professor Chen. Unfortunately, there are certain limitations 
involved in observing an object so distant.  To improve our data will require 
observation of the comet at close range for several weeks.
Amber continued to answer questions regarding the mechanics of gravitational 
capture for twenty more minutes. When one of the SierraCorp technical experts 
asked howAdmiral Farragut was to be landed on the nucleus, she smiled and said, 
That is Captain Olafsons department.  I will now turn the briefing over to 
her.
#
How was I this morning? Amber asked that afternoon as she and Thorpe enjoyed a 
late lunch.
You were fine, he assured her.
The first days briefings, which had consisted of an overview of the mission, 
had ended early. It had been planned that way in order to give participants time 
to prepare for the second days session.  Days 2 through 5 would be devoted to a 
detailed review of every aspect of the mission plan.  Thorpe used the respite to 
show Amber the San Francisco waterfront.  It was nearly 1500 hours when they 
boarded a replica of a Nineteenth Century sternwheeler for lunch.  The needle 
shape of SierraCorp Headquarters and the Golden Gate Bridge were clearly visible 
through the windows of the restaurant.
I hope I wasnt too technical.
Thorpe laughed. Even your consul-general understood what you were talking 
about.  I have met the man.  Believe me, orbital mechanics is not his 
specialty.
Who was that little man you were arguing with during the break?
That was Nathan Monet, SierraCorp comptroller.
Does he always scowl like that?
He does when he doesnt get his own way. Monet and I have a running dispute 
overAdmiral Farragut s fuel load.  He wants to allocate the bare minimum 
necessary to perform the mission.  I want sufficient reserves to take care of 
the unexpected.  I thought I had him talked around to my point of view, but the 
damned bean counter is as stubborn as he is myopic.  Mr. Smith finally told him 
to give me what I want.  That was the reason for the scowl.
They talked for ten minutes about inconsequential matters. Finally, Amber 
cleared her throat and asked, Why did you invite me to lunch today, Tom?
Since when does a man need a reason for asking a beautiful woman to lunch?
Youre stalling!
All right, he said. I asked you out so we could talk about what happened on 
Luna.
She shrugged. A man and a woman drank too much and spent the night enjoying one 
anothers bodies.  It happens all the time.
Is that all it was for you? Mere exercise?
She smiled humorlessly. Isnt that supposed to be my line?
Its a serious question. I would like a serious answer.
The truth? she asked. I have trouble remembering my feelings that night.  It 
is as though it happened to another person.  I remember that I was feeling giddy 
even before we started hitting the bars.  Later, I felt ... content.  It seemed 
so right at the time, although I knew our relationship was strictly temporary.  
Later, I found that I could not forget you.  Waking or sleeping, you have been 
much on my mind of late, Thomas Thorpe.
Its been the same with me. You dont suppose it could be love?
I dont see how, she replied. Weve been alone together, what?  A 
day-and-a-half?  You cant fall in love that quickly, can you?
I dont know. I havent much experience.
Me neither.
Did you know that I have your picture in my kit bag?
You do?
He nodded. I clipped it from a newsfax story about the comet.  You know the 
one.  They superimposed your face over a shot ofThe Big Eye .
Amber blushed. She did indeed know the story.  They had made her out to be a 
combination of Albert Einstein and Corbel Van Dyke, with a little Sir Isaac 
Newton thrown in.  She had been kidded about it unmercifully for weeks.
So, what do we do now? he asked.
If this were Luna, Id suggest that you move in with me to see if we felt the 
same after a month or so.
Earth customs arent very much different.
Too bad were not staying on Earth or Luna.
I dont follow you.
You said it just this morning. We are soon to become citizens ofAdmiral 
Farragut .  That changes things.
How so?
Onboard ship, it will be impossible to keep an affair quiet. Everyone will know 
about us the moment we go to bed together.
So what?
So, I dont want people to think I owe my position on the expedition to the one 
I assume in your cabin each night.
Damn it, Amber, you discovered the comet. Why would anyone think that?
I just know they would. It is human nature.  If eighteen of us are going to 
live cheek to cheek for the next three years, I would rather not start out grist 
for the gossip mills.  Nor should you.  It could seriously affect your ability 
to lead.  I think it best that I merely be one of your crew.  If we still feel 
the same when we get back, we can do something about it.
You expect me to see you every day and pretend that Im not attracted to you? 
What kind of an iron man do you think I am?
The kind who will respect my wishes.
Ill have to think about it, he said after a long pause.
Fair enough. In the meantime, whats for dessert?
 
CHAPTER 12
 
Amber floated alone before the forward viewport of the orbit-to-orbit transfer 
vehicle. In front of her lay the great rectenna of the Sierra Skies PowerStat.  
The rectenna was a flimsy construct of metal wire and structural composite some 
5 kilometers in diameter.  It would have been invisible except for a spider web 
of maintenance lights.  The lights made the rectenna appear a disembodied plane 
floating alone in the vast blackness of space.
Ten kilometers aft-orbit lay the PowerStat itself. Like the half dozen other 
power stations that orbited 37,000 kilometers above the equator, Sierra Skies 
was a collection of intricate mechanisms flying in loose formation.  The habitat 
cylinder was rotating slowly in the undimmed sunlight, its red-and-white 
checkered hull bright against the black of space.  Around the habitat lay six 
large fusion generators, giant spheres from which emanated long towers adorned 
by paddle-shaped radiators.  The radiators glowed white-hot.  Each generator 
produced 1200 bevawatts of electrical power.  Half of this output was sent along 
thick cables to the orbiting rectenna, where it was converted into a low-density 
microwave beam and transmitted down to Earth.  Sierra Skies delivered power to 
ground stations at Palomares, Polskya, and Pskov.  From there, the electrical 
energy was distributed across United Europe.
The powerstats created a great deal of energy that they did not transmit to 
Earth. This they used to synthesize antimatter.  The antiprotons were 
manufactured in particle accelerators, then cooled, converted into antihydrogen, 
and stored in superconducting magnetic traps.  The overall efficiency of the 
process was less than ten percent.  Even so, antimatter was the best power 
source yet devised for spacecraft.  The dual nature of the powerstats business 
had long been the subject of controversy.  Was it more important, the argument 
went, to deliver energy to Earth or to synthesize antimatter for the ships of 
deep space?  To those who lived beyond the atmosphere, there had never been any 
argument.  A steady supply of antimatter was as necessary to their lives as 
oxygen or ice.
Because of the disagreement over just how much antimatter was to be allocated 
for the Comet Hastings expedition,Admiral Farraguts final fueling had been 
delayed until just before launch. All expedition members had been ordered to 
report aboard ship at the Sierra Skies PowerStat.  They had been trickling up 
from Earth for nearly a week.  Amber was the last to arrive, having waited for 
the latest observation reports from Farside Observatory.
Captain says well be under power in three minutes, Maam, a voice said from 
behind Ambers back. She glanced over her shoulder to see Terence Sweeney, the 
grizzled flight engineer of the orbit-to-orbit craft.  She had not heard him 
come up from below.
Does that mean I will have to return to my seat, Mr. Sweeney?
Not at all, he chuckled. Its just a little side thrust to make sure we miss 
the rectenna.  Make sure you hold on when the buzzer sounds.  You could sprain 
something if youre floating loose when the jets pop.
Understood, she said, returning to her sightseeing. The Earth was a mottled 
beach ball below her, with Ireland and Great Britain two large ships plying the 
blue waters off the coast of continental Europe.  Beyond Earth was Luna.  Seeing 
that sparked pangs of homesickness.  It would be three years before she looked 
again upon her home.  Suddenly the thought of this expedition seemed far less 
glamorous than it had.
The warning buzzer sounded on schedule. It was followed fifteen seconds later by 
two long coughs from the orbital ferrys reaction jets.  Simultaneous with the 
sound, a plume of vapor flashed past the port, sending a million scintillating 
particles wafting through the darkness.
After the course correction, nothing happened for twenty minutes as the tiny 
cluster of structures continued to grow in the viewport. When the PowerStat 
filled half the port, the flight engineer again entered the small compartment.
Captain says that since youre our only passenger, hes gotten permission to 
divert to your ship and make a direct transfer. That ought to save you an hour 
or so.
Thank the captain for me, Mr. Sweeney. How long until we get there?
Fifteen minutes. The PowerStat management gets a bit tense if we come in much 
faster than a crawl.
When will we be able to seeAdmiral Farragut ?
You can see her now.
Where?
The engineer pointed to one of two large irregular constructs attached by a 
series of cables to one of the fusion generators. There, tucked in close to the 
Number One accelerator module.  See it?
She followed his finger. That little thing?
Not so little, he replied. It just looks that way because the accelerator is 
so damned big.
Amber gazed at the ship, which was still smaller than a fingernail held out to 
arms length. At this range it was difficult to make out details other than the 
cylindrical hydrogen tanks and cargo module, and the spherical crew module up 
front.  The mission plan had included an old photograph of the freighter.  Now 
as she gazed across several kilometers of vacuum, there seemed to be an open 
framework of pipes on the prow that had not been there in the photograph.
Whats that, Mr. Sweeney?
Whats what, Miss Hastings?
That mechanism on the ships bow?
Dont know, he said, squinting at it. He turned in midair, kicked off against 
a bulkhead, and arrowed out of sight.  He was back in fifteen seconds with a 
pair of binoculars.  He used them to study the freighter.  Finally, he handed 
them to Amber.  Damned if I recognize it.  Looks like some sort of docking 
mechanism, or maybe an extension of the thrust frame.
Amber raised the binoculars to her own eyes and dialed for maximum 
magnification. One of the things that had fascinated her on Earth had been the 
way the atmosphere softened things at a distance.  No such effect was evident in 
space.  She quickly found herself staring at the ship as though hanging a few 
dozen meters away.  She swept the binoculars forward along the freighters 
flanks, noting the lighted viewports in the crew module.  Then she had the 
mysterious prow ornament centered in her field of view.
The angle of the sun made viewing difficult. Even so, it took less than a minute 
for her mind to sort out the confusing patterns of light and shadow.  She gasped 
as recognition hit her.
Whats the matter, Miss Hastings?
Its a telescope, and a big one! Looks like at least a four, possibly a six 
mirror compound instrument.  Now where the hell did they get something like that 
for this expedition?
Sweeney shrugged. Why dont you ask them when we get there?
I will.
#
Ten minutes later, Amber had no need to ask where Thorpe had obtained the 
telescope. During the orbital ferrys approach, they had passed directly over 
the bow-mounted instrument.  She recognized it immediately as the MMT - 
Multi-Mirror Telescope -known affectionately to four generations of astronomers 
as the Big Ugly Six Pack.  Because of its archaic mirror design and its mass, 
no one had ever made a good case for transferring the Six Pack to orbit.  Now 
that the freight had finally been paid, Amber suspected the telescope would 
never be returned to Earth.  Despite its age, it was still a superb optical 
instrument.  It would make a welcome addition to Farside Observatorys suite of 
observational tools.
A sudden clanging announced the orbital ferrys successful docking withAdmiral 
Farragut. Amber took the noise as her signal to swim back into the main 
passenger cabin and collect her baggage.  Her two suitcases and overnight bag 
seemed a pitifully small collection with which to begin a three-year journey.  
Her personal spacesuit was her only other possession.  It had been delivered 
several weeks previous.  Because of the sudden health of Ambers bank account, 
both vacuum suit and the ship coveralls in her luggage were the best money could 
buy.
She towed her suitcases to the airlock just as Sweeney opened the inner door. 
Stretching beyond the open outer door was a short docking tube.  The big 
freighters airlock was also open, giving the impression of a deep well.  A grey 
haired man hovered to one side of the freighter airlock and craned his neck to 
look up at Amber.
Goodbye, Mr. Sweeney, she said, shaking hands with the engineer. Thanks for 
the ride.
Youre welcome, Miss Hastings. Ill tell my wife and kids about you some night 
when the comet is high in the sky.
She laughed. You do that, Mr. Sweeney.
She picked up her bags and slowly levitated them to align with the center of the 
docking tube. Then she kicked off from the after bulkhead.  She had intended to 
sail unaided from one ship to the other.  As she sailed through the ferrys 
outer coaming, her right shin banged against one of the airlock hinges.  The 
sudden pain caused globular tears to form in her eyes as her body spun sideways 
and bounced off the accordion pleated fabric of the docking tube.
She muttered, Damn! as she rubbed the injured leg and fought to extricate 
herself. She made very little progress until a strong hand grabbed her right 
ankle and began pulling her down toward the freighter.  Embarrassed, she let her 
rescuer do all the work while she concentrated on retrieving what little was 
left of her dignity.
Hello, there! the white haired man said when he had pushed her through the 
airlock and cycled both doors closed. Hurt yourself?
My pride more than anything. Thanks.  I thought I could handle myself better 
than that.
No problem, he responded. Its the legs that get in the way out here.  Damned 
things were never intended for snaking through holes, you know.  By the way, Im 
Kyle Stormgaard, Chief Engineer of this rust bucket.
Amber Hastings.
Figured it had to be you, he said, grinning. The Missus told me that you were 
a looker.  Besides, youre the last to come aboard.
The Missus?
Captain Olafson. We like to think that we own this bucket, although the Bank of 
Montevideo might have other opinions.
Shes your wife?
Going on twenty-five years, he said proudly. About the same amount of time 
weve been spacing together, in fact.
You must be very close.
Stormgaard laughed. Believe me, Miss Hastings, by the time this trip is 
over,youll think that youre married to me ... me and everyone else aboard.  A 
spaceship is no place for either a claustrophobe or someone with a privacy 
fetish.
Im a Lunarian, Mr. Stormgaard. I know I dont suffer from claustrophobia.  
Ill let you know in a few months about the other part.
Fair enough, he said. Come on and well stow your gear in your cabin.  You 
can sleep there tonight.  Tomorrow, of course, you paying passengers go into the 
tanks.
Amber shivered. The mission plan called for nearly everyone to spend the 
outbound trip in cold sleep.  That was the only thing that made sense on a 
journey this long.  It minimized the quantity of consumables required and 
reduced the strain of enforced idleness.  To Amber, however, a cold sleep tank 
bore too great a resemblance to a coffin.  She was looking forward to the 
experience about as much as a trip to a dental plastician.
Stormgaard, who had been gathering her scattered luggage, noticed the look on 
her face. Whats the matter?
She explained her aversion to cold sleep.
Youve got nothing to worry about, he said when she finished. You wont feel 
a thing while youre under, wont age a day, and most importantly, wont have to 
listen to my jokes for another six months.  I grant you that waking up is no 
picnic, but the pain and the nausea are over quick.  Me, Im looking forward to 
it.
Youre going into the tank, too?
Sure, he replied. There are six of us in the crew.  We have split ourselves 
into three pairs.  Each pair will be awake for two months and asleep for four.  
There is not a whole lot that can go wrong with a ship coasting through the 
vacuum, you know.  I would much rather spend the time sleeping.  Come on, and I 
will show you to your quarters.  Dinners at 18:00 hours, and the captain 
doesnt like anyone to be late.
#
Thorpe strapped himself in the observers chair inAdmiral Farragut s control 
room and watched as final preparations were made for getting underway. The 
control room was a dome shaped compartment dominated by a full circumambient 
screen.  The arrangement bore a striking resemblance to a planetarium.  It 
allowed the display of any combination of televised views and computer-generated 
charts on the forward screen.  With the dome switched to the hull cameras, the 
control rooms four acceleration couches appeared to be floating in space.
The great glowing ball of the sun hung low in front of Thorpe while a crescent 
Earth stretched beyond the domes horizon at his feet. Luna was out of sight 
somewhere aft.  The cluster of reactors and habitat cylinder that made up the 
Sierra Skies PowerStat were clearly visible above the lighted limb of the Earth. 
 Despite the presence of the sun, the stars glowed in all their electronically 
enhanced glory.  The Milky Way was a silver band arching from left front to 
right rear across the dome.
Sierra Skies Control, this isAdmiral Farragut . How do you read?  Captain 
Olafsons voice asked from somewhere behind Thorpe.  The freighter had departed 
the power station half an hour before with a single pop of the ships reaction 
jets.  They had been drifting slowly away from Sierra Skies ever since.
Hello,Admiral Farragut . We read you clearly.
We just passed out of the inner zone. Request permission to accelerate to 
mid-zone speed.
Stand by,Admiral Farragut . There was a thirty-second pause while the 
controller reviewed the ships flight path.  Ten years earlier, a ship had 
departed one of the powerstats only to find that its orbit took it directly 
through the delicate power rectenna.  Ever since that incident, approaches and 
departures had been tinged with paranoia.  All right,Farragut .  We check you 
as being clear of the inner zone.  You may accelerate as planned.  You are 
reminded that it is a violation to light off your main drive until you are one 
hundred kilometers distant.
Understood, Sierra Skies. We will observe the hundred klick rule!
Good luck on your mission,Admiral Farragut !
Thank you, Sierra Skies Control. Please arm the reaction control system, Kyle. 
 This last was addressed to the chief engineer who occupied the acceleration 
couch beyond the captains.
Aye aye. RCS armed.
Warn the crew, Mr. Rodriguez.
The third control room crewman, who monitored all ships systems except the 
engines, reached out and touched a control. His voice echoed through each of the 
compartments.
Attention, All Hands. RCS maneuvering is about to commence.  You have fifteen 
seconds to secure for maneuvering.
Captain Olafson waited the fifteen seconds, and then did something to her 
lapboard that caused a series of aiming circles to be superimposed on the 
overhead dome. There followed a brief sputtering of jets and the outside 
universe began to slowly rotate.  When the aiming circles showed the rotation to 
be approaching thirty degrees, the captain triggered another brief burst.  The 
circles stopped precisely on the bearing called for in the flight plan.  The 
next time the jets fired, they did so for more than five minutes.  Thorpe felt a 
tiny tug as he sank into the padded surface of his acceleration couch.
A flight status display appeared at the apex of the dome. It showed a slow 
increase in the distance between the freighter and the PowerStat, as well as an 
increasing rate of separation.  When their speed relative to Sierra Skies 
reached 500 kph, Captain Olafson shut down the reaction control jets.
Final check. Mr. Rodriguez, make the announcement.
Attention, All Hands! Stand by for final readiness check.
Suddenly the dome no longer showed surrounding space. A dozen internal views 
appeared overhead.  Each was from a camera mounted in a passenger cabin.  For 
the most part, they showedAdmiral Farragut s passengers and crew strapped into 
their bunks.  The freighters initial acceleration would be less than 
one-quarter of a standard gravity, but experience had taught Captain Olafson 
caution.  People had been known to break their necks when caught off guard by 
the onset of acceleration.
She quickly ran down the list of passengers, asking each if he or she was ready 
to space. It was not until she turned her attention to the Barnards cabin that 
she noticed that the ships surgeon was missing from her assigned station.
Where is your wife, Professor Barnard?
Shes in the dispensary rearranging her medicines, the Lunarian professor 
replied.
Karin Olafson switched to a view of the dispensary. She found Cybil Barnard 
seated with one foot wedged beneath a shelf, happily rearranging medical 
supplies.
Were ready for launch, Doctor!
The ships surgeon jumped as though startled and looked up quickly to where the 
cameras active light glowered at her like a baleful red eye. You should give a 
person warning before you do that, Captain.
Why arent you in your cabin?
I have work to do here.
You reported ready for space before we left the PowerStat. Was that incorrect?
No, but I have things to organize.
When will you be ready to start cold sleep processing?
As soon as you have things stabilized, Captain. The more we can get into tanks 
while were under boost, the better it will go.
Very well. Now please return to your cabin and strap down.  It wouldnt do to 
have our ships surgeon break a leg during launch.
I will as soon as I get things stowed here.
Now, Doctor! Thats an order.
The image of the pert blonde in the white coverall gulped, reddened slightly, 
and then said, Aye aye, Captain. Ill be strapped down in two minutes.
The captain continued her survey of the passengers and crew after muttering 
something that Thorpe did not quite catch. When the remainder of the eighteen 
men and women aboard had been heard from, she began a methodical search of the 
cargo module.  Cameras mounted high on the bulkheads stared down at the 
expeditions equipment.  Everything appeared secure.
After the cargo bay, the visual inspection continued into the power module. Here 
there would be no access throughout the journey except in case of an emergency.  
Even so, Captain Olafsons gaze swept the spaces, looking for loose tools left 
behind by careless workers.  Next, she surveyed the ships six hydrogen tanks.  
Had any tank been leaking, the computer would have already sounded the alarm.  
Even so, Karin Olafson was from the old school.  She used the visual check to 
look for wisps of vapor.  After the visual inspection, she asked for a computer 
check of ships status.
Ive got green lights across the board, Captain, Rodriguez reported.
Very well. Mr. Thorpe, do I have your permission to launch?
Permission granted.
Stand by for launch sequence. Close all pressure doors.  Bring the thrust 
chamber magnetic field to full strength.  Stand by for reaction mass and 
antimatter injection.  Two minute warning, Mr. Rodriguez.
All Hands. Prolonged acceleration to commence in two minutes.  I repeat.  
Acceleration at one-quarter gravity in two minutes!  Stand by.
How long until we reach injection speed, Captain? Thorpe asked, referring to 
the velocity that would place them in a flat hyperbolic orbit for Jupiter.  A 
minimum energy orbit would have taken three years and brought them to the giant 
planet long after the comets departure.  They would cross the 800 
million-kilometer gulf between planets in only six months.  To do so, their 
speed would be far in excess of local system escape velocity.  If anything 
happened to the ships engines en route, they would continue outbound forever.
Well be under power for three hours, thirty six minutes, Mr. Thorpe. I plan to 
watch everything closely for an hour, then order cold sleep operations to 
commence.  Have I your permission to proceed?
Uh, yes, Thorpe said as he realized that he was being dressed down for 
interrupting the captain at a critical moment. Proceed.
Very well, Captain Olafson said. Mr. Chief Engineer, give me first antimatter 
injection in ten seconds.  Mr. Rodriguez, sound the klaxon.
A raucous alarm suddenly sounded through the ship. This time Captain Olafson 
made the final announcement.
Attention, All Hands. Stand by for full power, Ten ... nine ... eight ... seven 
... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ...now!
Suddenly a gentle hand pushed Thorpe down in his couch as a 100,000-degree flame 
erupted from the magnetic nozzle atAdmiral Farragut s stern.
They had begun their long voyage to Jupiter!
 
CHAPTER 13
 
Being resurrected was not all that it was cracked up to be. Ithurt ... horribly!
Amber Hastings concentrated on her pain as she struggled back to consciousness. 
It was the one reality in her universe, and in a way, welcome.  For if she felt 
pain, she must be alive.  Besides the pain, there was the cold.  It seeped into 
her bones, yet did nothing to relieve her agony.  If anything, the cold 
heightened her sensitivity to the pain.  A thousand frigid knives cut into her 
flesh wherever it contacted bare metal.
She opened her eyes fully for the first time. Two centimeters above her face was 
a structure of curved glass.  The glass alternately fogged over and then 
cleared.  She watched the cycle with half-hearted interest.  The fog always 
seemed to thicken with the onset of an ache in her ribs, and dissipate with its 
easing.
She forced herself to breath deeply. The glass became more fogged, but her tired 
brain began to respond to the increased oxygen supply.  She remembered where she 
was and why.
Hers had been the sixth name called afterAdmiral Farragut s departure. She had 
reported to the axis shelter behind the control room.  Once there, Dr. Barnard 
had injected her with a golden fluid, made her strip naked, and helped her into 
the glass and metal interior of the tank.  By the time Amber had been wired into 
the plumbing - a thoroughly degrading process - she had barely been able to keep 
her eyes open.  The last thing she remembered was the gurgling sound the 
oxygenated fluorocarbon made as it poured into her lungs.  She had tried to 
cough it up, but found she could not.  Unconsciousness had taken her quickly 
after that.
Having oriented herself, Amber groped for the cover release lever. It took three 
tries before she could summon the strength to pull it.  She watched the glass 
cover slide away from her face.  The effort was almost too much for her.  She 
lay still, exhausted, her breath coming in ragged volleys.  She did not have 
long to rest.  As soon as the cover retracted, a crewman moved into view.  He 
helped her to sit up, an action she regretted immediately.
The sudden attack of vertigo led to a spasm of the dry heaves. When they were 
over, she slumped down to rest her forehead on the top of the tank.  She held 
that position until black spots no longer swam before her eyes.  Finally, she 
felt good enough to sit up and look around.
Feeling better? the crewman asked.
A little, she answered. Her voice was a harsh rasping sound in her ears.  Im 
sorry, but I dont remember your name.
Spacer First Class Bernardo Velduccio, Miss Hastings.
Did we make it, Mr. Velduccio? Are we at Jupiter?
Were about a week out.
Whos awake?
The full crew, Mr. Thorpe, Professor Barnard, the doctor, John Malvan, and now, 
you.
And the comet?
We can see it with the naked eye. Its a small patch of fog beyond Jupiter.
I want to see if for myself, she said, straining to rise out of her tank.
Not quite yet, he replied as he gently pushed her back down. First I have to 
get an IV started.  After that, the doctor wants to examine you.  Then you will 
want to shower and put on clean clothes.  Believe me, you should not rush the 
decanting process.  It will just make you weak and prolong your pain.
Amber leaned back against the padded end of the tank. Somehow, the metal had 
lost its earlier coldness.  At the mention of clean clothes, she was reminded 
that she was not wearing anything.  She wondered how she could be sitting up, 
naked, speaking calmly to this stranger.  She decided that the machine must have 
been feeding drugs into her system that, among other things, short-circuited the 
modesty reaction.
Fifteen minutes later, she had recovered sufficiently to climb out of the tank 
under her own power. After a hot shower, she dressed awkwardly with Delveccios 
help, and then let him tow her toward the dispensary. Admiral Farragut was in 
zero gee, making the movement both harder and easier than it would have been 
under gravity.  Tom Thorpe was waiting for them when they arrived.
Any problems? Thorpe asked Velduccio as he helped guide Amber to a gurney.  
The two men strapped her down.  Each wore ship boots to keep them attached to 
the deck underfoot.
None, the spacer replied. She bounced back as fast as anyone Ive ever seen.
Amber, who felt weak as a baby, looked up at Thorpe. He had changed since she 
had last seen him.  His tan was faded and he had lost weight.  She wasnt sure, 
but she thought there was more gray in his hair, too.  She wondered how she must 
look to him.
Hello, she said weakly. I half expected to see your face the moment I opened 
the tank.
The captain ordered me to stay away. She said I would just get underfoot and 
impede progress.  How do you feel?
About the way I look, Amber replied. I dont think I want to die anymore, but 
Im not that interested in living, either.
You sound great! I could barely talk when they brought me in here.
How long ago?
A week.
How are things going?
Fine. We are right on schedule and in contact with Callisto Station.  We will 
be there in another week.  Two weeks after that, the comet will pass through the 
Jupiter system and we can finally get to work.  By the way, there are six months 
worth of messages for you from Farside Observatory.  I glanced through them.  
They have refined the orbital parameters quite a bit.  The captain wants you to 
look over the data to help with the mission planning after Callisto.
Amber struggled to sit up. Ill do that immediately.  She found a gentle hand 
on her shoulder restraining her.  She glanced up to see Cybil Barnard.
Plenty of time for that later, the doctor said. Right now you get a full 
checkup followed by eight hours of sleep.  Mr. Thorpe, please leave me alone 
with my patient.
Im going, Doc.
And tell my slave driver of a husband that his assistant will be indisposed 
until tomorrow. Now then, Amber, please roll up your sleeve.
#
Amber sat inAdmiral Farragut s telescope control room and watched a close-up of 
Jupiter on the screen. The current view reminded her of the first picture she 
had ever seen of the planet.
Jupiters face was a series of alternating white and pink bands of cloud. At 
their boundaries, the bands devolved into complex eddies of dark red and pale 
yellow.  Other strips were banded by blue or grey boundaries.  Many of the 
eddies were larger than the Earth, yet on Jupiter, were the least of the 
planets features.  The whirlpools and cyclones were the true landmarks of the 
Jovian atmosphere. 
Jupiters pale bands of color came from very powerful convection cells in an 
atmosphere heated largely from below. The white bands were composed of 
highflying clouds of solid ammonia crystals.  The red, orange, and pink bands 
were colored by clouds of water ice and complex molecules deeper in the 
atmosphere.  The gray and blue bands were even more complex mixtures of organic 
molecules that formed at the lower limits of the visible atmosphere.
As she scanned the King of Worlds, Amber noticed that the crosshairs at the 
center of the screen were slowly drifting to the right. She reached out and used 
a joystick to correct the movement.  From far off came the quick popping sound 
of reaction control jets as they responded to her command.
The crosshairs centered themselves near a black dot that was itself moving 
across the face of the planet. Estimating the angle of the sun, Amber searched 
and quickly spotted what appeared to be a distortion of the Jovian atmosphere.  
The distortion was Jupiters moon, Io, transiting the face of its parent world.  
The black spot was its shadow.
Looking at Jupiter again, I see!
Amber turned around to note Cragston Barnard behind her. Her ex-professor from 
the University of Luna City smiled as he pulled himself to sit beside Amber.  
Barnard had the gangly, slightly awkward build that was common among Lunarians.  
Except for a too prominent nose, he was quite handsome and had been the subject 
of considerable speculation among his female students when Amber was at the 
university.
Ready to begin observations of the comet?
Ready, she replied. Just thought I would check out the big fellow while I 
waited for you.
Its enough to take a persons breath away, isnt it?
Amber nodded. That it is.
Barnard punched several commands into the computer that controlled the 
telescope. Before we get to work, what say we take a look at Callisto?  It 
should be rounding the planet just about now.
Amber moved the telescope crosshairs to coincide with the predicted position of 
Jupiters outermost Galilean moon.
Increase magnification to one hundred, Cragston ordered as the reaction 
control jets popped to halt the rotation they had put on the ship.
Amber responded and was rewarded with the sight of a round world only slightly 
off center in the viewscreen. Callisto was the size of Mercury and peppered with 
impact craters.  The craters were unlike those of Luna or Mars, however.  Where 
Lunas craters had central peaks, Callistos were uniformly flat bottomed.  Some 
even had depressions in their centers.  This lack of structure was the result of 
Callistos surface composition, which was mostly water ice.  Beneath the icy 
crust lay a subterranean ocean of liquid water, an ocean two hundred times 
deeper than any found on Earth.
That Callisto was inhabited became obvious within seconds. A bright green dot 
appeared near the equator of the moon.
Apparently, Barnard said, gesturing toward the screen, the scientific station 
wants to talk to Captain Olafson. Shall we listen in?
Only if you want to be on bread and water for the rest of the trip, Amber 
joked. Come on, lets get to the comet observations.
#
Captain Olafson leaned back in her acceleration couch and worried as she gazed 
at Jupiter in the overhead dome. Her view of the planet was unmagnified, making 
the King of Worlds slightly smaller than Luna when seen from Earth.  Three of 
the Jovian moons were lined up on one side of the planet.  Two of these were 
large enough to show visible disks, while the third remained a close-in point of 
reddish light.  What worried Karin Olafson was neither the planet nor its moons. 
 Her mind was occupied with the Jovian systems well-known radiation hazards.
Like Earth, Jupiter possessed a magnetic field that trapped particles of the 
solar wind and concentrated them to form radiation belts. Because Jupiters 
magnetic field was far stronger than Earths, its radiation belts were far more 
extensive and powerful - ten thousand times more powerful in places.  When the 
first space probe, Pioneer 10, had traversed the Jovian system, it had been 
exposed to radiation a hundred times the level required to kill an unprotected 
human being.
 Earths Van Allen radiation belts are often described as circling the planets 
waist like an old automobile tire.  In truth, however, the toroidal region of 
radiation was far from symmetrical.  The solar wind and the suns magnetic field 
combined to thin the radiation above the daylight hemisphere, while extending it 
for several planetary diameters over the night hemisphere.  The image Amber 
visualized was of a boat riding at anchor in the swift river of the solar wind.  
The current raised a small bow wave, but caused a lengthy wake to stream away 
from the stern.
So it was with Jupiter. The planets radiation belts were only a few planetary 
diameters thick above the side facing the sun, but streamed away for millions of 
kilometers on the night side of Jupiter.  The practical result was that for 
twelve days out of sixteen, Callisto orbited in a region of low radiation.  For 
the rest, the moon was wreathed in a deadly, invisible fog.  It was this fact 
more than any other that made navigating the Jovian system so worrisome for ship 
captains.
Captain Olafsons first problem involved the approach to Callisto. In six days, 
they would drop to within a million kilometers of Jupiter while decelerating.  
Once slowed, they would swing around the giant world and overtake Callisto from 
below and behind.  They would rendezvous with the moon high above the daylight 
hemisphere and the radiation belts.  In crossing behind the planet,Admiral 
Farragut would plunge through the heart of one of the most powerful of the 
Jovian radiation regions.
The freighters hull shielding was adequate for most purposes, but wholly 
incapable of protecting the crew from Joves version of the Van Allen belts. 
Luckily, the ships designers had provided for such an eventuality.  Radiation 
protection had been the reason they located the control room at the center of 
the habitat module and surrounded it with the heavy girders of the thrust frame. 
 Behind the control room was an equally well-shielded compartment, the ships 
storm cellar, to which the crew could retreat during solar flares.  For the 
Comet Hastings expedition, the storm cellar had been fitted with cold sleep 
tanks.  While the passengers and crew mostly lived and worked on the outer 
decks, they would return there during the transit through Jupiters radiation 
belts.
What worried Captain Olafson was not the safety of her passengers and crew. They 
would be well shielded, if somewhat crowded, during the transit.  However, the 
ships delicate electronic modules would not be protected.  They would have to 
survive the exposure to radiation, and not just once.
The mission plan called forAdmiral Farragut to plunge three times through 
Jupiters radiation belts. The first exposure would come as they made the 
approach to Callisto; the second when they accompanied the moon on its transit 
of the night hemisphere; the third as they left the system in pursuit of the 
comet.  The ships that normally plied the Jovian system were specially designed 
to survive such high radiation doses.  Karin Olafsons ship was not.
Message laser coming in from Callisto, Rodriguez said from beside her. The two 
of them were the only people currently in the control room.
Patch it into my station.
The message, she saw, was an update on local conditions and a proposed flight 
plan change that would marginally lower the exposure problem. Because the time 
delay between ship and station was still 66 seconds each way, she did not expect 
a two-way conversation with anyone on the ground.  Anything longer than fifteen 
seconds tended to be so annoying that people avoided conversing.  Still, she 
took the trouble to record a long message thanking the station crew for their 
efforts.  Theirs was a lonely existence and a little courtesy went a very long 
way out here in the deep black.
 
CHAPTER 14
 
Tom Thorpe hovered in front of the port and stared at the heavily cratered 
surface of Callisto. Admiral Farragutwas in an equatorial orbit a mere fifty 
kilometers above Jupiters eighth most distant moon.  Directly below Thorpe was 
the large ringed basin called Asgard, with its concentric ripples of ice where 
an ancient asteroid had crashed through the crust.  The crater had filled 
briefly with water, and then quickly froze over to heal the wound.  Despite its 
prominence, Asgard was a phantom crater, more visible from orbit than from the 
ground, a level place in a world covered with impact craters.  An even larger 
asteroid strike had taken place at Valhalla, 3500 kilometers to the southwest.  
The Valhalla Basin was where Callisto Scientific Station was located.  Thorpe 
gazed down at the crater that was not really there and thought of all that had 
happened the past ten days.
Admiral Farraguthad followed its flattened hyperbolic orbit to within a million 
kilometers of Jupiter before Captain Olafson fired the engine to take up orbit 
about the big world. After so many months, the sudden return of gravity had been 
a shock.  The engine had thundered for less than two hours before again falling 
silent.  By the time weightlessness returned, the freighter had added its own 
name to the list of Jovian satellites.
It had taken three days for the ship to climb away from Jupiter and overtake 
Callisto at an altitude of 1.8 million kilometers. For half that time, everyone 
had crowded into the storm cellar.  Captain Olafson remained at her station the 
entire time they were in the radiation belt.  Like everyone else, Thorpe noticed 
her worried look and hoped it was merely caused by professional diligence.
Eventually everyone was allowed to return to the outer decks where they swarmed 
to the viewports. Thorpe would never forget the sight of a crescent Ganymede 
silhouetted against the darkened disk of Jupiters night hemisphere.
Following their arrival, Captain Olafson had given the order to revive the 
remainder of the sleeping expedition members. The seven still in their cold 
tanks would be disappointed at having missed the entry into the Jovian system.  
With Comet Hastings arriving in twelve days, their disappointment would not be 
long lived.
The Asgard Basin slipped from sight. A few minutes later, the outer edge of 
Valhalla began to intrude on the cratered landscape.  Thorpes sightseeing was 
interrupted by the sound of a buzzer.  Reluctantly, he turned away from the 
viewport to answer the sound-only intercom.  Thorpe, here.
Weve been invited down to the scientific station, Mr. Thorpe, Captain 
Olafsons voice said. They want to discuss refueling and to coordinate 
observations of the comet during its close encounter.
Theyre providing transport?
Of course.
Thorpe nodded. Admiral Farragutcarried two small moonhoppers in its cargo hold, 
but they would not be of any use at Callisto.  Their propulsion systems lacked 
the power needed to land on the large moon.
Have you broken out the trade goods yet?
I have Rodriguez and Schmidt doing that now.
RefuelingAdmiral Farragut would be a formidable task for the scientific station. 
Eight million kilograms of hydrogen is not easy to lift.  Although the station 
was being paid handsomely for their services, Halver Smith had suggested a cargo 
of delicacies to ensure their enthusiasm.  The trade goods were several cargo 
containers packed in the manner of a Christmas food assortment.
How soon before their ship arrives?
Theyll launch as we sweep over Valhalla this trip and rendezvous two hours 
later. That will leave us half-an-hour to the first landing window.  They are 
sending one of their auxiliary craft, so there will only be room for three of 
us.  Any suggestions as to the third member of the ground party?
Thorpe had a strong suggestion as to whom he wouldlike . To state it, however, 
would violate his pact with Amber.  He said with studied nonchalance, I suppose 
wed best take someone from the astronomy department.  Professor Barnard is the 
obvious choice.
Not available. He is helping his wife with the decantings.  It will have to be 
Amber.
Fine, he replied, hoping that his voice did not betray his attempt at 
Machiavellianism.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the intercom that made him 
think that Captain Olafson had no trouble seeing through his little ploy. Very 
well, Mr. Thorpe.  I will see you at the Number One Airlock in two hours.  Ill 
take care to notify Miss Hastings.
#
The ship that came up to get them was less a spacecraft than a collection of 
components strung along a thrust frame. At the bow was a flight cabin barely 
large enough for the vacsuited pilot.  It reminded Thorpe of the bubbles used on 
some of the early helicopters.  Behind the cabin, three acceleration couches 
straddled the thrust girder.  No attempt had been made to enclose these.  The 
passengers were exposed to space.  Behind the passenger seats was a crossbar 
onto which cargo could be hung.  Finally, there were six cylindrical reaction 
mass tanks, an antimatter toroid, and a magnetically shielded mixing chamber 
affixed to the aft end of the girder.
Thorpes first sight convinced him that he was looking at an orbit-to-orbit 
scooter. Upon closer inspection, he noticed the stubby landing gear that made 
the contraption resemble a four-poster bed.  Between the gear were a series of 
underjets mounted on swivels.  The contrivance did not look safe to Thorpe.
Are you sure this thing will fly? he asked the pilot as he clambered to his 
seat.
The pilot chuckled aloud. Not to worry, Chief!  Callisto may be as large as 
Mercury, but its density is only about one-third that of the inner planets.  
That gives it a surface gravity one-fifth standard, or slightly more than 
Lunas.
It will be nice to get back to normal gravity, Amber said from her own place 
astride the scooters rail.
Oh, you a Lunarian, Maam?
Yes.
Me, too. The names Jarrod Whitehead, from Tycho Terrace.  Master pilot, jack 
of all trades, chief cook and bottle washer.
Im Amber Hastings. I was born and raised in Miners Rest.
Ive got a cousin who used to live around there. Names Ivan Starkol.  Now he 
runs a vacuum equipment shop out of Luna City South.  Ever hear of him?
No, sorry.
Just as well, the pilot replied with a laugh. Rumor in the family is that old 
Ivan would sell Grandma if he thought he could make a ten selene profit.
Ill remember that next time Im in the market for a suit.
Say, thats a right pretty one youve got on. Boeing Mark XII, aint it?
It is.
Care to sell?
Sorry, but Im going to be needing it.
Yeah, I suppose you will. Oh well, I probably could not afford it anyway.  Got 
that cargo secured back there, Captain?
Karin Olafson, who had been supervising the placement of the two pods of trade 
goods, waved in the gesture that substitutes for a nod in a vacsuit. All 
secure, Master Pilot.
Then Id suggest your people get back inside the ship. Im ready to cut loose 
and start my deceleration program.
Rodriguez, Schmidt, Velduccio, back inside! While the three crewmen cycled 
through the freighters airlock, Karin Olafson strapped herself into the third 
seat on the scooter.
The trip down to the surface gave them a panoramic view of Callisto. Since the 
scooter spent most of the trip backing down on its plume of exhaust, they mostly 
saw where they had already been.  Only at the last did Whitehead pivot the 
craft, turning it to a nose high attitude that allowed the underjets to be used 
for final braking.
Callisto Scientific Station was largely invisible, save for a collection of 
communications gear and a series of spherical storage tanks on the surface. A 
hundred meters from where the scooter touched down, a Quonset hut led to a lift 
leading down to the subterranean base.  It reminded Thorpe of the entrance to 
Farside Observatory.
Whitehead climbed out of his flight cabin as soon as they touched down, and 
immediately strode aft to assist Amber in dismounting the scooter. Thorpe 
clambered awkwardly down without assistance, surprised at what six months in 
cold sleep had done to his coordination.  Captain Olafson followed him.
You can leave the cargo, Whitehead informed them. Well have a crew up in a 
few minutes to offload it.
Karin Olafson scanned the field. Her features were silhouetted through the 
bubble of her helmet.  Thorpe could see her frown.  Where are your ships?
Only then did Thorpe realize that, except for their own ungainly steed, the 
landing field was empty. One did not have to be an expert to realize that a 
single ground-to-orbit scooter was not about to lift eight million kilograms of 
mass, not even against one-fifth gravity.
#
Ah, Im afraid youve caught us with our pants down, Albert Kaffin, director 
of Callisto Scientific Station, said upon being asked the same question. The 
three expedition members were seated in the directors office a hundred meters 
below the surface.  They sat on individual stone benches in front of a 
table-like desk of the same material.
I beg your pardon, Mr. Director? Karin Olafson asked in a surprisingly mild 
tone.  Thorpe had to admire the way she was holding her temper.
Im afraid our normal refueling vessels arent here at the moment.
Where are they?
Down at Io.
And what are they doing there?
Kaffin squirmed uncomfortably behind his desk. He was a small man with the 
perpetually pinched expression and a receding hairline.
We have a number of instruments on the Ionian surface with which we monitor 
conditions there. The moon is quite a fascinating place, you know.  It is 
attached to Jupiter via a plasma tube that is the source of much of the planets 
decametric radio emissions.  Io is locked in orbital synchronism with both 
Europa and Ganymede, and then there are the volcanoes, the sulfur halo, the 
tidal heating....  But then, you arent interested in a catalog of the moons 
abnormalities, are you?
No, sir, Thorpe replied. Were interested in the whereabouts of our refueling 
ship, for the use of which your organization was paid in advance.
I know very little about the Earthside arrangements. I am merely the silly 
bugger who has to make good on promises made half a system away.  Now then, if I 
may continue my explanation?
Go ahead, Karin Olafson ordered.
This station maintains an extensive instrument cluster on the Ionian surface to 
monitor a number of scientifically important data. Three weeks ago, we lost 
contact.  At first, we believed it to be a communications breakdown.  
Electronics do not last long in that environment once the shielding fails.  
Because there are so many important investigations in progress, I immediately 
dispatched our two ships to investigate.  I was confident that they would both 
be back in time to service your vessel.
You can imagine my chagrin when my people reported that instead of an telemetry 
malfunction, they had discovered the cluster buried beneath a sulfur flow. It 
seems a new volcano has recently erupted near the site, and they tend to be the 
messiest with regard to sulfur discharges.
So you lost some instruments, Karin Olafson replied. How difficult can it be 
to plant another set and get those ships back here?
Oh, the ground cluster isnt lost, Captain, merely buried. The sulfur that 
flows from these volcanoes is tepid by human standards.  Most flows emerge 
around 20C.  That will not harm the instruments.  As for replacing them, I am 
afraid we cant.  They are one-of-a-kind prototypes.  No, we have to dig them 
out and move them to another observation area.
Fine, you can do that once my ship has been refueled.
Come now, Captain. You know how expensive it is to move around the Jovian 
system.  To recall my people and then send them back would be grossly expensive 
in terms of both reaction mass and antimatter.
But why two ships? Thorpe asked.  Wouldnt one have been entirely adequate 
for the task?
Oh, no! Kaffin replied.  Surely, Mr. Thorpe, you must realize that Io orbits 
inside the radiation belt.  It possesses the most hostile environment of any 
place in the system.  We never send a single ship to Io.  What if it was to 
become disabled?  No, one ship lands while the other orbits overhead as a safety 
measure.  That rule is inviolable.
And how soon will they be back? Karin Olafson asked.  All the while the 
director had been speaking, her complexion had been going from pale pink to 
crimson.
Im afraid the excavation and relocation will take at least another month. 
Working as they are with remote excavators, it is impossible to hurry.  To do so 
would risk damaging the instruments.
Damn it, we cant wait here another month!
You can still catch the comet. I grant you that its an imposition, but it 
hardly constitutes a crisis.
Itis a crisis, Mr. Director. My ship is not shielded against radiation the way 
yours are.  Frankly, I am already worried about my control and communications 
circuits.  We have figured a certain number of failures into the plan and carry 
spares.  Now you are asking me to orbit this ice ball for a month longer than 
planned?  That is at least two more trips through the radiation belts, possibly 
more if we are delayed further.  Would you have us wait until every piece of 
electronics aboard is radiated into so many bits of inert silicon?
Kaffin leaned back in his throne-like chair and sighed. We thought that might 
be your attitude.  That is why weve gone to the trouble of preparing another 
option.
#
Tom Thorpe trudged across the mixture of rock and dirty ice that was Callistos 
surface.
Better stop here, Jarrod Whitehead cautioned. The pilot was Thorpes guide.  
The two of them were striding across the flat plain of the Valhalla Basin two 
kilometers north of the scientific station.
Overhead, Jupiter was three-quarters full. The Great Red Spot was near the 
terminator, having just crossed over from night into day.  Except for variations 
in color, the great storm had not changed greatly since human beings had first 
turned their telescopes skyward.
Thorpe halted next to where the Callistan pilot had stopped. He glanced across 
the plain in front of him.
Where is it?
You cant see it from here, Whitehead replied. Its over the horizon.  This 
is as close as you want to get, though.  Wait, the directors calling me on the 
other channel.  Ill be right back.
Thorpe watched the pilots lips move through his visor as he conversed with the 
scientific station. The only sound that came to Thorpe was the distant hissing 
of the stars and galaxies.  After a minute, Whitehead returned to the 
communications channel the two of them were using.
The directors started the thirty second countdown. Make sure your feet are 
well apart and your legs flexed.
Thorpe turned to gaze in the same direction as his guide. Thirty seconds went 
by.  He was about to ask what had gone wrong when there was a suddenthump 
against the soles of his boots.  He rode out the shock with flexed knees.  A 
moment later, a geyser erupted from somewhere over the horizon.
The fountain was typical of a low gravity, airless world. It spewed upward like 
a giant flower, spraying thin fog toward the heavens.  In that first instant of 
eruption, Thorpe had an impression of a large cylindrical object racing skyward. 
 It had receded too fast for the eye to follow.
Hot damn, it works! Whitehead exclaimed.  I had my doubts there for a 
moment.
Thorpe nodded. Hed had his own doubts when he had first heard the proposal.  
The directors plan involved launching a series of cylindrical tanks containing 
liquid hydrogen.  Up to six cylinders at a time were to be loaded into a 
vertical shaft left over from the early explorations of the moon.  A small 
toroid containing a few milligrams of antimatter would then be dropped to the 
bottom.  The toroid would release its charge of antimatter on impact.  The 
matter/antimatter reaction would flash ice into steam and the resulting 
explosion would hurl the stacked fuel cylinders upward at greater than escape 
velocity. Admiral Farragut would then chase the cylinders down and transfer 
their vital cargoes to its own tanks.
What do they say about the speed? Thorpe asked.
Radar clocks it at five kilometers per second, Whitehead replied. It has 
definitely broken free of Callisto and is in orbit about the Big Guy!  Of 
course, when we get six tanks stacked one atop the other, launch velocities will 
be slower.  They should still be adequate, though.
And how long to reload?
Whiteheads grimace was visible through his visor. Thats a problem.  We just 
fired our only tank.  Well have to make more.
How the hell are you going to do that? Surely you dont have that much sheet 
metal just lying around free!
We dont make them out of metal, the pilot said. We cast them from ice.
Youre kidding!
Not at all. Ice is a dandy structural material under Callistan conditions and 
casting the tanks is easy.
Thorpe grinned sheepishly inside his suit. And with liquid hydrogen inside, I 
guess they arent going to melt anytime soon.
You can believe that, Chief!
How do you keep them from tumbling after launch?
We dont, Whitehead replied. The tanks are four meters in diameter by one 
hundred meters long.
Thorpe nodded. Of course, theyre self stabilizing!  They orbit with one end 
facing Jupiter.
It helps to launch them with as little tumble as possible, of course, the 
pilot said. Otherwise it might take a damnably long time for the tank to reach 
stability.
So how long to begin launching in earnest?
There was a moments pause before Whitehead said, We ought to be able to launch 
three times during any twenty four hour period.
Six tanks per launch... Thorpes words drifted into inaudibility as he did a 
fast calculation in his head.   ...  I make it a week to fully replenish our 
fuel stocks.
Id make that two weeks, the pilot responded. Remember that Callisto orbits 
through Joves radioactive tail in another six days.  All activity on the 
surface will have to stop then.
May I see the shaft?
Thorpe followed Whitehead to the source of the geyser. The pilot cautioned him 
to be careful as they approached the edge.  Thorpe saw the reason as he directed 
his helmet light into the hole.  No matter how far he narrowed the beam, he 
could not see the bottom.
How deep is this?
Three point seven five kilometers, Whitehead responded.
Thorpe looked up and blinked in surprise. What the hell were you guys trying to 
do?
This is a test bore to check out surface conditions. You should see the real 
thing.  In fact, I will show it to you if you have the time.  It is fifty 
kilometers southeast of here.  As of last week, it was down to a depth of 
fourteen kilometers.
Dont tell me youve found gold on this rock?
The pilots chuckle was a deep burbling sound in Thorpes earphones. Not 
hardly.  No, we are trying to penetrate the crust and break into the 
subterranean ocean.  That is one of the reasons we located the station at 
Valhalla.  The crusts only about fifty kilometers deep under our feet.  Its a 
couple of hundred kilometers everywhere else.
 Why drill through the crust?
We dont drill these things, we melt them. As for why, that is easy.  We think 
there may be life down there.  We have found some highly tantalizing hints.  So, 
what do you think of our cannon?
Thorpe let his lamp play across the walls of the bore. Here and there, rivulets 
of water melted by the recent explosion had already refrozen.
My compliments, he said. Jules Verne would have been proud of you!
Whiteheads guffaw echoed through Thorpes helmet. I guess he would, at that!
 
CHAPTER 15
 
Three days afterAdmiral Farragut s arrival at Callisto, most of the station 
staff and the ships crew were engaged in refueling the freighter. Amber 
Hastings and the stations scientists, however, were concentrating on plans to 
track the comet through its close encounter with Jupiter.
The trick will be coordinating your telescopic observations with our ground 
based radar, Radha Rajapur, Callistos chief astronomer, explained. The two of 
them were studying the latest plot of the comet nucleuss predicted orbit 
through the Jovian system.  If we can do that, then we can annotate your 
observations with precise position and velocity information on a second by 
second basis.
That shouldnt be too difficult, Amber replied. With the comet passing 
inboard of Callisto, you people will have the best seats in the house.
Rajapur, a small Indian with piercing black eyes, nodded. We have been most 
fortunate.  I will have to burn incense to the Goddess of Luck next time I am 
home.
As the discussion continued, Amber reflected that the ancients might not have 
been far wrong when theyd thought comets a potent omen. One single point of 
light in the sky had most certainly altered her own life.  Even a year earlier, 
she would have told anyone who suggested that she would ever visit Jupiter that 
they were crazy.  Now she was planning the first look at what would almost 
surely be the most spectacular comet in history.
Comet Hastings was far from spectacular at the moment, however. The gaseous coma 
had grown to only a few thousand kilometers, and would likely undergo a 
significant change during its trip through the Jovian system.  By studying the 
interaction of coma and cis-Jupiter space, the scientists at Callisto Station 
hoped to learn as much about their own backyard as they did about the comet.
Amber had studied comets extensively since her discovery. She knew that they did 
not usually form a tail until they were within 2.5 Astronomical Units (AU) of 
the sun.  Some astronomers were betting that Comet Hastingss large nucleus 
would cause it to grow a tail early.  They cited the case of Comet Humason in 
1962, which had developed a pronounced tail at 2.6 AU.  An opposing camp 
maintained the massive nucleus would retard tail formation.  They pointed to the 
vast heat sink the nucleus represented.  Even this last group conceded, however, 
that once the nucleus heated up, it would produce a spectacular tail that would 
grace Earths skies every seven years for centuries.
Nor were close approaches to Jupiter very uncommon. In 1886, Comet Bennet had 
actually approached to within 400,000 kilometers of the planet, dipping well 
inside the orbit of Io.  The comet had been observed to split into several small 
pieces following the encounter.  That had been the fate of the comet that had 
eventually become known as Shoemaker-Levy 9, and that comet had actually 
impacted the backside of Jupiter in full view of the Earths astronomers.  In 
fact, most of the periodic comets had at one time encountered the King of 
Worlds.  Their orbits bore the indelible marks of Jupiters influence.
After four hours of discussion, Amber and the Callisto scientists had worked 
their plans to the point where they could begin actual preparations. They had 
established a rigid observational timeline, with targets of primary and 
secondary importance marked to the millisecond.  By following the plan, 
bothAdmiral Farragut and Callisto Station would be assured that they were 
observing the same phenomenon at the same time.
Id say that about does it, Amber said when they had completed their timeline.
Agreed, Rajapur replied. I suggest that we adjourn for a few hours.  I 
believe, Amber, that you are to be the guest of honor at the gala banquet 
tonight!
Amber nodded. Since there are only three of us on Callisto, I guess Im 
elected.
Callisto Station had been excavated from ice and stone one hundred meters below 
the Valhalla Basin. Since ice is an excellent sealing material, the station 
purposely maintained its corridors at temperatures below freezing, heating only 
the individual compartments where people lived and worked.  As Amber walked back 
to her quarters, snuggled inside an electrically heated snow suit, she heard 
her name echo through the long corridor.  She turned to see John Malvan hurrying 
toward her.  The one armed ex-miner moved in the distance eating, low gravity 
stride of a native Lunarian.
Hello, John! she said. I havent seen you since you landed.  Where have you 
been keeping yourself?
Ive been letting the station people show me around and bringing Luna 
up-to-date on our progress.
Why not use the radio aboard ship?
Malvan shrugged. Theyve got enough problems chasing fuel cylinders.  Left 
unsaid was the fact that Malvan was also demonstrating his independence of Tom 
Thorpe and Captain Olafson.
What have you seen?
Quite a lot! he replied. I just returned from a visit to the hole theyre 
boring through the crust.  Have you seen it?
No. Ive heard its pretty deep.
Deeper than anything weve ever tried on Luna. God, what I would have given in 
the old days to find ice deposits like the ones they have got on this moon.  
Theres more ice in the crust than rock.
I know what you mean, Amber replied. If we had even half the water they waste 
here, Luna would be swimming.
Where are you headed?
Back to my rooms to get cleaned up for the big banquet.
Mind if I walk with you?
Not at all. Whats on your mind?
Seeing all this ice has gotten me to thinking.
About what?
Ive been wondering why Sierra Corporation is interested in Comet Hastings.
Amber laughed. As she did so, exhalation fog swirled around her like smoke.  
The same reason Luna is interested in it!  They want to mine the ice and make a 
fortune.
But if mining ice is their goal, why not Callisto? I have asked Director 
Kaffin.  He says that they would be happy to have someone start a commercial 
operation here.  It would triple the number of ships that call each year and 
reduce the cost of operating this station.
Amber stopped and turned toward Malvan. Mining Callistos been tried.  The 
economics were against it.
Precisely! Malvan replied.  So what makes Comet Hastings any more attractive? 
 It cant be the distance.  You yourself say the post-encounter orbit of the 
comet will take it beyond Jupiter.  So, why not mine Callisto instead?
You can ask the same thing about Luna. Why do we want it?  Amber asked.
We want it becausethey want it. Everybody knows Halver Smith is an expert.  If 
he thinks he can make it pay, then he probably can.
She nodded. Tom said they have some inexpensive method for getting their 
cargoes into transfer orbits.
What method? Has anyone explained it to you?
No, its a trade secret.
Why? Everyone will know how they do it the first time it is used.  Why the big 
secret?
Youve obviously thought this through. Make your point.
I think theyre planning to capture the comet and put it in orbit about the 
Earth.
Impossible! The damned thing masses sixty million billion tons.  It would take 
all the energy the human race ever produced and then some to get it into Earth 
orbit.
Not if they plan to slice off a small piece and orbit that while they stick the 
Republic with the useless remainder.
They cant do that. It would violate the agreement.
How? We agreed to share the nucleus equally.  They will have one percent and we 
will have ninety-nine.  What court would fault them for their generosity?
Then we slice off a chunk of our own, Amber replied, and take it to Earth 
orbit.
Sure, the next time the comet enters the inner system. How long will that 
take?
Seven years.
In the meantime, Halver Smith has a monopoly on ice production and charges 
anything he damned well pleases.
Do you have any proof thats what theyre planning? Amber asked.
No. It is just a scenario at the moment.  With your help, I may be able to get 
proof.
I wont spy for you!
Im not asking you to spy. I am asking you to keep your eyes open.  If you 
happen to hear anything about SierraCorps plans for the nucleus, Id like you 
to tell me.
Why should I?
Because you are a patriotic Lunarian and I am the official representative of 
your government. Think about it.  Now if youll excuse me, Ive promised some of 
the station staff that I will sit in on their bridge tournament.
With that, he turned and walked away. Amber watched him go.  When she had 
finished her meeting with Rajapur and his colleagues, she had been tired, but 
happy.  Now she was frightened.  Despite the warning Thorpe had given them at 
the outset, politics was raising its ugly head.
#
There she is, Mr. Thorpe. Stand ready with the fueling line!
Thorpe perched in the space between two ofAdmiral Farragut s checkerboard 
painted hydrogen tanks, feeling like a fly caught on a billiard table. He gazed 
out into space toward Jupiter, with the still-large half disk of Callisto to his 
left.  Far off in the distance, just above the planets ruddy limb, he could see 
the cylinder that was their prize.  As Jarrod Whitehead had predicted, it 
orbited with one end pointed at the planet, held there by the force of Jupiters 
tides.  Captain Olafson, too, was taking advantage of the tidal force.  
AsAdmiral Farragut slowly closed on the icy fuel tank, the ships bow pointed 
directly toward Jupiters heart.
Oh, oh, Thorpe muttered, wishing he could rub his burning eyes inside his 
helmet. This ones got some spin on it!
As he watched, the pattern of black stripes around one end of the cylinder 
slowly changed position. Thorpe chinned the timer in his helmet and waited until 
the same pattern recurred.
I make it one point five revolutions per minute, Emilio.
I concur, Mr. Thorpe, Rodriguez said. Any suggestions?
This is one we buck upstairs. Thorpe reported his discovery to Captain 
Olafson.
Its too risky, she decided. Youll tangle the fueling line.  Come back in 
and well abandon this one.
Lets not be hasty, Thorpe replied. This is the last of the second batch.  It 
is not as though we have another candidate readily available.  Why not finish 
the approach and give us time to look the situation over?
Ill not take unnecessary risks.
Agreed, Captain. But it wont hurt to look.
Very well. Are you two anchored out there?
Anchored, they answered in unison.
Very well. Stand clear of the jets.
The flare of reaction control jets signaled the start of the final approach to 
the cylinder. So far, they had been forced to abandon two of the free flying 
tanks.  One had been tumbling out of control and the second had split open 
during launch.  Thorpe did not want to give up a third unless necessary. 
The captain brought the ships stern to a halt some fifty meters from their 
quarry. Looking down from his perch, Thorpe could see the bronze colored vent 
valve that was their goal.  The valve rotated slowly as the cylinder spun about 
its axis.  If they hooked up to it, the rotation would knot the fueling line 
within a few minutes.
What if we spin the ship, Mr. Thorpe? Rodriguez asked.  We can line up our 
stern with the cylinders axis and match its rate of rotation.  That way we can 
hook up without winding the line into a knot.
What about the loop? Thorpe asked.  Whatever slack they maintained in the line 
would cause it to bow.  This would not be a problem while the line was empty, 
but as soon as it filled with hydrogen, the swinging mass would cause both the 
spinning ship and the fuel cylinder to wobble.  If it got bad enough, they might 
collide.
Run a safety line over and have the captain pull it taut with the jets. We can 
hang the fuel line from it and keep it from bowing.
Thorpe thought about it and had to admit that it was an idea. He broached the 
subject with the captain over the radio link.
Her only response was, Have you any idea how hot our exhaust nozzle is? By 
hot, she meant radioactive.
All right, if we cant go over the stern, well go over the bow. Turn the ship 
head on to the cylinder.  We will lash the fueling line to handholds all the way 
forward.  You match the tanks rotation, we jump across, and all any of us have 
to worry about is getting dizzy before we finish the job.
Again, there was a pause in the conversation as the captain considered the 
suggestion. It just might work.  Ill move in close, say to within twenty 
meters.
The line ought to reach, Thorpe agreed.
Secure while I turn the ship!
#
The banquet was held in the main hall of Callisto Scientific Station, where a 
large gallery had been carved from the ice and then insulated with heavy 
translucent panels.
I understand from Dr. Rajapur that you two have just about finished planning 
your observations, Director Kaffin said to Amber midway through the meal.
Yes, indeed, Amber replied. Between our two sets of instruments, we will 
observe the comet across the full range of the electromagnetic spectrum.
Im sorry I wasnt able to attend your meetings. The refueling has been taking 
most of my time.
Hows it going?
We just launched our third set of six.  Captain Olafson has notified us that we 
can stop after tomorrows series of launches.  That is very good news.  The 
launch crews are exhausted.
I hear the same thing from the ship, Amber said. Luckily, chasing the comet 
doesnt require the same amount of reaction mass that the run out from Earth 
did.
Admiral Farraguts original design had included only a single hexagram of 
spherical hydrogen tanks around the ships power module. That capacity had been 
tripled for the Comet Hastings Expedition - to a total of 72,000 cubic meters - 
by changing the normal spherical tanks out for cylindrical ones.  The extra 
volume of reaction mass, plus the antimatter plasma the ship had taken on at the 
Sierra Skies PowerStat, gave the converted freighter the ability to change its 
velocity by 100 km/sec.  Most of that delta V capability had been required to 
reach Jupiter six months after launch.  To replace all the hydrogen they had 
used on the outbound leg would require the launch of more than one hundred fuel 
cylinders.
Fortunately, chasing the comet as it left the Jovian system required only that 
the ship accelerate to 15 km/sec above Callistan orbital speed. With another 5 
km/sec added for safety, two-dozen replenishment cylinders would provide 
sufficient reaction mass to continue the mission.  Amber had heard that there 
was a certain amount of wastage, which brought the number of ice containers to 
be launched to thirty.  Once at the comet, of course,Admiral Farragut s crew 
would have two years in which to refine the reaction mass they would need to 
return home.
Perhaps you would explain the significance of what you and Dr. Rajapur are 
doing, Kaffin said. My board of directors will be interested.
Certainly. Your ground-based radar will track the comet through the system.  It 
will provide us with our first position determination for calculating the 
comets new orbit.
Have pity on me, Miss Hastings. I am merely a poor biochemist with a knack for 
administration.  I know very little about orbital mechanics.
An orbit has six classical elements, Mr. Director. These are its semi major 
axis, eccentricity, inclination to the ecliptic, longitude of the ascending 
node, argument of periapsis, and time of periapsis passage.  It is not necessary 
for a nonprofessional to understand all of that.  It is enough to know that we 
need three good position readings or two positions and a time to fully define 
the orbit.  Your radar sightings will give us the first of these as the comet 
leaves the Jovian system.
But surely your ship can do just as good a job.
No, sir. You see, a spacecraft in flight seldom knows precisely where it is.  
Your station, on the other hand, occupies a known point on a moon that has been 
tracked for centuries.  At any instant in time, we know where Callisto 
Scientific Station is with absolute precision.  Your radar measurements will 
tell us where the comet is with respect to Callisto, which in turn will allow us 
to calculate the nucleuss position.
My old physics teacher told me that there is no such thing as absolute 
precision, Miss Hastings.
Amber laughed. Believe me, on the scale were talking about, this will come 
close!
And how do you plan to get your second absolutely perfect position reading?
We plan to match velocities with the comet and follow it for a month.
You just said that you wont know where you really are. How will you know where 
the comet is?
Farside Observatory will transmit a modulated laser beam in our direction 
periodically after we leave Jupiter. By noting the arrival time of that beam, we 
will be able to measure the distance betweenAdmiral Farragut and Luna to within 
a few tens of meters.  Do that half a dozen times, and you have an orbital 
prediction almost as good as the one we have for Callisto.  Naturally, well 
cross check using Mars, Venus, and Jupiter sightings, as well as your stations 
laser beacon.
It sounds very complicated.
It isnt really. Its just time consuming and requires a degree of precision 
that isnt often needed, not even in astronomy.
Kaffin picked up his ornate wineglass, a product of local manufacture. It showed 
the nymph Callisto being changed into a bear.  My compliments to you, Miss 
Hastings, and my very great wishes for your success!
 
CHAPTER 16
 
Admiral Farraguts second passage through the radiation belts of Jupiter was far 
less comfortable than had been the first. For one thing, it took longer.  Being 
in orbit about Callisto meant sharing the moons leisurely orbit around the big 
planet.  Where Io orbited Jupiter in one-and-two-thirds days, Callisto took ten 
times as long to make the same trip.  Since the freighter had dipped far below 
Callistos orbit during its initial approach, the ship had passed through the 
thunderhead of the trailing radiation belt in less than a day.  At Callistos 
distance from Jupiter, the passage took seventy hours.
Nor were three days isolation in the storm cellar the only difference. Now 
everyone was awake, adding seven more living, breathing bodies to the number 
that had to be crammed into the restricted space.  To make room, most expedition 
members kept to their cold sleep tanks unless they had duties that required them 
to move about.  Meals were untidy affairs where everyone tried to keep their 
food from the path of errant elbows, knees, and backsides.  Amber began to 
notice the odor of too many people and too much machinery in too close 
proximity.  Adding to her discomfort were cooking odors and an unsavory aroma 
emanating from the compartments single toilet.
The last eight hours had been the worst. Everyone watched the chronometer as it 
counted down the minutes to freedom.  Captain Olafsons announcement that the 
outside radiation detectors had fallen silent was followed by a loud cheer.  The 
echoes had barely died away when a stream of unkempt bodies headed for the outer 
decks.
Captain Olafson gave her passengers and crew one hour to recover from their 
ordeal. By the end of that time, nearly everyone aboard had damp hair, a new 
jumpsuit, and smelled of soap and lotion.  Strapped into her couch in the 
control room, Karin Olafson monitored water consumption.  The return to normal 
usage was her signal to soundFirst Acceleration Warning .  Fifteen minutes 
later,Admiral Farragut dropped away from Callisto for the last time.  The 
freighter was en route to its assigned station just beyond the orbit of 
Ganymede.
#
Communications check, time check, Amber said into her headset.
Seven seconds later, Radha Rajapurs voice came back to her: We read you 
clearly.  At the mark, the time is 21:16:00.  Mark!
Amber glanced at the chronometer, added the three-and-a-half second 
communications delay, and nodded. A voice time check was no substitute for the 
radio timing signals traveling continuously between ship and station.  Still, it 
served to confirm that the computers had indeed achieved synchronization.
She acknowledged Rajapurs message, then turned to Cragston Barnard beside her. 
The communications link is properly established, Dr. Barnard.
And the data links?
Amber keyed in a series of commands to her computer terminal and watched the 
response on an auxiliary screen. After a few seconds, she said, All data links 
are operating normally.
Record cubes?
On line. We have triple redundancy across the board.
Attitude program?
Loaded in and ready to run.
Very well. Let us take some manual observations while we are waiting for the 
automatic program to start.  Call the captain and have her relinquish control to 
us.
Amber signaled the control room and passed on Barnards request. A few seconds 
later the captain announced that the ship would be undergoing quick changes of 
orientation, and that passengers and crew should move about with caution.  That 
done, she told Amber that she was free to rotate the ship.
Two quick bursts of the attitude control jets brought the telescope to bear on 
the comet. Another command set the field of view of the instrument to maximum.  
The comets ghostlike coma filled the screen.  For the past two weeks, the 
milk-white ball had grown progressively brighter.  The comet had been inside the 
Jovian system for quite some time, having passed inside the orbits of Himalia 
and Leda just asAdmiral Farragut had entered the trailing radiation belt.  Now 
that it was less than five million kilometers from the big planet, its visible 
coma had grown to nearly one-quarter of a million kilometers.
Lets take a string of observations at all wavelengths. It looks like were 
getting some disturbance along the leading edge.
Amber ordered that the comet be recorded across the full spectrum, and then 
looked up at the screen. Sure enough, the uniform gas ball was beginning to grow 
tendrils around the edges.  Compared to interplanetary space, the Jovian system 
was thick with atoms, molecules, and bits of gas and dust.  The micrometeoroid 
count alone was several orders of magnitude higher than in open space.
As the gas of the comets coma penetrated ever deeper into the system, it 
suffered from increasingly frequent collisions with Jovian flotsam. The result 
was a distinct flattening of its leading edge.  What had been a nearly perfect 
sphere was quickly turning into a blunt teardrop.  A tenuous shockwave of 
excited particles took form one hundred thousand kilometers in front of the 
nucleus.  The behavior of this shockwave would tell the watching scientists as 
much about cis-Jupiter space as it would about the structure of the nascent 
comet.
When the multispectral photographs were completed, Barnard ordered that they 
take their first close look at the nucleus. Although the comet was still a 
number of hours away, the time to observe surface details was now.  Once the 
comet sailed past Jupiter, it would be between the ship and the sun.  To the 
astronomers aboardAdmiral Farragut , the nucleus would appear a tiny crescent 
shape, a bare sliver of light with too little surface illuminated to make out 
details.
As Barnard expanded the telescopes magnification, the ball of light swelled 
until its edges overflowed the screen. With the increase in magnification came a 
decrease in the amount of light being gathered.  Automatic contrast controls 
compensated for much of the loss, but were unable to counteract a slow dimming 
of the screen.
After thirty seconds, they reached maximum magnification. In the center of the 
screen was a tiny disk.  Barnard did something to improve the contrast and the 
object developed a pattern of splotches where none had existed before.  There 
was also a suggestion of rays emanating away from the nucleus into the 
surrounding gas cloud, as though invisible rivers of matter were boiling off the 
ball of ice.
Theres your namesake, Amber. Glad you came along?
She hunched forward intently, bringing herself into contact with the seat belt 
that kept her from floating away. After half a minute spent studying the image, 
she sighed.  There have been times in the past week that Ive wondered about 
that, Crag.  But now ... I wouldnt have missed seeing this for anything!
#
While Amber and Barnard busied themselves with observations, most of the other 
scientists looked over their shoulders via the ships intercom. Karin Olafson 
took the time to confer with her husband in the control room.  The subject was 
their ships health following its second transit of Jupiters radiation belts.
Think shell hold up for one more dose, Stinky?
Chief Engineer Stormgaard nodded slowly. As he did so, the captain could see the 
scar at his temple where he had been gashed by an exploding impeller years 
earlier.  Since that time, the scar had been a reliable indicator of his mood.  
When Kyle was calm, the scar was nearly invisible, but when he was angry or 
worried, it stood out in livid contrast.  To her relief, she could barely see 
it.
Weve come through in remarkably good shape, he responded. Well have a fair 
number of electronic modules to replace after were safely away from here, but 
nothing we cant handle.
The two of them were loosely tied to their respective couches by safety belts, 
but otherwise floated free below the dome. This was their favorite place aboard 
ship.  Many a time they had made love in these same couches with a vast Earth 
and a limitless black sky above them.  Now they held hands with the unconscious 
ease of those long married.
What about these damaged engine control circuits? Shall we replace them before 
we begin chasing after the damned comet?
Stormgaard shook his head. Not unless we plan to make another orbit around 
Jupe.  Schmidt or Rodriguez would have to suit up and go outside.  Id hate to 
be out there when the astronomers decide they want to take a look in some new 
direction.
Karin nodded. The possibility of a crewmember being blasted by an attitude 
control jet was too great to allow anyone outside during telescopic 
observations.  Before anyone left the security of the habitat module, she 
planned to have the jets under her personal control.
The schematic diagram on an auxiliary screen showed a series of colored 
rectangles connected by complex patterns of lines. Each rectangle had at least 
one arcane code, sometimes several.  Nor was the diagram static.  Even as they 
watched, one of the blocks changed color and took on a new code.  The captain 
was relatively adept at reading the symbols, but the chief engineer was the 
expert in their family.
Kyle Stormgaard had long ago made the science of electronics his personal 
specialty, even to the point of studying its history and evolution. Over the 
years, he had acquired a small collection of antique electronic devices.  His 
most cherished possession was a 150-year-old vacuum tube radio.  He also 
possessed a circuit board covered with magnetic cores that had been part of one 
of the early mainframe computers.  He rounded out his collection with a working 
HP35 calculator, and an Apple microcomputer whose certificate of authenticity 
claimed it to be one of the first 100,000 built.  In pursuing his hobby, 
Stormgaard had never ceased to be amazed at the progress the human race had made 
in the short span of two centuries.
The history of electronics, he had often expounded to his wife, was a 
paradoxical evolution. Devices of exponentially increasing complexity had 
somehow bred ever-simpler levels of utility.  When the field began, each 
functional element had been represented by a single discrete device.  Resistors, 
capacitors, inductors, vacuum tubes, diodes, and transformers had all been 
laboriously assembled by hand.  Later, hand wiring had been replaced by printed 
circuit boards and vacuum tubes by transistors.  In just a few decades, 
transistors had given way to the plastic cockroach shapes of integrated 
circuits, and then to the short lived surface mount technology.
Then, early in the twenty first century, someone had invented the ultimate 
integrated circuit, one that could be programmed to simulate any other. Which 
function the circuit performed was controlled by software.  Once these virtual 
functions had been programmed into the circuit, they could be changed from 
moment to moment.  Thus was born the electronic function module.
Instead of thousands of specialized chips,Admiral Farragut s electronic suite 
consisted of a few dozen devices for power handling that were coupled to 
millions of identical EFMs. The ships central computer kept track of what went 
where on a second by second basis, programming and reprogramming the modules as 
the need arose.  The system had the advantage of being inherently fault 
tolerant, redundant, and self-healing.
That they had dared to enter the Jovian radiation belts at all was due to this 
basic tolerance of the function modules. When a module was damaged, the ships 
computer automatically compensated for the loss by reprogramming other modules.  
The ship would go on functioning until so many modules were damaged that the 
computer lost its ability to heal the damage.  Precisely when that point would 
be reached was what worried Karin Olafson.
What say we have a pull-and-plug party as soon as were lined up with the 
departing comet? the captain asked.
Good idea. We can look over the hull and see what kind of a scouring weve been 
taking while floating around in this pea soup.
How long to put us back into full service?
Stormgaard glanced at the readout that carried the running tally of inactive 
modules. Forty hours if we rely on the crew.  Perhaps as few as twelve if we 
call on the passengers to help.
Karin nodded. All except the astronomers.  Something tells me that they are 
going to have their hands full for the next month!
#
Twelve hours later, Amber and Barnard were more than busy. They were frantic!  
Things were happening almost too fast for human comprehension.  Though the pace 
made little difference to the computer, it was frustrating everyone trying to 
follow the action.
The telescope had just finished a series of detailed examinations of the comets 
coma in the infrared spectrum. Multiple collisions with the dense Jovian medium 
were beginning to heat up the dust and gas.  The observations would later be 
paired with Callistos radar maps to form a minute-by-minute examination of the 
ways in which the passage had affected the comas structure.
Stand by, Barnard muttered to no one in particular as the series ended. Latest 
readings put the comets periapsis at 1.62 million kilometers, and the time of 
closest approach fifteen minutes in the future.  Were about to get our last 
photos of the nucleus for the next month or so.
Amber nodded. The screen finished flicking from point to point within the gassy 
coma.  Although rigidly mounted to the ships bow, the telescope had a limited 
ability to shift its view.  It accomplished this by adjusting the collecting 
mirror at the center of the honeycomb skeleton.  To point at the nucleus, 
however, required a ten-degree rotation ofAdmiral Farragut around its yaw axis.  
Everyone onboard was jolted by a single long burst from the reaction jets; then 
again, a few seconds later as the computer halted the ships rotation.
The nucleus stood out in the center of the screen as the vibrations set up by 
the rough handling quickly died away. The nucleus was now a miniature planet 
three-quarters full.  The comet head was seamed, as though by giant cracks.  A 
large circular crater was also partially in view.  The cracks and crater 
suggesting that Comet Hastings had collided with some other body in the recent 
past - that is to say, sometime in the past few billion years.  Such a collision 
could well have sent the giant ice ball reeling sunward for the first time.
One thing Amber noticed immediately was that the comets surface remained 
indistinct, softened as though by atmosphere. The effect was the result of the 
hundred thousand-kilometer thick veil of gas and dust through which they were 
looking.  Although the coma was a very good vacuum, it obscured the nucleuss 
smaller details and softened the lines of the larger.
Check with Callisto and see how they are doing, Barnard ordered.
For the tenth time in the hours since going to automatic, Amber signaled the 
scientific station. Again, the delay in receiving a response was seven seconds.
Callisto here,Admiral Farragut , Rajapur replied. Go ahead.
How are your observations coming?
Seven second pause.
Wonderfully, Rajapur enthused. You should see the swirl patterns were 
getting between the coma and the local medium!  You can actually see the lines 
of force that make up Jupiters magnetosphere.  Well be able to plot the local 
field gradient in more detail than weve ever managed before.
And your range data on the nucleus?
This time the pause lengthened to nearly fifteen seconds.
Had to get the latest projection, he explained when he returned. You can tell 
your people that we have it pegged within a few wavelengths on our high 
frequency radar.  We have been continuously illuminating it with the comm laser 
as well.  The returns are somewhat hit and miss, but by the time it leaves the 
system, we should have the orbital path plotted to within a few centimeters.  
How go things down below,Farragut ?
Amber described their own readings to Rajapur. When she was finished, the two of 
them exchanged a few other pieces of data before signing off.  The full contact, 
including communications delays, had taken five minutes.
Ten minutes later, the image on the screen had changed perceptibly. Where it had 
been three-quarters full, the small moon was now half full and shrinking.  
Barnard intently watched the streaming numbers in the lower right corner of the 
screen.
Thats it! he announced. The nucleus just passed periapsis.  Signal the 
captain to make the announcement.
A few moments later, Captain Olafsons voice echoed throughout the habitat 
module: Attention, All Hands!  Dr, Barnard has just announced that the comet 
has reached minimum distance from Jupiter.  It is now headed out of the system.
The cheering was audible even through the closed hatch of the telescope 
compartment. Amber and Barnard ignored them.  They still had work to do.
Four hours later, a bleary eyed Cragston Barnard gazed at the now tiny crescent 
shape on the screen. He turned to Amber with the lopsided grin she remembered 
from her university days.
That about does it, he said. Put her on automatic and lets get something to 
eat.
Amber leaned back in her own seat and stretched to get the kinks out of aching 
muscles. The tension of the past several hours had given her a stiff neck, and 
she was on the verge of exhaustion.  It was a good exhaustion, though, the kind 
that follows something strenuous that has been particularly well done.
How long shall we keep observing?
Another two hours at least, he replied. I want to get a good set of pictures 
of the coma backlit by the sun.  We can put them together in a stop action 
series and actually see the turbulence building in the gas field.  After that, 
well give control of the ship back to Captain Olafson so that she can start us 
after the nucleus.
Amber groaned.
Barnard frowned. Whats the matter?
Its time to go back into the storm cellar!
He nodded. Unless you want to get out your lead underwear.
She unhooked her seat belt and floated into the air. You go get something to 
eat without me.  I want to get cleaned up while I still have the chance.
 
CHAPTER 17
 
Jupiter barely showed as a disk aft while the comet was a hazy patch of fog 
forward. For three weeks,Admiral Farragut had chased that patch of haze and 
watched it grow steadily as they drew ever nearer to the fleeing quarry. 
Thorpe glanced at the nebula as he floated free of the Number One airlock, then 
concentrated on the business at hand. He pulled himself along a series of 
handholds that had been welded to the hull.  When he reached his destination, he 
attached his safety line to a pad eye, and then pivoted to watch his student 
practice her first egress.
Okay, he called over his suit radio, you can start out now. Be sure you have 
a firm grip on the next handhold before you let go the last.
As he watched, a lime-green arm appeared in the open airlock and groped for a 
handhold. As soon as the gloved hand had a firm grip, a helmet and armor-encased 
torso followed.
How am I doing? Hilary Dorchester asked as she pulled herself to where Thorpe 
bobbed at the end of his safety line.
Not bad, he admitted grudgingly. Make sure you get that line snapped to 
something before you let go.  Free maneuvering is a lesson we will get to later. 
 I dont want to waste fuel retrieving you if you float away from the ship.
Yes, boss!
Hilary Dorchester was the expeditions low temperature chemist. A buxom brunette 
in her early thirties, she had been the last to be revived after they had 
reached Callisto.  Despite her position as tail end Charlie, or possibly 
because of it, she had lost no time in suggesting to Thorpe that he would be 
welcome in her bed on a continuing basis.  Thorpe had politely turned down the 
invitation, and Hilary had accepted his decision with cheerful good manners.  
Subsequently, she had alternated her free time between Leon Albright, the 
expeditions geologist, Dieter Schmidt ofFarragut s crew, and lately, John 
Malvan.
Such arrangements of convenience were common in space, and in fact, Thorpe had 
enjoyed something similar with Nina Pavolev. Two people usually set up 
housekeeping as a defense against the constant danger of their daily lives.  
Sometimes they grew to love each other, sometimes not.  In either case, it was a 
good adaptation to an alien environment while it lasted.  Considering the fact 
that there were but two unmarried women on the expedition, Thorpe would have had 
difficulty explaining his rejection of one of them.  If pressed, he would have 
stammered that Amber would never have approved.
All right, he said after Hilary had secured herself to the ships hull. Were 
going to start with a few basic exercises.  I want you to get used to the effort 
required to move around in a vacsuit.  Remember that isnt a light summer frock 
youre wearing!
She grinned visibly through her helmet visor. I would never have chosen a frock 
that made me look this fat!
Admiral Farraguthad barely ended its final swoop around Jupiter when Captain 
Olafsen ordered everyone but the astronomers to assist in replacing radiation 
damaged modules. Several of these were located back along the freighters thrust 
frame, and had required going outside to reach them.  It soon became obvious 
that the expedition was woefully short of people who could handle themselves in 
vacuum.
Therefore, while they tailed the comet, Captain Olafsen had asked Tom Thorpe and 
her husband to teach the groundhogs the basics of living and working in a 
pressurized balloon.
In the past two weeks, Thorpe had conducted eight tours outside the ship. His 
technique was always the same.  Two hours of lectures inside, followed by a 
gingerly exit onto the hull, then half an hour of familiarization.  Once a 
student felt comfortable in the suit, Thorpe would lead them back along the 
habitat module toward the cargo bay.  There they would open one of the oversize 
hatches and descend into the unlighted cylindrical cavern.  Finding ones way 
amid the clutter of the dark holds was good practice for working on the night 
side of an asteroid.  Such experience would come in handy when his fledgling 
vacuum monkeys began their explorations of the comet nucleus.
Later, he planned to teach them to fly.
#
How are things going, Mr. Malvan? Kyle Stormgaard asked as he strapped himself 
down across from the ex-miner.  The chief engineer and Lunas representative had 
gotten to know one another during the refueling operations off Callisto.  Malvan 
had volunteered for outside duty, but had been turned down because of his 
handicap.  He had nevertheless helped the spacers get into and out of their 
suits, and had generally taken some of the load off their shoulders.  During 
this effort, he and Stormgaard had discovered a common passion for bridge.  They 
played whenever they could get a foursome together.  At other times, they 
squared off at chess.
Hello, Kyle! Malvan replied as he secured the small chess computer to the 
table inAdmiral Farragut s wardroom.  Ready to be humbled?
The day a one-armed Lunatic can humble me, Ill turn in my master engineers 
certificate!
Thats too bad. I dont know what were going to do without you for the rest of 
the trip.
With the start of the game came a halt to the banter. Both men played intensely 
through the opening moves, each pushing the other without letup.  Only after 
each had irrevocably committed to a strategy did Malvan break the silence.
Ive often wondered, Kyle. Just why did you and Karin sign on for this 
expedition?
The engineer considered whether to trade one of his own knights for Malvans 
bishop, decided in favor of it, and made his move before answering. The moneys 
good and Halver Smith financed an overhaul before we left.  Besides, Karin and I 
wanted to do something different before we retire.
Malvan chuckled. Did it for the adventure, eh?
Who knows? Maybe the scientists will name a crater after us.  How about you?
Me? Malvan asked.  Im just a bureaucrat who decided it was safer for his 
career to come along than not.  Malvan explained the circumstances of John 
Hobarts request that he be Lunas representative.  While they had been in cold 
sleep, Hobart had been elected Prime Minister of the Republic.
You must have wanted to come along, at least a little.
The idea wasnt without its attractions, the Lunarian admitted. I never 
really enjoyed my job as an auditor.
The chief engineer moved one of his pawns to threaten Malvans queen. As 
expected, the pawn didnt last long, but its sacrifice paved the way for a deep 
penetration by Stormgaards kings rook.  Did you get your report off today?
Malvan nodded. Right on schedule, as usual.
Each Monday morning, ships time, Malvan requested a secure communications link 
to Luna. He always transmitted a coded report detailing the events of the 
previous week.  Included were factual events, shipboard gossip, and Malvans own 
suspicions and surmises.  The week after theyd left Callisto, he had reported 
his suspicions about SierraCorp splitting off a chunk of the comet and moving it 
to Earth orbit.  So far, his reports had brought nothing from Luna except 
routine acknowledgements.
Rodriguez tells me that you transmitted twenty thousand bytes this morning, 
Stormgaard said. Beats me how you find that much to say week after week.
Malvan moved his queen to threaten Stormgaards rook, and the engineer quickly 
withdrew it three squares. Not a whole lot else to do on this tub except write 
my reports.  Still, I often wonder if Ill ever have anything truly worth 
reporting.
Dont worry, the engineer replied. Something will come along.  Things always 
seem to happen in space.
#
Three weeks in front of her computer screen had given Amber a new respect for 
the ancient astronomers who had tracked comets across the heavens. With three 
sightings and only pencil and paper, they had accurately predicted the return of 
a comet eighty years into the future.  To do that required a calculation that 
was relatively simple in theory, but mind-numbingly complex in practice.  Even 
with computers, plotting a track through space required long hours and inhuman 
patience.
Amber and Cragston Barnard had spent much of the first week after the comets 
encounter with Jupiter reviewing their data. Telescopic and radar observations 
had had to be correlated.  When they had their own observations keyed to those 
of Callisto, they had transmitted the entire batch to Luna.  After that, they 
had turned to discovering new facts about the comet.
Barnard had assigned himself to study the nucleuss physical features, while 
giving Amber the job of plotting the orbit. For his own task he relied on the 
observations they had taken just before the nucleus had zipped past them at 
Jupiter.  By the second week following their departure, the senior astronomer 
had produced a general map of the daylight hemisphere.  The map showed several 
craters of differing size, plus a suggestion of fault lines crisscrossing the 
surface.  The fault pattern appeared to be related to the large impact crater on 
the nucleuss limb.
While Barnard worked to map the nucleus, Amber continued her own task. It was 
essentially the same work she had performed at Farside Observatory.  She used 
the radar measurements from the Callisto to calculate the comets location at 
its closest approach to Jupiter.  By triangulating Callistos data with their 
own, she was able to establish periapsis within a few hundred meters.  This she 
established as her starting point for the post-encounter orbit of the comet.
With this single anchor point established, she turned to determining her own 
position in the cosmic scheme of things. Eighteen days after leaving Jupiter, 
she turned the telescope on Lunas tiny image.  On the screen, a red light 
sparked from the center of Farside.  The laser beacon pulsated as readings 
slowly crawled across the bottom of her screen.  The numbers marked the beams 
arrival time to within a nanosecond.  By decoding the time signal buried in the 
beam, she could compute the distance to Luna.
The ships computer did this calculation more than a thousand times during the 
half-hour in whichThe Big Eye transmitted the beam. In so doing, it defined a 
tiny chord ofAdmiral Farragut s orbit about the sun.  This in turn gave Amber 
an accurate prediction of their flight path for the next month.  She punched up 
the ships orbit on her screen.  The nominal path was a ruby red line surrounded 
by a sharp cone of ghostly blue.  The cone represented the ever-increasing 
positional error over the next thirty days.  Amber gazed at it and nodded in 
satisfaction.  It was by far the best orbital projection they had ever had.
Having established whereAdmiral Farragut was, Amber set out to compute the 
position of the comet nucleus. At twenty-one days out of Jupiter, the freighter 
finally pulled to within radar range of the fleeing planetoid.  Amber used the 
radar return signal to give her a position vector.  Since she knewAdmiral 
Farragut s own position, she was able to convert this into a vector describing 
the nucleus position with respect to the sun.  By plugging this datum into the 
computer, plus the time since periapsis, plus the periapsis position, she was 
able to project the comets orbit about the sun.
It was nearly midnight ships time when she finished her final calculations. She 
had just completed entering the last of the data when she was startled out of a 
warm intellectual fog by the sound of a voice behind her.
Good evening. Whats keeping you up at this time of night?
She turned to see Tom Thorpe lever himself through the open hatchway. Despite 
her fatigue, she smiled.
Hello. I might ask you the same.  Arent you supposed to take Hilary outside 
again tomorrow?  You should be getting your rest.
Thorpe ignored the sarcasm in Ambers voice when she mentioned Hilary and 
decided to change the subject. How are things going?
Better than expected, actually. He moved forward, anchored one foot beneath 
the computer console, and began massaging her shoulders.  She sighed and closed 
her eyes.  I just finished my second position point.  I think weve got its 
orbit tied down closely now.  Oh, that feels good!
Glad you like it. Mind if I ask a question?
Go ahead.
Will the tail stretch across the sky the way the news commentators have been 
saying?
She shrugged. That depends on two factors:  brightness and distance.  I cant 
help you on the first.  The big versus cold argument is still raging.  As to 
distance, that Ican figure out!
Dont bother if it takes a long time to set up.
No problem. I only have to push a button and let the computer do the work.  
Amber turned around.  The movement put a temporary stop to his massaging.  In 
one way, she regretted it, but in another, she was afraid of where it might have 
led.
She typed a command into her workscreen. The display changed to show a schematic 
of the Solar system.  The orbit of the comet was superimposed over those of the 
planets, and crossed each of them at an approximate thirty-degree angle.  At the 
bottom of the screen were numbers showing the positions of each of the planets 
and Comet Hastings as the comet swept in toward perihelion.  While Thorpe 
watched the display, Amber watched the numbers.  The comet circled the sun, the 
tiny representation of its tail swiveling to always point away into space.  When 
the comet symbol had passed the orbit of Earth, Amber turned to Thorpe and 
whistled softly.
Whats the matter?
She looked at him with wide eyes. Earth is going to get a better look than I 
thought.
Its going to be close?
Not on the inbound leg. Earth will be in another quadrant of the sky as the 
comet moves inbound.  But 86 days later it will passvery close to Earth on the 
outbound leg!
How close?
I make it a near miss. No less than one planetary diameter, no more than 
two-and-a-half.  The planet will pass well inside the coma and tail.  If the 
people predicting massive boil off are right, there ought to be a milky white 
glow from horizon to horizon!
Too bad well have to abandon the nucleus before then, Thorpe said. It ought 
to be an impressive sight.  You could wave to the folks at home as you go by.
At his comment, Ambers face took on an odd look. Hmmm, Id forgotten about 
home ... Luna, that is!
What about it?
This orbital tracking model Im using doesnt incorporate it. We dont usually 
include satellites because they take up too much processor time.  Moon and 
asteroid gravitational pulls are usually insignificant.  This time there could 
be a minor effect.  Wait a minute while I plug Luna into the program.
Amber turned back to her workstation and deftly broke into the program code. She 
modified it with sure, quick keystrokes.  When next she ran the calculation, the 
visual display was gone, leaving only columns of numbers to march up the screen. 
 When the calculation finished, Amber broke into the code again to check her 
work.  She ran the program a second time, taking great care to make sure that 
her comet position data was correct.  The slower speed with which the numbers 
appeared on the screen indicated to Thorpe that she had also substantially 
reduced her iteration interval.
When she had done this twice, she looked up at Thorpe. There were tears in her 
eyes.
Well? he asked. Did Luna make a difference?
Luna will be in its first quarter during the encounter, Amber replied with a 
quaver in her voice. That means that the axis of the Earth-Moon system will be 
lined up almost perfectly with the nucleuss orbital path.  I am morally certain 
it will miss Luna, although it will be damned close!  My figures show no more 
than five thousand kilometers to spare, possibly a lot less.
But itwill miss?
Ambers response was a nervous nod.
Then why so glum? It ought to be a spectacular sight!
I should think so, Amber replied, her voice suddenly dead of all emotion. It 
was as though she had become part of the computer herself.  Lunas 
gravitational field isnt much, but at that range it doesnt have to be.  The 
nucleuss orbit will be deflected ever so slightly; just enough that it will 
strike the Earth a glancing blow somewhere near the sunrise terminator.  What 
happens after that depends on how inelastic the collision is.  The nucleus could 
bury itself in the Earth, it could bounce and continue on its journey, or it may 
just loop into a high ballistic lob and come crashing down halfway around the 
world several hours later.
It really doesnt matter, of course,since the initial impact will kill everyone 
and everything on Earth! 
 
PART 3:  THE IMMOVABLE OBJECT
 
 
CHAPTER 18
 
Jupiter was astern and the sun was taking a steady toll on the planetoid of ice. 
Most of the surface volatiles had long since boiled away.  Only in the deepest 
crevices were oxygen and hydrogen snows still to be found.  The craters and 
plains were being continuously scoured by an ever more energetic solar wind.  
Even though the surface temperature was still well below their freezing points, 
water, methane, and carbon dioxide all began to sublimate under the bombardment. 
 This new spate of outgassing added to the cloud of vapors that would soon begin 
to form the tail of the comet.
#
Halver Smith stood on the balcony of his estate and listened to the muted party 
noises emanating from inside the big house. The occasion was his annual New 
Years Eve gathering for SierraCorp executives and their guests.  As he breathed 
the cold night air, he let his gaze drift outward.  Holiday lights flowed 
through the valley below like a river of fireflies.  A crescent moon cast the 
entire scene in silver, throwing the first tendrils of the nights fog into 
stark relief.  In another hour, Smiths mountaintop estate would be surrounded 
by a sea of silver fleece.
As he watched the fog, he mulled over the events of the twelve months just past. 
On balance, it had been a good year.  Not only was production up for all 
operating units, but also the worrisome load of short-term debt he had carried a 
year earlier had largely been wiped out.  For that, he had to thank Tom Thorpe.  
Stock sales had soared almost from the moment the Comet Hastings expedition had 
been announced.  It seemed as though everyone who had betThe Rock would be an 
expensive flop was now afraid to let a similar opportunity pass.
At the thought of the expedition, Smith let his gaze drift upward toward 
Jupiter. It had been a month since the comet had transited the Jovian system.  
As expected, the story had been a two-day sensation in the media and then 
promptly forgotten.  People would not think of the comet again until it became 
visible in the night sky of Earth.
There was a sudden increase in the party noise behind him. Smith turned to see a 
woman silhouetted against the light.  He smiled as he recognized Anna Voltuna.  
The two of them had gone to college together.  It had been Anna who had 
introduced Smith to Victoria, his future wife.  Several times the three of them 
had gone sailing on theSierra Seas , and Anna had often stayed with Victoria 
when Smith was away on business.  After Victorias death, she had helped him 
pick up the pieces of his life.
So there you are! she exclaimed upon spotting him at the far end of the 
balcony. Ive been looking all over for you.  Are you alone?
Who did you expect to find with me?
Come now, Hal! I saw that buxom blonde hanging off your arm earlier this 
evening.  Its well known that men of your age and social standing have a 
certain ... vulnerability, shall we say?
Is that why you were so cautious? You thought I might be feeling up some young 
thing out here?
Anna laughed. I wouldnt have put it so crudely, but yes!  It would have been 
an encouraging sign, too.  You work too hard!  All you ever think about is that 
damned asteroid of yours.  You should have more fun in your life.  If a fling 
would help relax you, then Im all for it.
Ill keep that in mind the next time Im propositioned. Did you come out here 
just to lecture me on my love life?
Not exactly, she said, shivering. I had a couple of reasons.  The first is 
that you still owe me a kiss from Christmas.
So I do. And the second?
Your man Jarmon is looking for you.
Did we run out of champagne? The question was rhetorical.  Halver Smiths wine 
cellar was renowned on three continents.
She shook her head. The night communications supervisor called from 
headquarters.  Theyve got a message for you from space.
FromThe Rock ?
Anna shrugged. You know I cant tell one planet from another.  Jarmon seemed 
excited.  He told me the message is in your private code.  He is checking the 
back of the house.  I remembered seeing you head this way, so I decided to track 
you down.
Thanks, he said. Its probablyThe Rock s manager complaining about the 
comptroller again.  Those two have been going at it for months.  You will excuse 
me, wont you?
Not until I get my kiss.
Right, he said with a grin. He moved to enclose her in his arms, and for a few 
moments, they were twenty again.  After a long twenty seconds, he broke the 
kiss.  Sorry, but Id best find out whats up.
Youre coming back to the party, arent you?
If I can. With that, he took Anna by the arm and escorted her inside.
#
It took him five minutes to track down his butler among the throngs of 
partygoers. He eventually found Jarmon in the back bedroom where an all night 
poker game was in progress.
You have a message for me, Jarmon?
Yes, sir. The duty communicator at headquarters forwarded a long coded 
communiqu.  The authenticators indicate that it is one of your personal codes.
Who sent it?
Mr. Thorpe aboardAdmiral Farragut , sir.
Halver Smiths eyebrows lifted in surprise. In the eight months since the 
expedition had left Earth, Thorpe had had no need to communicate with him 
directly.  That he did so now could only mean trouble.  Something must have gone 
wrong with the ship.
Where is this message now?
In your personal file in the household computer, sir. Where do you want to take 
it?
My study, I think. Go clear out anyone you find.  Do it quietly.  Any rumors 
that get started tonight could cause our stock trouble tomorrow.
Ill take care of it, sir.
Smith circulated through the crowd for five minutes, bantering with his 
employees, friends and neighbors. At the end of that time, Jarmon sought him out 
and loudly announced that an old friend was on the telephone wanting to wish him 
a happy New Year.  Smith made his excuses and followed the butler to his study.
Nicely done. Any problems?
No, sir. The room was empty.  I took the liberty of activating the 
anti-eavesdropping equipment to standby and closing the privacy curtains.
Thank you. You may return to your duties.  If anyone asks, give them the 
friend-on-the-phone story.
Yes, sir.
As soon as Jarmon closed the door, Smith activated a control that sealed the 
room. At the same time, a quiet buzzing emanated from the walls and ceiling.  
Any eavesdropping device would now return only white noise.
He sat down at his workstation and keyed for his personal data file. Sure 
enough, at the top of the list was a message from Thorpe.  Smiths eyes swept 
the file log and noted that the message had been transmitted in two parts.  The 
first was in text format; the second, and largest, in binary.  As Jarmon had 
indicated, the message authenticators showed the file to be encrypted in one of 
Smiths personal codes.
At the last keystroke, the screen cleared. The message appeared to be a 
technical report on the orbital parameters of the comet.  Smith began to scan 
rapidly, intent on discovering what Thorpe considered so urgent that he had to 
bother the big boss with it.  He got as far as the end of the second paragraph:
 
... This analysis indicates that the comet nucleus will impact the Earth at 
20:12:16, 17 July 2087. Such an impact will, of course, destroy all life on 
Earth.
 
Smith stopped, blinked, and went back to the beginning. This time he read 
slowly, letting his eyes move from word to word rather than down the screen in 
his normal fast scan.  It was the slowest hed read anything since the sixth 
grade.  He could not help himself.  He kept stumbling over unbelievable 
statements written in a dry, matter-of-fact style.
 
... Velocity and position accurate to six decimal places ... sixty million 
billion tons ... will arrive with a 10 kilometer per second differential with 
respect to the Earth ... glancing blow on the leading terminator ... behavior 
unknown post-impact ... assumptions should be checked by experts...
 
As his palms suddenly became clammy with fear sweat, Smith performed a trick he 
had learned in college. He willed himself to be totally accepting, shutting off 
the voice inside his brain that kept screaming that it could not be so.  With 
the effort of will, his thoughts took on a dreamlike quality.  It was almost as 
though it was someone else reading this catalog of horrors.  Only when he 
reached the end of the report did he sit back to consider what, if true, was 
surely the Earths death warrant.  After an indeterminate time he refocused his 
eyes and quickly scanned the reports various appendices.  Most were technical 
supporting evidence.
A second after he keyed acceptance of the binary attachment, his screen flashed 
to display a diagram of the Solar system. In addition to the orbits of the 
planets out to Jupiter, the schematic showed a long ellipse with a tiny comet 
symbol slowly moving sunward.  In a little over a minute, the comet swept in 
from the outer system, rounded Sol, and began to move back out again.  The 
blue-white marker that represented Earth moved to intercept it.
The screen flashed to show the Earth and Moon in close-up.
As Smith watched, the comet swam slowly toward Luna. The two passed one another 
by less than a lunar diameter.
The comet approached Earth from below and behind, closing at an angle of 
approximately 30 degrees. As the tail swept across the planet, the tiny dot 
representing the nucleus moved in front of it.  The two markers merged as one.  
The display froze, save for a single blinking word etched in scarlet letters:
 
IMPACT!
 
Halver Smith played the projection through twice more. The result was the same 
each time.
As he scanned through the attachments to the report, he found a list of 
recommendations as to how things should be handled from here on. Largely, they 
were common sense things to do if faced with the end of the world:  1) Get 
independent confirmation, 2) quietly notify the authorities, 3) avoid public 
panic, and 4) work to avert the catastrophe.  At the bottom of the page was a 
short note in Tom Thorpes handwriting:
 
Mr. Smith,
 
Identical report and recommendations forwarded to Prime Minister Hobart, 
Republic of Luna.
 
Tom
 
Smith frowned. He would have preferred to be the sole recipient of this news - 
at least for the time being.  Still, he could not blame the expeditions 
Lunarian contingent for warning their own people.  Lunas inhabitants had as 
much stake in what happened to the Earth as the average terrestrial.  After all, 
they were dependent on the Mother World for much of what they needed to live.  
They would not long survive its destruction.
#
Like Halver Smith, John Hobart was in a state of shock after decoding the 
apocalyptic announcement. Since Luna was on Universal Time, it was already New 
Years Day there.  Like Smith, he had decoded the message at home and then 
watched the terrible words march up his computer screen.  He had then keyed for 
the graphic display that showed the comet colliding with the Earth.  He had 
watched the collision ten times when his screen beeped for attention.
Sorry, Prime Minister, the duty operator at the capital said as soon as she 
saw his face. I have Halver Smith on the line from Earth.  He claims it is very 
important that he speak to you.  Hes listed as a VIP, so I thought Id better 
check.
Hobart blinked. The note from Malvan had told of a copy of the report being 
forwarded to the SierraCorp chairman on Earth.  Right.  Put him through.  Then I 
want this line sealed.
The telephone screen cleared to show Smith staring out at him. The terrestrial 
tycoons round face was accentuated by the distortion of the phone pickup.  
Smiths features remained frozen as though in a trance - an effect caused by the 
three-second delay between Earth and Luna.  Finally, recognition showed in his 
eyes and he began to speak.
Good morning, Citizen Hobart.
Hello, Mr. Smith. Where are you calling from?
San Francisco.
It must be very late there.
A little after midnight, Smith confirmed. Uh, have you received a 
confidential communiqu from your representative aboardAdmiral Farragut ?
I have. I was just now looking it over.  I must say that I found it quite 
distressing.
No more than I. How credible do you think this is?
Im not sure. He noticed that Smith had avoided any direct mention of the 
subject.  He approved of such circumspection.  This was not the sort of news one 
trusted to a communications beam, not even a sealed one.
I plan to have the figures checked before I go any further, Smith said. I 
have an acquaintance at the University of California who can be counted on to 
keep a secret.
For my part, I plan to bring in the Director of Farside Observatory. He, too, 
will be sworn to secrecy.  Any suggestions as to what we do if this information 
turns out to be correct?
Kanzler is a member of the System Council. I thought I would ask for an 
audience with the chief coordinator.  Do you agree?
I agree that the System Council is a good place to begin. Luna reserves the 
right to act independently if it must.
As will every nation on Earth. That is why the council must coordinate the 
response.
I have no argument with you, sir, Hobart said. Its just that political 
considerations may dominate this crisis.
One good way to prevent that is to make sure the lid stays on until we confirm 
we have a problem. I understand that Farside Observatory is the receiving point 
for all raw data on the comet.
That is correct.
Its important that they not pass it along. We dont want some independent 
researcher stumbling onto this until were ready.
We wont be able to keep it quiet for long, Hobart warned.
We wont have to, Smith answered. Either we prove theres nothing to worry 
about, or else I arrange an audience with the chief coordinator of the council.
How long do you plan to wait?
Ten days.
All right, Hobart responded. Ill endeavor to keep the lid on at this end.  
If I havent heard from you within ten days, I will be forced to go public with 
what I know.
Fair enough.
After a few more exchanges, Smith signed off and John Hobart sat gazing at the 
blank telephone screen. Finally, he sighed, and signaled his private secretary 
at home.
Yes, sir? she asked when she came on the phone.
Do you remember a government report about a year ago, Amalthea? It surveyed 
Lunas dependency on Earth imports.
Yes, sir.
Do you remember who authored it?
I believe it was Dr. Jinsai at the university. The title was,A Study of 
Strategic Dependencies in the Lunar Economy .
Get Jinsai on the phone and ask him if he will favor me with a visit at my 
home. Today if possible.  I may have some work for him.
 
CHAPTER 19
 
NEWS ITEM:
 
UNIVERSAL FAX, DEN HAAG, UNITED EUROPE - 15 JAN 2086
(For distribution to UnEur, NorAm, Luna, Xterr)
 
HALVER SMITH, WELL-KNOWN AMERICAN ENTREPRENEUR, IS VISITING THE HAGUE TODAY. HE 
WILL BE SEEING CONSTANCE FORBIN, CHIEF COORDINATOR OF THE SYSTEM COUNCIL IN 
HERNEW RIDDERZAALOFFICE. ALTHOUGH THE SUBJECT OF THEIR DISCUSSIONS HAS NOT BEEN 
RELEASED, SOURCES WITHIN THE COUNCIL BUREAUCRACY INDICATE THAT SMITH WILL 
ATTEMPT TO ENLIST THE CHIEF COORDINATORS SUPPORT FOR AN INTERNATIONAL AGREEMENT 
ON EXTRATERRESTRIAL TARIFFS AS THEY APPLY TO METALS OBTAINED VIA ASTEROID 
MINING.  NO POST-MEETING ANNOUNCEMENT IS EXPECTED.
 
END
#
Constance Forbin sat in her fiftieth floor office and gazed out over The Hague. 
In the distance was the ancient center of the city, including the Bullenhof and 
the Hofvijver pond.  The pond was invisible behind the rows of stately 
buildings, but the bare limbs of the trees that bordered the waterway reached 
toward the leaden sky like a randomist sculpture from the early years of the 
century.  The previous nights heavy snow littered the streets and parks of the 
once capital of the Netherlands, and lay in deep mounds where it had slipped 
from the steeply pitched roof of the ancient castle.  A dozen places within the 
Old City, flashing yellow lights marked the location of robot snow equipment.  
The plows had been out all night fighting a losing battle to keep the streets 
clear.  Now that the snow had stopped, they would quickly dig the city out.  
Within forty-eight hours, the streets would be cleared of any trace of the 
blizzard just past.
Constance Forbin was a fifty-year-old with a distinguishing streak of gray in 
her otherwise ebon hair. Her suit was severely cut in a style that flattered 
what even Constance admitted was a figure that flirted with dumpiness.  She 
smiled as she gazed down at the park that fronted the New Ridderzaal Tower.  In 
the summer, it was an area of verdant green, alive with flowerbeds and the 
simple greenery with which the Dutch landscaped their country.  Now it was an 
unbroken field of white that resembled the salt encrusted sea bottom this whole 
area had once been.  Two children were cutting diagonally across the park, 
breaking trail as they pulled a sled behind them.  Closer to the office tower, a 
crowd of pedestrians surfaced all at once from the local underground transport 
station.  The majority of the bundled up commuters hurried across the windswept 
street and into the warmth of the Headquarters Building of theSystem Council for 
International and Interplanetary Affairs .
The council had been founded at the turn of the century as one of the last 
creations of a dying United Nations.  Its mandate had been to look into matters 
that might be important a century hence.  The councils job was to study trends, 
predict where they might lead, and offer recommendations as to what (if 
anything) ought to be done about them.
Despite the dissolution of its parent, the council had prospered. Although its 
efforts continued to be financed by the major terrestrial nations and the 
Republic of Luna, the council was beholden to no one.  Service with the council 
was by invitation.  The councils normal operating mode was to appoint a small 
study group of experts knowledgeable in a field.  The groups were kept small for 
the sake of efficiency, but large enough to prevent intellectual inbreeding.  
Group discussions were usually held via teleconferencing and computer networks, 
although face-to-face meetings were also common.
When a study group finished its assignment, its recommendations were sent to a 
central database. There they would be displayed for a full year, giving each of 
the councils ten thousand advisors opportunity to comment and criticize.  
Only after all suggestions and objections were resolved was a recommendation 
given the imprimatur of the entire council.  In keeping with the organizations 
quasi-official status, such recommendations were not binding on anyone.  Yet, 
most were immediately adopted as official policy by the various nations.  Such 
was the influence of the System Council.
Constance Forbin did not belong to the council, per se. She was, in fact, one of 
its employees.  She and three thousand other staffers assisted the working 
groups with administrative details, allowing the deep thinkers to remain free to 
think.  As chief coordinator, it was her job to see that assignments were 
equitably made, differences of opinion properly debated, and minority views 
given a fair hearing.  She also administered the various supranational service 
agencies that the council had come to control over the years.  Chief among these 
were Sky Watch and the Earthquake Prediction Bureau.  And, of course, it was the 
chief coordinators duty to deal with the public.
Constances enjoyment of the winter scene was suddenly interrupted by the 
buzzing of her intercom. Professor Hardesty is here, Mrs. Forbin.
Please send him in.
The door opened and a stoop shouldered man with a permanent limp moved through 
it. Happy New Year, Constance.  And how is the chief coordinator this fine 
winter morning?
Not bad, Franklin. How is the Senior Administrator for Sky Watch?
Couldnt be better, he replied. I came in last night to beat the storm and 
spent the whole evening watching it snow.  Im a native of Southern California, 
and it always seems unnatural to see white flakes fall from the sky.
You should live here as I have for the past twenty years. The novelty wears off 
quickly.  It is too bad about the clouds.  The weather people thought it might 
clear up today.  Looks like they were wrong.
Do them some good. We have a contingent of weather types aboard Newton Station. 
 They spend entirely too much time being pleased with themselves.  They could 
all benefit from a stiff jolt of humility.  Now then, why couldnt we handle 
this via the usual computer hookup?  What is so important that I had to come 
down personally?  This gravity hurts my leg! 
I dont know. You have heard of Halver Smith, havent you?
Of course. His ore barges are one of my major headaches.  Do you have any idea 
how much calculation time we eat up figuring out clear lanes for Smith?  The 
last time he delivered one of his million ton monstrosities, my people came 
damned close to penetrating the safety zone of one of the big comm-stations.  I 
wrote up several reprimands over that incident.  What about Smith?
Were meeting him in a few minutes, Constance replied.
Why?
I wish I knew. Professor Kanzler of the University of California set up the 
interview.  He called me at home, told me that it was imperative that I talk to 
Smith, and asked that you be present in person.  Kanzler was very emphatic that 
the meeting not be put out over the air.
That doesnt tell us much. Still, Erwin is a good man.  I doubt hed ask if it 
werent important.
That was my thought, Constance confirmed. I only wish hed been more frank 
with me.  He was obviously excited about something.  I had the impression of 
some other emotion just below the surface.  It was almost as though hes 
frightened of something.
#
Halver Smith sat in the back of the hotel limousine and gazed out at the 
snow-covered streets. Despite the bone weariness brought on by two weeks of 
tension, he gazed in wonder at this tidy Dutch city under its blanket of new 
fallen white.  He had found himself doing a lot of gazing in wonder lately - 
ever since Professor Kanzler had confirmed Amber Hastingss prediction.  It was 
not certain that Comet Hastings would strike the Earth, but it was a strong 
enough possibility to be worried about.
The knowledge that the planet could well be doomed had hit Smith like an 
intravenous drug. It was as though each of his senses had been honed to new 
sharpness.  Suddenly there was beauty in almost any scene.  Every breath brought 
a new perfume to savor.  Food tasted better.  In the past several days, Smith 
had watched a child play with a ball, stopped to observe the liquid curves of a 
pretty young woman as she walked down the sidewalk, and admired the way a hawk 
had cavorted in the air currents outside his penthouse office.
Mr. Smith? an earnest young woman in the livery of the councils uniformed 
staff asked.
Yes, he replied as he brushed his windblown hair back into place.
Im Miss Voorstadt. Coordinator Forbin is waiting for you in her office.  Will 
you please follow me?
Of course.
The guide led him to a central bank of elevators and in a matter of seconds, 
Smith found himself on the fiftieth floor. It was only a dozen steps to the 
coordinators outer office.  The coordinators secretary buzzed her boss and 
then told him to go in.
Constance Forbin met him at the door. Her handshake was surprisingly firm.  She 
directed Smith to a seat in front of her desk and introduced him to Franklin 
Hardesty, Sky Watch Administrator.
Good of you to interrupt your busy schedule to see me, Madame Coordinator, 
Smith said. You, too, Mr. Hardesty.
Isnt Professor Kanzler with you, Mr. Smith? Hardesty asked.
Im afraid not. His doctor wont let him fly.  Smith tapped his tunic where an 
inner pocket lay.  He did send along a recording with his views.
His views of what?
Now, Franklin, Constance Forbin said, let us welcome our guest before you 
begin to grill him, shall we? Coffee or tea, Mr. Smith?
No, thank you. I just finished breakfast.  Im afraid I havent adjusted to the 
change in time zones yet.
I didnt have that problem, Hardesty replied. Newton Station is on Universal 
Time, which is also the next zone west.
Yes, Smith responded. Professor Kanzler said that you would have to come down 
from orbit.  I hope we havent unduly inconvenienced you.
Depends on what you have to say.
Im sorry for the mystery. I believe youll agree that my news is best shared 
in private once you hear it.
Then shall we begin? the coordinator asked.
Smith picked up his briefcase, laid it flat on his lap, and then removed two 
thick sheaves of paper bound in individual security cases. He keyed passwords 
into the thin keypads on the front of each book-like case.  At the final digit, 
the covers sent an electrical charge through the special paper inside, breaking 
down the coating that would otherwise burst into flame upon exposure to light.  
Assured that the reports were now safe, he unzipped the cases with a flourish 
and handed one to each of his listeners.
Coordinator Forbin. Administrator Hardesty, Smith said.  If nothing is done 
to prevent it, the Comet Hastings nucleus will strike the Earth on July 17 of 
next year.  Im told by experts that the impact will kill everyone on Earth.
There was an uncomfortably long silence that Constance Forbin was the first to 
break. You came here, Mr. Smith,to announce the end of the world ?
Im afraid that I did.
Have you any idea how many people have made that same claim over the 
centuries? Hardesty asked.  His tone made clear his opinion of Smiths 
announcement.
Millions.
Why should we believe you any more than one of them?
I can prove my claim. 
How?
With the evidence I just gave you.
While the two leafed through the reports, Smith summarized the data for them. He 
described the comets close encounter with Jupiter and the post-encounter orbit 
into which it had been thrown.  He spoke of the near miss of Luna which would 
result in the nucleus being diverted into the Earth.
And you believe this? Hardesty asked after Smith had finished.  The Sky Watch 
administrator was gazing at an orbital chart showing the relative positions of 
Comet Hastings and Earth over the next eighteen months.
I was hesitant at first. That is the reason I contacted Professor Kanzler.  He 
has done an independent study of the data.  He agrees that a collision is a very 
real possibility.
Hardesty gazed at Smith for long seconds, then shook his head emphatically. 
What you are suggesting is just too fantastic.  Either this is the greatest 
three corner billiard shot of all time, or else God is trying to tell us 
something.  Frankly, I dont like either hypothesis very much.
The figures are there before you.
Figures have been cooked up for hoaxes before.
Why would I perpetrate such a hoax?
A good question, Hardesty replied. Ive followed your career, Smith.  I know 
that you have gained a great deal from the publicity generated by this 
expedition to the comet.  Perhaps you are trying to drum up interest.  If that 
is your gain, you are destined to lose.  Manipulating astronomical data isnt as 
easy as stock prices.
Then you can check the accuracy of this? Constance asked as she waved the 
report at Hardesty.
Easily. In fact, Ive thought of a quick check of Mr. Smiths veracity that we 
can perform ourselves right in this office.
What is that, Franklin?
To strike the Earth, the comet must orbit in the same plane. If the two orbits 
are not coplanar, they can never intersect.  That is the reason Haleys Comet 
represents no threat to us.  Its orbit is highly inclined to the ecliptic and 
does not intersect Earths orbit at all.
Is that correct, Mr. Smith? Must the orbital planes be lined up for a collision 
to take place?
Essentially, yes, Smith replied. There is one special case where it can 
happen, but that has no bearing on the situation at hand.  Comet Hastings does 
indeed orbit in the same plane as the Earth.
So you say, Hardesty replied. He slapped the diagram hed been studying with 
his open palm. 
This picture suggests that all of the planets orbit in the ecliptic. That, of 
course, is false.  Most have orbits inclined to that of the Earth.  Jupiter, for 
instance, moves as much as 17 million kilometers above and below the ecliptic as 
it travels about its orbit.
What has that to do with Mr. Smiths claim, Franklin?
Comet Hastings passed within a few planetary diameters of Jupiter less than a 
month ago. That puts Jupiter in the plane of the comets orbit.  If it was not 
passing through the ecliptic at the time of the close encounter, then Mr. Smith 
is perpetrating a hoax.  The alignment must be perfect, by the way.  If the Big 
Boy was even a few seconds of arc above or below the ecliptic, the comet will 
miss.
Constance Forbin smiled. Well then, let us find out where Jupiter was.
Hardesty rose from his chair and limped over to where the coordinators 
workstation sat next to her desk. A few seconds spent punching keys brought a 
frown to his face.
Well, Franklin?
Jupiters current declination - its position with respect to the ecliptic - is 
minus 0.002 degrees of arc.
When did it actually cross the ecliptic? Smith asked quietly.
One month ago, Hardesty conceded.
Then Mr. Smiths claim is correct, Franklin?
Its possible. Still not very likely, however.  You cant imagine how minuscule 
a target Earth is when one considers the immensity of space.
Is that true, Mr. Smith?
Absolutely, Madame Coordinator. Professor Kanzler wants me to emphasize that we 
cannot guarantee the comet nucleuswill hit the Earth at this time, only that 
itmay .  We will need far more precise measurements of its orbital parameters to 
be sure.  He suggests that we get them as quickly as possible.  Obviously, we 
have to find out for sure before its too late to do anything about it.
#
Donald Callas sat in his office on Avalon asteroid and stared at a black sky 
filled with diamond sparks. One spark in particular drew his attention.  It was 
an oddly elongated blob bright enough to leave an afterimage.  Callas turned 
down the overhead glow panels and rummaged in the lower drawers of his desk for 
his binoculars.  A moments fiddling with the optics showed the elongated star 
to be two spheres hovering close to one another.  The smaller of the two was 
very nearly eclipsed by the larger, which was dazzling blue-white.  Callas 
sighed as he gazed at the Earth and the Moon from across a ten million-kilometer 
gulf of space.
It had been five years since Callas had last set foot on Earth. It seemed like a 
lifetime.  In those early days, Avalon had moved just outside of Venuss orbit, 
occasionally dipping to within two million kilometers of Earths stillborn twin. 
 It had been Callas job to nudge the big asteroid into a more useful orbit for 
mining.  Half a decade and a dozen kilograms of antimatter later, Avalon orbited 
140 million kilometers out from the sun.  The orbit of the asteroid meant that 
it periodically overtook the Earth.  Avalon and the Earth-Moon system had been 
in conjunction twice since orbital modifications had begun.  Each time Earth and 
Luna had grown larger, brighter, and more beautiful in Avalons black sky.
Two years hence, Avalon would approach Earth from below and behind, moving with 
enough velocity to curve around the planet in a gentle S-shaped curve. There 
would follow a complicated maneuver in which Earth and Luna would capture the 
wayward asteroid.  Avalons initial orbit about Earth would be highly 
elliptical, extending nearly to Luna in one direction and looping down to 
geosynchronous altitude in the other.  The months and years that followed 
capture would be devoted to circularizing the asteroids orbit.  None of these 
post-capture operations would be of the slightest concern to Donald Callas, 
however.  His contract was fulfilled the moment Avalon completed its first full 
orbit of the planet.  Once around the Mother of Men and he would return home a 
rich man, never to leave again.
Callas gazed for another few minutes at the beautiful blue-white world low above 
the barren horizon of the asteroid. Finally, he lowered the binoculars with a 
sigh and ordered the lights full up.  The stark blackness beyond the thick 
windowpane receded.  He returned to viewing the endless progression of shortage 
reports that were his personal purgatory.
 
CHAPTER 20
 
John Malvan floated intoAdmiral Farragut s wardroom and pulled himself to the 
food dispenser. Scanning the menu, he selected coffee, toast, and a bulb of 
orange juice.  The machine delivered a covered breakfast pack, which he tucked 
under the stump of his right arm.  Turning, Malvan found Hilary Dorchester 
watching him from across the compartment.
Youre the first person Ive seen smile since we got the bad news. Whats so 
funny?
Nothings funny, she replied. I was just watching the way you handle yourself 
without weight.  Im still as clumsy as a newborn babe.
You werent clumsy last night, he said.
How gallant of you to notice, sir! But I still wonder if Ill ever be able to 
handle myself as well as you do.
He shrugged. Its all a matter of technique.  Youll catch on.
Do you really think so?
Everyone does eventually.
As he talked, he secured the breakfast pack to the table, and then unplugged the 
coffee bulb from its receptacle. He took a long, slow sip of the black liquid 
and sighed.  Thats what I need in the morning!  I cant face depilating 
without my coffee, let alone the end of the world.
Any word from Earth? Have they even acknowledged our warning?
Not yet. Personally, I think they decoded the data, decided that we are all 
drunk out here, and forgot about it.
Do you really think so?
Malvan was surprised at the intensity of her question. He grinned, No, of 
course not!  Give them time.  It must be difficult to organize things without 
causing a public panic.
This sneaking around is all wrong! Hilary hissed.  We should be shouting the 
news to anyone who will listen.
Malvan shook his head. Sorry, but thats precisely what weshouldnt be doing.
If the comet is really going to hit Earth, the people have a right to know. 
They should have some say in how things are handled.
Why?
Because their lives are at stake!
Malvan sighed. Did you ever see a run on a bank, Hilary?
No, of course not. Its been fifty years since the last bank failed.
On Earth, maybe. They still happen with depressing regularity on Luna.  The 
institution I have in mind was a regional savings-and-loan.  Somehow, a rumor 
got started that the president had invested heavily in a local tunneling project 
that had a blowout and lost a lot of air.  The rumor was not true.  The bank had 
only a modest interest in the tunnel.  It did not matter.  Within half an hour, 
they had to take their computer off line because panicky depositors had drawn 
down their reserves to nothing.  Shutting down was a mistake.  No one ever 
trusted them after that.  The bank failed and the president killed himself.
Whats that to do with the comet striking Earth? Hilary asked.
Panic does funny things to people. If they stampede over the prospect of losing 
a little money, what do you think will happen when you announce the end of the 
world?
Surely you arent suggesting that wenever tell them?
No, of course not. However, the public mood has to be carefully prepared.  They 
have to be in the proper frame of mind to prevent a panic.  That takes time and 
careful preparation.  If nothing else, the riot police have to be mobilized in 
advance of the announcement, not after.
Hilary opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again as the public address 
system in the overhead came alive:
Attention, All Hands! This is the Captain speaking.  Muster in the storm cellar 
in fifteen minutes.  I repeat, the axis shelter in fifteen minutes!
Well, Malvan replied with a grin. I would say that weve finally heard from 
Earth.
#
Amber Hastings arrived to find the axis shelter crowded. She carefully threaded 
her way to her customary spot perched atop her own cold sleep tank.  There she 
sorted through her notes while the others found their own anchor points.  The 
hatch leading to the control room opened and Captain Olafson floated through 
with Tom Thorpe close behind.
Everyone here? the captain asked as she steadied herself with a handy 
stanchion. There was a brief pause while she counted heads.  All right, lets 
begin.  One hour ago, we received a long communiqu from the Chief Coordinator 
of the System Council.  They are forming a working group to coordinate all 
activities concerning the comet.  We work for them now.  Our new orders were 
included in the communiqu.  Listen up!
Karin Olafson took a message flimsy from her pocket and began to read aloud:
 
DATE:  20 January 2086
 
TO: Captain Karin Olafson,I.S.F. Admiral Farragut ; Thomas Thorpe, Leader, Comet 
Hastings Expedition
 
FROM: The Honorable Constance Forbin, Chief Coordinator, System Council
 
SUBJECT: Revised Expedition Orders
 
1.0 Pursuant to the Space Emergency Treaty of 2056, as amended by the Mexico 
City Compact of 2073,I.S.F. Admiral Farragut is hereby placed under the 
authority of the System Council. You are directed to obey all lawful orders 
emanating from this office and from Council Working Group No. 7490.
 
2.0 All previous contracts, agreements, or understandings betweenAdmiral 
Farragut , its owners, passengers, and crew, the Sierra Corporation, and the 
Republic of Luna, are hereby rendered null and void.
 
3.0 You are ordered to proceed at your best pace to the Comet Hastings nucleus. 
You will survey that body from space and report your findings.  You will 
initiate landing operations only upon receipt of orders, and if you consider 
such action safe.
 
4.0 You will monitor the nucleuss position and velocity throughout your 
approach. You will acquire data needed to further refine the orbital parameters 
of the comet.
 
5.0 You will conduct direct observations of the nucleuss terrain and internal 
structure and will report all such to CWG-7490.
 
6.0 You will assist in any orbital modification efforts that may be judged 
necessary to ensure the safety of Earth.
 
7.0 You will affix a security classification of TOP SECRET to all information 
regarding the Comet Hastings nucleus, and will transmit such information only 
when properly secured.  No public release of information regarding any aspect of 
your work is to be made.  All such will be coordinated through this office.
 
8.0 Good luck, Admiral Farragut. We are all counting on you!
 
(Signed)
 
Constance Forbin
Chief Coordinator
System Council
 
Captain Olafson looked up as she finished reading. We have been making a slow 
approach to the comet nucleus in order to conserve fuel.  That will now change.  
In precisely one hour, this ship will accelerate at one-half gravity for twenty 
minutes.  We will make rendezvous with the nucleus in five days time, and will 
begin observing its surface as soon as we are within observation range.  Are 
there any questions or objections to these orders as I have read them?
Whats this stuff about all contracts between ourselves and Sierra Corporation 
being null and void? Bradford Goff, the expeditions heavy equipment specialist 
asked.  Surely they arent telling us that our employment contracts are 
abrogated!
Tom Thorpe shook his head. He had anchored himself beside the captain and had 
watched everyones reaction as she read the orders.  Included with the orders 
was a message from Mr. Smith.  He confirmed that control of this expedition has 
passed to the System Council.  He emphasized, however, that our personal 
contracts will be honored in full.
What about these orbital modifications were supposed to assist with? 
someone asked.
Captain Olafson turned to Amber. Miss Hastings has been studying that aspect of 
the communiqu.  She will explain it to you.
Amber glanced up from her notes and found everyones eyes on her. Shed had 
enough time to run a few simple calculations and was not happy with the numbers. 
 Still, the mood aboard ship had been black ever since the comets likely 
collision with Earth had become common knowledge.  Amber resolved to put the 
best face possible on the situation.  She cleared her throat and began to speak 
with as much confidence as she could muster. 
I suppose the Earth seems a fairly large place to those who live on it, she 
began. I know I have always found it to be an impressive sight in the Nearside 
sky.  Yet, on the scale of the Solar system, it is actually quite tiny.  The 
Earth has an equatorial diameter of only 12,756 kilometers.  That is barely 
one-eleventh Jupiters diameter and one-hundredth the diameter of the Sun.  The 
Earth orbits the Sun at a speed of 29.8 kilometers per second.  If you divide 
the diameter of the planet by its speed, you discover that the Earth travels its 
own length every seven minutes.  In other words, it is a small, rapidly moving 
target.
As everyone who has traveled in space knows, the way to avoid a collision is to 
change the orbit of one of the colliding bodies. Modifying an orbit requires 
energy proportional to the momentum change needed.  Momentum, of course, is 
dependent on the objects mass and velocity.  Unfortunately, the comet nucleus 
has a great deal of mass.  We would have no trouble changing the comets orbit 
if we only had a few decades to work at it.  With the nucleus orbiting near 
Jupiter every seven years, it is likely we would not have to do anything.  
Jupiters gravitational reach would soon warp the comets path away from Earths 
orbit.  No, our problem is the next eighteen months.  Even if we used our 
largest and most efficient propulsion engines, we could never divert it into a 
safe orbit in time.
Then Earth is doomed! Hilary Dorchester said from where she sat next to John 
Malvan.
Not necessarily, Amber replied. You see, it isnt really necessary to alter 
the comets orbital track.  We can also avert a collision by merely altering its 
schedule!  That is much easier to do.
Of course, Professor Chen said. If we can cause the comet to arrive at the 
collision point early, there will be no collision!
Precisely.
How early?
Based on existing data, Amber replied, I calculate that we need to gain three 
minutes over the next eighteen months. That includes the foreshortening caused 
by the nucleuss oblique approach to Earth.
That doesnt sound bad at all, Chen replied. Whats that in velocity?  Anyone 
bring a calculator with them?
It works out to an increase of 0.0005 percent in the nucleuss speed. If we can 
increase its current velocity by just five centimeters per second, it will miss 
Earth by a thousand kilometers.
There was a moment of silence, then a roar as a dozen competing voices offered 
suggestions for accelerating the nucleus. Seeing that the excitement was 
contagious, Amber gave up trying to explain that although the number was tiny, 
sixty million billion tons gave the task a Herculean dimension.
#
Amber, wait up!
Amber stopped and spun in mid air in the slightly awkward motion of a zero 
gravity turn. Tom Thorpe came swarming up behind her.
Hello, she said as he overtook her.
Hello, yourself. Where have you been hiding?  I hardly ever see you anymore.
Professor Barnard and I have been busy. Were double checking all of our past 
work.
Still looking for a dropped decimal point?
She nodded.
Youre not going to find it, you know.
I know. Its just that I cant get over the feeling that its my fault.
Your fault? Why?
The comet bears my name, she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. Just 
think of the billions of people who will curse me once they find out.  Damn it, 
I told them I didnt want it named after me!
Come on, he soothed. Nobody is going to blame you.  This is an act of God if 
there ever was one.
Ever heard of shooting the messenger who brings the bad news?
He gazed into her eyes for a long moment. This is really getting to you, isnt 
it?
She sighed. Maybe just a little.  I havent been sleeping very well.
Have you talked to Doctor Barnard about it?
Amber shook her head. Shed just prescribe sleeping pills.  I dont need that.
Ive got a bottle of brandy that I keep in my cabin. What say we have a drink?
Does Captain Olafson know about this bottle?
Does she tell me everything?
For the first time in weeks, Amber laughed. Thats what I thought.
The two of them moved a quarter of the way around AdmiralFarraguts habitat 
module to Thorpes cabin. Despite his status as leader of the expedition, his 
quarters were identical to everyone elses.  Optimized for zero gee, they held a 
desk, several tie downs, a sleeping net, an entertainment console, and a variety 
of recessed lockers for personal effects.  A hatch opposite the airtight door 
led to a second compartment containing a zero gravity toilet, sink, and shower.
Amber brushed past Thorpe, giving him a strong whiff of her perfume. She headed 
to the far tie down point and strapped herself in.  Thorpe closed the door, and 
then moved to one of the lockers in the overhead.  He returned with a bottle, 
two drinking bulbs, and a syringe.  The bottle was obviously from Earth and 
lacked the specialized contrivances designed for handling liquids in 
microgravity.  Thorpe handed the bulbs to Amber before deftly inserting the 
syringe through the cork and filling it with fluid.  He then injected the liquid 
into one of the bulbs before repeating the operation for the other.  He stowed 
the bottle and syringe before accepting one of the bulbs.
Skaol!
Amber smiled, and then sipped carefully from the bulb. She savored the mild 
burning the liquid caused as it flowed across her tongue and down her throat.  A 
few minutes later, she was feeling warm all over.  This is excellent.
It should be, he replied. It came from Halver Smiths private stock.
Ah, to be rich!
Youare rich, or at least well off. Remember, you have progress payments piling 
up from your discoverers rights.
Too bad Ill never have a chance to spend the money.
Thorpe frowned, then made a show of attaching his drinking bulb to the nearby 
steel bulkhead. The bulbs magnetic base held it in place.  Maybe we should 
talk about it.
About what?
Whatevers bothering you, Id say that youve figured out the energy required 
to accelerate a 500 kilometer ball of ice 5 centimeters per second.
How did you know?
I move asteroids for a living, remember? How bad is it?
Bad, she replied. Everyone seems to forget that the nucleus masses 60 million 
billion tons. Thatsone-twentieth the mass of all the water in all the oceans on 
Earth! 
Its a lot, he agreed. So how hard will it to be to accelerate it that tiny 
bit?
I figure the job will take 125 billion tons of reaction mass and a quarter-ton 
of antimatter.
And that is what has you worried?
She sipped from her bulb, and then nodded. You know its a good year when the 
human race manages to synthesize even 25 kilograms of antimatter.  How are we 
going to gettwo hundred and fifty in the next eighteen months?
Dont worry about it. Its not our problem.
Not our problem!
Thats exactly what I said. Our job is to survey the nucleus and report what we 
find to Earth.  Others will have to figure out how to avoid a collision.  If we 
try to do their jobs in addition to our own, we wont do either very well.  This 
is one time you have to concentrate on what youre doing and hope the other 
fellow does the same.
So your suggestion is that I forget what Ive learned?
Dont forget it. Do not let it eat at you either.  You are vital to Earth just 
now.  All of us are.  If you dont believe me, just think of how helpless you 
would feel if you were back at Farside Observatory.  We are humankinds eyes and 
ears.  We report what we see when we get to the nucleus.  Everything else is a 
sideshow just now.
But what if they cant speed the nucleus?
He shrugged and made a show of plucking the drinking bulb from the bulkhead. In 
that case, we eat, drink, and be merry.  For tomorrow...
 
CHAPTER 21
 
All right, lets pull back to wide angle.
Amber touched a control and six ancient mirrors moved to a new focus in their 
hexagonal frame. The small spherical object that had been centered in the field 
of view of the telescope quickly contracted to invisibility, to be replaced by a 
glowing cloud.  The comets coma had thickened since the nucleus had departed 
Jupiter and would continue to do so for the next year or so.  Friction from the 
solar wind would begin to produce a recognizable tail about the time the nucleus 
reached the Asteroid Belt.
Admiral Farraguthad entered the proto-tail five days earlier. In the month since 
Jupiter, they had chased the ice asteroid 30 million kilometers to sunward.  
Never had it appeared as more than a brilliantly lit crescent.  Their attempts 
to map the surface by recording features as they rotated through the crescent 
had proven unsatisfactory.  Close observation of the nucleuss surface continued 
to be thwarted by the cloud of gas and dust that surrounded it.
Wide angle view, Amber responded as the screen stabilized.
Maximum contrast, Cragston Barnard ordered.
The screen changed again. The filaments of a frozen explosion flowed into view.  
The features were too dim to be seen normally.  Only the computers ability to 
differentiate minuscule differences in brightness made them visible now.  They 
radiated outward from the nucleus, clearly marking its position although it 
could no longer be seen.
No doubt about it, Barnard said after taking several photometric readings of 
various regions of the coma. The nucleus is outgassing much faster than 
predicted.
Yet the percentage of volatiles in the cloud is holding steady, Amber 
responded. They should be increasing.
The older astronomer shook his head. Everything we see indicates that, except 
for its size, the nucleus is a normal deep-space chunk of ice.  No, weve 
overlooked something and I think I know what it is.
Whats that?
Internally generated heat from the tidal stresses of the close approach to 
Jupiter.
Gravity flexing?
Barnard nodded. Getting that close must have strained its equilibrium some.  
Heat generated in the interior is just now making it to the surface.
Could be, Amber agreed. Gravity flexing keeps Callistos interior liquid and 
look how far from Jupiter it is.
Barnard pointed to a particularly bright streamer. Look at that jet!  It must 
be bubbling up from a major flaw in the surface.
That big crater we saw during the flyby?
He nodded. Or deep faults radiating around it.  A really big crack might act 
like a heat well.
It would have to be pretty deep, she cautioned.
Barnard shrugged. As you would expect considering the size of the hole left 
behind.
It will be interesting to see if youre right when we get closer.
Care to lay a small wager on it?
Not on your life, boss! Youve been right too often lately.
As she operated the telescopes controls, Amber hummed to herself. Her mood was 
very different than it had been after she had discovered the awful truth about 
her namesake.  The cause for her change in attitude was obvious to everyone 
aboard ship.  Amber was in love!
She and Tom had had a second drink that day in his cabin. Halfway through it, 
they had started reminiscing.  The conversation had drifted to the bargain they 
had made in San Francisco.  By the time the third drinking bulb was drained, 
Amber found herself agreeing that it was stupid of them to waste time when the 
end of the world was at hand.  They had laughed about it.
Then the laughter had abruptly stopped. A long look had turned into an embrace.  
Hungry lips had sought others and Amber felt herself wrapped in strong arms.  
What happened next had been as natural as breathing.  There had even been a 
funny moment when, midway through their act of love, they had been forced to 
scramble for safety belts as acceleration alarms hooted throughout the ship. 
Admiral Farragut s engines came to life and they finished under half a gravity 
of acceleration.
Later, they had slept the night in one anothers arms and made love again in the 
morning. At breakfast, she had announced to the entire wardroom that she was 
moving in with Tom.  Somehow, no one seemed surprised.
All right, Barnard said, stretching beside her and jolting her from her 
reverie. Thats enough for this session.  Program in the coma observations and 
switch the system to automatic.  I wont need you again until First Watch.
Are you sure, Crag?
Im sure. I got the impression at lunch today that our leader is unhappy with 
my monopolizing your time.  After you finish your programming, I dont want to 
see your face back here until morning.
#
Karin Olafsen lay in her acceleration couch and watched the comet nucleus on the 
view dome. The endless fog was beginning to be dispelled.  She had strained her 
ships fuel reserves to arrive a month early, yet only in the last few hours had 
they been able to see their destination with the unaided eye.
Whats the range, Mr. Rodriguez?
Five thousand kilometers and closing, Captain.
Please ask Professor Barnard if he has enough approach data. Im ready to turn 
the ship.
Aye aye. There was a brief murmuring sound as Rodriguez contacted the 
astronomy compartment.  Then he said, Ready whenever you are, Captain.
Karin glanced over her shoulder at her husband. Ready to turn the ship, Mr. 
Chief Engineer?
Ready, Captain.
Right. Stand by for the announcement.  She keyed for the general circuit on the 
ships intercom. Attention, All Hands!  I am turning the ship for braking.  
Beware of Coriolus forces and moment arm accelerations.  Turning maneuver in 
thirty seconds!
Karin fired the attitude thrusters on schedule. The habitat module vibrated with 
the sound of the firing.  The sound had not yet died away when the sky began to 
rotate on the dome overhead.  She watched the view dome compass grid closely.  
When it showed the ship a few degrees short of its turn, she fired the thrusters 
again.  A second whump! brought the rotation to a halt.  At the zenith of the 
dome lay a small-banded world of almost intolerable brightness.  At a range of 
30 million kilometers, Jupiter was half the size of Luna as viewed from Earth.  
Its bright light shone through the coma, giving it the look of a full moon on a 
hazy night.
Aft view, Mr. Rodriguez.
Again, the overhead dome cleared to show the crescent image of the nucleus. It 
appeared much as it had throughout their month-long stern chase except the 
crescent was no longer soft edged and gauzy.  The ice nucleus was now a small 
planet with a sharply defined limb and a darkened hemisphere.  The darkened 
portion glowed dimly by Jupiter light.
The captain pointed out the phenomenon to Thorpe, who was strapped in beside 
her. Looks like well be able to work right through the local night.
How close are we going to pass abeam of the comet, Captain?
 Whats the matter, Mr. Thorpe?  Dont trust my flying?
Just curious.
Well be 300 kilometers distant at closest approach. I have all my side cameras 
operating, so we should have a good view of the sunlit side.  That big crater 
will be fully illuminated.  When we reach a distance of two thousand kilometers 
to sunward, Ill bring her to a halt.
Thorpe nodded. There would be no need for an orbit around the ice mass.  
Although the nucleus was larger thanThe Rock , its surface gravity was only 
one-third that of the smaller asteroid.  The discrepancy was caused by the 
nucleuss low density.  With its meager gravitational pull, it would take the 
better part of a year for the ship to fall two thousand kilometers.
Captain Olafsen watched the ice asteroid change perspective as they made their 
approach. Their closing speed - purchased at the cost of a significant 
percentage of their remaining reaction mass - was five kilometers per second.  
As they drew even with the comet nucleus, she would decelerate at two gravities 
for four minutes in order to bringAdmiral Farragut to rest at the desired 
distance.  After that, there would be several days of observations before they 
chose a landing site.
Once they had permission from Earth, they would detach the habitat module and 
set it down on the surface. Next, the cargo module would be landed under 
automatic control.  The engine module would be left in orbit high above the 
nucleus where it would act as a communications relay.  Once they had their 
hydrogen distillery set up, they would ferry each of the cylindrical fuel tanks 
down to the surface for refilling.
Slowly, the asteroid grew until it was as large as a planet. As they reached the 
point of closest approach, Karin Olafsen keyed the intercom: All hands, prepare 
for heavy acceleration!  Two gravities in two minutes.  Make sure that you are 
strapped down tight.  I repeat, two gravities in two minutes.  Drop whatever you 
are doing and get into acceleration couches now!  Report status when ready.  
She waited until everyone onboard had reported his or her readiness for 
acceleration. As she had done before launch, she visually inspected their 
condition as well as looked over her ship.  Then she checked the readiness of 
the control room crew.
Mr. Chief Engineer!
Ready for acceleration, Captain.
Computer check, Mr. Rodriguez.
Green lights across the board.
Close all pressure doors. Bring the thrust chamber magnetic field to full 
strength.  Stand by for reaction mass and antimatter injection.
Standing by, Captain, Chief Engineer Stormgaard said.
There was a long pause.
First antimatter injection in thirty seconds. Mr. Rodriguez, sound the klaxon.
The acceleration alarm sounded throughout the ship.
Attention, All Hands.  Stand by for full power.  Ten ... nine ... eight ... 
seven ... six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ...now!
#
Barbara Martinez walked slowly down the long corridor of Newton Station and 
wondered what it was that she had done now. She had been summoned to a private 
meeting with the Senior Administrator of Sky Watch.  A Grade 6 computer 
programmer did not often meet privately withEl Patrn , and when they did, they 
usually did not enjoy the occasion.
She reached the SAs office and checked her appearance in the full-length mirror 
provided for the purpose. What she saw was a trim, brown eyed brunette, with a 
ready smile and a mouth slightly too large for her face.  She studied her 
features with the detachment of someone confident about their appearance.  The 
powder blue of her uniform set off the slight duskiness of her complexion to 
good effect.  Satisfied, she signaled her presence.
There came a muffled command to enter, which she did. Franklin Hardesty sat 
hunched over a report that bore a scarlet TOP SECRET cover page.  In addition 
to the security rating, the report bore the logo of the System Council.  The 
council had performed classified studies in the past, she knew, but those had 
usually involved sociologically sensitive subjects.  To her knowledge, Sky Watch 
had never dealt with anything more classified than tide schedules.
Hardesty glanced up and closed the report at her entrance. Please be seated, 
Miss Martinez.
Thank you, sir.
The senior administrator maintained his office on Gamma Deck where local gravity 
was barely one-third standard. Hardesty claimed the higher gravity on Alpha and 
Beta decks made his leg ache.
Ive been looking over your file, Miss Martinez. I understand that you trained 
as an astrogeologist.
Yes, sir. I did my doctoral thesis on cometary formation.
Why arent you working in that field?
She shrugged. Where does an expert on comets go to get a job?  Except for this 
recent expedition to Comet Hastings, there havent been many opportunities for a 
person with my specialty.
I take it that you are following the progress of the expedition.
When I can. They have been quiet since the comet left Jupiter.  A stern chase 
is a long chase, I guess.
I understand that you know one of the expedition members.
She nodded. John Malvan.  I met him when he was passing through last year.  He 
promised to bring me back a chunk of the comet.
Malvan is Lunas official representative on the expedition, is he not?
Yes, sir. Mind telling me why youre asking all these questions?
Sky Watch has been tasked to support one of the council working groups. They 
need our very best people.  Im thinking of nominating you.
A study project, sir? Concerning the comet?
Im sorry, but thats as specific as I can get. The job involves an extended 
stay on Earth.  Interested?
Yes, sir! Like most of the Sky Watch personnel, Barbara had long since 
exhausted the entertainment opportunities Newton Station had to offer.  Despite 
the high pay and luxurious living quarters, it was impossible not to notice that 
she was living her life in a curved sewer pipe.  An extended vacation on Earth 
was just the thing for her.
If chosen, you will be asked to maintain rigid secrecy. You wont be able to 
tell anyone what you are doing and there will be restrictions on your freedom of 
movement.
For how long?
It could be for some months. Still interested?
You say that this is important?
Its vital.
Then Im interested.
Hardesty nodded. Pack your bags and be ready for the noon ferry.  You are to 
report to Room 1012 in our Denver headquarters at 08:00 local time tomorrow.  
They will have additional orders for you there.  Any questions?
No, sir.
Hardesty stood up and stuck out his hand. Good luck.  Well be counting on 
you.
#
Halver Smith hurried through the bracing wind to the main building of what had 
been a teachers college in New Mexico. Snow lay everywhere except along the 
walkways between buildings.  Pipes running through the concrete kept the snow 
melted from the walks.  Beyond the red brick buildings with their green copper 
roofs lay a saw-toothed mountain range.
The abandoned college had come into Smiths possession five years earlier. When 
Constance Forbin had explained the need for a secure site to house the new 
working group, he had offered the campus.  It had taken two weeks by a small 
army of workmen to get it properly equipped.  The dormitories were still 
undergoing refurbishment.
Despite having his suit heater turned to high, Smith was shivering by the time 
he entered the administration building. After being identified by a security 
guard, he was allowed to ascend to the second floor.  The project managers 
secretary informed him that Director Warren had someone in his office, but that 
he would be free in a few minutes.  Smith spent the time warming himself by an 
old style radiator.
When the directors door opened, a pretty young woman walked out. Smith noticed 
her because her hair was so dark it shone with a blue sheen.  She had a look on 
her face that Smith recognized.  It was the dazed expression of someone who had 
just learned the truth about the comet.
New fish? he asked as she brushed past him without seeing him.
Her eyes sought him out, and then seemed to focus. Beg your pardon?
I asked if you are new here?
She nodded. Im just down from Newton Station.
And Director Warren has just told you whats going on.
She nodded again.
In my experience, it takes about a week to regain ones composure.
Ill remember that.
Smith watched her out of sight. He did not envy her at all.  She still had the 
orientation briefings to sit through.  Most people needed a few stiff drinks by 
the end of their briefing sessions.
Hello, Clarence, he said as he entered the directors office. I see youve 
been spreading happiness again.
Clarence Warren was a forty-year-old former professor who looked right at home. 
He was also overweight and had a tendency to waddle when he walked.
Good afternoon, Halver. Yes, I always try to break the news to the new recruits 
personally.  I find their reactions tell me something about their personalities. 
 What can I do for you?
I understand that the first pictures are in. I thought I would pop over and 
look at them.
Why, for Gods sake? Morbid curiosity?
Moving asteroids is my business, remember?
Right, Warren replied. I sometimes forget that you started the whole 
industry.  Ive got the mapping shots around here somewhere.
Warren reached into his desk and pulled forth a set of fully annotated 
photographs of the sort astronomers use. The holograms had been enhanced to show 
detail and elevation.  It was like looking down on a miniature Luna.
The first photograph showed the nucleus in full sunlight. The overall color was 
the tan-grey of Luna except where recent craters had dug through the eons-long 
accumulation of cosmic dust.  The most prominent feature was a giant crater that 
extended for nearly one-quarter of the ice asteroids diameter.  The crater was 
ringed by a series of concentric ring walls and possessed a central peak that 
had slumped downward over the centuries until it was barely a hillock.
Radiating outward from the crater were a series of dark rings. These must be 
physical flaws in the surface, Smith decided - giant crevasses left over from 
the collision that had formed the crater.
Nor was the central crater the only such on the surface. As in the case of most 
of the airless bodies in the Solar system, the surface was covered with 
overlapping craters down to the limits of camera resolution.  There were also 
dark linear markings that puzzled Smith.  They were similar in appearance to the 
crevasses emanating from the central crater, but not like them.  Peering closely 
at the photograph, he discovered what looked like a shadow.
These look like mountain ranges, he said, pointing the features out to Warren.
Those, the project director replied, are rock outcroppings. As we expected, 
the whole nucleus is a 75-25 percent ice-rock mix.  Some mechanism has caused 
rock ridges to form in two places.  As you say, theyre mountains of sort.
Smith continued gazing at the object that had recently become so important in 
his life. Other photographs showed other aspects, including the side directly 
opposite the big impact crater.  Additional crevasse features showed that the 
collision that had dislodged the ice asteroid from the Oort Cloud had very 
nearly ripped it asunder.  The entire interior appeared to be a series of 
faults.
May I have a set of these, Clarence?
If youll sign for them, the director replied. Got any idea how were going 
to shove that much mass out of our way?
Not yet, Smith said. Still, this fracturing intrigues me.  Something is 
nagging at me that I cant quite put a finger on.  Maybe after Ive studied 
these photos for awhile.
Any idea where we should have them land?
Certainly, he said. The craters the logical place.
Why?
Easy. That is the key to the nucleuss structure.  If were going to turn it, 
thats where it will have to be.
 
CHAPTER 22
 
REPORT NO. 165B
 
PHYSICAL PARAMETERS OF THE COMET HASTINGS NUCLEUS
 
... The nucleus measures 496 KM equatorial by 475 KM polar, with a rotation 
rate of 16 hours 49 minutes 7 seconds. Its mass has been computed to be 6.0212 X 
1016tons.  Its surface gravity varies from 0.662% Gee at the pole to 0.605% Gee 
at the equator.
 
The nucleuss primary topographic feature is the large impact basin dubbed 
GROUND ZERO CRATER (GZC). (See Report No. 122D, Topographical Feature Names on 
the Comet Hastings Nucleus.)  The inner ring wall of GZC is 125 KM in diameter 
and rises 0.7 KM above the elevation of the crater floor.  This post-melt plain 
is typical of impact crater formation on predominantly icy bodies.  As in the 
case of ice moons in the Jupiter and Saturn systems, the floor of GZC exhibits a 
phantom ring structure that marks the different solidification rings in the 
surface ice.  Beyond the GZC wall may be found a series of concentric 
crevasse-like faults that show up as sharp shadow demarcation lines in low sun 
angle photos.  Spectrographic analysis of the gas emanating from these fault 
regions indicates that internal heating is indeed taking place in the core of 
the nucleus.  (See Report No. 97A, Internal Heating of the Nucleus due to Tidal 
Stresses Sustained During Jupiter Flyby.)
 
Other macro structures in the topography of the nucleus include two 
outcroppings of rocky material. These have been dubbed the LITTLE ALPS MOUNTAINS 
(LAM) and LOW SIERRA MOUNTAINS (LSM).  The LAM formation predominates in the 
Western Hemisphere (the hemisphere antipodal to GZC) and the LSM predominates in 
the Eastern.  The LSM outcropping extends to within five kilometers of the GZC 
wall.  No clear explanation has been advanced as to the reason for this 
proximity.
 
Extensive cratering of the surface follows the icy moon norm. Weathering of all 
craters is apparent and can be attributed to repeated entries by the nucleus 
into the middle Solar system during perihelion passages on its pre-encounter 
cometary orbit.  The degree of slumping to be seen in crater walls can be used 
to accurately measure crater age to within  one cometary orbital period ( 9 
million years).  These measurements tentatively confirm that GZC is the oldest 
major crater on the nucleuss surface.
 
Additional conclusions which can be deduced from the extensive antipodal 
fracturing directly opposite GZC is that the nucleuss interior was 
substantially damaged by the original collision. This is further attested to 
by...
 
Summary Prepared By:
 
L.T. Chen, Astrogeologist
C.J. Barnard, Chief Astronomer
A.E. Hastings, Principal Astronomer
 
2 February 2086
#
Tom Thorpe lay in the observers couch inAdmiral Farragut s control room and 
watched the Comet Hastings nucleus on the overhead view dome. The nucleus was 
larger than he had ever seen it.  What had once been an invisibly small dot of 
light now filled half the sky as the habitat module dropped with glacial 
slowness toward its landing point.  Thorpe knew the slow approach was the 
safest, but chafed at the enforced inactivity.  He was anxious to get to work 
after ten days spent mapping every square centimeter of the nucleuss surface.
The ship had initially hovered 2000 kilometers to sunward of the ice asteroid. 
From their high noon vantage point, they had trained the bow telescope and two 
panoramic mapping cameras on the target.  Over the next four days - six full 
revolutions of the nucleus - they had mapped the surface in visible light and 
several different wavelengths of ultraviolet and infrared.  As they watched the 
nucleus rotate beneath them, they had slowly come to realize just how big a 
world it really was.  With a diameter of nearly 500 kilometers, the ice asteroid 
had a surface area of 250,000 square kilometers - making it larger than either 
Rumania or Idaho.  On the trip out from Earth, Thorpe had fallen into the habit 
of thinking of it much as he thought ofThe Rock .  No such equality existed. The 
Rock s largest dimension was less than one-hundredth the nucleuss diameter.
At the end of four days they had transmitted their data to Earth via secure data 
link and then moved the ship to hover directly over the south pole of the ice 
asteroid. There they had hovered for another full revolution as they 
photographed the south polar region.  They had then repeated their observations 
above the north spin pole. 
The end of active mapping had been a signal for Professor Chen to open the 
bidding for prospective landing sites. Nearly everyone had his or her favorite.  
Even so, the list rapidly narrowed to a single primary site and two alternates.  
The primary site located ten kilometers inside Ground Zero Crater.  Not only did 
the smooth plain invite a landing, but also the craters formation had been the 
last catastrophic event in the history of the ice asteroid.  Indeed, much of its 
current structure was the result of the collision that had originally dislodged 
it from the Oort Cloud.
The site was also near The Badlands, a region of particular interest to 
Professor Chen. The Badlands were a region of jumbled topography where the Low 
Sierra Mountains jutted quite close to the rim of Ground Zero Crater.  
Superimposed on these two dissimilar terrains were ring after concentric ring of 
fault lines and crevasses.  Out of these deep cracks boiled the invisible wind 
that was steadily building the surrounding coma.
With the touchdown site selected and approved by Earth, they had spent another 
full day getting the ship ready. The engine module would remain in orbit while 
the habitat and cargo modules descended to the surface as free flyers.  With a 
surface gravity less than one percent of standard to fight, the ships attitude 
control jets were more than sufficient to lower the modules to a safe landing.
When they were ready, Captain Olafson had entered the command to open the 
latches that anchored the habitat module to the thrust frame. Slowly, with 
gentle bursts from the attitude control jets, she lifted the habitat sphere 
clear.  When she had it parked a safe distance from the remainder of the ship, 
she repeated the performance with the cargo module.  The power section would 
remain high above the north pole to act as a communications relay between the 
grounded habitat module, Earth, and the various ground parties who would explore 
the surface.  When everything had been checked and double-checked, Karin Olafson 
had begun their slow descent to the surface. 
As Thorpe lay in his couch, an actinic spark high above him caught his 
attention. He ordered his observers screen to focus on that section of the sky 
and was rewarded with a view of the barrel shaped cargo compartment silhouetted 
against the black of space.  In a change of plan, they had decided to send the 
cargo module ahead of them.  It would touch down a minute or so before the 
habitat module, verifying that the floor of Ground Zero Crater was as solid as 
it appeared.
Crater in sight, Jorge Rodriguez announced to the control room as soon as the 
ring wall began to protrude above the horizon.
I see it, Captain Olafson responded. Continue the approach.
Karin Olafson sounded more relaxed than she felt as she lay in her acceleration 
couch. Her eyes scanned her displays in quick succession while she held a side 
controller in her right hand, ready to instantly wrest control from the 
autopilot should that prove necessary.
See anything dangerous, Mr. Chief Engineer? she asked several minutes later 
when Ground Zero Crater filled the overhead view dome. For the descent, the dome 
was displaying the view below the habitat module.
Kyle Stormgaards voice issued from an overhead speaker. Go for the primary, 
Captain.  Its as smooth as a babys behind.
The chief engineer was spacesuited and perched in an open airlock. He too had a 
hand controller and would take over the ship should the ships cameras fail 
during the critical landing phase.  He was also scanning the landing site with 
high-powered binoculars, searching for hazards.
Mr. Rodriguez, do you confirm that?
Confirmed, Captain. Radar indicates an ice surface flatness of 0.04 and a 
thickness of at least several hundred meters.  Thermal scanning indicates the 
surface temperature is rock steady at 124 degrees Kelvin.
Very well. Watch out for powder as the cargo compartment touches down, Kyle.  
We might want to take a wave off if visibility drops too low.
Understood, Captain, came the quick response.
As Thorpe watched on the view dome, the distant cargo compartment dropped the 
last few dozen meters toward the surface of the asteroid. A quick flicker of its 
powerful attitude control jets was sufficient to halt its downward slide.  It 
hovered in vacuum for long seconds before slowly dropping the last three meters 
to the ground.  The big compartment oscillated slowly a few times on its landing 
jacks and then stabilized.
Cargo compartment is safely down. No evidence of surface dust.
Hold on, people, were going in.
The rest of the landing was an anticlimax. The large spherical habitat module 
resounded with a couple of quick bursts from the attitude control jets, then 
there was silence.  Nearly half a minute later, Thorpe felt something push him 
gently down into his seat.  A strange brown-grey landscape lay visible on all 
sides, while overhead, a shrunken sun stared down from out of an ebon sky.  
Captain Olafson immediately began calling out shutdown procedures.
Thorpe exhaled loudly. Only then did he realize that he had been holding his 
breath.  After a moment spent gazing around the view dome horizon, he began 
clawing at his straps, suddenly anxious to be free.  After eight months and 
nearly a billion kilometers in transit,Admiral Farragut had finally arrived!
#
Theyre down, Franklin Hardesty announced.
Are you sure? Constance Forbin asked.
The head of Sky Watch nodded. Newton Station just received the confirmation 
report from Captain Olafson.  Both the habitat and cargo modules have been 
successfully landed and operations are underway to anchor them to the ice.
Good news, the chief coordinator said.
Damned good news! Hardesty replied.
The two were in a secure meeting room in the New Ridderzaal Tower, hosting a 
conference of the major nations of Earth. The North American Union was 
represented, as was United Europe, the Democracia de Sud America, the African 
Union, Greater China, India, and Australasia.  Constance Forbin had revealed the 
secret of the wayward comet on the first day of the conference.  To her 
surprise, the assembled functionaries had taken the news with relative calm.  
Whether this was due to their lack of understanding of the danger, or because 
their espionage services had penetrated council security, she had no way of 
knowing.  Nor did she consider the question important.  The secret had been a 
fleeting one at best.  Matters had now progressed to where it was necessary to 
inform the public.  If they were to have any chance of diverting the comet, they 
would have to begin preparations on a scale that would be obvious to all.
Now that your people are on the ground, the North American representative, a 
tall man with a permanent scowl, said, what do they propose to do?
Explore, of course. There is a great deal that can only be learned by close 
observation.
To what end?
If we are to accelerate the comet and cause it to miss the Earth, we will have 
to know where to push. That requires a good model of its internal structure.  
Wed hate to see it come apart at the first shove.
The representative of United Europe was a small woman with a gap in her teeth 
that showed whenever she talked. I would think we would want precisely that.  
Blow it to atoms, I say!
Franklin Hardesty shook his head. He was seated next to Constance Forbin at the 
midpoint of the conference table.  The nucleus is much too big to be destroyed 
by explosives.  First, there probably is not enough antimatter in the Solar 
system to do the job.  Secondly, even if we had the required power, we still 
would not want to smash it.  That would shatter it into a billion chunks the 
size of small mountains.  Can you imagine what would happen to Earth if one of 
those chunks were to hit us?
So instead we wait for it to fall on us in one piece?
The New Mexico working group is analyzing the problem, Constance Forbin 
assured her. They have all ofAdmiral Farragut s space observations.  They will 
have a recommendation on how best to proceed in a few weeks.
In the meantime, what about all of these cargo vessels you want us to pay for? 
the Indian Subminister of Space Affairs asked. Mr. Jaharawal was a small, dark 
man who punctuated his speech with a variety of annoying sounds.
What about them?
The first day of the conference had been taken up with a review of the data that 
proved the comet would strike the Earth. The second had begun with plans to 
modify three large bulk carriers into heavy equipment transports.  The ships 
would be equipped with high efficiency engines, massive tanks, and enough 
reaction mass to match orbits with the nucleus in only three months.
We dont know that these expensive ship modifications are necessary, the 
subminister continued. To go ahead without a clear plan is a foolish expense.
The need for heavy lift is obvious, Franklin Hardesty responded. Would you 
have us wait until every detail is finalized before getting to work?
The subminister refused to be cowed. My nation hasnt the resources to provide 
either the System Council or Sky Watch with an unlimited budget.  We cannot 
afford to have you committing funds like a drunken spacer.
May I remind my esteemed colleague that the comet is destined to strike a few 
thousand kilometers from his own coastline? said the representative of United 
Europe.
That will make no difference to the average Indian come the next election. They 
already grumble about the cost of this international debating society Mrs. 
Forbin runs.  How many more rupees will you usurp for your theoretical studies?
As many as necessary to save the Earth, Mr. Minister. As for the transports, if 
we dont begin the work immediately, they wont be ready in time to do us any 
good.
Whether we succeed, the dark skinned, ash blonde who represented Australasia 
said, depends on properly marshalling public opinion. What progress is being 
made for the public announcement?
Considerable, Constance replied. Weve formed another council working group.  
This one is composed of specialists in mass psychology.  The key, they believe, 
is to raise the publics level of concern without actually frightening them.  
Its been suggested that we not tell them the whole truth right away.
And do they have a suggestion for how this can be done?
Yes, they do. In fact, they have come up with something quite ingenious...
#
TRANSCRIPT OFTHE WEEKEND ROUNDUP WITH RIC THOMPSON , TRANS-EARTH COMMUNICATIONS 
NETWORK, FEBRUARY 12, 2086.
 
(Trans-Earth Network Logo fades to close-up of Ric Thompson, network anchor.)
 
THOMPSON: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.  This is Ric Thompson with the 
Weekend Roundup, your compendium of the weeks happenings.  This was the week 
that saw the announcement by the System Council that next years spectacular 
Comet Hastings sky display may be even more spectacular than anyone imagined.  
The comet, it seems, will pass very close to Earth on its way back into deep 
space.  Although the comet head is expected to miss us by several thousand 
kilometers, scientists point out that there is some margin for error in their 
calculations.
 
As a precaution, the System Council has announced that they will coordinate a 
program to prepare a series of nuclear charges with which to destroy the comet 
should that prove necessary. To discuss these matters, we have tonight an 
interview with the comets discoverer, Miss Amber Hastings.  Before we begin, a 
clarification is in order regarding this interview.
 
Miss Hastings is aboard the research vesselAdmiral Farragut , which recently 
landed on the comets surface. Because the communications delay with the comet 
is still some 40 minutes, it was not possible for the interview to take place in 
real time.  Therefore, we transmitted a series of questions to Miss Hastings via 
computer simulation.  The simulation then adjusted itself to her answers just as 
a human interviewer would.  I must emphasize that she did not know the questions 
in advance.  In this way, we obtained the same reaction as we would have had I 
been in the room with her.  Miss Hastingss answers were then edited together 
with my questions to produce the following interview.
 
(The scene changes to show a rear quarter view of Ric Thompson.  He is looking 
at a screen out of which Amber Hastings is staring.)
 
THOMPSON: Good evening, Miss Hastings. I hope that we havent caught you at a 
bad time.
 
HASTINGS: Not at all, Ric. Im on my way to suit up and begin the days 
explorations, but I can always find time for the press.
 
THOMPSON: What is the surface of a comet like?
 
HASTINGS: The nucleus reminds me a great deal of my home on Luna. The ice is 
grey-brown from billions of years of collecting cosmic dust as it orbited the 
sun.  We are quite close to the rim of the largest crater here, and we can see 
the top of the ring wall peering over the horizon to the north.  The sun is a 
bright star in the sky.  Its image is softened by the comets coma.
 
THOMPSON:   Coma?
 
HASTINGS: The envelope of gas and dust that surrounds the main nucleus. Its 
that bright circular ball you see in pictures of comets.
 
THOMPSON: I understand that this nucleus is something of a wayward meteorite, 
and that it will pass close to Earth late next year. Is that true?
 
HASTINGS: (Nodding.) Our calculations show that there is a good chance of that 
happening.
 
THOMPSON: How close will it come?
 
HASTINGS: (Hesitates a moment.)  That is difficult to answer.  There are quite 
a number of imponderables involved.  We believe that the comet will approach 
Earth to within one planetary diameter, at least.
 
THOMPSON: How far is that in kilometers?
 
HASTINGS: A planetary diameter is twelve thousand five hundred kilometers.
 
THOMPSON: (Laughing)  Well, that doesnt sound so bad.  I wish I could miss my 
mother-in-law by twelve thousand klicks!
 
HASTINGS: It isvery close by the standards of the Solar system.
 
THOMPSON: Yes, I suppose it is. You astronomers are used to working with really 
big numbers, arent you?  I understand that the System Council is making plans 
to blow the comet up should it come too close.  Care to comment?
 
HASTINGS: You will have to ask them that. Its been nearly nine months since I 
was on Earth, and as you might expect, Im a little out of touch.
 
THOMPSON: There is one thing that Ive been curious about, Miss Hastings. I 
suppose if the comet were to hit Earth it would cause a great deal of 
destruction.
 
HASTINGS: A very great deal, Ric.
 
THOMPSON: It would look something like a nuclear bomb going off, wouldnt it?
 
HASTINGS: Yes.
 
THOMPSON: Ive been wondering. What would itsound like?
 
HASTINGS: (Blinking in surprise.) I beg your pardon?
 
THOMPSON: Ive heard that some meteors produce a sonic boom as they pass 
through the atmosphere. Others make a ripping noise.  If this comet nucleus of 
yours were to land in someones front yard, what would our viewers listen for?
 
HASTINGS:  It would be difficult not to hear it, Ric.  A meteor strike the size 
of Comet Hastings would arrive with the sound of a billion thunderclaps!
 
THOMPSON: Strike like thunder, eh?  Then we had best all hope nothing like that 
ever happens.  Thank you, Miss Hastings.  And now, we have to take a break for a 
commercial.
 
(Close-up on Ric Thompson. Fade to Commercial)
 
#
Amber and Tom Thorpe lay together on the floor of their cabin. Although the 
nucleuss gravitational pull was less than one percent, it was still too much 
for them to hang from a hook on the wall as they had done in zero gee.  People 
who tried sleeping vertically found their sleep disturbed by dreams of falling.  
They watched the replay of Ambers interview with TECN.  When Thompson reached 
the question of what the nucleus would sound like as it crashed to Earth, there 
came a strangling noise from Amber.
They were supposed to cut that out! she exclaimed as the interviewers 
question and her answer went out over the air. The council ordered us to play 
down the prospect of a collision.
I would say someone decided that a good interview was more important than 
following orders.
Damn it, she swore. That computer must have asked me a hundred questions.  I 
was getting tired and could not believe the inanity of askingwhat it would sound 
like!   I just fired back the first thing that came to mind.
It isnt your fault. They are the ones who mucked it up.  Ill bet the System 
Council is fit to be tied.
Theyll probably want my ass for this!
Thorpe smiled and ran his hand over the object in question. Theyll have to 
fight me for it.
 
CHAPTER 23
 
NEWS ITEM:
 
UNIVERSAL FAX, DEN HAAG, UNITED EUROPE- 21 FEB 2086
 
(For distribution to Ausl, Chn, NorAm, SoAm, UnEur, Luna, Xterr)
 
Sources close to the administration of the System Council have alleged that the 
Comet Hastings ice asteroid, which has been referred to in recent press reports 
as Thunderstrike, will collide with the Earth on 17 July 2087. A spokesman for 
the Chief Coordinators office declined to comment officially, but stated on 
background that such speculation is premature and irresponsible.  While 
admitting that the possibility exists, the spokesman reported that efforts are 
underway to ensure an adequate margin of safety when the comet reaches Earth 
next year.  As evidence of this contention, the spokesman pointed to the crash 
effort to modify several large orbital carriers for transporting men and 
equipment to the comet.  The ships, he claimed, will be ready for space by April 
1, a full 60 days ahead of schedule.
 
End
#
Barbara Martinez sat at her workstation and watched numbers scroll up the 
screen. The glowing figures reflected the results of the working groups latest 
simulation.  Barbara did not have to plot the data to know that they had 
suffered another failure.  No matter what combination of propulsion schemes they 
tried, it seemed impossible to change the nucleuss velocity by even the most 
insignificant fraction of a percent.  The ice asteroid was just too damned 
massive to be budged!
Well, she said to Gwilliam Potter, pulsing the antimatter stream doesnt seem 
to make any difference. We would still require more antimatter than we can 
produce in a decade.  So much for the theoreticians latest brainstorm.
Just as I told you before you started, Potter replied. He was a British 
European who had shared Barbaras office for the past two weeks.  Barbara had 
found him urbane, funny, and just a bit too pessimistic.
So what do we do now?
He shrugged elaborately. Youd best ask the big thinkers about that.  I think 
were going about this all wrong.
How so?
Just look at the simulations weve been running. They are all variations on 
existing techniques.  Hell, Halver Smith pioneered most of them.  We have tried 
injecting antimatter directly into the ice and boiling it away.  We have tried 
pulverizing the damned stuff and running it through surface mounted reaction 
jets.  Weve even thought of using those three converted bulk carriers as space 
going tugs.  So far nothing has even come close to what we need.
So tell me something I dont know.
While youve been playing with your figures, Ive been working on an idea of my 
own. He, gestured toward his workscreen on which was displayed a view of Ground 
Zero Crater and its surroundings.
And I thought you were merely goofing off because you didnt want to help me 
with the coding.
Potter grinned. Theres that, too.
What have you got?
In every attempt to date weve tried to obtain thrust by accelerating small 
masses to high velocity.
How else can we get propulsion efficiency?
Maybe we need economy of scale more than efficiency.
I dont follow.
What if we impart a small velocity to a really big mass?
Isnt that what were trying to do to the whole asteroid?
That comment, my dear office mate, is a null set of the zero equals zero 
variety. Im suggesting that we break off a major chunk of Thunderstrike and 
toss it away at relatively low speed - one hundred meters per second, for 
instance.
I wouldnt let the director hear you call the nucleus by that name, Amber 
warned. 
Why not? Everyone else calls it that.  Is it my fault that the press has 
figured things out and are now camped on the directors doorstep?
Youre still the one Warren will chew on if he hears you use that word.
I dont plan to use it around him, Potter said.
Never mind. What about your idea?
Have you ever noticed all of the fracture rings that surround Ground Zero 
Crater? It almost reminds you of a cork pushed into an egg shell, doesnt it?
I imagine the Earth will have a similar mark if the nucleus collides with it.
Ill bet it will, Potter agreed cheerily. Looking at all of those faults got 
me to thinking.  What if we could somehow push the cork back out again?
Great idea. How do you plan to do it?
Did you ever own a pellet gun?
Barbara shook her head. My father wouldnt allow it.  He said no daughter of 
his was going to kill helpless birds.
My father said the same thing. A friend had one, though, and the first thing I 
did was shoot out the picture window in the living room.  Have you ever noticed 
the way glass breaks when its struck by a pellet?
Sure. Theres a small entry hole, then a big chunk taken out of the back.
Potter nodded. The technical term for the phenomenon is spalling.  The 
initial impact sets up a compression wave through the glass.  When that wave 
reaches the other side, it is reflected as a tension wave.  Glass is almost 
infinitely strong in compression, but very weak in tension.  The result is that 
the reflected wave breaks off a piece and sends it flying.  Interestingly, the 
spalled chunk recedes with the same energy the pellet originally imparted to the 
glass.  The same principle was once used to penetrate armor plate with a shaped 
charge.
Your point?
Simply that the spalled chip carries away the energy of impact. If we could use 
the fault pattern around Ground Zero Crater to spall off a really big piece of 
Thunderstrike, what sort of velocity could we achieve?
Lets say you could get 100 meters per second separation speed. I still dont 
... Oh!
Potters features contorted into a broad smile. The lady begins to understand.  
If we time it such that the spalled-off chunk is aimed back along the orbit, 
conservation of momentum will kick Thunderstrike forward just a little.  With 
luck, we might even pick up our elusive 5 centimeters per second on the first 
try.
How large a chunk can we get?
Ground Zero Crater is 125 kilometers across and our laser drills can get down 
20 kilometers or so. That is a couple of thousandths of the total mass of the 
asteroid.  If we got a separation speed of more than 50 meters per second, it 
ought to be enough.
What if it isnt?
Then we repeat the operation as many times as necessary, or until we run out of 
time or antimatter. We could peel the asteroid like an onion if we had to.
Theres still the problem of how we break off a really big chunk.
Well need big bombs planted at just the right places in the fault system, 
Potter replied. He pointed to his workscreen.  If I were doing it, I would sink 
my shafts here, here, and here.  If we set the bombs off together, we ought to 
be able to cleave the ice like a diamond cutter working on a gemstone.  What do 
you think?
Barbara gazed at the places he had indicated on the screen. They were all points 
where the fault lines were particularly close together.  I think it will 
require a lot of analysis, but that it might have possibilities.
Should I mention this to the director?
She nodded. Just as soon as we work up a few numbers.  It sounds good, 
Gwilliam.  I think youve discovered the solution to our problem!
If not, he said, serious for a change, were going to send those poor fools 
aboardAdmiral Farragut down a lot of cold holes for nothing.
#
Nadia Hobart answered the door on the second chime. She found a red faced, 
rotund man standing in the corridor outside.  She smiled at the familiar visitor 
and invited him inside.
Theyre in the den, Harold. They just started.
Thank you, Nadia, Harold Barnes replied. And how is Lunas First Lady this 
evening?
Still not comfortable with people calling me First Lady.
Youll get used to it. You are a natural for the job.  Just dont let those 
leeches down in Administration run your life.  Do things because you feel 
comfortable doing them, not because some protocol officer thinks you should.
Thanks, Ill remember that, she said as she led Barnes through the simulated 
cavern of the living room.
How is John? I havent seen him since the victory party election night.
Nadia Hobart bit her lower lip, a nervous habit she had picked up as a farm girl 
in Kansas. Im worried about him, Harold.  He is working too hard.  First the 
election, and now this comet thing.  He will wear himself out within a year if 
he doesnt slow down.  You are his friend.  You could talk to him after the 
meeting.
I can try. I am not sure what good it will do.  Truth is, Nadia, we have all 
been working hard on this feasibility study John ordered.  Thank God, its 
almost over.
What have you found out?
Barnes sighed. That were in better shape than I would have thought possible.  
The import duties Parliament passed last decade worked better than anyone 
expected.  We are much more self-sufficient than we were.  Im convinced that we 
can survive without Earth, but only if we prepare now.
What needs to be done?
Where does one start? We desperately need stockpiles of semi-finished 
manufacturing stock - things like germanium wafers, seed crystals, 
superconductor doping powders.  We need to improve our stockpiles of terrestrial 
genotypes, too.  The back order rate at our life banks is nearly 30 percent!  
Weve never upgraded a lot of our equipment operating software, and many of our 
financial records are stored in Earth databases.
Have you told John these things?
Havent had the chance. The bank just finished the report this afternoon.
Hello, Harold! John Hobart boomed out.  What havent you told me?
The results of the survivability study.
Well get to that. You know my guests, I believe.  Despite his hearty manner, 
it was easy to see that Hobart was a tired man.  He had dark bags under his eyes 
and his face had developed a whole new set of worry lines during the past month.
Professor Jinsai and I see each other at the Chamber of Commerce luncheon every 
Wednesday, and of course, Advisor Sturdevant and I go back years together. I 
dont recognize this other gentleman, however.
Professor Albert Portero, astrophysicist from the university, Id like to 
introduce Harold Barnes, First Vice President of the Bank of Luna.
Professor Portero.
Citizen Barnes.
Pour yourself a drink, Harold. Professor Portero was just explaining tektites 
to us.
What, by Tychos frosts, is a tektite?
Professor Portero, a thin faced man with a nervous way of moving his hands, 
said, A tektite is a piece of glass formed by impact heating during a meteor 
strike, Citizen Barnes.  They come in a variety of shapes and sizes.  Most are 
microscopic, although some as large as a ten selene piece have been discovered.  
Their presence in a particular region marks the landing site of ejecta thrown up 
during meteor crater formation.  On Earth, tektites are found in localized 
regions known as strewn fields.  Lunar tektites tend to be scattered evenly 
across the surface due to the Moons lower gravity and lack of atmosphere.  
Although tektites are generally found on the same body where they were formed, a 
number of Earth-formed tektites have been found on Luna, and vice versa.
Meaning, Hobart interjected, that ejected material has occasionally achieved 
terrestrial escape velocity and landed here.
Correct, Portero replied. Most Earth-formed tektites on Luna are similar in 
composition to those found in the Australasian strewn field.  That particular 
field is the result of a giant meteor strike into the Pacific Basin 750,000 
years ago.
How did that strike compare with a Comet Hastings strike?
Porteros laugh was a short bark. There is no comparison, Prime Minister.  
Comet Hastings will be more violent by several orders of magnitude!
Then we can expect a considerable fountain of ejecta to be launched into 
space?
Considerable, Portero agreed. And since much of that material will attain 
Earth orbital speed, we can expect Luna to intercept debris for decades 
following impact.  Our simulations suggest that the amount of mass that will 
eventually fall on Luna will exceed a million tons.
There was a low whistle from Barnes. A million tons!
Much of that will be in the form of micro meteoric dust, Portero explained. 
As such, it will not present a major hazard to us.  However, we can expect 
larger pieces to fall from the sky as well.  These bigger rocks will devastate 
large areas of the Moon.
How big?
Thats difficult to say without a better understanding of the impact dynamics. 
I would venture to guess that we will end up with several more craters the size 
of Copernicus.
There was sudden silence in the study. Copernicus Crater was nearly 100 
kilometers in diameter.  The violence of that strike had sprayed ejecta for 
hundreds of kilometers in every direction.  The shock wave alone would devastate 
millions of square kilometers.
How soon after the collision with Earth will we be in danger? the prime 
minister asked.
Ejecta will begin arriving within 48 hours of Earths destruction. Meteors will 
continue falling for centuries unless we do something about them.
What can we do?
We can establish a warning system like Sky Watch, the professor of 
astrophysics replied. Well have to track the larger chunks, then move them to 
safe orbits.  I doubt that well be able to get them all, but we can certainly 
reduce the danger.
What about those we dont stop?
I suppose well have to disperse the population, Advisor Sturdevant replied. 
Alex Sturdevant had been John Hobarts close friend and advisor for nearly 
twenty years.  His position in the new government was as powerful as it was 
unofficial.  That way we wont lose everything if a piece of Earth comes 
crashing down on Luna City.
Can we do that, Professor Jinsai? Hobart asked.  Can our economy stand the 
disruption?
The professor of economics shrugged. What other choice have we, Prime 
Minister?
#
The shrunken sun stood in the black sky as Amber Hastings made her careful way 
toward the gaping hole in front of her. The sun was behind her, casting a black 
shadow at her feet and turning the crevasse into an ink stain on the landscape.  
Despite the numerous spikes that soled her boots, she slipped like a skater 
teetering at the edge of control as she negotiated a slight incline.
Youd best plant an anchor before you go any farther, Kyle Stormgaard advised 
over their private communications channel.
Putting one down now. Amber detached a meter-long baton from her equipment 
belt and touched the dirty grey surface.  A small explosion erupted from the 
batons muzzle, driving a steel piton into the ice.  A safety line connected the 
piton to Ambers equipment harness.  Anchored.
Beside her,Admiral Farragut s chief engineer put down his own anchor. The two 
explorers then moved cautiously toward the lip of the crevasse that was their 
objective.
Surface explorations had been underway for two weeks. The confidence of the 
exploration teams had grown with each day spent on the ice.  At first, their 
activities had been confined to off loading heavy equipment from the cargo 
module and bringing the hydrogen cracking system online.  The latter task 
involved activating the expeditions power reactor and running power cables to a 
heavy laser drill out on the ice.  The drill was to bore a test hole several 
kilometers deep.  The bore would not only allow them to map the way ice 
composition changed with depth, but would provide feed stock for the hydrogen 
cracking unit.
It had taken the better part of a week for the shaft to reach a depth of two 
kilometers. Ice samples taken from the wall of the test bore showed the nucleus 
to be a typical denizen of the Oort Cloud.  Like most cometary nuclei, Comet 
Hastings was composed of clathrate ices - frozen H2O with other compounds 
interspersed within the crystalline structure of the ice.  At various depths, 
they found high levels of ammonia, carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide, 
formaldehyde, hydrogen cyanide, methane, and nitrogen mixed in with the water 
ice.  Also present were varying concentrations of meteoric dust.
Even before the drilling began, it became obvious that the nucleus was far from 
geologically stable. During the encounter with Jupiter, the asteroid had been 
subjected to powerful tidal stresses that had flexed the asteroid and generated 
waste heat in the process.  That heat was making its slow way to the surface.  
As the near-absolute-zero ice warmed, its expansion triggered internal jolts 
that resulted in surface tremors.  Most were too weak to feel.  Occasionally 
they were strong enough to knock the laser drill out of alignment.  Each time 
this happened, work had to be halted while the laser was realigned.
It was not until end of watch on their seventh day aground that they experienced 
a large tremor. Karin Olafson was in the ships control room when she was nearly 
pitched out of her couch.  It lasted less than a minute, but was sufficiently 
strong to break the habitat module free of one of its anchor chains.  When the 
quake was over, the captain wasted no time ordering the surface crews out to 
repair the damage.  They had worked most of the night to re-anchor the habitat 
and cargo modules and to stabilize them with guy wires.
Another problem they had encountered involved the expeditions two moonhoppers. 
The tiny flying machines were standard models used on Luna.  As such, their 
underjets proved too powerful for the nucleuss gravitational field.  A quick 
burst from the jets would send the little craft high into the sky.  There 
followed several minutes of drifting downward, after which another burst sent 
them soaring.  Landing was little more than a controlled crash.  After a few 
test flights, the small flying machines were grounded until their thrusters 
could be derated.
With the return of the moonhoppers to service, the exploration teams began to 
venture outside the vast crater. Their first destination was the Badlands.  
There they found a landscape as rugged as anything in the Solar system.  
Mountains thrust upward at impossibly steep angles.  They were cut by long 
valleys that ran outward from Ground Zero Crater.  Cutting across the mountains 
and valleys were the crevasses formed during the impact of a billion years 
earlier.  With Earths suggestion that it might be possible to spall off a large 
chunk of the nucleus, the crevasses had become a prime object of study.
What do you think? Amber asked Kyle as the two played their suit lamps along 
the opposite wall of the crevasse.  The lamps revealed a narrow canyon with 
vertical walls.  It was impossible to see the bottom, hidden in shadow and too 
far away for their lamps to illuminate.
Its deeper than I thought it would be, Stormgaard replied. I wonder if we 
brought along enough line.
Theres only one way to find out.
Amber and the chief engineer had been assigned the job of planting a seismograph 
in the bottom of the crevasse. It would have been a simple matter to fly down 
with their suit jets.  However, a miscalculation in the confined space could 
send them tumbling out of control, and a suit malfunction could leave them 
stranded.  Climbing ropes were a lot more trouble, but ultimately safer.
Amber sank two more pitons into the ice, and then fastened two coiled safety 
lines to them. She tossed the lines into the crevasse and watched them sink 
lazily from sight, uncoiling as they went.  While Amber rigged the lines, the 
chief engineer planted a communications repeater at the lip of the crevasse.  He 
pointed one of the devices horns downward, and oriented the other toward where 
the power section hovered above the nucleuss north pole.  When finished, he 
straightened up and asked Amber if she were ready.
Ready, she replied.
Lets do it then.
They each hooked a line to their suit harnesses, then casually stepped over the 
precipice. It took Amber 8 seconds to fall her own length, by which time she had 
taken up the slack in her line.  After that, it was a simple matter of falling 
into the dark while keeping a gloved hand around the line to regulate her speed.
The greatest danger in working in the nucleuss low gravity was that it promoted 
overconfidence. At two-thirds of one- percent standard, the nucleuss gravity 
made a person feel as though they could fall a kilometer and survive.  They 
could.  However, such a fall would end on the hard ground at 40 kph - more than 
sufficient to puncture a suit or break ones neck.  As Amber descended, she kept 
a running tally of the number of seconds it took to traverse the distance 
between marks on the line.  Every once in a while, she gripped the line tighter 
to slow her fall.
The descent proved uneventful until the very end. Amber had intended to land 
lightly on the icy floor of the crevasse.  As she touched down, the solid 
surface gave way, sending her into the cold ice up to her waist.  She shouted a 
warning to Stormgaard who halted his descent in time.  He played his light over 
the sparkling surface while Amber extricated herself by pulling herself hand 
over hand up the line.
What caused this? she asked when she hung once more on Stormgaards level.
Must have been the microquakes, the chief engineer replied. Loose material 
dislodged from the walls collects here in the bottom of the crevasse.
I wonder how deep it is.
No way to tell, he responded.
Amber kicked at the snow. What are we going to do?  We cant very well anchor 
the seismograph in this powder.
No problem, Stormgaard replied. Well plant it on the crevasse wall.  Come 
on, lets get to it.
They worked for fifteen minutes making sure that the small orange box was firmly 
affixed to the icy wall. When they were through, Stormgaard directed Amber to 
check the communications link with the ship.
Hello,Admiral Farragut . This is Team 3.  Can you hear me?
Hello, Team Three. This is Base.  We read you loud and clear.  Where have you 
two been?
Down a hole, Base. Have you been trying to get us?
Affirmative. Be advised that we were rocked by a Force 4 tremor about a minute 
ago.  It is a surface wave traveling south to north.  Take precautions.  Its 
headed your way.
The two explorers glanced at one another and then at the pile of detritus at 
their feet. They triggered their suit jets together and began an emergency 
ascent, trailing their safety lines behind.  They were a hundred meters above 
the floor when the ice wall beside them began to shake.
Keep away from the wall, Stormgaard warned as they were suddenly engulfed in a 
blizzard.
It was over in seconds. Amber emerged into the clear again to see Kyles 
brightly lighted suit a dozen meters to her right.  She began to feel calm 
again.  She called the ship to tell them that they had come through the temblor 
okay.  There was no answer, save her own echo.
Think the communications relay could have been dislodged? she asked, worried.
Could be, Stormgaard responded. He shut off his suit jet and let his momentum 
carry him upward as he craned backwards to turn the beam of his helmet lamp 
upward.  His sudden oath caused Amber to do the same.
High overhead, a solid wall of falling ice was slowly closing on them.
 
CHAPTER 24
 
The Comet Hastings nucleus bulked large in the black sky as Tom Thorpe clambered 
among the struts and braces that supportedAdmiral Farragut s Number 3 hydrogen 
tank. Around him lay a forest of insulated pipes and electrical wiring.  He 
pulled himself to where several pipes came together in a complex mechanism that 
transferred hydrogen from the tank to the ships engines.  He closed a valve, 
and then triggered the control to release the latches that secured the tank to 
the thrust frame.  Bracing against a handy strut, he placed his backpack against 
the tanks outer layer of insulation and pushed.  Slowly, the 12,000 cubic meter 
cylinder separated from the orbiting power section.
Here it comes, he radioed Dieter Schmidt in Moonhopper 1.
I see it.
The hopper was an ungainly construct. Its transparent body was mounted on four 
heavy landing legs with oversize pads for feet.  Surrounding the cabin was a 
series of struts and braces.  These held all manner of gear, everything from 
thruster clusters, to communications antennas, to a variety of flight sensors.  
Nestled between the landing feet was the small crafts oxy-hydrogen rocket 
engine with its oversize exhaust nozzle.  Moonhoppers were designed for 
ballistic point-to-point travel on Luna and had never been intended for orbital 
operations.  However, the hopper made an ideal orbital transfer vehicle in the 
weak gravity of the nucleus.
Thorpe and Schmidt had the task of ferrying one ofAdmiral Farragut s tanks down 
to the surface. There it would be filled with hydrogen from the cracking system, 
then returned to the ship.  This cycle would be repeated until each of the 
ships six tanks were filled.
As Thorpe watched, Schmidt moved the hopper close to the slowly receding 
cylinder. The crewman used the remote manipulator to remove one of four thruster 
packs the hopper carried clipped to its forward basket.  This he attached to a 
thrust pad at the tanks waist.  He moved 90 degrees around the red and white 
checkerboard tank and repeated the maneuver.  He did this twice more.  When all 
four packs had been attached, Schmidt moved the hopper to a safe distance and 
turned control over to the thruster packs master autopilot.  The thrusters 
emitted simultaneous bursts of flame and the tanks slow drift toward the comet 
nucleus accelerated perceptibly.
Thorpe watched the tank out of sight while Schmidt maneuvered the hopper close 
to the orbiting power section. Thorpe used his suit jets to cross the ten-meter 
gulf of vacuum.  When he had squeezed in beside the hopper pilot, he said, 
Lets go home.
They followed the free flying tank as it made its way toward Ground Zero Crater. 
They were ten kilometers above the Little Alps Mountains when Thorpes suit 
radio began beeping.
Thorpe here, he answered.
Cybil Barnards anxious voice echoed in his earphones. Thomas?
Im here.
We may have an emergency.
Who?
Its Amber Hastings and Kyle Stormgaard.
Thorpes stomach underwent a sudden fear contraction. What about them?
They arent answering. They called in about twenty minutes ago, received a 
tremor warning, and then went off the air.  Weve been trying to contact them 
without success.
Could they have had a radio failure?
Possible, but we think youd better check on them.
Agreed. Where are they?
Cervantes Crevasse, 65 North by 16 East. Theyve got the other hopper.
Well check it out. He turned to Schmidt.  Lets change our landing site.  
Home on Hopper Twos signal.
Schmidt swept a hand over the control board and their earphones came alive with 
the reassuringdit-dit-dah of the other hoppers beacon.
The universe suddenly tilted as Schmidt altered their trajectory. Five 
kilometers in front and below, the tiny white cylinder continued on its way 
toward the crater base.  Ten minutes later they were sweeping across the rugged 
terrain of the badlands, searching for the red beacon that would mark the other 
landing craft.
Ive got it, Schmidt said, pointing toward a black gash in the surface of the 
comet.
Thorpe nodded. He, too, had seen the beacon.  See if you can set us down next 
to it.  Keep clear of the crevasse.
Will do.
The landing was agonizingly slow. By the time their footpads touched down, 
Thorpe was already unstrapped from his seat and halfway out the hatch.  He 
jetted across the gap between hoppers without bothering to touch down.  When he 
arrived, he anchored himself to the vehicle and looked around.  After a moment, 
he noticed the multiple sets of scuffmarks in the thin layer of frost that 
overlay the harder ice of the asteroids surface.  The scuffmarks led off in the 
direction of the crevasse.
They headed for the crevasse, he reported before jetting in that direction. As 
he flew, Thorpe reeled out a safety line behind him.  He braked his flight at 
the edge of the crevasse, grounded, and looked around.  What he saw caused his 
heart to skip a beat.
There at the edge of the deep cut were several anchor pitons. Brightly colored 
safety lines extended from two of these, leading down into the crevasse.  He 
stepped to the edge and angled his suit lamp down to follow the lines.  There, 
at the limit of his light, the safety lines disappeared into what appeared to be 
a snow bank.
Oh, my God!
Whats the matter? Schmidt asked.
Theyve been caught in an avalanche. Their lines disappear into a mound of 
loose ice.
Dont sound so worried, Schmidt answered. I come from avalanche country on 
Earth.  People there are buried for hours and still survive.  In this gravity, 
they should not have been hurt unless a big solid chunk fell on them.  Theyll 
be all right if we can dig them out before they run short on breathing air.
Youre forgetting something, Thorpe replied. This snow is near absolute zero. 
 Their suits were never designed to be submerged in it.  If we dont reach them 
quickly, theyll freeze to death!
#
Barbara Martinez lay strapped into the acceleration couch of the ground to orbit 
shuttle and gazed out the viewport at the immensity of space. She had not 
expected to see a black daytime sky quite so soon.  Yet, less than a month after 
she had left Newton Station, she was back in space without ever having the 
opportunity to sample the fleshpots of Earth.  She gazed past the wing at the 
limb of the Earth and consoled herself with the knowledge that the situation was 
temporary.
The Thunderstrike Project (as the New Mexico study group was now commonly 
called) had needed someone to brief the officers who would take the bulk 
carriers out to meet the comet. A quick check of the roster had shown Barbara to 
have more space experience than anyone else on the team.
They didnt even give me time to pack, she muttered as she searched for the 
ships that were her goal.
Gwilliam Potters idea for modifying Thunderstrikes orbit was now official 
policy. It had been adopted after a weeklong critique by three groups of project 
scientists.  After its validation, Director Warren had hailed the idea for its 
simplicity.  Even those who worried that they would be unable to blast a large 
enough piece of the nucleus free agreed that the idea was theoretically sound.  
Potters supporters pointed to the extensive network of faults that underlay 
Ground Zero Crater to answer their concerns.
That Thunderstrikes underlying structure had been shattered was obvious to 
everyone. Rings of crevasses surrounded the crater out to a distance of seventy 
kilometers.  Seismic readings had confirmed that these splits were 
manifestations of a deep fault system.  If sufficient explosive power could be 
properly applied, humanity might well finish the sundering begun by some 
nameless asteroid a million millennia earlier.
For explosive power they would use antimatter bombs at the bottom of deep bore 
holes. Calling them bombs was something of a misnomer.  They were actually 
standard antimatter storage rings to which small packets of chemical explosives 
had been affixed.  When the explosives were detonated, the magnetic fields of 
the storage rings would fail, releasing a full kilogram of antimatter into the 
surrounding ice.  The resulting energy release would be channeled into the fault 
system, hopefully causing a titanic steam explosion beneath several square 
kilometers of the asteroids surface.  Thunderstrike ought to split open like a 
ripe melon, ejecting Ground Zero Crater and its surroundings into space.
Were coming up onGoliath out your port, Miss Martinez, the shuttles pilot 
announced over his intercom.
Thank you, Captain, Barbara replied. She scrunched down to press her cheek 
against the cool viewport.  There, low against the planet, she caught sight of a 
triangular constellation of strobing lights.  These were the beacons of the 
ships that would transport men and materiel to the comet.
Goliath,Gargantua , andGodzilla had been built to haul bulk material between 
Luna and the space habitats in the days before the Luna City mass driver. Once 
the mass driver was completed, its efficiency had proved too much for the big 
ships.  They and their five sisters had been placed in orbital storage.  They 
had remained there for nearly thirty years before the Thunderstrike Project took 
them over.  For the past two months, five hundred skilled workers had worked 
round the clock to modify them for the coming mission.  The old chemical engines 
had been ripped out and the latest antimatter powered converters installed.  
Inside their layers of protective magnetic fields, the antimatter chambers 
operated at temperatures approaching a million degrees centigrade.  Where it had 
takenAdmiral Farragut six months to reach Jupiter,Goliath and her sisters would 
make the same journey in only 12 weeks.
The winged shuttle fired its attitude jets as it approachedGoliath . The bulk 
carrier was a large sphere 150 meters in diameter.  Most of this, Barbara knew, 
was internal tankage for reaction mass and consumables.  Much of the heavy cargo 
was to be carried externally, welded to hardpoints all over the ship.  As they 
made their approach, Barbara saw everything from medium crawlers to large laser 
drill rigs arrayed aroundGoliath s hull.  The arrangement gave the ship a messy 
look, and probably played hell with the captains center of gravity 
calculations, but made off loading equipment at the nucleus relatively easy.
Two quick spurts from the attitude control jets and the shuttle had matched 
velocities with the big bulk carrier. Five minutes later, a flexible transfer 
tube snaked its way toward the midships airlock of the shuttle.  Barbara 
collected her notes and made her way aft.  A crewman helped her through the 
airlock and into the tube.  When she entered the larger ship, she found a four 
striper waiting for her.
Welcome aboardGoliath , Miss Martinez. Glad you could join us.  Im Captain 
Palanquin.
Good morning, Captain. Is everyone here?
Palanquin nodded. In the wardroom.  Follow me and well get the briefing 
started.
Barbara followed the captain through one of the ships main circumferential 
corridors. Shipyard workers were everywhere, working in what to Barbaras eyes 
was utter chaos.  The vessel had an unfinished look about it.  There were the 
scars of welding torches on bulkheads and decks, loose cables strung along 
passageways, the smell of paint in the air.  This particular section of the ship 
was being converted to bunk rooms for the heavy equipment operators.  The bunks 
were stacked four high.
How many men will you be transporting to the comet, Captain? she asked, 
suddenly aware of the magnitude of the effort.
About a thousand, he said. Goliathwill be the habitat ship whileGargantua 
andGodzilla will be used for heavy equipment and consumables transport.
The wardroom was crowded with ships officers. Not only wereGoliath s senior 
officers in attendance, so too were the captains, first officers, and chief 
engineers of the other two ships.  Barbara arranged her notes on a podium and 
gave the record tile she would be using to a spacer.  When all was ready, she 
asked for the lights to be turned down.
Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen, she began. My name is Barbara Martinez 
and Im a computer programmer with the Thunderstrike Project.  Im here to brief 
you on what we have learned about the comet nucleus and to answer your 
questions.
Barbara called up her first graphic, a full view of Thunderstrike as seen from 
space. She explained what the comet nucleus was and why it was dangerous, and 
then reviewed its surface features.  When she reached Ground Zero Crater, she 
explained Gwilliam Potters plan for spalling off a large chunk in order to 
change the orbit of the comet.  When she finished her explanation, a grizzled 
space captain raised his hand.
Yes, sir. You are?
Captain Jacques March, ofGodzilla . These antimatter bombs that each ship is 
to carry.  How many of them will there be?
As many as possible, Captain. At the moment, we have budgeted 38 kilograms of 
antimatter for the explosives.  You will appreciate that we had to strip every 
stockpile in the system to get that much.
Will it be enough?
We believe so. Not all of it will be used for the first shot.  If the comet 
does not split off a big enough chunk on the first attempt, we will try several 
more times.  The System Council has ordered all of the orbiting power stations 
to full antimatter production, even if they have to cut back on power delivered 
to Earth.  That will make a few more kilograms available before I-Day.
I-Day?
Impact Day!
I understand well be arriving at the comet a full year ahead of that date, 
another captain said.
That is correct. We hope to have the first charge set to blow by I minus 250.  
Well shoot every 30 days after that if it proves necessary.
Im concerned about my ship. I am being asked to run my tanks dry on the 
outbound journey.  Why not arrive a little later and save some fuel for 
emergencies?
Weve got to get to the nucleus as quickly as possible, Barbara replied. The 
closer Thunderstrike gets to Earth, the more difficult it will be to make it 
miss.
#
Amber fidgeted in her sleep and wondered why it was so cold. She must be back in 
the cold sleep tank, she decided.  She reached out to search for the manual 
override.  It was not there.  It felt like her limbs had been wrapped in heavy 
gauze.  The cold got suddenly worse and a great throbbing began somewhere inside 
her skull.  She opened her eyes and gazed upward.  A frost-white glaze reflected 
her instrument lights a centimeter in front of her face.
Frost white glaze ...!
Her mind snapped back to the moment when she and Kyle had stared stupidly up at 
a layer of ice falling slowly toward them.
Dont panic, Stormgaard had advised. Swing your light west while I try east.  
See if you can spot the edge of the slide.
She did as she was told. The whole north wall of the crevasse appeared to have 
caved in.  Amber saw nothing but overhead ice for as far as her light extended.  
The view reminded her of pictures she had seen taken by divers beneath Earths 
polar ice caps.  She reported her observation to Stormgaard.
Same here, he said. Well have to butt our way through.  Jets to full.  Arms 
at your sides.  Dont worry about cracking your helmet.  Its tougher than you 
are.
Gulping, she had followed his direction. They had soared upward toward the 
descending icefall.  Amber remembered the loudcrack!   as her helmet struck the 
descending layer of dirty white.  Despite Stormgaards assurances, she waited 
for the wind that signaled the start of explosive decompression.  The helmet 
held but the blow rattled her teeth.  The icefall was not solid, but rather 
composed of fist-sized chunks.  She could tell that she was making progress 
upward by the battering she was taking.  It was like being pelted with rocks.  
Then the pelting stopped and the ice falling past her faceplate slowed to stop.  
Suddenly, the ice was stationary around her.  She was being dragged backward by 
the general fall.
Kyle, Im stuck! she radioed. Her call went unanswered.  Either her antenna 
had been carried away, or else Stormgaard was blocked by too much ice.  Amber 
considered her predicament.  The icefall would reach the bottom of the crevasse 
in another few seconds, and when it did, there would be a terrible crunch.  She 
had to extricate herself before that happened.
Then everything went black until she woke from a dream that she was back in cold 
storage. She focused her eyes to gaze at her helmet chronometer.  It had been an 
hour since she and Stormgaard had entered the crevasse and approximately half 
that time since they had begun their panic ascent.  Half an hour.  Had they 
missed her yet?  Was anyone worried?  Perhaps they were already above, digging 
furiously to reach her.  If so, they had better hurry.
She tried to move her arms and legs and discovered that she was held fast. This 
puzzled her at first, and then frightened her.  What if she had broken her neck? 
 Then reason took over.  If she were paralyzed, she decided, she should not be 
able to feel her fingers and toes.  All of her digits either ached or tingled.  
It almost felt like the time when she had developed frostbite as the result of 
an experiment in chemistry class. 
Frostbite!
At the thought, she leaned her head forward to chin her heater control, only to 
find it already operating at full. Suddenly the reason for her immobility became 
clear.  With the nucleuss low gravity and the loosely packed material around 
her, she ought to be able to move.  The fact that she could not budge pointed to 
a sinister possibility.
Compared to the temperature of the surrounding ice, Ambers body was practically 
incandescent. Her vacuum suit was intended as much to protect the local 
environment from the heat she radiated as it was to keep her warm inside.  While 
she lay unconscious, her suit had melted the ice and submerged her in a pool of 
water.  As the exterior of the suit had cooled, however, the water had turned 
back into ice.  By the time Amber woke, she was frozen fast in the center of a 
block of ice of indeterminate thickness.
It was only then that she began to be afraid. She had been thinking about her 
air, food, and water in the back of her mind.  Now she knew that none of these 
was important.  All that was important was the cold.  Already she could feel it 
seeping into her extremities, slowly making them numb.  In another ten minutes, 
she would lose all feeling in her limbs.  No more than half an hour after that, 
they would be frozen solid, dead appendages attached to a rapidly cooling torso.
She knew that it did not matter how quickly rescuers arrived from the ship. 
Already it was too late.  By the time they dug her free, she would be frozen as 
solid as the block of ice in which she was imbedded.  At the sudden realization 
that she was facing death, Amber began to sob softly.  The sound echoed through 
her helmet, mocking her.
 
CHAPTER 25
 
Tom Thorpe anchored himself on the edge of the crevasse and watched Hopper 1 
lift into the black sky. The hoppers exhaust was a stiff wind that sent 
flurries of ammonia snow swirling about him.  The storm quickly fell to a 
whisper as the tiny spacecraft dwindled toward the southern horizon.  A moment 
later, Hopper 2 took off on autopilot and buffeted him again as it raced after 
its departed twin.  Mission rules called for the hoppers to be manned whenever 
possible as a precaution against computer failure.  The critical need now, 
however, was to get the maximum number of rescuers to the scene as soon as 
possible.  Sending Hopper 2 back on automatic doubled the available transport 
and more than made up for the minor risk they were taking.
With the departure of the hoppers, Thorpe turned his attention to the crevasse. 
He and Schmidt had taken turns tugging on the two safety lines in the hope they 
could haul the two avalanche victims to the surface.  After some initial 
movement, both lines had gone taut and remained solidly anchored.  Schmidt had 
wanted to use the hopper winches, but Thorpe had vetoed the idea as too 
dangerous.  If a line snapped, they would have no hope of finding Amber or 
Stormgaard in the icefall.  By using the red and yellow cables to guide their 
digging, they had a chance.  In addition, even if the safety lines remained 
intact, there was no guarantee that the same would be true for their two 
friends.  Dragging Stormgaard and Amber up through that collection of ice blocks 
could easily puncture their suits or snap their necks.
Thorpe paid out his own tether and slipped over the lip of the crevasse. He 
reached the bottom within two minutes and began digging frantically at the point 
where one of the safety lines disappeared into the ice.  Surface operations on 
the nucleus had quickly taught them that one man could do the work of a dozen in 
the nucleuss gravity field.  Thorpe grappled with chunks of ice larger than 
himself, heaving them mightily in all directions.  Despite their low weight, 
they retained full mass and inertia, causing him to strain for each new 
conquest.  Within minutes, he was perspiring heavily inside his clammy vacuum 
suit.
He worked without thinking, afraid to dwell on what Amber must be feeling right 
now. He dug with the strength and speed of a madman, moving quickly despite the 
constrained motions his suit forced upon him.  He followed the red-and-yellow 
safety line through the icefall, and had cleared a hole nearly three meters deep 
when he realized that he could no longer feel his fingers.  He ignored the 
numbness until, when his fingers no longer had the strength to move the heavy 
gloves; he was forced to halt his digging.
Thorpe, are you down there?
The radio call caused him to glance up toward the crevasses rim. The sun was 
low on the horizon, causing the rim to appear a river of fire in an otherwise 
black universe.  Standing there, illuminated by the light, were two figures in 
vacuum suits.  One was John Malvan.
I need some help down here! he yelled. Until that moment, he had not realized 
how hard he had been breathing.
On my way. Malvan dropped into the crevasse with surprising swiftness.  He 
used his suit jets to accelerate his fall, and then again to brake his descent.  
The Lunarian skated across the jumble of ice blocks to where Thorpe still stood 
in the depression he had created.  Malvan, the ex-ice miner, took in the scene 
with a practiced gaze and asked, Whats the situation?
Thorpe hurriedly explained what he would found, then pointed to the slack safety 
line hed been trying to dig out of the ice.
I cant work my hands anymore. Youll have to dig.
Youre wasting your time. Well never get them out this way.
I dont have time to argue, Thorpe growled.
Malvan was nonplussed. Neither do I.  This is no job for brawn.  We have to 
work smarter.
What do you suggest?
Theyre sending it down now.
Thorpe leaned back to gaze upward to where an assemblage of parts was being 
lowered to the crevasse floor. He recognized one of the expeditions 
high-pressure oxygen tanks, a stiff coil of high-pressure tubing, and several 
sections of straight pipe.
What are you going to do with that?
Use a miniature version of what Earth hopes to do to this asteroid.
You arent going to try and blast them out?
In a manner of speaking. Im going to inject compressed gas down into the ice 
mass to break it up.
Thorpe nodded inside his suit. Air at one standard atmosphere exerts a million 
dynes on each square centimeter - several tons when applied across the area of 
the large ice blocks he had been manhandling.  In the nucleuss low gravity 
field, even a few hundredths of an atmosphere should be sufficient to scatter 
the icefall with the efficiency of a chemical explosion.
Thorpe clambered up out of the hole he had made while two figures drifted down 
into the crevasse. He was not surprised to see that one of them was Captain 
Olafson.  The other was Cybil Barnard, the ships doctor.
Which is which? the captain asked as soon as she grounded. She was looking 
toward where the two safety lines disappeared into the icefall.
I dont know, Thorpe replied. Ive been digging here because this was the 
first one I came to.
Karin Olafson fell forward and caught herself on outstretched arms in a low 
gravity push up. She studied the line where it entered the ice.  She then moved 
over and repeated the maneuver at the other line.  Then she straightened her 
arms and pushed herself erect.  Youre right.  There is no way to tell.  How 
long has it been?  This last was spoken in a different voice and was obviously 
not addressed to Thorpe.
Chen Ling Tsus scholarly voice immediately echoed over the intercom circuit. 
Fifty seven minutes.
Times awasting. Lets get them up.
John Malvan was already at work assembling sections of long hollow tube. He 
worked deftly, despite his handicap.  When the tube was ten meters long, he 
carried it and a tripod into the pit.  The tripod was equipped with explosive 
anchors to attach it to the nucleus, and a drive mechanism that grasped the long 
tube and pushed it into the ice.  It took several attempts before Malvan found a 
place where the tube would penetrate deeply.  When only a meter or so projected 
from the ice, he dismounted the tripod and handed it to Karin Olafson.  Malvan 
then attached the high-pressure hose to a fitting at the end of the tube.  
Thorpe attempted to help, but found that his hands were useless inside their 
gloves.  Now that his suit heater had had a chance to warm them, they were 
beginning to ache.
The four of them climbed out of the pit and moved the high-pressure tank a 
hundred meters distant down the crevasse.
Watch out for flying debris! Malvan warned as he turned the valve on the air 
tank.  Nothing happened for a moment.  Then the ice bellied up in a slow 
explosion all around the buried tube.  They waited for the larger pieces to 
settle before rushing back into the swirling fog that obscured the center of the 
explosion.
Heres one! Cybil Barnard yelled.
Thorpe scrambled through the fog until he came across the doctors form. She was 
bent over what at first appeared to be another block of ice.  Only on closer 
examination did he realize that the block was man-shaped.
Who is it? Captain Olafson asked over the radio.
Thorpe felt the knot in his stomach tighten as he leaned over to shine his light 
on the figure. The sarcophagus of glaze ice was remarkably clear.  It reflected 
his light, but let him see enough to note the white beard.
Its your husband! Thorpe yelled.
If the captain felt relief at the news, she did not show it. She merely ordered 
them to get him out of the pit.  Thorpe helped the doctor move Kyle Stormgaard 
to the crevasse wall.
Is he alive? Thorpe asked as the doctor shone her light into the chief 
engineers faceplate.
I dont know, she said. We need to get him back to the ship.  At her order, 
the work party on the rim took up the slack in Stormgaards safety line.  The 
doctor followed her patient toward the surface.  She used her suit jets to keep 
him from banging against the crevasse wall.
Malvan retrieved his tube and moved up the canyon with it, searching for another 
point to probe. Debris from the explosion complicated the job.  He set up his 
tripod and drove the tube into the ice once more.  They retreated and Malvan 
turned on the air again.  The explosion was less violent this time, but still 
sufficient to open a large crater. 
The three of them waded into the cloud they had just created. An agonizingly 
long minute passed before Captain Olafson called out that she had found the 
safety line.  She pulled it taut and followed it to its end.  The line 
disappeared into the icefall.
Damn, shes still buried.
She cant be down too far, Malvan replied. This is about the level we found 
Kyle at.  Shall we blast again?
First lets try pulling her to the surface, Thorpe said, reversing his 
previous decision. He was acutely aware of the time that had elapsed since Amber 
had been buried.
The three of them lined up on the safety line and anchored it to their equipment 
belts. They strained for ten seconds before the line moved.  Thorpe knelt down 
and gazed at the ground.  A cylindrical block of ice had been raised a few 
centimeters.  It took a moment to recognize the shape.
Here she is!
Unlike the ice that encased the chief engineer, Ambers sarcophagus was opaque. 
There was no seeing her face through the faceplate of her suit.
How do we get this off? Thorpe asked, referring to the opaque coating.
We dont, Malvan replied. Well get her back to the ship first.
But shes liable to freeze!
Thorpe felt an arm on his shoulder, a gesture difficult to execute in a vacuum 
suit. Courage.  She has been in there a long time.  A few more minutes wont 
make any difference one way or the other.
#
Lets get this meeting started. Weve a lot to cover today!
Constance Forbin stared down the long mahogany table at the double row of faces 
turned in her direction. Seated before her were the twelve most powerful people 
on Earth - not the richest or best known, but definitely the most powerful.  It 
was a measure of the extent of their power that few members of the public 
realized such power even existed.  To enforce their decrees, the twelve could 
order the arrest of anyone.  Neither warrant nor charge were required.
This was the Special Board of Managers appointed by the System Council to 
coordinate the diversion of Thunderstrike. That their mandate was limited solely 
to matters involving the comet did not detract from its sweep.  Concerning the 
planetoid of ice, their word was law.
Well have a report from Director Warren first. How did last weeks avalanche 
affect your operation in New Mexico, Clarence?
Not as badly as it might have. Its a shame about Amber Hastings, of course, 
but the survey crews are nearly back on schedule.
Constance Forbin nodded. I suppose we should have expected a few casualties.  
Have you chosen the points in the fault system where you want the antimatter 
charges placed?
The primary list is ready for peer review, and my staff is compiling the list 
of secondaries now.
Any surprises?
Two substitutions from the preliminary recommendations we reviewed last 
meeting. Neither was a particular surprise.
And the crew briefings? How are they going?
Barbara Martinez just returned from her orbital tour. She brought back a long 
list of additional equipment the space crews want to take along.
What sort of equipment?
Mostly spare parts and other things they may need out there. Apparently, they 
didnt think much of our ground-based recommendations.
Will any of these requisitions push back the fleets launch?
Unlikely, Warren replied. Almost everything will be in orbit by the middle of 
next week.  That will give them time to load it aboard the ships and redo their 
weight and balance calculations.
Keep me advised. Wemust launch on schedule.  Lord Blenham, your report, 
please.
The white haired European leaned forward to rest his elbows on the conference 
table. It was Blenhams job to orchestrate the Thunderstrike public relations 
campaign, something for which he was uniquely suited after a lifetime spent on 
Londons Fleet Street.
Actually, Madame Coordinator, the campaign is going quite well; possibly, too 
well.
What do you mean by that? the Australasian representative asked.
I mean that we have allayed the publics fear to the point where they are 
totally unconcerned about the comet. They are practically soporific on the 
subject.  Thunderstrike barely makes it to the list of the top ten public 
worries in the latest polls.  At our direction, the news people have taken to 
calling the nucleus a wayward meteor, or a bit of space flotsam.  Most 
people have no idea of just how large and dangerous it is.
Then youve done your job properly, Blenham, one of the other managers 
remarked. The primary goal is to avoid a public panic.
That is what we told ourselves at the time. Last weeks accident got me to 
wondering about the wisdom of our approach.
In what way? Constance Forbin asked.
I think we may have overplayed our hand. The vast majority believes that we 
will divert the nucleus on schedule and that they can go about their individual 
lives without worry.  What happens if something happens to shake their 
confidence?
What can go wrong? the North American manager asked.
How should I know? My field is crowd psychology and public relations.  Still, 
the way we are marketing this whole effort seems wrong to me.  We should be 
playing up the drama - humanity striving against a hostile universe, that sort 
of thing.  As long as our public posture maintains that diverting this comet is 
routine, we leave the populace in a fragile emotional state.  One major setback 
and theyll panic.
Do you have anything more concrete than a hunch on which to base this 
position?
 I do, Blenham replied.  I had my people run a full simulation on a second 
order setback.  The resulting opinion swing was 40 percent negative!
There were a number of low whistles around the table. To cause four out of ten 
people to suddenly change their opinions about anything usually took an act of 
God.  On the other hand, Constance Forbin remarked, that was precisely what they 
were facing!
#
Amber stirred in her sleep, vaguely aware that something was wrong. She lay in 
that half dream state that occurs just before waking, luxuriating in the 
peaceful feeling it gave her.  Slowly, almost grudgingly, she came fully awake 
to find Cybil Barnard leaning over her.
Hello, the doctor said, how are you feeling?
Amber stretched and found her muscles curiously limp. Fine.  I just had the 
most awful dream...  It was then that she realized the significance of having 
the doctor standing over her.  ...  Oh!
Youve been a very sick woman, the doctor responded. You were buried for an 
hour and a half.
Then why arent I dead? I remember waking up after the fall and feeling 
terribly cold.  Ninety minutes should have frozen me solid.
You can thank the layer of ice that encapsulated you. Apparently, it insulated 
you from the really cold ice of the nucleus.  Your suit kept pumping out heat 
and maintained your temperature far above what it could have been.  Still, it 
was a close thing.  Your arms and legs were nearly frozen through by the time we 
got your suit off.  I was afraid for a while that we were going to have to pop 
you back into cold sleep until we reached Earth.  Luckily, things had not gone 
quite that far.  I was able to regenerate you with the equipment I have 
onboard.
What about Kyle? Did he make it out all right?
He was pretty well frozen, too. Not as bad as you were, though.  His larger 
mass helped, as did the fact that his coating of ice was thicker than yours.  We 
did have one other casualty.
Who?
Our fearless leader.
Amber blinked in surprise and fought to control her emotions. Thomas?
He came down with second degree frostbite on his fingers. The damned fool tried 
to dig you out by hand.
He did?
The doctor nodded. He was first on the scene.  We found him manhandling ice 
blocks larger than himself when we got there.  He was also blubbering like a 
baby.
Youre kidding!
I never kid my patients. He loves you very much.  Even after we got you back 
here, he made a complete ass of himself.  He pestered me about your condition 
for hours.  I finally had to ban him from sickbay to get any work done.
Is he all right now?
Cybil smiled. Nothing wrong with our leader that seeing you wont cure.  
Nevertheless, I want to run you through a battery of tests before I let you have 
visitors.  Youve been through quite an ordeal.
When can I get back to work? I imagine Ive got a lot of orbital readings 
piling up.
Not to worry. Crag co-opted Professor Liu to help with the orbital plot.  He is 
pretty good at it.  As for your going back on duty, I would recommend taking it 
easy for a week or so.  You can work inside the ship, but I wont clear you for 
surface duty until Ive had a chance to observe you for awhile.
But the exploration teams must be shorthanded. We have to get the survey done 
before the equipment transports launch.  How else are they going to know what to 
bring?
An odd look crossed the doctors face, and then she smiled. Thats right, I 
havent told you, have I?
Told me what?
You are going to have to make some adjustments in your thinking. I had to 
regenerate quite a few cells in your limbs.  There was no helping it.  The 
damage from freezing was extensive.  Cell regeneration is a painful process at 
best.  I did not want you in agony while it was going on, so I have kept you 
sedated.  Youve been unconscious for six weeks.
Amber frowned. Six weeks?
Cybil Barnard nodded. The ships carrying the heavy equipment launched a month 
ago.  They will be here in another two months.  So you see, theres no real 
hurry about your convalescence.
 
CHAPTER 26
 
Tom Thorpe lay inAdmiral Farragut s control room and gazed up at the three tiny 
globes of violet-white light displayed on the view dome. The lights were the 
drive flares of the three heavy equipment carriers.  After several months of 
exploring the comet nucleus alone, the Comet Hastings Expedition was about to 
receive a massive infusion of help.
It had takenAdmiral Farragut half a year to make the trip from Earth to Jupiter. 
The three transports had crossed a similar gulf of space in half that time.  The 
three heavies had departed Earth 83 days earlier.  After accelerating to more 
than twice solar escape velocity, they had coasted outbound.  When they had 
closed to within 25 million kilometers, they had begun to decelerate and had 
halted their flight while still several million kilometers in front of 
Thunderstrike.  Now, having crossed six hundred million kilometers of space to 
reach the comet, they were fleeing before it.
The maneuver was not as paradoxical as it sounded. Like relay runners who see 
the baton carrier approaching, the heavy carriers were moving in the same 
direction as the comet, allowing it to overtake them.  They had adjusted their 
acceleration such that they would match the nucleuss velocity at the precise 
moment it drew abreast of them.
How are they doing? Amber asked as she floated into the control room.
Thorpe smiled at the sight of her and reached out to extend a helping hand. The 
baby pink skin of his palms, along with similar patches on her arms, were 
reminders of how close he had come to losing her.
They are doing fine, he replied as he levitated her to the acceleration couch. 
Theyll be here in another four hours.
Amber looked to where the three ships exhaust flares hovered near the zenith of 
the view dome. Except for their brightness, they looked precisely like planetary 
nebulae.
Is Professor Barnard still camped out in the telescope room? Thorpe asked.
Still at it. I offered to spell him, but he wouldnt hear of it.
How are things going?
Good. Hes even humming to himself!
Thorpe shook his head in wonder. Once a scientist, always a scientist.
The fleet of cargo carriers had entered the coma two days earlier. As they 
backed down through the gas and dust, their exhausts roiled the substance of the 
cloud.  Barnard was recording every second of the approach to learn all he could 
about the gas cloud and its composition.  The study had no relevance to the 
problem of diverting the nucleus from Earth.  It was merely something that 
interested him.
Amber leaned close and nibbled at his ear. I stopped by to see if you wanted to 
have lunch.  It may be our last chance for quite a while.
Thorpe gestured toward the three points of light on the dome. A good idea.  
Once they get here, we are going to be very busy.  Of course, we could skip 
lunch and go to the cabin.
Amber shook her head. The quick motion caused her hair to swirl about her face.  
You need to keep up your strength.
All right, he said. Lunch it is.  Lead the way, my love.
#
Four hours later, Thorpe and Amber helped one another into vacuum suits. The 
carriers had matched orbits and were preparing to disgorge their cargo.  The two 
of them crowded into the Number 3 airlock and cycled out into vacuum.  A hundred 
meters distant, a small crowd had gathered on the ice to watch the show.
Lets go, Thorpe said. They disdained the airlock ladder and jumped free.  As 
they skated across the ice, Thorpe was reminded of their awkward first attempts 
at moving about the nucleus.  The microgravity shuffle was now second nature to 
them.
There she is! someone said five minutes later.
Thorpe turned to the west. Sure enough, a small globular shape had just climbed 
above the horizon.  It grew rapidly larger.  His first impression was of a ship 
that had never been finished.  The carriers hull was a mass of external cargo.  
As the globe drew closer, Thorpe identified two laser drills, several large gas 
cylinders, and a boxy portable fusion generator.  He also saw a heavy surface 
crawler along with hundreds of less identifiable items.  These were hidden 
inside shipping crates or beneath wrappings of reflective film.
Gargantuaand her sisters had never been intended to land. Consequently, they 
lacked even the most rudimentary landing gear.  Though Thunderstrikes gravity 
was minuscule, if such an oversize vessel ever tried to ground itself, the hull 
would crack like an eggshell.  Mission planners had long ago solved the problem 
of how to deliverGargantua s cargo without landing it on the nucleus.  It was 
the opportunity to see their solution that had drawn so many spectators out onto 
the ice.
The giant globe floated toward the habitat module. A quick burst of fire from 
its attitude control jets brought it to a hover a hundred meters up and one 
kilometer distant.  As the big ship halted, other flashes flickered across its 
hull.  Nothing happened for long seconds.  Then cargo began to slough off.  
Additional bursts from the attitude control jets sent the vessel skidding 
sideways as it shed its load.  The cargo fell with deceptive slowness, taking 
nearly a minute to impact the crater floor.  Ice geysers thrown up by the 
heavier items were clearly visible to the spectators.
With its external cargo scattered in a long swath across the ice,Gargantua 
continued its low-level flyby. Numerous hatches popped open and thousands of 
smaller containers were ejected into space.  These, Thorpe knew, were mostly 
supplies - air tanks, packages of food, and spare parts.  Having deposited its 
load, the carrier fired its underjets and lifted back into the black sky.
Ten minutes later,Godzilla slid over the horizon and repeated the performance. 
It lay its mountain of supplies next to those of its sister ship, adding to the 
impression of an interplanetary junkyard.  The second freighter then rose 
majestically into the sky and disappeared.  When it had gone, the spectators 
turned back to the west in time to seeGoliath top the horizon.
The fleet flagship deposited its load in a line parallel to the two previous 
deliveries. Again, the external cargo sloughed off on the first pass, with 
internal cargo dumped on a second, parallel run.  This time the ship did not 
immediately flee back into space.  It moved to hover over an uncluttered expanse 
of ice between the habitat module and supply dump.  New hatches popped open and 
the sky was suddenly filled with vacuum suited figures.
Two hundred specialists in all phases of vacuum construction floated down slowly 
on their suit jets. They were but the vanguard of more to come.  When everyone 
was down,Goliath departed.  All three ships were to take up parking orbit over 
the nucleuss south pole.  There they would stay until it was time to evacuate 
men and materiel just before the attempt to split off Ground Zero Crater.  
AsGoliath departed, Thorpe glanced at his helmet chronometer.  The whole 
operation had taken less than an hour.
Mr. Thorpe? a voice called over the main comm circuit.
Im here, Thorpe replied, hitting his visor lamp to show his location. His 
blink was answered by a light from one of the newcomers.  The two of them 
crossed the expanse of ice between them and embraced in the gesture that 
substitutes for a handshake in a vacsuit.
Im Amos Carlton, boss of this bunch of vacuum monkeys.
Tom Thorpe, in charge of the expedition. Welcome to Thunderstrike.
Nice place you have here, Carlton said, looking around inside his helmet. 
About all Thorpe could see of his features was that he was young and blond.  
Its going to be a shame to blow it up.
More of a shame if we dont. Do you and your men need any assistance?
Youd just get in the way. With your permission, well set up there.  He 
pointed to an open area in front of the supply dump.
As good a choice as any, Thorpe replied. We dont exactly have an 
overpopulation problem.
Good. We will be working through the night to get our camp erected.  Id like 
to get our people together tomorrow morning, if thats all right with you, 
Thorpe.
Tomorrow morning it is!
I understand this ice ball suffers from temblors.
Not so many these past couple of months, nor as violent. The interior has just 
about achieved isostasy.  Still, you can expect the ground to shake every couple 
of days.
Well make sure to anchor everything properly then. Anything else I should know 
immediately?
The composition is mostly water and ammonia ice, with the usual impurities. Be 
careful distilling it.  Dont let anyone go outside for a pail of water.
Oh? Why not?
The ice is a clathrate. One of its constituents is cyanide.  You get that 
inside your habitat, and you could find it hard to breathe.
Thanks. I will pass the word.  Well need something other than ice to anchor 
our drills.
You will find two mountain ranges composed of rocky material. Ones only a few 
kilometers from here.
I saw it coming in. I will send my geology team out to look it over.  Id best 
getting back to work.  I will see you at our headquarters Quonset at 08:00 
tomorrow.  Come morning, that should be right about where that little hillock is 
now.
#
Six expedition members attended the first coordination meeting with the 
construction battalion: Tom Thorpe, Chen Ling Tsu, Kyle Stormgaard, Leon 
Albright, and Hilary Dorchester.  Thorpe had suggested that Amber come along, 
but she had been slated for one of the periodic position checks with Earth.  
There was no longer any doubt that Thunderstrike would hit the Earth on the 
morning of July 17, 2087.  Still, the work of refining the comets orbit 
continued.  If nothing else, it would give them a precise baseline from which to 
measure their progress.
As the six left the habitat module, they were greeted by the sight of a small 
city where none had been twelve hours earlier. The buildings were all standard 
vacuum shelters - pressurized Quonset huts onto which had been sprayed a fine 
mist of water.  The spraying was still going on, but already, it had produced a 
layer of ice several centimeters thick.  The ice made the buildings glisten in 
the light from the shrunken sun.
Outside the main airlock, they found a signpost. In addition to pointing the way 
to various supply dumps and buildings, one arrow pointed straight up.  It read, 
New York City, 600 million kilometers.
The expedition members cycled through the oversize airlock as a group and found 
themselves in a large open room with row upon row of lockers. They quickly 
stripped off their suits and hung them up.  Inside the lockers, they found 
lace-up slippers with Velcro soles.  The shelters were lined with Velcro 
carpeting that allowed the illusion of gravity.  It seemed strange to walk 
stiffly along the floor after so many months of arrowing from one point to 
another.
Pardon me, Thorpe said to the first construction worker he came upon. Where 
is Mr. Carltons office?
Third shelter in, mate. Youll see a headquarters sign just before you get 
there.  The man barely slowed to give directions as he hurried into the suiting 
room.
They found the headquarters Quonset without difficulty. Inside they discovered 
Amos Carlton giving orders to half a dozen work gangs simultaneously.  As Thorpe 
had surmised the previous day, Carlton was young and blond.  He estimated the 
foremans age to be about thirty.  Thorpe smiled at the appraising look Hilary 
Dorchester gave him, and at the look, Carlton returned in her direction.
Thorpe introduced his companions to Carlton, who ushered them into the next-door 
conference room. There a large view window opened to the outside.  It had 
electric heaters buried in the glass to keep the water spray from freezing over 
its thick panes. Admiral Farragut s two modules were visible across 
half-a-kilometer of open ice.  Thorpe could not help thinking that they looked 
terribly lonely out there.
Tom Thorpe, may I introduce Walter Vassilovich, my second in command... 
Carlton went around the conference table, introducing the half dozen people 
seated there.  He then did the honors for the expedition contingent.  When the 
introductions were over, he said, ...  Please be seated, people.  Well have 
coffee brought in shortly...
You have coffee! Hilary exclaimed.
Why, yes. Couldnt work without it.
Something went wrong with our freeze dried stores. We ran out a month ago.
Ill have some sent over.
Would you? Id be most grateful.
Lets get to the business at hand. Mr. Thorpe, I want to get our drills 
operating as quickly as possible.  We have the preliminary maps, of course.  Is 
there anything you wish to add to them?
Since Im not sure what youve been told, why dont we start at the beginning? 
Professor Chen is our expert on asteroid formation.  He will go over what we 
have learned during our time here.  Our geologist, Leon Albright, will assist.
Chen Ling Tsu unrolled the large topographic chart that had been his personal 
project these past several months. It showed Ground Zero Crater and its 
surroundings, along with the various fault systems that underlay it.  On the 
chart were 22 black crosses.  Each carried a cryptic notation alongside.
This is our master chart of this area. We have mapped both surface features and 
the fault system down to a depth of twenty kilometers.  The nucleuss tectonic 
activity has helped us in this.  The constant shaking gives us a very good 
picture of what lies below ground.
Chen indicated the chart with an expansive gesture. What you see here is a 
snapshot of a cataclysmic event that took place a billion years ago.  It very 
nearly shattered this body.  We propose to finish the job.  The black outlines 
show the surface features of the crater and its surrounding crevasse system.  
The multicolored lines map subterranean features.  Each contour line represents 
a depth variation of 500 meters.  Note that the crater is actually a large, 
conical plug and that it is not really part of the main asteroid mass.  We will 
eject this plug into space.
And these black crosses? Carlton asked.
Those are the recommended sites for drilling, Chen replied. The notations 
indicate depth of bore and angle.  We have attempted to pinpoint the weakest 
points in the fault system, as well as points where a number of faults come 
together.  Drill depths vary between three and seventeen kilometers.
The construction people pored over the chart and asked questions. As Professor 
Chen answered them, they scribbled notes into their portable notepads.  After 
half an hour, Amos Carlton gazed down at the chart and said, It looks very 
straightforward.  Almost too good to be true, in fact.  What havent you told 
us?
 Leon Albright cleared his throat.  We do have some concern about the strength 
of the crust.  As you can see, it was totally shattered by the force of the 
original impact.  To spall off a large enough chunk to do any good will require 
great care in the placement of your charges.  Any explosive energy that breaks 
through the surface will be wasted.
Perhaps we should drill somewhere else then.
Professor Chen shook his head. That would be futile.  We need the fault system 
to channel the steam beneath the crater.  We need a large cushion of pressure to 
eject the crater in one piece.  Believe me, Mr. Carlton; we have analyzed this 
problem for many months now.  The points shown are the strongest available that 
still give us access to the fault system.
Walter Vassilovich gestured at a cluster of crosses. Well start on these deep 
bores to the west.  They will take the most time.
Agreed, Carlton replied.
How long to drill these 22 bores? Thorpe asked.
Carlton scanned the map, moving his lips as he added up each of the bore depths. 
Two months to finish the bores as long we dont run into bad drilling 
conditions, two weeks to evacuate, and a week after that to set the charges and 
plug the bores.  Call it three months to the first shot.
Can your ships be refueled that quickly?
Carlton shrugged. Not my department, Im afraid.  You will have to get with the 
swabbies for that.  I can tell you that the distillation and cracking units are 
being set up.
Weve just about gotAdmiral Farragut refueled, Stormgaard said. In another 
week, we can use our hydrogen cracking unit to supplement your output.
Excellent. Take that up with Captain Palanquin.  He is in charge of the fleet.  
Any other questions?  If not, lets get to work.  Weve got a lot to accomplish 
in a very short time!
 
CHAPTER 27
 
Tom Thorpe had no difficulty spotting his destination as Hopper 2 flew a 
thousand meters above the rugged terrain of the badlands north of Ground Zero 
Crater. Ahead of him, rising into the ebon sky, was an umbrella shaped plume of 
ice crystals.  The plume emanated from where one of the construction battalions 
heavy lasers was drilling a deep shaft.  Three other plumes were visible on the 
horizon.  After ten weeks of backbreaking labor, these were the final four 
bores.  In another week, Thunderstrike would be largely abandoned.  A week after 
that, two-dozen-plus antimatter bombs would simultaneously spill their cargoes 
to the surrounding ice.  They would know then whether their efforts had been 
wasted.
Thorpe lined up an electronic sighting mark with the base of the nearest plume. 
A quick press of the thumb switch caused the small vehicle to heel over from a 
sudden burst of the attitude control jets.  A burp of the main engine altered 
the hoppers trajectory toward the drill rig.
Thanks for bringing me along, Amber said from beside him. Ive been cooped up 
in the ship for too long.
This was the only way I could think of for us to be together. Besides, it put 
an end to Hilary Dorchesters harping about my needing an assistant.
Just try taking her on, and I will scratch her eyes out, Amber warned.
Its good to be loved.
They rode in silence until the hopper had dropped to within a kilometer of the 
drill site. The ice plume had grown enormous, and now looked like the funnel of 
a tornado.  Only this twister seemed to extend up to infinity.  Some wit had 
dubbed the plumes beanstalks and drilling crews were often admonished to watch 
out for descending giants.
Time to give the crew the bad news, Thorpe said. He keyed for the general comm 
circuit.  Laser Six, this is Hopper Two.  I am two minutes out and descending.  
Stand by for inspection.
There was an immediate terse acknowledgement, which Thorpe suspected was 
followed by a sharp string of oaths. Ever since he had taken on the task of 
Inspector General, his visits had cost a number of workers loss of privileges 
and pay.  Such measures kept the people on their toes, but did nothing to endear 
him to the vacuum monkeys.
The hopper slowed to a hover a hundred meters short of the plume and descended 
slowly. Thorpe took over manual control and landed the machine.  The field was 
cluttered with equipment and dominated by the drills power supply.  Heavy 
electrical cables snaked to where a tripod had been erected over a thirty 
centimeter bore.  It was from this hole that the beanstalk sprouted.
As they approached the hole, they became aware of a deep thrumming sound being 
conducted through the surface and into the soles of their boots. They reached a 
point where they had a clear view of the laser drill.  Its tripod legs were 
buried in heavy rock anchors and its head was obscured by the geyser of steam 
roaring out of the bore.  The drill head generated two separate laser beams.
The center beam was ultraviolet and ultra powerful. It swung continuously 
through a tiny arc, carving out the bottom of the hole.  This inner cutting beam 
created hard vacuum wherever it moved, and still had enough energy to slice 
through solid ice and rock at the bottom of the bore.
The second beam surrounded the first and was blue-green. It filled the entire 
bore with brilliant aquamarine color.  The outer beam maintained the steam in a 
superheated condition.  Otherwise, it would condense against the holes super 
cold walls and quickly fill the bore with liquid water.
Hello, Mr. Thorpe, Miss Hastings, Roger Borokin, the drill crews foreman 
greeted them. I thought I might be seeing you today.
Why did you think that? Thorpe asked.
It was logical. We are one of the last four active drilling sites and we are 
about to finish.  This is your last chance to take a crack at us before we shut 
down.
Thorpe laughed. Am I that transparent?  Actually, the inspection is just an 
excuse.  I wanted Miss Hastings to see a drilling operation up close.
Excuse or not, were ready for you. My logs up to date and all my people know 
their jobs.
How far down are you?
Seventeen kilometers. We should break into Fault System Twelve any time now.  
Once we do, we will lower the remote drill head down the bore and carve out a 
blast chamber.  After that, we pack up and head for the ship.
#
Arm the cargo module maneuvering jets, Mr. Chief Engineer.
Maneuvering jets armed, Captain.
Cargo module systems check.
All systems are green.
Did anyone remember to unbolt the anchor cables?
Anchor cables released, Captain. I checked them myself.  Twice.
Very well. Final maneuvering check.  If anyone has a good reason why we should 
not launch, now is the time to speak up.  No one?  A one minute countdown, Mr. 
Velduccio.
Aye, Captain. One minute and counting ... fifty nine ... fifty eight...
Karin Olafson glanced up at the view dome where the cargo module sat poised for 
launch. It looked much as it had the day they had arrived.  Repacking everything 
had taken three days.  Even so, the module massed less than half of what it had 
on landing.
Among the equipment being left behind were both moonhoppers. Tom Thorpe was 
still using Hopper 2 for transport.  Hopper One lay smashed somewhere in the 
western badlands, the victim of a landing accident the previous week.  The 
pilot, Jorge Rodriguez, had suffered a broken arm while his passenger, Leon 
Albright, had come through without a scratch.  Karin Olafson wondered if either 
man knew just how lucky he had been.
As she gazed out across the floor of Ground Zero Crater, she felt a momentary 
sadness. The past months had been some of the most exciting of her life.
Thirty seconds ... Twenty ... fifteen ... ten...
Arm the automatics.
Automatic pilot enabled, Captain, came the response from her husband.
... Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... there she goes!
Across the ice plain, the cargo module came alive as fire erupted from its 
oversize thrusters. The exhausts sent drifts of ammonia snow scurrying away.  
The module lifted slowly, and then began to accelerate.  As it climbed, it 
heeled over and dwindled to the north.
We are tracking, Captain, came the report from Dieter Schmidt. The trajectory 
is nominal.
Very well, Mr. Schmidt. Prepare us for liftoff.
Habitat module is ready, Captain.
Anchors?
Disconnected.
Karin nodded. Those anchors she had checked herself.  Few things would be more 
disastrous than to have one landing jack still firmly rooted to the nucleus as 
they tried to lift off.  It would be enough to ruin a persons whole day.
All the passengers aboard? she asked.
Twelve warm bodies aboard and tucked in, Captain, Cybil Barnard reported over 
the intercom. Tom Thorpe, Amber Hastings, my husband, Chen Ling Tsu, Bradford 
Goff, and Hilary Dorchester are not aboard.
The captain nodded to herself. She had not liked leaving without a full 
complement, but there was nothing she could do.  Thorpe, Hastings, and Barnard 
were slated to stay aground for another week.  They would oversee the setting of 
the last antimatter charges.  The others had continuing duties with the 
construction battalion.
Prelaunch check.
Engineering, ready for launch.
Communicator, ready for launch.
All cargo secure. All passengers strapped down.
Arm the maneuvering jets.
Maneuvering jets armed.
Give me an All Hands circuit.
You have it, Captain.
Attention, All Hands. Prepare for launch.  If you have to go, you have missed 
your chance.  Liftoff will be in two minutes.  I repeat, liftoff in two 
minutes.
There was a long pause while she watched the countdown chronometer. You may 
start another countdown, Mr. Velduccio.  Pipe it through the ship.
Aye aye, Captain. Liftoff in sixty seconds ... fifty nine ... fifty eight...
Are you sorry to go, Karin? her husband asked over their private intercom 
circuit.
A little. Its been fun, hasnt it?
That it has. Im sorry to see it end.
Just think of the fireworks this time next week.
There is that, Stormgaard agreed.
Ten seconds to launch, Captain.
Very well, Mr. Velduccio.
Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... power!
A deep growling echoed through the habitat module as the control room began to 
shudder. Karin Olafson let her gaze sweep across her displays.  All readings 
were nominal.  She keyed the circuit that would bring the maneuvering jets to 
full power.  Suddenly, the distant ring wall of Ground Zero Crater tilted as the 
ground fell away.  She had a glimpse of the construction battalions largely 
abandoned base camp before the habitat module pitched north.  Karin Olafson 
allowed herself the luxury of a sigh.
She was a space captain again.
#
A week later, Tom Thorpe approachedAdmiral Farragut in Hopper Two. The ship was 
much as he had first seen her - power section, cargo module, and habitat sphere 
again assembled into a functional whole.
Be it ever so humble... he muttered.
Agreed, a male voice echoed in his earphones.
The hopper cabin was crowded. Next to Thorpe sat Amber, her suit pressed firmly 
against his.  Beside her, wedged into a bench seat designed for two occupants, 
was Cragston Barnard.  In their final week on the nucleus, the three had not 
been out of their suits for more than a few hours.  Earlier that morning they 
had watched as the last of the deep wells had been filled with water.  Within a 
few hours, the water had frozen into a plug more than twelve kilometers thick.  
The only thing that penetrated the plug was a heavy control cable down which the 
detonation command would be sent.
They had drilled 28 wells in all, six more than originally planned. Each 
explosive device had been carefully located within a major fault.  Unlike 
fission or fusion bombs, which release their full energy in nanoseconds, 
antimatter explosives required milliseconds to come up to maximum.  The delay 
would allow the products of annihilation - pions and gamma rays - to penetrate 
deeply into the surrounding ice.  The goal was to generate a cushion of 
high-pressure steam under the whole of Ground Zero Crater.  For this, a slow 
energy release was better than a quick one.
It will be good to get clean again, Amber said as she gazed longingly at the 
ship. Five days in a vacsuit is an endurance record I dont ever care to 
break.
Barnard laughed. Its a good thing Im sealed in here by myself.  Even my wife 
couldnt stand the way I smell.
There ought to be just enough time to get cleaned up, get some hot food, and 
rest a bit before detonation.
How long now?
Thorpe glanced at his suit chronometer. Four hours, seventeen minutes.  Just as 
soon as Thunderstrike turns its Eastern Hemisphere toward Jupiter.
Amber and Barnard watched in silence as Thorpe guided the hopper toward the 
freighter. He brought it to a halt a hundred meters from Airlock Number One.
I dont want to get much closer, he explained. Hate to smash anything when 
were this close to going home.  Youll have to jump.
No problem, Barnard replied. The astronomer opened the hatch and clambered out 
onto the hull.  Thorpe made sure that the attitude control jets were disabled.  
The ships airlock opened to reveal a figure silhouetted against the internal 
lighting.
Barnard jetted across the hundred meters to the ship. He landed feet first on 
the hull and was helped inside.  As soon as he was in, the airlock door closed 
for a long minute, then opened again.
Your turn, my love.
Ill see you inside, Amber replied as their gauntletted hands brushed. Neither 
could feel the other through the thick gloves, but somehow that did not matter.  
She followed Barnards example and floated out through the open hatchway.  A 
minute later, she, too, disappeared through the Number One airlock.
Well, old steed, I guess this is goodbye, Thorpe said as he punched 
instructions into the hoppers autopilot. The words were a bit of dialogue from 
an ancient movie he had once seen.  For some reason, they struck him as 
appropriate.
Thorpe moved through the portside hatch and lined up carefully on the ships 
habitat module. He pushed off the little flyers hull and drifted across the 
gulf of space.  He landed head first, catching himself on outstretched arms to 
absorb the energy.  He then grabbed for a handhold and levered his feet around 
to slide smoothly through the open airlock.
Welcome home, Dieter Schmidt said.
Thanks.
Schmidt reached for the airlock controls, but Thorpe stopped him. Wait a 
second.  I want to see this.
The two of them watched the hopper for another half minute. Suddenly, its engine 
came to life and it began to move away fromAdmiral Farragut .
Where did you send it?
I just gave it a short ten meter per second burst to get it away from the 
fleet. Okay, lets go inside.
The outer door closed. Thorpe heard the sudden rush of air as his suit collapsed 
around him.  He unfastened his helmet as soon as the airlock telltales turned 
green.  The inner door opened slowly outward, revealing a helmetless Amber 
Hastings waiting in the antechamber beyond.  Before he could move, she was on 
him, awkwardly throwing her arms around his neck.  They kissed passionately 
until they were out of breath.
Amber let go and whispered, Ive wanted to do that for five long days. Welcome 
home, darling!
Welcome home yourself. Care to share a shower?
Her nose wrinkled. The sooner, the better.
#
The small fleet hung motionless in space a thousand kilometers above the 
nucleus. At that distance, Thunderstrike covered 30 degrees of arc, making it 
appear sixty times the diameter of a full moon as seen from Earth.  The vantage 
point had been carefully chosen.  It was far enough removed that the human eye 
could take in the entire nucleus at a glance, yet close enough that the fleets 
instruments would record everything in minute detail.  It was also sufficiently 
distant that the ships should be in no danger from the explosion.
T minus 10 minutes, and counting.
The announcement from the flagship echoed throughAdmiral Farragut s wardroom 
where most of the expedition members had gathered to watch. Amber was wedged in 
beside Thorpe in a corner while the others crowded in front of the holoscreen.  
Captain Olafson, Engineer Stormgaard, and the two Barnards had chosen to watch 
from the control room.  No one, it seemed, wanted to view the detonation by 
themselves.
Happy? Thorpe asked as he momentarily tightened his grip around Ambers waist.
She thought for a moment, and then nodded. You?
Im glad its almost over. Ten minutes more and well be able to plan our lives 
again.
Whatare your plans when this is all over, Tom?
He looked at her for a long moment and said, I thought Id ask you to marry 
me.
Are you serious? she asked, searching his face for some sign that it was 
merely his warped sense of humor. He returned her look with a steady gaze.
As serious as can be. If youll have me.
You silly goon! Of course, I will have you.  Ive thought of little else these 
past six months.
Well, then. I guess it is settled.  Well have the captain perform the ceremony 
right after the shot.
Maybe she wont want to be bothered.
He shrugged. Then well cross over toGargantua and have her captain do it.  Im 
not particular.
What about all of your friends and mine?
Id say weve got everyone we need right here. Up until then, they had been 
speaking in quiet whispers.  Now Thorpe raised his voice.  How about it, folks? 
 Care to attend a wedding this afternoon?
There was a ragged cheer followed by a flurry of congratulations. Then someone 
shushed them as another announcement came over the intercom from the flagship.
T minus five minutes, and counting!
On the screen, Thunderstrike continued to rotate slowly, oblivious to what was 
about to occur. The region around Ground Zero Crater was invisible, having 
passed into night several hours earlier.  Detonation was timed to take place the 
moment the crater was aligned with the nucleuss velocity vector.  That way, 
whatever mass was split off would be hurled back along the comets orbital path, 
giving the maximum forward impetus to the rest of the nucleus.
Nervous? Amber asked.
About marrying you? Naw!
I was talking about the shot.
Oh, that! Not nervous so much as excited.  Its kind of like waiting for 
Christmas morning when youre a kid.
Or getting ready for your first date, someone chimed in.
Or finals week in school, Amber added.
I havent been this nervous since my second wedding, Leon Albright 
interjected.
What happened? Did she stand you up?
No, mores the pity, the geologist replied. If I didnt have to pay her 
alimony every month, I would never have signed on for this crazy expedition.
The joke was met with more laughter than it deserved. Thorpe gazed over to where 
John Malvan had his arm around Hilary Dorchester.
Sorry you came along, John?
Not me, the Lunarian replied. I hated auditing.  I think I will see what can 
be done to mine this little chunk we are about to split off.  It ought to be 
just the right size for moving into Earth orbit, dont you think?
You know, it just might! Thorpe agreed.  Ill have to see if Mr. Smith is 
still interested in such a project.
T minus one minute!
The tension was suddenly a palpable thing in the air. Amber reached out and 
grasped Thorpes hand.  Throughout the wardroom, no one made a sound.
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four...
Heres to luck! she whispered, giving his hand a quick squeeze.
three ... two ... one ... detonate!
#
The night side of Thunderstrike turned suddenly into full day as twenty-eight 
fountains of eye searing brightness burst through the asteroids crust and 
climbed the ebon sky. On the screen, the nucleus was ablaze.  Features that had 
been hidden by darkness stood out in stark relief, their outlines etched by 
violet-white radiance and sharp edged shadows.
The multiple geysers of fire roiled skyward, thrusting into space, expanding in 
the vacuum until they had merged into a single, boiling firestorm of radiance. 
Far beyond the nucleus, the vacuum thin coma fluoresced as it reflected back the 
light of the explosion.
There was a long moment of silence inAdmiral Farragut s wardroom, followed by 
pandemonium as everyone tried to speak at once. Thorpe yelled for them to be 
quiet.  It took several seconds before the angry buzzing subsided.  Finally, the 
announcement from the flagship issued from the holoscreen.
The crust didnt hold! We have multiple crustal ruptures ... Surface sensors 
report a large ground shock, but no measurable change in bulk velocity.  Radar 
does not show any significant spalling.  There has been no major separation...
Beside Thorpe, Amber was gazing in horror at the multiple steam jets boiling 
furiously to space. It was difficult to see such fury and realize that 
absolutely nothing had changed.  They watched the screen for long minutes in 
silence.
How could we have been so wrong? Amber asked finally.  We knew there was risk 
with a couple of the wells, but not all of them!
You dont know they all ruptured, Thorpe reminded her.
Enough did. We should have tried spalling off a piece somewhere else.  Ground 
Zero Crater was just too fractured.
He shook his head. We were all through that.  GZC was our best shot.
What are we going to do now, Tom?
Think up a new idea, he said.
What new idea? We just wasted 28 kilograms of antimatter!  Weve less than 10 
kilos left.
Gazing around the wardroom, Thorpe noted expressions of shock. He knew how they 
felt.  Failure was like being punched hard in the stomach.  It made it difficult 
to think.  For the first time, he began to wonder if humanity were truly doomed. 
 It was a thought he had ruthlessly banished from his thinking until this 
moment.  He disentangled himself from Amber and pushed off.
Where are you going? she asked as she wiped large, globular tears from her 
eyes.
I think Ill get drunk. Care to join me?
That wont solve anything.
Maybe not, but it will make me feel better. With that, he pushed off for the 
wardroom hatch.  Just before reaching it, he turned and looked at the 
holoscreen.  Thunderstrikes night hemisphere continued to boil with 
undiminished violence as a geyser of steam roared into the black firmament.  
Despite the fury, the nucleus continued on its way, undaunted by the worst 
humanity could do to it.
 
PART 4:  IMPULSE-MOMENTUM
 
CHAPTER 28
 
Scarred, but undefeated, the planetoid of ice continued its long fall toward the 
inner Solar system. Humanitys efforts to blast loose a section of its surface 
had done little more than open up new veins to the sun.  The boil-off rate rose 
minutely, adding to the comets burgeoning coma and tail.  Other than that, the 
titanic explosions had had remarkably little effect.  The planetoid dropped 
toward the sun, trading energy of position for energy of speed.  As it fell, the 
invisible grasp of Sol reached out to guide its path with mathematical 
precision.  Each day brought it closer to perihelion and the moment when it 
would swing around the sun and take deadly aim at the Mother of Men.
#
The week following the abortive attempt to speed Thunderstrike in its orbit was 
a bad one for all concerned. Tempers ran raw throughout the fleet.  There were a 
dozen fistfights and two suicides.  Abuse of alcohol, always a concern in space, 
was rampant.  Hangover cures were the most common remedies dispensed in the four 
ships sick bays.
If things were bad in the fleet, they were worse on Earth. For most of the past 
year, the public had not thought much about the comet.  Except for a brief 
flurry of interest at the time the nucleus gained its popular name, Earths 
billions had gone about their business confident that the scientists had matters 
under control.  Most had not even bothered to watch the detonations on 
holovision.
News of the disaster spread quickly. There had been a pause of several hours 
while the enormity of what had happened sank in.  Then, one by one, the riots 
began.
In New York, crowds converged on the old United Nations building that now housed 
Sky Watch and several other multinational agencies. In Toronto, they gathered 
around the North American Parliament.  In The Hague, they were drawn to the New 
Ridderzaal Tower.  Everywhere they sought out centers of authority for comfort, 
and when no such was forthcoming, they began to destroy.  The disturbances, the 
first of their kind since the last decade of the twentieth century, caught most 
police agencies off guard.  They raged for four days.  At the end of that time, 
a fragile calm descended over the planet.  It was a calm in which the center of 
every major city was adorned with the shells of burned out buildings.
Even while the riots raged outside, the System Council went into emergency 
session to decide what to do. They stayed at it for 120 straight hours, 
adjourning only when fatigue forced a halt.  They had organized more than 60 
working groups to look into turning the situation around.  Unfortunately, no one 
had any firm idea of how to proceed.
Out at the comet there were those who kept at their duties despite depression 
and not a little anger. Within hours, scientists began to study their recordings 
to pinpoint what had gone wrong.  Their first clue came when they were able to 
look at the floor of Ground Zero Crater.  The ice plain, which had always been 
ringed with crevasses, was now crisscrossed by them.  These new ruptures showed 
a disturbing congruence with subterranean veins of stony material that underlay 
much of the crater.
For the first week after the explosion, conditions in and around Ground Zero 
Crater made landing hazardous. Pockets of superheated steam were trapped below 
the crust.  As the steam cooled, it condensed, leaving large, vacuum filled 
voids behind.  The collapse of such pockets sent powerful shocks radiating 
through the nucleus.  If they were close enough to the surface, giant sinkholes 
opened as the crust collapsed beneath the sudden loss of underlying support.
When it was finally judged safe to inspect the crater, Thorpe used his position 
as head of the Comet Hastings Expedition to get himself assigned to the ground 
party. He joined Amos Carlton and several specialists in one ofGargantua s 
auxiliary craft.  The party landed next to the largest of the new fissures.  
Vapor was still steaming off the sides of the crevasse, forming a thick fog that 
obscured the floor of the fissure.  Radar soundings put the crevasse depth at 
nearly eight kilometers.
Look at that! Amos Carlton muttered as he gazed at the opposite canyon wall.  
Down where the layer of fog began, a thick vein of stones could be seen cutting 
along the length of the crevasse.
I guess that settles it, Thorpe replied. The scientists were right.  Somehow 
the rock acted as a stress riser and the ice plug cracked along the vein when we 
tried to lift it.
The small party of explorers spent the next six hours obtaining samples of ice 
and rock for analysis. In that time, they safely rode out four major surface 
shocks and half a dozen minor ones.  A tired crew climbed back into their ship 
as night fell once more over the crater.  It was an even more tired Tom Thorpe 
who cycled throughAdmiral Farragut s Number One airlock two hours later.
How did it go? Amber asked after giving him a welcoming kiss.  She and Karin 
Olafson were the only two people in the airlock antechamber, a circumstance that 
should have made him suspicious.  As it was, Thorpe accepted their presence 
without thought.
About as expected, he replied as he stripped off his vacuum suit. It was 
definitely the veins of rock that did us in.  In addition, Carlton thinks that 
our energy release formulas were too optimistic.  The recordings indicate that 
the antimatter annihilated much faster than expected.  The pressure built up too 
quickly and cracked the ice plug.
How could that have happened? Karin Olafson asked.
Who knows? Thorpe replied with a shrug.  Maybe they didnt use the proper 
temperature in their calculations back on Earth.  Maybe we had a scaling error 
in our equations.  No one has ever released 56 kilos of pure energy all at once 
before.  One of the advantages of antimatter was that it was effectively 200% 
efficient - one kilo of antimatter annihilated another of normal matter.
What now? Amber asked.
A good question, my love. Ground Zero Crater is too broken up to try again.  
Even if it were not, we dont have enough antimatter to launch a truly big chunk 
of it.  Carlton says we are down to 8.2 kilos.  He is checking with Earth to see 
if they have any better ideas.  Personally, I have my doubts.
Can we in this ship do anything to help? the captain asked.
Cant think of anything just now. Maybe when Ive slept on it.
His welcoming committee exchanged looks. That something was happening was 
obvious even through his haze of fatigue.
Whats going on?
People have been talking, Tom, Amber said. They want to go home.
Home? But we arent finished out here yet.
They think we are. As you said, there is not much else we can do.  They want to 
have some time with their families before the end.
Are you giving up, too? he asked Karin Olafson.
She shrugged. If Im going to die, Id rather do it on Earth.  Weve been gone 
for more than a year, and the construction battalion can handle anything that 
needs done out here.
Thorpe was silent for a long moment. To abandon Thunderstrike was to admit 
defeat.  But, damn it, he could not think of any way to retrieve the situation!  
He sighed.  Let me sleep on it.  If I cant think of a good argument against 
it, Ill talk to Amos Carlton about releasing us.
#
A thoroughly dejected Halver Smith stood in his office and gazed across the bay 
toward San Francisco. The black pall that had hovered over the city had largely 
dissipated.  He could see several military jumpers patrolling the business 
district.  They were supporting the troops brought in to quell the rioting.
Nor had all of the riots been isolated to the city center. Closer to home, a mob 
had tried to force the tunnel leading from the mainland to SierraCorps 
headquarters complex.  The fact that the corporation had mounted the Comet 
Hastings Expedition somehow made them responsible in the public mind.  The mob 
tried to force the access tunnel gates.  They had been stopped when the security 
chief ordered the tunnel flooded.
If the illogic of the rioters disturbed Smith, at least it was understandable. 
That morning he had seen something that had sickened him.  There had been no 
news other than Thunderstrike for a week now, and one of the morning news 
programs had featured an interview with several public figures.  A buxom holovid 
star had claimed the whole thing was a hoax by the big corporations to take 
control of the economy.  Another guest, a world-renowned minister of the gospel, 
had declared the comet to be Gods punishment for a wicked humanity.  He warned 
of dire consequences if any further attempt were made to divert the nucleus.
Mostly, however, Smith was dejected by the news thatAdmiral Farragut had spaced 
for home. He couldnt really blame them.  Still, it could not help but send the 
wrong signal.  People were looking to their governments and the System Council 
to save them.  WithAdmiral Farragut coming home, it would appear that they were 
abandoning all hope.
Turning from his window, Smith gazed at the large hologram that had hung in his 
office for the past six months. It showed the comet as it had appeared 
duringAdmiral Farragut s approach to the nucleus.  The coma was an iridescent 
backdrop to the crater-pocked nucleus in the foreground.  Somehow, it did not 
seem right that such a nondescript astronomical body would be the instrument of 
Earths destruction.  As he gazed at the picture, he was distracted by the buzz 
of his desk intercom.
What is it, Marla?
Constance Forbin is on the line, Mr. Smith. She seems agitated.
Ill take it.
Smith sat down at his desk and soon found himself face to face with the 
coordinator. Good morning, Constance, or rather evening where you are.
Morning, Halver. I just got the word that your people have left Thunderstrike.
That is correct.
Surely you must know how this looks.
I know its awkward.
Damned awkward.
Look at it from their point of view. They chased the damned thing down, 
surveyed every square centimeter of it, probed its interior, and damned near got 
killed doing it.  Theyve been out there four times longer than anyone else and 
they want to come home before the end.
Im going to order them back, the coordinator said. Things are just too 
sensitive right now.
They wont go. In fact, they cannot. Admiral Farragut broke orbit nearly twelve 
hours ago.  That means that they have ended their boost and are now coasting in 
this direction.  They havent enough reaction mass to turn around.  Why not use 
the situation to our advantage?  Announce that the expedition members are being 
called home for consultations.
I suppose Ill have to do just that, she replied. On another subject, how 
goes antimatter production atSierra Skies ?
Good. Weve almost got the third accelerator module powered up and online.  
For the past six months, all of the orbiting power stations had been running 
their antimatter production facilities at full capacity at the expense of 
broadcast power.  Most of had been adding new antimatter facilities on a crash 
basis.
Well want to take everything weve got stockpiled and get it out to the fleet 
as quickly as possible. Theyve got less than 10 kilos to work with.
Then youre going to try the same thing again? Smith asked.
I dont know yet. However, if the council decides that is our best option, we 
want to have the antimatter where it can be used.  How much can you contribute?
Three hundred grams as of yesterday morning. We might have another fifty grams 
ready by this time next month.  What about the other power plants?
About the same. Id say we will be able to ship two additional kilos out to the 
fleet.
That isnt very much, Smith said.
Its all we have. It will have to do.
#
Tom Thorpe sat in the telescope control room aboardAdmiral Farragut and gazed at 
the screen. There had not been much interest in astronomy lately, and he was 
taking advantage of the hiatus to review everything in the ships computer 
concerning Thunderstrike.  Ever since departing the nucleus, Thorpe had been 
haunted by the thought that they had overlooked something vital.  After fourteen 
hours of study, the feeling was as strong as ever.
He watched as the comet rounded the sun in a computer simulation. The simulation 
had been prepared by the New Mexico study group and showed the comets course 
and speed from perihelion to impact on Earths leading hemisphere.  It also 
attempted to show the effects that would follow such a collision, including 
atmospheric shockwaves, kilometer-high tsunamis, and crustal cracks that would 
boil the oceans and submerge the planetary landmasses in white-hot magma.  
Thorpe watched the disaster through to the end, and then cleared the screen in 
disgust.
Although the simulation satisfied a certain morbid curiosity, it did nothing to 
help resolve his problem. What he needed was to step back from the problem and 
return to basics.  He asked the computer to retrieve Halver Smiths doctoral 
thesis on the economics of asteroid capture.  Thorpe remembered one section that 
dealt with the various methods by which an asteroids orbit could be modified.  
Within seconds, he found himself face to face with the familiar document:
... There are a number of methods by which the needed energy can be imparted to 
an asteroidal body,Smith had written. Each has its advantages and 
disadvantages.  While some are obviously not suited to the movement of the very 
large nickel-iron masses that are of most interest to the space miner, all have 
their place in the grand scheme of things.  Each is discussed in detail below...
Thorpe let his eyes scan down Smiths list of possible techniques.
... Chemical, Fission, Fusion, Ion, or Antimatter Rockets...
Thorpe continued looking. Rockets had been studied ad nauseam.  Except for the 
last item on the list, they had been found woefully inadequate.  The idea of 
moving Thunderstrike with an antimatter rocket had received very serious 
scrutiny.  It had been dropped only when it became obvious that humanitys 
stockpile of antimatter was not nearly large enough to do the job.  The recent 
loss of 28 kilograms of the precious fuel had done nothing to make the idea more 
attractive.
... Nuclear pulse ...
Thorpe smiled in spite of himself. In the mid-twentieth century, someone had 
suggested that a spacecraft could be propelled by exploding atom bombs under it. 
 Although serious studies had been conducted at the time, the idea had never 
gone anywhere - probably due to inability to find anyone willing to fly such a 
contraption.  The idea had been resurrected briefly by the New Mexico study 
group.  As in the case of the antimatter-powered rocket, the nuclear pulse drive 
required a far larger supply of explosives than the human race possessed.  
Moreover, there was not sufficient time to build the requisite number of bombs 
before Thunderstrike crashed into Earth.
... Smaller Body Impact...
Halver Smith had recommended the technique of deliberately crashing a small 
asteroid into a larger one to modify its orbit. The method required that the 
smaller asteroid orbit near the target, and in such a way that the collision 
would result in a more favorable orbit.  The reason smaller body impact had 
never been considered for Thunderstrike was that the comet was alone in the 
firmament.  Furthermore, they were trying to accelerate it.  To work, they would 
have to smash a faster rock into Thunderstrikes trailing hemisphere.  No such 
candidate rock existed.
A diagram accompanied the discussion of how the game of cosmic billiards might 
be used to modify a large asteroids orbit. Thorpe gazed at it with bleary eyes 
for long seconds.  As he did so, alarm bells began to go off in his brain.  He 
ruthlessly clamped down on his rising sense of excitement as he thought through 
the ramifications.
Thunderstrike was like a sports car approaching an intersection out of control. 
Approaching that intersection from another direction were a passenger vehicle 
and a very massive truck.  The sportster would barely miss the passenger vehicle 
(in this case, Luna), and swerve into the path of the oncoming truck (the 
Earth).  The truck would broadside the sports car halfway through the 
intersection.
To date, all their efforts had gone into attempts toaccelerate Thunderstrike. 
After all, if your car is about to be rammed from the side, it makes no sense to 
slam on the brakes.  Rather, you jam the accelerator pedal to the floor and pray 
you can get out of the way in time.
However, what if the sports car slams on its brakes before reaching the 
intersection?  Wouldnt the two other vehicles sail safely through before the 
sports car entered?  They had never seriously considered slowing Thunderstrike 
because at the angle the comet would approach Earth; its arrival would have to 
be retarded by fifteen minutes.  All other things being equal, slowing the comet 
safely was five times more difficult than speeding it up.
Only, Thorpe wondered,what if all other things werent equal?
Thunderstrike would be crossing the Asteroid Belt seven months hence. What size 
rock would they have to put in its path to gain those fifteen minutes?
Lets see, Thorpe muttered to himself as he punched in the numbers, the comet 
reaches the asteroid belt in 200 days. If 6 X 1016tons is toX as 200 days is to 
fifteen minutes...  A few quick keystrokes told him that the asteroid to do the 
job would mass 3 trillion tons.  That was 10 times the size ofThe Rock .  Large, 
he decided, but not totally out of the question.
His next programming task was more difficult. It involved using computer 
symbolic logic, something he had not done since college.  He momentarily 
considered getting Amber to help.  She was far better atsymlog .  One look at 
the chronometer changed his mind.  The hour was late, and there would be plenty 
of time to work the details out in the morning.  Now he merely wanted to see if 
the idea were feasible.
He worked steadily for half an hour to formulate his request:
 
Assuming an energy budget of 8 kilograms of antimatter, what bodies of at least 
3 trillion tons mass can be diverted into a collision while Thunderstrike is 
within the Asteroid Belt?
 
No astronomical bodies match selection criteria.
 
He cursed under his breath. The idea felt right.  He reformulated his request.  
Perhaps a combination of rocks could do the job:
 
What combination of bodies with a total mass of 3 billion tons can be diverted 
to collide with the comet nucleus as it passes through the Asteroid Belt?
 
No astronomical bodies match selection criteria.
 
Thorpe frowned. He asked to see the orbital elements of the closest asteroids, 
and was reminded of something he had long known.  Despite its reputation, the 
Asteroid Belt is mostly empty space.  The nearest candidates were more than ten 
million kilometers distant from the comets line-of-flight.  That was too big a 
gulf to cross in only seven months.
Thorpe rubbed his burning eyes and decided to try one more time. This time he 
stripped his request to its bare minimum:
 
What objects are sufficiently close to the comets line of flight that they can 
be diverted into a collision using no more than 8 kilograms of antimatter?
 
The computer response was immediate:MP 17634 and MP 20618.
 
Thorpe stared at the numbers for long seconds in disbelief. For, despite the 
fact that they were reference numbers out of theCatalog of Minor Planets , he 
had no need to look them up.  He recognized both immediately.
They were Avalon andThe Rock .
 
CHAPTER 29
 
Thorpe stared at the screen for long seconds, not believing the glowing numbers 
before him. It was too incredible.  Out of all the asteroids in the Solar 
system, the computer had selected the only two whose catalog numbers he knew.  
Somehow, he must have slipped up in his programming.  It took a moment to 
realize that the only way the computer could have learned those numbers from him 
was to read his mind.  Thorpe moved hands made clumsy by fatigue back to the 
control board and caused the short program he had constructed to be displayed.  
It didnt take long to discover what had happened.
The program had been intended to find candidate asteroids inside the Asteroid 
Belt. When the computer twice frustrated his quest, he had stripped the question 
of most of its qualifiers.  When he had done that, hed inadvertently set the 
machine to scanning theCatalog of Minor Planets .  It had checked all known 
asteroids for their future locations with respect to Thunderstrike.  That the 
only two candidates selected were captive asteroids was not as surprising as he 
had first thought.  On further reflection, it could hardly have been otherwise.
There were approximately 100,000 minor planets in the Solar system. They varied 
in size from Ceres - twice Thunderstrikes diameter and twenty times its mass - 
to rocks as small as ten meters.  Most lay in a thick belt between Mars and 
Jupiter.  They were the material from which a tenth planet might have formed if 
not for Jupiters influence.  The belt was a torus some 2 billion kilometers in 
circumference and 300 million kilometers thick.  It was very sparsely populated.
The sheer size of the belt was what had defeated past attempts at mining the 
asteroids, and had made asteroid capture the only viable solution to the 
problem. The first step of any capture program was to align the candidate rocks 
orbital plane with that of Earth, to put it into the ecliptic.
Thunderstrike orbited in the ecliptic. Thus, Thorpe belatedly realized, the very 
fact that he had been looking to divert the comet from Earth guaranteed that the 
program would choose asteroids with orbits already in the ecliptic.  Avalon 
andThe Rock were two such.
Satisfied that fatigue was not causing his mind to play tricks, Thorpe called 
for a display of Avalons orbit along with that of Thunderstrike. It took a few 
seconds for the computer to add the asteroid to the New Mexico study groups 
simulation.  As he watched Thunderstrike sweep toward the sun, he noted that it 
passed Avalon at a range of one million kilometers.  That was practically a 
direct hit on the scale of the Solar system.
Thorpe keyed for Avalons vital statistics. He was disappointed.  Avalons mass 
was slightly more than 1.5 trillion tons, five timesThe Rock s mass, but only 
half of what he needed to slow Thunderstrike.  No, he decided, that was not 
right either.  Three trillion tons was required if the collision took place 200 
days before the comet reached Earth.  Avalon orbited inside Earths orbit.  If 
Avalon were to be used, the collision would come only 80 days before I-Day.  To 
achieve the same delay would require a mass of 8 trillion tons.
The hope that had welled within him was suddenly dashed on the rocks of hard 
reality. It was beginning to look as though he had been on a fantasy trip.
Out of frustration, Thorpe broke into the comet simulation and modified the 
program to simulate a collision with Avalon atImpact minus 80 days . Instead of 
a grazing blow against the Earths leading hemisphere, he expected to see the 
comet hit dead center.  He watched the golden symbol swing around the sun and 
head for Earth.  As it did so, the tail of the comet swept across the doomed 
world.  As it did so, the screen began to blur.  After sixteen hours, Thorpes 
eyes felt like boiled onions.  He rubbed them.
When next he looked at the screen, the Earth had moved past the point of 
collision and was sailing unmolested on its journey around the sun. Thorpe 
blinked and looked again.  He spent the next several moments staring at the 
screen, pondering what he had just discovered.  He saved the file under his 
personal security code, and then blanked the screen.  Adrenaline coursed through 
his veins as he levered his legs clear of the control board and kicked off.  A 
few minutes later, he found himself at the ships comm center.  He was still 
composing the confidential message to his boss as he entered the deserted 
compartment.
Again, it seemed, Halver Smith was to be the guardian of a terrible secret.
#
If The Hague had been beautiful in winter, it was even more so in late summer. 
Smith strolled out of his hotel and headed for the New Ridderzaal Tower some two 
kilometers away.  As he passed beneath the sweeping branches of linden and elm, 
his lungs inhaled the fragrance of flowers.  Even this late in the season, the 
parks and byways of the city were a riot of floral color.
He crossed one of the citys numerous canals and entered a wide park. Once out 
from under the trees he was able to see System Council Headquarters bulking 
large in the distance.  When he had been here in January, the black building had 
merely been the headquarters of one of several supranational agencies.  Now it 
was the de facto capital of the human race.  In Smiths opinion, if the comet 
could get people used to cooperating, it might well prove a blessing in 
disguise.
Smith reached the new security fence that surrounded the tower and showed the 
guard his identification.  He was quickly escorted to the spacious lobby beyond. 
 As in January, he found a guide waiting for him.  He followed her to a lift, 
and from there was quickly whisked to the chief coordinators office.
Once again the man from California requests an urgent private meeting on a 
subject he refuses to disclose, Constance Forbin said as she greeted him.
Sorry to be so melodramatic. I have my reasons.
She laughed humorlessly. Believe me, after the last time, you are the one man 
who can get a private audience with me whenever he wants.  I take it that the 
subject is once again the comet.
It is.
What now?
Im here to announce a solution to our problem, but one that carries with it 
other problems.
Go on.
Three days ago, I got a long personal message from Tom Thorpe. Hes come up 
with a scenario for rendering the comet harmless.
Interesting, since no one else has.
When you hear it, youll understand, Smith assured her.
He explained Thorpes idea for diverting Avalon into Thunderstrikes path, 
thereby slowing the comet. He then told her why this was a possible solution to 
the problem of saving Earth.
When he finished, Constance sat back in her chair, stunned. Of course, youve 
checked this out.
Erwin Kanzler did a complete study. I have the results with me.  He agrees with 
Thorpe.
The price is going to be damned high!
Not as high as if we dont stop it.
The chief coordinator regarded Smith over steepled fingers for nearly a minute. 
Finally, she said, I must say, Halver, that I find your visits are about all 
the stimulation I can stand these days.
Now you know why I insisted on a private meeting.
Well have to handle this carefully if we are to avoid a major schism.
I doubt youcan avoid one.
We can delay the inevitable. I will start gathering up a team of reliable 
people.  If this is going to work, we havent much time to prepare.
#
John Malvan sought out Amber Hastings aboardAdmiral Farragut a week later. The 
freighter was fifteen days out of Thunderstrike and ten weeks from Earth.  
Captain Olafson had offered to activate the cold sleep tanks for anyone who 
wanted the voyage to pass quickly.  There had been no takers.  If the human race 
had less than a year to live, no one wanted to sleep away a quarter of their 
remaining life span.
May I speak with you? he asked after discovering her in the wardroom having a 
drinking bulb of coffee.
Sure. Strap yourself down.
In private.
There was something about the look on his face that made Amber realize that 
whatever he wanted to discuss was serious.
Where?
Hydroponics ought to be empty this time of day.
As predicted, they found the compartment empty. The chief engineer normally 
tended the ships garden, and then only an hour or so each day.
Whats the matter? Amber asked.
Ive received a coded message from the Prime Minister.
Oh? she asked. As far as she knew, Malvan had not heard from the Republic 
since the expedition had been co-opted for the effort to divert Thunderstrike.  
I thought you were out of that business.
So did I. Apparently, we were both wrong.  Prime Minister Hobart is concerned 
about reports he has been receiving from his agents on Earth.  About a week ago, 
a number of personnel from the Thunderstrike Project were transferred toNewton 
Station .
She shrugged. So what?
So, we dont know the reason for the transfers and no one seems to be talking. 
None of the transferees was Lunarian.  There are also rumors thatGargantua 
andGoliath have been ordered to space, and that some new classified research is 
being done on the Sky Watch computers.
What has all this to do with us?
The Prime Minister thinks the impetus for whatever is going on came from this 
ship.
What?
Thats what his message said. The Republics intelligence service has been 
looking into the matter.  They discovered that all of these strange happenings 
began immediately after Halver Smith sought a private audience with Constance 
Forbin.  The two of them then spent most of the night closeted with her close 
advisers.
Amber blinked. There was something about the way this conversation was going 
that she did not care for.  Is that supposed to mean something to me?
Intelligence checked further. Apparently, we have agents inside SierraCorp 
Headquarters.  They say that Smith received a coded message at home three days 
before he went to see the coordinator.  The message originated onboard this 
ship.
Thomas?
Malvan nodded.
Thats impossible. He would have said something to me.
You say he didnt?
She shook her head. Not a word.
The Prime Minister wants us to find out whats going on.
#
Amber lay with her head on Thorpes chest. The two of them were lightly 
restrained by an elastic-sleeping strap.  Despite poets who waxed lyrical on the 
subject, making love in zero gravity had its inconveniences.  Not the least of 
these was the tendency for a couple to drift apart at inopportune moments.  
Numerous appliances had been invented over the years to solve the problem.  The 
sleeping strap was one of the best.
What are you thinking about? Amber asked after a long silence.  She shivered 
as Thorpes fingers traced a pattern at the base of her spine.
Ive been thinking about getting married. Time we talked to the captain.
I agree.
 After the failure to divert Thunderstrike, neither had mentioned marriage for 
nearly a week.  The mood aboard ship had been too depressing.  Later, they had 
discussed it only in passing.  For the past week, Amber had said nothing at all 
since she had sensed that something was bothering Tom.  After her discussion 
with Malvan, she knew that she had been right.
What about tomorrow?
To speak to the captain?
Hell, no! Well hold the ceremony.
She lifted her head and stared at him. Are you serious?
Why not? Well tie the knot in the wardroom right after the noon meal.
We should talk to Captain Olafson first. She may have other plans.
Thorpe laughed. It was a sound she had not heard out of him for far too long.  
Somehow I doubt that her calendar is exactly crammed for the next ten weeks.
Even so, we ought to consult her.
Fine. Well talk to her first thing in the morning.
All right. Amber hesitated, and then said, Thomas?
Uh huh?
Are you keeping something from me?
Nestled as she was in his arms, Amber thought she felt a sudden stiffening of 
his body.
What do you mean?
John Malvan says that strange things are happening on Earth. He wanted to know 
if I knew anything.
What sort of things?
Amber recounted what Malvan had told her about the new study group being 
established on Newton Station and the rumors concerning the departure 
ofGargantua andGoliath from Thunderstrike. She finished by saying, Malvan 
thinks you are behind all of this.
How the hell canI be involved? Thorpe asked.  Im still half a billion 
kilometers from the action.
He thinks you sent the message that started all of this. Weve checked and 
theres nothing in the communications log about it, but, of course, that doesnt 
mean a whole lot.
Why does he think that?
She explained about the Lunarian agents at SierraCorp headquarters.
Ill have to tell the boss.
Dont change the subject. Did you send such a message?
Thorpe sighed and sat up, causing her to brace her feet against the bulkhead to 
keep from floating away. She grabbed the sleeping strap, and rotated herself 
into a sitting position beside him.
Did you? she insisted.
Thorpe nodded slowly. Guilty as charged, Your Honor.
What could you possibly have said to get them so excited?
Ive found a way to stop the comet.
She gasped and clasped her hands over her breasts. Thats wonderful!  How can 
we do it?
Thorpe told her of his long day and of how he had eventually thought of 
diverting Avalon into the comets path to slow it down.
She gazed at him as a teacher does a slightly backward child. It was not the 
reaction he had expected.
Whats wrong?
My poor darling, dont you realize we thought of that? Not Avalon, of course, 
but we have checked into the possibility of crashing a smaller rock into 
Thunderstrike quite thoroughly.  Nothing large enough is anywhere near the 
comets orbital track.  How big is this Avalon, anyway?
Thorpe told her.
Her eyes took on the blankness of one who is deep in concentration, and then she 
shook her head. It wont work!  Not nearly massive enough.
He hesitated for long seconds, unable to meet her gaze. Then he said, Actually, 
my plan involves two collisions.  Crashing Avalon into Thunderstrike merely sets 
up the second hit.
Dont tell me youve foundtwo asteroids to throw into the comets path!
No, not two asteroids.
Then what?
Do you remember how we discovered that Thunderstrike would hit Earth?
Id have more chance of forgetting my first act of love, she replied. I still 
blush when I think of what a damned fool I made of myself.  First I tell you 
there isnt a snowballs chance in hell - pun intended - of a collision, then I 
calculate a strike against Earths leading hemisphere.
Not at first, he reminded her. Your first calculation showed that the nucleus 
would come close, but miss.
Thats because I wasnt using a complete gravitational model. The one I had 
didnt include... Horror crossed Ambers face as her brain outraced her mouth.  
No, there has to be another way!
I wish there were, Thorpe replied, letting the pent up emotion spill out of 
him in a rush. Avalon wont slow Thunderstrike enough for Earth to get out of 
the comets way.  Itwill allow Luna to interpose itself between the two.
If Thunderstrike collides with Avalon, it will smash down in the center of Luna 
Farside 86 days later. Luna will stop it in its tracks...
And be destroyed! 
 
CHAPTER 30
 
Copernicus Crater bulked large in the view wall of the Prime Ministers 
conference room. The scene, taken at an oblique angle from low orbit, showed the 
craters terraced walls and the mountainous central peaks in sharp relief.  To 
the south, a thin line marked the route of the Circum-Luna Monorail.  A cluster 
of tiny domes was scattered among the central peaks at the end of one of the 
monorails spur lines.  The domes marked the location of the ice mines that made 
Copernicus so important to the Republics economy.
Around the conference table sat a dozen of Lunas most influential men and 
women. Although many were members of the Nationalist Party, it was by no means a 
Nationalist assembly.  Pierre Robles, John Hobarts predecessor as Prime 
Minister, was there to represent the Conservatives, as were the leaders of the 
two smaller parties.  Rounding out the gathering were Niels Grayson from Farside 
Observatory and Albert Portero from the university.
John Hobart stood at the front of the table and gazed out over the hastily 
summoned group. It was obvious from his expression that he was far from happy.  
He lost no time getting to the point.
We have received some very disturbing news from our agent aboardAdmiral 
Farragut . Professor Grayson, if you please.
Niels Grayson stood and walked to the lectern that had been set up at one end of 
the conference room. Twenty-four hours earlier, he had been at Farside 
Observatory.  He had spent twelve of those hours traveling.  First, an 
unscheduled rolligon ride to Hadleys Crossroads, then a moon jumper flight to 
Luna City.  He was tired and irritable, and more than a little shell shocked by 
the news that had awaited him at the end of the journey.  Nevertheless, he had 
had nearly eight hours to study the implications of Malvans emergency message.
Those of you with your backs to the view wall should turn around, he warned. 
Grayson touched a control and the view of Copernicus faded, to be replaced by a 
familiar diagram of the Solar system.  On it, Thunderstrikes elliptical orbit 
rounded the sun and ended abruptly at the circle that represented Earths orbit 
about Sol.  A tiny comet symbol followed the ellipse around the sun and then 
began moving toward the two spheres that represented Earth and its moon.  As the 
comet closed on the double planet, the scale changed to show Earth and Luna in 
close-up.  The comet swept outward toward the two orbs, closing on Earths orbit 
from below and behind at a thirty-degree angle.  Time and date numbers were 
displayed in the upper right corner of the screen.
As you can see by the diagram, the comet will arrive in the Earth-Moon system 
on July 17 of next year. As things now stand, Thunderstrike will pass very close 
to Luna, sweeping over the Orientale Basin at an altitude of about 1500 
kilometers.  That is a little less than one-half a lunar diameter - a very close 
miss by any standard.
Lunas gravitational field is only one-sixth that of Earth. Nevertheless, that 
field will affect the comet as it sweeps by at a relative speed of approximately 
10 kps.  The path of the comet will be bent in the direction of Earth.  Although 
the total deflection will be less than one degree, it will be sufficient to 
transform a potential miss of 5000 kilometers into a grazing collision.  The 
comet will strike the Earths leading edge just above the planets equator in 
the area of the Indian Ocean.
To date all of humanitys efforts have gone to accelerating the ice asteroid 
along its orbit. Many have asked why we do not simply deflect it to the side, 
thus ensuring a miss.  Unfortunately, when the object masses what Thunderstrike 
does, that is easier said than done.  In fact, changing the asteroids velocity 
along its line of flight is more efficient than a sideways thrust would be.
Yet, if the comet is still in the same orbit, wont it hit the Earth anyway? It 
will not.  Remember that the Earth is a moving target.  By accelerating the 
asteroid, we cause it to arrive at the rendezvous point early.  By the time the 
planet also arrives, the comet will have swept safely past.  Since its orbit 
intersects that of Earth, it will still be a danger.  However, if we can cause 
it to miss this first time, subsequent encounters with Jupiter ought to change 
its orbit sufficiently that it will no longer be a danger.  Even without 
Jupiters influence, we would have centuries in which to move the comet to a 
less dangerous orbit.  To ensure a clean miss at Earth, the comet must arrive 
three minutes early.  That would translate into a miss distance at Luna of some 
four thousand kilometers.
As all of you know, the effort to accelerate the ice asteroid has thus far 
failed. I will not go into the reasons for that failure, suffice to say that it 
had to be tried.  For the past month, the systems scientists and astronomers 
have searched for a new means of diverting the comet.  Our people on Earth 
recently reported activity indicating that a new - and secret - attempt was 
being planned.  John Malvan, Lunas representative on the Comet Hastings 
Expedition was able to discover the details of this secret plan and has recently 
reported them to us.  It is news that no Lunarian can welcome.  Malvan reports 
that the terrestrials are planning to save Earth by diverting the comet into a 
collision with Luna!
There was a sudden angry buzzing around the room. Most of the participants had 
been told that the meeting involved a matter vital to the safety of the 
Republic, but had been given no details.  One of the Nationalist MPs asked, How 
is that possible?
The angry murmurs died away as Professor Grayson explained. They plan to 
position an asteroid named Avalon in Thunderstrikes path on the inbound leg of 
its orbit.  Thunderstrike will collide with Avalon 86 days before its arrival in 
the Earth-Moon system.  Grayson used a control to cause a scarlet marker to 
appear near where the comets orbital track crossed that of Earth on its inbound 
leg.  If they succeed, the collision will have the opposite effect of the one 
weve been attempting.  It will slow the comets speed slightly.  There will 
also be a slight change in orbital path, but that change will be too small to be 
noticed.  Whatwill be noticed is the timing of the comets entry into the 
Earth-Moon system.  The nucleus will arrive approximately 150 seconds later than 
originally planned.
That hardly sounds significant, Harold Barnes, the banker, said.
Normally, it wouldnt be. However, it will give the Earth and Moon additional 
minutes to move across the comets orbit.  Effectively, both orbs move around 
the sun at 30 kilometers per second.  The angle of approach causes some 
foreshortening, so the actual transverse velocity is less than that.  Still, 150 
seconds equates to 2,500 additional kilometers that Luna will move across the 
comets line of flight.  In those few minutes, Luna will interpose herself 
between the comet and Earth.  Thunderstrike will crash down in the middle of 
Farside at 14:27 Hours, July 17, 2087.  Needless to say, such a cataclysm will 
utterly destroy our small world.
Are we sure of our facts here? Pierre Robles asked.
That we are, Hobart replied. Ever since Malvans message, our agents on Earth 
have been working their sources overtime.  All indications are that Constance 
Forbin has set the Avalon option into motion.  The question facing us now is 
what do we do about it?
Whatshould we do about it? one of the Nationalist MPs who was also an ordained 
minister asked. After all, it would seem a choice between trading Luna and its 
millions for Earth and its billions.
No one is suggesting that we sacrifice Earth to avoid Lunas destruction, 
Hobart snapped. If we must die to save the home world, then so be it!  What 
worries me is that this new option will foreclose all others.  The problem of 
diverting the comet is a difficult one.  Once the terrestrials are given a way 
out, they will cease seeking better solutions.  After all, it isnt their world 
that will be destroyed any longer.
Just as we have concentrated on our own affairs these past six months? the 
leader of the Radicals asked.
That is a canard, Juan Aurrelios, and you know it! Barnes growled.  If Earth 
is to be destroyed, we must look to our own survival.
Hobart held up a hand. No, the distinguished member from Tycho Terrace is 
correct.  We have tended to see this crisis in terms of our own survival, not 
that of the terrestrials.  Our task now is to make sure that they do not do the 
same to us.  We must come up with a solution that ismutually beneficial .  This 
idea of using Luna for target practice is a bad one and they must continue 
seeking ways to accelerate the comet, not slow it down.
And if there arent any such?
There has to be. We just have not thought about it enough yet.  What if they 
suddenly discover an approach after they have diverted Avalon into 
Thunderstrike?  Once the comet is slowed by this collision, there will be no 
avoiding a disaster.  Luna could well be destroyed for no good reason.
Do we even know that Luna will survive such a cataclysm?
Professor Portero has been studying that. Professor?
Portero, the astrophysicist from the University of Luna, leaned forward. In 
truth, Citizen, I do not know the answer to that question.  At 500 kilometers, 
Thunderstrike is very close to the maximum asteroid that Luna can safely 
withstand without breaking up.  Luckily, it is an asteroid of ice rather than 
one of iron.  A metal meteor of that size would split this small globe asunder.  
It will be very bad in any event, and will throw megatons of debris into orbit.  
The meteor danger to Earth and all orbital installations will be very high for 
decades, perhaps centuries.
Those are both good arguments why humanity should be working to avoid any 
collision, Hobart replied. If the nucleus strikes Earth, we here on Luna could 
be pulverized by the resulting meteor storm.  If we are struck, Luna may break 
up.  What will happen to life on Earth if the tides are substantially disrupted? 
 For that matter, what is to stop a large chunk of lunar material from crashing 
down on Earth anyway, bringing on the very cataclysm that they are trying to 
avoid?
There was a murmur of agreement around the table. Sensing this, Hobart scanned 
the double row of angry faces, and said, I take it that no one wishes to 
cooperate in this abomination.  Now then, how do we stop them?
#
The corridors ofAdmiral Farragut were lit with the soft blue light with which 
spaceships simulate night. Even for those who had lived their lives in the 
artificial environments of the Moon, this concession to humanitys inbred 
circadian rhythm was a necessity.  Thorpe pulled himself hand over hand through 
the blue gloom.  He stopped when he reached the closed hatch leading to the 
telescope control room.  Steadying himself on one of the handholds provided for 
that purpose, he rapped softly on the hatch, then opened it.
The compartment beyond was dark save for the glow of the big screen. Amber sat 
in the right hand observers seat, her head and shoulders silhouetted against 
the glow.  The telescope was focused on the Earth and Moon, both of which 
appeared as half-lit spheres.  The Earth was dazzling white compared to the 
softer gray of Luna.  The home world was decorated in its characteristic swirls 
of white cloud and blue ocean.
May I come in? he asked softly.
Amber turned to glance at him over her shoulder and said, Sure.
He closed the hatch and swam to the left seat where he strapped down before 
turning to face her. Dont you think youre being a bit silly about this?
About what? she asked, her tone flat and her voice lifeless. Her normally 
immaculate jumpsuit was wrinkled and her hair unkempt.  The bags under her eyes 
gave testimony to the amount of sleep she had had in the past 72 hours.
You cant stay mad at me forever.  Time for you to come out of your shell and 
get on with your life.
What life, Thomas?
Look, he growled, Im sorry someone else didnt come up with the damned idea 
of using the Moon to block Thunderstrike. Unfortunately, I am the one who 
stumbled onto it.  What would you have had me do, forget about it?
Anger flashed in her eyes. You could have told me what youd found.  You could 
have confided in me,my love! 
How could I? he asked. Would you have kept the secret?
Why did it have to be a secret?
Because theyre rioting on Earth, damn it! They are rioting because we failed 
in our last attempt.  What do you think they will do if we get their hopes up 
again, only to dash them?  My God, they would have burned down every city on the 
planet.  No, better to be sure I hadnt made a mistake before announcing the 
plan.
You mean before you let the Republic in on your scheme to destroy it, dont 
you? she snapped.
He nodded. Theres some truth to that.  I had hoped we could make sure of our 
facts before the inevitable interplanetary rift.  Thats impossible now, of 
course.
You arent suggesting that Malvan and I shouldnt have reported what we knew?
No, Im not suggesting that at all. Your government has every right to know.  I 
just hope we havent stirred things up for no reason.  What if my idea turns out 
not to be practical?
It wont, Amber replied. Ive spent the past three days checking your 
figures.  You are correct.  If Thunderstrike can be made to collide with Avalon, 
its total momentum will be reduced by 2.5 thousandths of a percent.  That will 
delay the nucleuss arrival by 173 seconds, more than enough time for Luna to 
move across the comets line of flight.  My calculations indicate impact will 
take place near Korolev Crater some 600 kilometers east of Farside Observatory.
Is that what youve been doing? Checking my math?
That and trying to find another solution. In that, I have failed miserably, 
Thomas.  Everything I try requires more energy, time, or resources than we have 
available.  Its funny.  In discussions with colleagues, I have often spoken of 
the immutable and unchanging physical laws.  I dont think Ive ever truly 
understood what that means until now.
Then you agree that it is necessary to direct Thunderstrike into Luna in order 
to save Earth? Now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, Thorpe could 
see Ambers face had been marked by the fat globular tears that form in zero 
gravity.
She looked at him with sad eyes no longer capable of producing tears. I agree, 
Thomas.  I agree intellectually, professionally, clinically.  So why does my 
every instinct rebel against the idea?  Why must my world die to save yours?
Listen to what you are saying, my love.
She sighed. I know.  It doesnt come out right.  Earth is humanitys home.  It 
must be saved at all costs.  The destruction of a little frontier world like 
Luna is a small price to pay.  Those are the facts, Thomas,only they dont make 
me feel any better. 
I dont feel particularly good about it either. I just do not see that we have 
any choice.  You find me a choice and Ill by damned take it!
She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips. My poor dear.  Youre 
feeling guilty, arent you?
Wouldnt anyone?
I suppose, she replied. I think we both need some time to think this through. 
 If you dont mind, Ill move back into my own cabin for awhile.
If that is what you truly want.
It isnt what I want, but it would be better for both of us.
And our wedding?
It hardly seems important just now, does it?
Its important to me.
It wouldnt be fair to marry you when Im in my current mood. Give me time to 
regain my equilibrium.  Please?
I suppose I dont have much choice in the matter, do I? He unstrapped from his 
seat and kicked off for the hatch.  He turned to face her.  Despite her fatigue 
and the general gloom in the compartment, she was still the most beautiful woman 
he had ever seen.  Ill give you some time.  All the time until we reach Earth 
if you need it.  Ill be there when you need me.
Thank you, she said simply.
Thorpe glanced up at the beautiful blue-white world that was the home of eight 
billion innocent people. Beyond it was the silver-grey orb on whose surface 
dwelt 10 million other innocents.  This was one of those situations where no one 
is in the wrong.
I wish to hell I had never heard of that goddamned comet! With that, he left 
Amber alone with her thoughts.  He slammed the hatch on his way out.
#
It fell to Roland Jennings, Lunas Consul General in San Francisco, to deliver 
the Republics response to what was being called The Avalon Option. Jennings 
aide, Austin Branniger, accompanied him to The Hague to meet with Constance 
Forbin.  The two were ushered into the chief coordinators office near midnight 
five days after Luna had learned of the plan to divert Thunderstrike into the 
Moon.
Consul Jennings. Citizen Branniger, the coordinator said as she greeted the 
two men.  Its an honor to receive two such distinguished representatives of 
the Republic, even at such a late hour.  Please, be seated.
We thank you for the courtesy of seeing us, Madame Coordinator. You know why we 
are here, of course.  Despite his confident manner, Jennings was as nervous as 
a Third Undersecretary for Protocol at his first state reception.  He knew the 
enormous stakes for which he was about to play. 
Your Prime Minister outlined the discussion in his message.
Is it true? Are you planning to divert the comet into Farside?
Constance held out her hands in a broad gesture that signified her helplessness. 
What would you have me do, Citizen Consul?  Should I lie and tell you that we 
arent considering every method possible to save this world?
I would have you give me a simple, honest answer.
Very well. Yes, we are looking into the Avalon Option.  We have established a 
working group aboard Newton Station where they can concentrate on the problem.  
So far, they can see no flaws in the plan.
Have you taken any concrete steps to actually proceed with this option? Austin 
Branniger asked.
Not yet.
What about these rumors that you have dispatched two of the cargo carriers to 
Avalon?
Just rumors for the moment, Citizen Jennings. We will not dispatch ships until 
we are certain that the option is the only one possible.  We will, of course, 
inform your government if we come to that decision.
Are we then to die for the sake of Earth?
What sort of barbarians do you take us for? If it should happen, we will, of 
course, evacuate Luna before the comets arrival.  That is one of the things the 
working group is studying.
And if we do not wish to evacuate?
Does Luna have a better idea for stopping Thunderstrike?
Our scientists are working on it, Jennings replied.
They have been working on it for the past six months, Constance reminded him. 
We need an idea now!  Theres only so much one can do with eight kilos of 
antimatter, you know.
Luna is prepared to offer you another four kilograms.
Oh? Constance Forbin asked as her eyebrows rose in surprise.  It seems to me 
that we asked your government just last month to provide antimatter to the 
common pool.  You had none to spare.  Are your production facilities so 
efficient that you can produce four kilos in a single month?
You know they arent, Mrs. Forbin. Your request was turned down because we felt 
we needed that fuel to survive during the post-impact period.
And now?
Now it seems more prudent to use the antimatter to divert the comet and avoid 
impact altogether.
And do you have a scenario in which 12 kilos of antimatter can accomplish that 
feat?
Im no scientist.
Nor am I. The one thing Ido know, is that time is running out.  If a viable 
alternative is not found soon, we will have to exercise the Avalon Option.
Roland Jennings regarded the coordinator with hard eyes. We cannot allow that, 
Madame Coordinator.  That is the message I have been ordered to deliver this 
night.
That sounded like a threat, Mr. Consul-General.
I meant it as a warning, Madame Coordinator. The Republic of Luna will not 
allow itself to be made a target of this massive asteroid.  It is our position 
that a more equitable solution exists, and all that is needed to find it is a 
proper incentive.
Constance Forbin leaned back in her chair. And just how do you propose to stop 
us?
We hope to reason with you. If that is insufficient, we are prepared to use 
force.
Force?
Even as we speak, the Republic is equipping a dozen ships for war operations. 
Those vessels will put to space at the first sign you have initiated operations 
to move Avalon.  They will take possession of Avalon if necessary and deny your 
people access.  Naturally, we hope matters wont come to that.
Arent you forgetting the Peace Force, Citizen?
He shook his head. The Force has only three ships in Earth orbit at the moment. 
 One of these is undergoing general maintenance and cannot leave.  Our own 
fledgling navy will be strong enough to hold their own against any fleet you can 
send against us for as long as it matters.  Remember, you must move a massive 
asteroid into Thunderstrikes path.  All that is required of us is to stop you.
Have you considered that you are sentencing Earth to death?
We dont believe that, Madame Coordinator. As I have stated, we are confident 
the scientists will come up with another method in time.
And if they dont?
They must. There is no other viable alternative.
And that is your last word?
I have delivered my message, Mrs. Forbin. Let me assure you that on this 
matter, there can be no negotiations.
The coordinator drummed her fingers on her desk. May I have some time to 
consult my people, Citizen Jennings?
Of course.
Very well, our ambassador on Luna will give our response to your Prime Minister 
no later than 12:00 hours, day after tomorrow.
 
CHAPTER 31
 
Barbara Martinez was coifed, perfumed, and dressed in an evening gown that cost 
more than she made in a year. Her companion was also dressed formally.  He sat 
beside her in the back seat of the chauffeured groundcar and gazed out the 
window at the streets of Manhattans Old City.
Im not sure I understand all of this, Mr. Smith, Barbara said, finally 
getting up the courage to speak to the man who had picked her up ten minutes 
earlier.
He looked at her sharply. Didnt they brief you before you left the station?
No, sir. They piled me into an orbital ferry and told me I would be briefed 
when I got here.  For the past two hours Ive had my head planted in a 
beauticians helmet.
Smith sighed and leaned back in the plush seat. Its really quite simple.  It 
has fallen to us to break the news to Carlos Sandoval about the Avalon Option.
Sandoval?
Hes chief executive officer of System Resources, SA. They own Avalon.  Elspeth 
Edwards is hosting a party for him tonight.  Constance Forbin thought it would 
be less conspicuous if I contacted him at a social gathering.  You are along to 
explain the technical details, and as protective coloration.  Havent we met 
before?
I dont think so.
Sure we have! You were coming out of the directors office in New Mexico once 
when I was there.  You had that green-around-the-gills look everyone gets when 
they first learn of Thunderstrike.
I remember, she said. You were in the directors anteroom.
So I was.
Why this charade, Mr. Smith?
Since youre to be my date this evening, doesnt it sound a bit silly for you 
to call me Mr. Smith? The name is Halver.  My friends call me Hal.
Why this charade ... Hal?
A couple of reasons. Number one, the Lunarians know about Avalon.  It could not 
be helped, but it is causing us some significant political problems.  If one of 
Constance Forbins people contacts Sandoval, the Lunarians might find out and 
jump to conclusions.  In this case, they would be right.
Secondly, I got the job because Sandoval and I are arch competitors. He is an 
arrogant bastard and might just tell anyone else to breathe vacuum when they ask 
to speak to him.  You can be sure that he will not refuse me.  As insurance, I 
have you.  Sandoval has quite a reputation as a ladies man.  He will be 
inclined to listen to whatever a beautiful senorita tells him.  He may not 
agree, but hell hear you out.
Why, thank you for the compliment, Hal!
De Nada.
It took another ten minutes for them to reach the brownstone where the party was 
being held. Smith took Barbaras arm and escorted her inside.  They entered a 
lift and were whisked to the topmost floor.  The noise of the party pummeled 
their ears as soon as the lift doors opened.  Smith winced visibly.  They 
stepped out into the hall to find their way blocked by an overflow crowd of 
revelers.  They threaded their way through the maze of bodies, being careful not 
to jostle elbows or spill drinks.  After a few near misses, they gained the open 
door of the Manhattan penthouse.
Why, Halver Smith! I declare, youre the last person on Earth I ever expected 
to get to one of my parties!
He smiled and extended a hand. Hello, Elspeth.  Thank you for having me.
My pleasure, the matron crooned. And who is this?
May I present Miss Barbara Martinez? Barbara, Elspeth Edwards, the most sought 
after hostess on two continents.
Hello, Barbara, Elspeth said as she leaned forward to kiss her guest on the 
cheek. How did you manage to get this hermit to bring you here?  Ive been 
inviting him to my parties for years.
Just persuasive, I guess, Barbara replied.
I should say so. Halver, are you losing weight?
A little, he said, grinning. My doctor has me on a special diet.
You look good. Do you know our guest of honor?
Sandoval? he asked. Weve never met.  I know of him, of course.
Thats right! You two are in the same business, arent you?
Sort of. His company is moving an asteroid into Earth orbit in order to compete 
withThe Rock .
Do I smell a rat? You wouldnt be here to see Carlos, would you?
Whatever for?
Dont play coy with me. Seems to me that a person who knew you two were here 
tonight could do well in tomorrows stock market.  That is, if they were given a 
hint as to which way to jump.
He shrugged. If I understood the market, I wouldnt spend so much time at my 
desk.
What about it, Barbara? Care to take pity on an old woman?
If you find out anything, Elspeth, I hope youll share it with me.
I can see that Im getting nowhere. You two go along and have fun.  You will 
find the bar to your right; the restrooms straight down the hall.  Sandoval is 
in the drawing room, not that youre interested.
Youre too good to me, Elspeth.
Smith took Barbaras arm and guided her toward the bar. They ordered drinks and 
watched as the bartender actually mixed their orders by hand.  No automated 
drink mixers here.  While they waited, Smith turned to gaze at a small clump of 
people standing nearby.  One man in particular was loudly proclaiming what he 
thought should be done with the comet.  There had been few other subjects of 
cocktail party conversation for weeks.
... As far as Im concerned, the red faced man with the vaguely familiar look 
about him exclaimed, its a damned good thing the engineers slipped that 
decimal point when they tried to blast.  The last thing we want to do with this 
damned meteor is to move it.
Do you know something we dont? another man asked, or hadnt you heard that 
it is going to crash into the Earth?
The red-faced mans answer was a snort. Ive talked to a number of scientists 
who tell me its a physical impossibility.  After all, Haleys Comet has never 
hit the Earth, and look how long its been coming back!
Barbara thought to say something, but was restrained by Smiths hand on her arm. 
She relaxed and settled down to listen.
But why would they lie to us? one of the women standing near the speaker 
asked.
Why, indeed? Whos running this show?
The System Council, of course.
There you have it. Who elected them saviors of the world?  The ploy is as old 
as politics.  First, you get the people all worked up over something, and then 
at the last minute, a white knight rides to the rescue.  After that, the knight 
can do anything he likes.
All the scientists cant be crooked, the woman insisted.
I doubt if more than a handful are, the man replied. Thats all that is 
needed.  Do scientists actually look through their telescopes anymore?  Hell, 
no!  Their data comes to them prepackaged from some observatory computer.  That 
is where the control is.  Weve had a number of people testify before my 
committee on just that point.
With his comment to jog her memory, Barbara finally recognized the speaker. He 
was one of North Americas more prominent legislators, a man with a penchant for 
keeping his face before the public.  Suddenly, she was glad that Smith had 
stopped her from becoming embroiled in the controversy.
But, hell, the man continued, lets say this whole thing is on the up and up. 
We still dont want anyone messing around with this damned comet.
Why not?
Because if the scientists are right, that damned hunk of ice is going to crash 
down in the Indian Ocean come next July. The Indian Ocean is a long way from 
here.  You dont seriously expect an ice cube plowing into the opposite side of 
the Earth to damage North America, do you?  Oh, we might have a few cold winters 
and overcast skies for a long time, but it aint like it was made of iron.
Now, what happens if the scientists try to shove it out of orbit again? They 
may make it come down somewhere besides India.  I still maintain that it isnt 
going to hit at all, but if it does, wouldnt we rather it be the Indians 
problem and not ours?
The bartender set their drinks on the bar. Smith handed one to Barbara and 
steered her toward the next room.  When they were out of earshot of the 
debaters, she whispered, Surely, he cant be serious!
Im afraid he is, Smith replied grimly. When faced with an unpleasant fact, 
it is human nature to deny it.  Ever since the failure to divert Thunderstrike, 
youll find a lot of people who refuse to believe the comet will strike Earth.
She shivered. How do we convince them of the truth?
Smith shrugged. We dont.  We save them in spite of themselves.  We do that 
because its the only way to save ourselves.
#
Smith led her toward where a group of people clustered around a short, heavyset 
man with a drooping black mustache. The South American looked up as the two of 
them penetrated his ring of admirers.  His eyes moved from Barbara to her 
companion.  She could see the sudden interest as he recognized Smith.
Well, if it isnt my esteemed competitor? Sandoval said, holding out his hand. 
 Your photographs dont do you justice.
I might say the same about you, Smith replied. We meet at last.  I was 
beginning to think you were a South American mirage.
And I wondered if you were the product of a SierraCorp advertising campaign! 
Sandoval responded with a deep-throated laugh.  How go your orbital 
operations?
Sierra Skies did herself proud last quarter.
You know what I mean, the Latin said. Are your plans to developThe Rock on 
schedule?
So so. And your Avalon?
Were about to bring our first iron to market. Of course, you already knew 
that.
Of course. I get weekly update on the progress of your ore barges.
Ill bet you do! This ice mining venture of yours hasnt worked out quite the 
way you planned, has it?
Thats something of an understatement. I wanted to bring back some asteroidal 
ice, but this is ridiculous!
Well put, Sandoval chuckled. He turned his attention to Barbara.  Who is this 
lovely young lady?
Pardon me. Barbara Martinez, Carlos Sandoval.
Buenos noches, Senorita.
Senr Sandoval.
Barbara works for Sky Watch. She was involved in the attempt to blast a chunk 
out of Thunderstrike.
A pity that it did not work.
Yes, it is, Barbara agreed.
Do you have any insight into what the next attempt will involve? the South 
American asked her.
Actually, Smith replied, we do. Are you interested?
 Of course.  SierraCorp has received far too many contracts from the System 
Council.  You sell antimatter to them, you lease ships, and you provide 
technical support services.  I would be a poor businessman if I didnt try to 
garner at least some of that business for my own operation.
Perhaps we could go somewhere quiet and talk about it.
Are you serious? Sandoval asked.
I am.
Very well. Elspeth usually keeps the doors to the library closed.  I dont 
think shed mind our using it.
Excellent, Smith replied.
Does Senorita Martinez come with us?
She does.
The three of them retired to the library. As predicted, it was deserted.  Smith 
locked the door to ensure their continued privacy.
The South American pulled out an oversize cigar and waved it alight. When he had 
filled the room with blue smoke, he said,  All right, tell me what the council 
plans this time.
Barbara.
Barbara outlined the Avalon Option to Sandoval. She told him of the plan to use 
the asteroid to divert Thunderstrike into Luna, and explained that two cargo 
carriers were being dispatched immediately to Avalon.  Sandoval listened without 
speaking.  When Barbara finished, he puffed once more on the cigar, and then 
scowled.
Were you the one who thought this up, Smith?
One of my people did.
Very clever of him. You wipe out your only real competition and get credit for 
saving the Earth at the same time.  Whatever you pay him, it isnt enough.
Is that what you think this is? A business gambit?
What else am I to think? You get the System Council to steal my property while 
yours is untouched.
Surely, Mr. Sandoval, your balance sheet cannot be more important than Earths 
safety!
The South American turned to Barbara. Do you truly work for Sky Watch, 
Senorita?
Yes.
Then I will explain, something I would never do for one of Mr. Smiths stooges. 
I have a responsibility to my investors.  We have invested a great deal of money 
in capturing Avalon.  To see it wiped out with no return is a hard thing.  In 
effect, I am being asked to foot the bill for the whole of humanity.
Youll be compensated, of course!
By whom? Not the System Council.  They survive through levies on the nations.  
They will promise anything now, but what about afterwards?  It is not difficult 
to imagine that the various assemblies will find better uses for their funds 
once the danger has passed.  Ill be lucky to get a tenth-piece to the 
nuevopeso.
What other choice have you? If you do not cooperate, you could be lynched.  
Besides, theyll just take it away from you by force.
Im not so sure, Senorita. For one thing, there is no legal mechanism in 
place.  Sandoval puffed once more on his cigar and gazed thoughtfully out the 
window at the Manhattan skyline.  However, we here in this room may be able to 
settle the problem.
How? Barbara asked.
I propose a trade. I will give Avalon to Mr. Smith to do with as he pleases.  
He, in turn, will give meThe Rock .  That way, I will present my stockholders 
with an operating iron mine while he becomes humanitys savior.
Ingenious, Smith replied, but not practical. My board of directors would 
never approve.  Like you, they would be concerned about repercussions with the 
investors.  However, I dont share your pessimism about humanitys gratitude 
after weve stopped the comet.
Then you take the risk, my friend!
I will. You cooperate in moving Avalon and I will get Constance Forbin to agree 
to reimburse all costs incurred to date, plus a sizeable bonus to keep your 
stockholders happy.  Ill even guarantee the deal myself.
How?
If the nations refuse to pay, Ill support your claim in the international 
courts. If the courts rule against you, Ill cede halfThe Rock to System 
Resources.
You are suggesting a merger between our two companies?
Not at all. We compete as before.  We will merely mine the same piece of real 
estate.  It will be no different than if you had actually gotten Avalon to 
parking orbit.
Are you serious?
I am.
There was a long minute of silence. Finally, Sandoval held out his hand.  I 
will set my people to drawing up the necessary paperwork.  You may tell Mrs. 
Forbin that she has an asteroid to do with as she will.
After a few more minutes discussion, the three of them went back to the party. 
Carlos Sandoval returned to his circle of admirers while Smith and Barbara 
circulated.  Smith stopped a passing waiter carrying a tray of drinks and asked 
her if she would like one.
No thank you.
Whats the matter? One your limit?
I dont like to drink on an empty stomach.
You mean you havent eaten?
She shook her head. Just a snack on the flight down.
I apologize for not asking before. What say we get out of here and grab a bite 
to eat?
I dont want to take you away from the party.
I hate these things. I wouldnt be here tonight except for this business we 
just concluded.
In that case, I would very much like to have dinner with you.
Let me find our hostess to make our excuses. I know a nice little bistro not 
far from here which serves a pretty good bouillabaisse.
#
Wilhelm Von Stiller was United Europes ambassador to the Republic of Luna and 
the dean of the Luna City diplomatic corps. The post was largely a sinecure, the 
duties primarily ceremonial.  Those few problems that cropped up dealt with 
trade matters and the use of European ecopatents in lunar industry.  Stiller had 
never expected to have a real diplomatic dilemma to worry about.  Yet, here he 
was striding through the underground tunnels leading to the Prime Ministers 
private office with the Supreme Admiral of the Peace Force at his side.  A Peace 
Force cruiser orbited overhead.  In Von Stillers dispatch case resided a 
message that could well signal the beginning of humanitys first interplanetary 
war.
As he strode along in a distance-eating gait impressive for a man of seventy, 
Von Stiller reminded himself that he had always dreamed of a great diplomatic 
mission. Now that one was upon him, he longed for the days of visa troubles and 
receptions for visiting dignitaries.  In wishing for a little excitement in his 
life, Von Stiller had forgotten the classic definition of adventure: Someone 
else having a hard time far away!
Von Stiller and the admiral reached the doorway where two Luna City police stood 
guard. They showed their identification and were ushered inside.  There they 
found John Hobart and a close circle of advisors seated around a conference 
table.  Two seats had been left vacant opposite the Prime Minister.
Welcome, Mr. Ambassador, the Prime Minister said as he stood at his place 
behind the table. He looked haggard, but his voice was strong.
Citizen Prime Minister, Von Stiller acknowledged with a sharp bow of his head 
and a click of his heels. May I introduce Supreme Admiral Sutu Praestowik 
Suvanavum of the Peace Forces?
Admiral Suvanavum, the Prime Minister acknowledged. We noted your ships 
arrival with considerable interest.  I hope its presence does not presage bad 
news.
We have no wish to provoke Luna, Prime Minister, the Australasian responded in 
a well-modulated voice. Avengerwas merely the quickest way to get me to Luna 
for this meeting.
Hobart nodded and turned his attention back to Von Stiller. What do you have 
for us, Mr. Ambassador?
I have been instructed to hand you this, the European responded as he 
extracted a sealed diplomatic note from his dispatch case. The note had been 
hand delivered by Admiral Suvanavum an hour earlier.  Von Stiller passed the 
note to the Prime Minister.
Hobart took the thin sheaf of papers and began to read. It was possible to judge 
his progress by his complexion.  By the end of the first page, his ears had 
begun to turn red.  By the second, his entire face had begun to take on the 
shading of a beet.  By the third page, Von Stiller began to worry that he would 
burst a blood vessel.
Whats the meaning of this nonsense? the Prime Minister asked in a raspy voice 
when he finished.
My government asked me to transmit that note to you, Citizen Prime Minister. It 
represents a consensus of all the major nations of the Earth.  The nations feel 
that it is vital to their interests that operations commence immediately to move 
the asteroid Avalon.  Any attempt by Luna to interfere will result in military 
force being used against you.
Then you have decided to sacrifice Luna to the comet!
No, sir. We merely feel that it is prudent to keep our options open.  I have 
been asked to assure you that should any practical alternative be forthcoming, 
we will, of course, cease Avalon operations immediately.  It is my understanding 
that Avalon can be diverted from the path of the comet at any time up until a 
week before impact. 
Finally, I have been authorized to begin discussions concerning the evacuation 
of Luna. This, too, is a precaution.  Earth will spare no effort or expense to 
ensure that every Lunarian is removed from harms way should it be necessary to 
divert Thunderstrike into Farside.
There was a long silence after Von Stiller finished his speech. It was broken by 
Delos Sturdevant, Hobarts chief advisor, and one of Von Stillers closest 
friends on Luna.  I dont think your masters on Earth understand our resolve in 
this matter, Willy.
I assure you that they do, Delos. I pray that you understand the depth of our 
own commitment to this course.
We have a dozen ships ready to space for Avalon, Admiral, Sturdevant said, 
turning his attention to Von Stillers companion. How many can you muster?
We have two warships active within the Earth-Moon system at the moment, Mr. 
Advisor. We have six others within range of recall.  They can be here within the 
month.
Kind of spread out, arent you? Harold Barnes asked.
Yes, indeed, Admiral Suvanavum agreed. The Peace Force has never been a 
military force in the traditional sense.  We are more the policemen on the 
block.
One of those two ships isAvenger , which is within range of our surface 
weapons, Admiral. We could take it out in a matter of seconds.  That would leave 
you with a single operational warship in Earth-Moon space.
That is true.
How the hell do you expect to beat us at Avalon with a single ship?
We do not propose to try, Suvanavum replied matter-of-factly. If you 
interfere with our moving the asteroid, my orders are to bombard Luna directly.
You wouldnt!
Yes, Von Stiller replied, grimly, we would. We are talking about the survival 
of humanity here, gentlemen.  The one thing that I can assure you is that Luna 
will not outlive Earth.  If you frustrate our only chance to save our world, 
then we will take you with us.
Perhaps we should keep half of our ships here in order to deal with the 
Admirals paltry force, Hobart responded acidly.
That will not save you, Citizen, Suvanavum replied. The System Council has 
asked those nations that still possess nuclear weapons to retarget their long 
range delivery systems on Luna.  There are more than enough warheads to 
penetrate your defenses.  Let me assure you that Earth has the advantage in any 
such battle.  Taking revenge is the easiest of all military objectives.
Would you really bomb us? Hobart asked.  In the past several minutes, his 
complexion had gone from red to ashen as the implications of what Earth was 
threatening began to sink in.
Only if you force us to, Von Stiller replied. We have no desire to commit 
genocide, Prime Minister.  Neither do we wish to die.  If the only way to stop 
the comet is by using Luna to block its path, we will do so.  We would prefer 
that no one die.  Our offer stands.  We will use the Avalon Option only as a 
last resort, and if necessary, will evacuate every Lunarian for resettlement to 
Earth.
Von Stiller looked around the table. The choice is yours, gentlemen.  We can 
cooperate or we can fight.  If you cooperate with us, together we may find a 
better solution.  If we do not, then at least humanity, including Lunas ten 
million, will be saved.  It will be inconvenient for you, but no one need die.
If you choose to fight, then Earth dies when the comet strikes and Luna dies 
under a rain of warheads. I offer you life or death.  The choice is entirely 
yours.
#
Like John Hobart, Constance Forbin had not slept well of late. Nor, for that 
matter, had most of the Earths chief executives.  The strain of getting the 
nations to agree on a common response to Lunas ultimatum had been very great.  
Only after several nations had threatened to take matters into their own hands 
had agreement been reached.
It had been Constance Forbins suggestion that their demands be delivered by a 
Peace Force cruiser. She would have preferred a fleet, but none such existed.  
Gunboat diplomacy had long been frowned upon as an instrument of statecraft.  
Still, it had its uses.
The chief coordinator sat at her desk and tried to concentrate on the work at 
hand. She reviewed a number of reports while she waited for news from Luna.  
Halver Smith had reported on his meeting with Carlos Sandoval.  That, at least, 
had gone well.  Other reports dealt with the probable aftermath of diverting 
Thunderstrike into Luna.  Earth would still be in grave danger from the ejecta 
such a collision would create.  Some scientists estimated the quantity of 
material splashed into lunar orbit and beyond at a full one percent of Lunas 
total mass!  What a cosmic joke it would be, she mused, if they survived the 
comet only to be killed by a rain of meteors.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden buzzing of her intercom. Yes?
Ambassador Von Stiller is on the phone from Luna City, her secretary said.
Put him through.
Constances workscreen cleared to show the grim face of Wilhelm Von Stiller. He 
gazed outward with the blank stare of someone waiting to be connected.  A few 
seconds later, the face came to life.
Is that you, Coordinator Forbin?
Im here. Whats the word, Mr. Ambassador?
There was another eternity before Von Stillers mustache twitched upward into a 
faint smile. They bought it!  The Prime Minister has given his personal 
assurance that Luna will not interfere.  He asks that a meeting be convened as 
soon as possible to begin planning the evacuation, should that become 
necessary.
Constance let out a deep sigh. She had not realized that she had been holding 
her breath.  Very well, Mr. Ambassador.  Tell the Prime Minister that we will 
begin to construct an evacuation fleet immediately.  His conference will be 
convened within ten days.  Thank him for me personally.  He made the right 
decision!
 
CHAPTER 32
 
The delta-winged ground-to-orbit ferry slipped through the upper atmosphere at 
thirty times the speed of sound. As it cut the near vacuum, jets of plasma 
sheeted away in multiple shockwaves from wings and fuselage.  The shockwaves 
formed multiple prisms through which the black line of the California coast 
could be seen sliding slowly over the curved horizon.  After 16 months and 
nearly two billion kilometers of travel, Tom Thorpe was finally coming home.
Thorpe sat in his seat and gazed out the window at the blue Pacific as the space 
plane fell from the deep black. Tucked into an inside pocket was a message 
flimsy confirming his appointment as Deputy Director of the newly formed Avalon 
Working Group.  That message, as much as anything, symbolized the recent changes 
in Thorpes life.  Hed left Earth the leader of a minor expedition to explore a 
wayward comet.  He was returning as Earths savior.
Thorpe had been lionized in the mass media in the weeks since the Avalon Option 
had been made public. He had had to submit to almost daily interviews 
aboardAdmiral Farragut as the freighter fell toward Earth.  At first, the 
interviews had been computer simulations like that in which Amber had 
inadvertently given Thunderstrike its popular name.  Later, when the freighter 
closed to within two-way communications range, the news people had insisted on 
talking to him live.  Some of their characterizations had been enough to make 
him blush, and Thorpe did not blush easily.
Despite the acclaim, he was far from happy. For if his discovery that Avalon 
could be used to stop Thunderstrike had gained him system wide recognition, it 
had cost him the one thing he treasured most in life:  Amber!
Their relationship had never recovered from Avalon. Amber professed not to blame 
him; yet, it was impossible for her to separate her feelings for him from the 
pain of Lunas destruction.  Nor had the frustration of not being able to find 
an acceptable alternative helped.  Amber, and nearly every astronomer and 
astrophysicist in the Solar system, had searched for such an alternative for two 
months. 
The fruitless search had taken its toll on tempers aboard the freighter. Amber 
had stopped talking to everyone for a while.  So, too, had Cragston Barnard and 
Professor Chen.  As simulation after simulation came up negative, the three 
became more withdrawn and sullen.  No matter what approach they tried, it always 
came down to too few resources or too little time.
Admiral Farraguthad reached Earth twelve weeks after departing the nucleus. A 
few hours from parking orbit, Thorpe had sought Amber out.  He found her in her 
cabin, packing.
Hello, may I come in?
Sure, she had said, giving him a wan smile. The frustration of the past 
several weeks had left their mark on her.  Her face was drawn, her eyes sunken 
and marked with permanent bags.  She seemed to have developed a new set of worry 
lines.
I hear youre going back to Luna.
She nodded. I got a long message from Niels Grayson yesterday.  He wants me 
back at the observatory.  Hes offered Crag Barnard a position, too.
Why go back?
Theyre short of trained people. Theyll be tracking the comet through impact 
with Avalon, and then for as long as possible until it disappears behind the 
sun.
What then?
Niels wants to try and salvageThe Big Eye . The telescope has 400 of the most 
precise optical mirrors ever manufactured.  They represent an irreplaceable 
scientific resource.  If we can get them off Luna, we can rebuild the instrument 
in Earth orbit.
Is that what you want?
She shrugged. Crag and I havent come up with anything to save Luna these past 
few weeks.  Maybe we can salvage something from this fiasco.
What about us? Thorpe asked.  Can we save what we had together?
The anguish was clear on her face as she looked at him.
Our personal problems dont seem very important just now, do they?
Theyre important to me.
And to me, Thomas. However, I cannot very well abandon the observatory, can I?  
I feel responsible for all of this.
No ones responsible. This would have happened if youd never been born.
It had been at that point that her self-control had cracked. I know that, she 
sobbed.  But I cant help the way I feel.  I have to do something.  Niels goal 
of salvagingThe Big Eye is important.  I want to be part of it.
All right, he said. Ill go with you.
You have your new position to fill. I detest the Avalon Option.  Yet, my brain 
says that it may be humanitys only chance.  How would you feel if you came with 
me and something went wrong, something you could have stopped?
About the way you feel now, I suppose.
Worse, she said. Ill get over the way I feel in time.  You never would.
All right. We are agreed that stopping the comet comes first.  What about 
afterward?
If were both still alive, we can take up where we left off. You pick the time 
and place, and Ill be there.
The observation deck of the SierraCorp Headquarters Tower. High noon, one year 
from today!
Youve got yourself a date.
A kiss to seal the bargain?
Her answer had been to throw her arms around his neck. He had not breathed again 
for more than a minute.
#
Even Smiths warning did not prepare Thorpe for the crowd that awaited him at 
Mojave Spaceport. As the orbital ferry taxied to the ramp, the tall windows of 
the terminal suddenly filled with a sea of faces.  Mixed in among the camera 
crews were everyday citizens who had come out to witness the excitement.  It 
looked as though everyone within a hundred kilometers had converged on the 
spaceport.
Thorpe waited his turn to disembark, then trudged across the loading bridge into 
the building. As he stepped from the embarkation tunnel, he was engulfed in a 
wall of noise.  Thorpe had seen old movies of similar scenes in which thousands 
of flash bulbs had gone off as the celebrity stepped from his plane.  He was 
spared that ordeal, at least.  Modern audiovisual equipment operated at ambient 
light levels.  Still, the noise was impressive and he felt like a little lost 
boy for a moment.  Then he discovered Halver Smith among the sea of unfamiliar 
faces.
Hello, Mr. Smith, he said, extending his hand to his superior after crossing 
the expanse of open space between them. A security fence kept the crowd back.  
Smith was one of a few people inside it.  You didnt have to come down to meet 
me.
Wouldnt have missed it for the world, Tom. How do you feel?
The gravitys hard to take, but otherwise fine.
The press wants a short statement. Feel up to it?
Sure.
Keep it brief. The office has been taking interview requests for three days.  
As of two hours ago, they numbered 112!
Thorpe blinked. So many?
Enjoy it while it lasts. Tomorrow theyll be after someone else.
Thorpe moved to where a lectern had been set up on a makeshift dais. When the 
crowd noise had dropped to an angry buzzing, he began to speak:
Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your warm reception. I appreciate the 
honor, but I have to say that a great deal of the attention paid me this past 
month has been unwarranted.  When I passed through this spaceport so many months 
ago, I had no idea I would be going out to meet a comet that would pose a risk 
to Earth.  All of us thought we were engaged in a purely commercial and 
scientific venture.  While I led the expedition, its success is due to the 
efforts of a great many people.  I would like to take a moment to publicly 
acknowledge their contributions.
First of all, without the financial and materiel support of Sierra Corporation 
and the Republic of Luna, there would have been no expedition. Had we not met 
the comet at Jupiter, it is likely that we would not have learned the danger 
until too late.  Upon arrival at the nucleus, our scientific people andAdmiral 
Farragut s crew worked tirelessly to survey the comets surface and interior.  
Without them, humanity would have lost precious months in learning about the 
comet. 
I would especially like to bring to your attention one individual. She, more 
than anyone, is responsible for Earths salvation.  I refer, of course, to Amber 
Elizabeth Hastings.  It was she who originally discovered the comet, who made 
the expedition possible, and who first realized that Thunderstrike was on a 
collision course with Earth.  She is also the woman I hope to marry.
Now then, I will be happy to answer your questions.
Mr. Thorpe, a woman with a particularly booming voice shouted, Is it true 
that the Lunarian members of your expedition attempted to silence you when you 
developed the Avalon Option?
Thats ludicrous, Thorpe replied. At the time I transmitted my data to Mr. 
Smith, no other member of the expedition knew anything about it.
Then youwere afraid to tell the Lunarians lest they attempt to silence you?
I wanted to be sure I had something before I got everyones hopes up.
Surely you dont deny that Luna has attempted to block the movement of Avalon 
into Thunderstrikes path?
Look, he said, his level of exasperation growing, the comet is a problem for 
the entire human race. First, the Avalon Option is still only a contingency.  
Many thousands of scientists are actively looking for a better solution, one 
that will cause the comet to miss both Earthand Luna.  Even if no such option is 
found, the Lunarians and we are going to have to work closely together for a 
number of years.  Why try to stir up trouble between us?
Why years, Mr. Thorpe? another man yelled. The comet will strike next July.
If the Avalon Option is carried out, we will have to evacuate every Lunarian to 
Earth. Transporting 10 million people across 400,000 kilometers of vacuum will 
not be easy.  Once they arrive, we will have to see that they are properly 
integrated into terrestrial society.
Then there is the problem of our meteor defenses. There will be considerable 
post-impact debris floating around the Earth-Moon system, and without a meteor 
guard to divert the bigger chunks from Earth, all of our efforts will have been 
wasted.  We will need a large, vacuum qualified labor force to construct the 
system we need in the short time we have left.  The Lunarians will provide much 
of that force.
Youve been on the surface of the nucleus, Mr. Thorpe, a third reporter said. 
Is it really as large as they say?
Ground Zero Crater is so large that you cant see the crater rim in any 
direction when you are in the craters central region. It is bigger than the 
Grand Canyon on Earth or Olympus Mons on Mars.  Its another world.
What will you be doing now, Mr. Thorpe?
Thorpe went on to describe his new position with the Avalon Working Group. 
Afterward, a reporter wanted to know why they had been unable to blast Ground 
Zero Crater away from Thunderstrike.  Thorpe referred him to the 
astrogeologists.  Finally, Halver Smith stepped up to the lectern and suggested 
that the conference be ended.  There was a general outcry, but Smith held firm.  
As the crowd slowly began to disperse, a flying wedge of security guards ushered 
Smith and Thorpe through to the parking garage.  Five minutes later, they were 
headed north at 200 kph.
I didnt realize there was that much hostility toward Luna, Thorpe said as he 
watched the desert scenery whip past.
Smith told him of the Lunarian ultimatum and the terrestrial response. Theyve 
backed down for the moment, but that hasnt stopped the missile retargeting.  
Also, the Peace Force is activating several more ships, ostensibly to help with 
evacuation efforts.  Their real purpose is to make sure that Prime Minister 
Hobart doesnt change his mind.
What about the evacuation? Is it possible to get that many people off the Moon 
in the time we have left?
Unknown, Smith responded. The simulations Ive seen to date havent been very 
encouraging.  Still, we humans can move mountains when we are forced into it.  
This one will just have to be a mountain of humanity.
#
Niels and Margaret Grayson were waiting for Amber as the lift delivered her to 
the main level of Farside Observatory. The rolligon ride from Hadleys 
Crossroads was as Amber remembered it; except that Varls younger brother was 
now driving the big vehicle.  If anything, his driving style was even more 
slapdash than that of his two siblings.
Welcome back, stranger! Margaret Grayson said as she rushed forward to embrace 
Amber.
Niels strode up behind his wife and laid a hand on the shoulder of her vacuum 
suit. The prodigal returns.  What have you to say for yourself, young lady?
Its good to be home, you two!
Its good to have you, the elder astronomer replied.
Hows the director?
As cranky as ever. He has been grumbling about the time we are devoting to 
tracking your comet.  He says that there are more important things forThe Big 
Eye to do before we begin dismantling it.
What, for instance?
Professor Dorniers Cepheid study.
Hasnt he finishedthat yet?
Its beginning to look as though he never will at the rate hes going.
Anything else happen while I was gone?
Grayson shrugged. A few new faces around here.  Your replacement is nowhere 
near as efficient at checking out the intrasystem sightings, by the way.  He 
seems to think such things are beneath the dignity of a brand new college 
graduate.
Amber laughed. I know how he feels.
What about Barnard? Did he change his mind?
Hell be along in a couple of weeks, Amber said. He had some business to take 
care of in Tycho Terrace.
How is Old Crag? Grayson asked.
Changed from when I knew him in school, Amber responded. Hell be a good 
addition to the staff when it comes time to salvageThe Big Eye .  He got a lot 
of vacuum suit experience out on the comet.  We all did.
Come, Amber. Lets get you out of that suit, Margaret said.  Theyre throwing 
a welcome home party in the lounge, except you arent supposed to know anything 
about it.  Its a surprise.
Ill do my best to act it. Amber moved to one of the suiting cubicles and 
quickly stripped to her skin.  She hung the bulky suit in the frame provided for 
the purpose.  The suit was the one she had bought for the expedition.  It no 
longer looked new.  It still bore the dings and scratches picked up during her 
mishap with the icefall.  She quickly sponged herself off, and then climbed into 
a new jumpsuit she had purchased in Luna City.  She combed her hair and tied it 
up with a ribbon.  She then returned to where the Graysons were waiting for her.
My dear, you get more lovely every year.
Thank you, Margaret. Shall we head out for the party?
The three of them left the suiting room and walked down the main corridor of the 
observatory. As they walked, Niels said, I hear that it was pretty bad out at 
the nucleus.
Not especially, Amber replied. We worked hard and I got myself buried under 
an avalanche.
You gave us quite a scare that time, young lady.
Not as much as I gave myself.
I understand that you met a young man, Margaret Grayson said.
Amber nodded. Tom Thorpe.  You hosted a party for him, remember?
Indeed I do. Where is he now?
Amber explained the circumstances of their parting. Margaret Grayson listened 
sympathetically.  When Amber finished, she said, These things have a way of 
working out for the best.
I agree, Grayson said. This evacuation is going to be hard on everyone.  
There will be plenty of time when its over to pick up the pieces of your life.
Has there been any word yet on what arrangements are being made?
Grayson shook his head. Only that the government is negotiating with the System 
Council.  There are reports of additional bulk freighters being modified, and 
possibly one or two space stations being moved to handle the traffic.
Can they really evacuate everyone on Luna in only a years time, Niels?
A good question, and one which theyd better answer damned quick. If they 
cant, theres going to be hell to pay.
 


 
CHAPTER 33
 
Donald Callas stood on Avalons stark surface and watched the parade of supplies 
being ferried down fromGargantua andGoliath . The spherical cargo vessels hung 
as motionless as two moons above the asteroid while a steady stream of cargo 
sleds disgorged equipment from their cavernous holds.  It had been two hours 
since the ships had ended their emergency runs from Thunderstrike to Avalon.  
Their crews were wasting no time in going to work.
For five years, Callas and his crew had been slowly raising and circularizing 
Avalons orbit. The process had required the expenditure of 200 grams of 
antimatter each month.  In another year, it would have brought the big lopsided 
asteroid to rendezvous with Earth.  Now, of course, that would never happen.
It had been a month since Callas had received the message from headquarters that 
Avalon was to be ceded to the System Council. At first, he had resented the 
decision.  His resentment had been fleeting, however, when he realized that it 
meant that he would be seeing Earth a year ahead of schedule.  Furthermore, 
Sandovals message had made it clear that everyones contract would be paid in 
full.
As Callas watched, a vacsuited figure bounded toward him from where the sleds 
were landing their cargo. He moved to meet the newcomer.
Mr. Callas?
Yes.
Names Vassilovich. Walter Vassilovich.  Im Mr. Carltons assistant and in 
charge of this gang of wild men.
Hello, Callas replied, touching gloves with the newcomer. How can I and my 
men assist you?
First of all, are we at the right spot? Hate to start excavating and discover 
that were drilling in the wrong place.
Weve painted a bit whiteX on the surface where you are to begin excavating.
Think this big rock will hold together under the stress were going to put on 
it?
Itll hold. Avalon is nearly pure nickel iron without significant flaws or 
faults.
The plan for placing Avalon in Thunderstrikes path called for the expenditure 
of six kilograms of antimatter in as many months. That was five times the normal 
rate.  The asteroids existing reaction chamber was too small for the energy 
that would be released.  Any attempt to run it at those levels would result in 
an explosion.  Rather than expand the existing, highly radioactive chamber, a 
new reaction chamber was to be built.  In fact, three such would be constructed. 
 Two of these would be fully functional backups, each instantly available should 
the first chamber fail.
Callas and his people had spent the past month surveying suitable drilling 
sites. After the mistake at Ground Zero Crater, no one was taking any chances.  
It was do or die - literally!  - this time.
How soon do you think we can begin to boost? Vassilovich, asked.
Callas shrugged. From what Ive seen of your equipment, the main chamber should 
be hollowed out in a week to ten days.  Then it will take another week to drill 
the injector shafts, install the focusing rings, and calibrate the control 
mechanisms.  You ought to be ready in three weeks.
Wed better do better than that, Vassilovich said. The boss will have my ass 
for breakfast.
Perhaps my people can help.
How?
We can overhaul the old thruster towers for you and build the new ones you 
need. Weve certainly had enough practice in both areas.
Sounds like a good idea. Ill talk to the boss about it.
Getting control of Avalons rotation had been the first task Callas and his men 
had faced on Avalon. With an eight-hour rotation period, the asteroid was too 
cumbersome to move.  To halt the rotation, they had mounted oversize thrusters 
on sturdy towers.  It had taken a year of continuous boost before the asteroids 
rotation rate had been bled down to nothing.  Even now, the thrusters were 
occasionally fired to keep Avalon pointed in the proper direction.
To successfully intercept Thunderstrike, however, they would need more than an 
occasional burst. Avalon would have to be actively steered if they were to place 
it in the comets path seven months hence.  Steering changes would have to be 
made in a matter of hours instead of weeks.  That in turn required the existing 
thruster towers to be overhauled, and numerous additional towers to be 
constructed.
Vassilovich turned to watch as a large mechanism was detached fromGargantua s 
hull. Offloading was not as efficient as it had been at Thunderstrike, but they 
were getting there.
Here comes the power pack, he said. If youll excuse me, Ive got to get back 
to work.
Callas watched the spacesuited figure bound back across the nickel-iron plain 
that was fast becoming a junkyard. As he watched Vassilovich go, he was overcome 
with sadness.  Three hours ago, he had been the undisputed ruler of this tiny 
world.  No longer.  The newcomers manner, though respectful, had made it clear 
that Callass status was now that of interested bystander.  An era in Avalons 
history had ended.  Another was about to begin.
#
After returning to Earth, Tom Thorpe had planned a few weeks of vacation before 
taking up his duties aboard Newton Station. Constance Forbin had other plans.  
He had barely rested from his journey when the coordinator called to invite him 
to the conference being organized at The Sorbonne to discuss Lunar evacuation.  
The appointment was to be part of a wide-ranging public relations campaign to 
convince the Lunarians that Earth was serious about keeping its commitments.  
For his part, Thorpe had personal reasons for wanting the evacuation to succeed. 
 He accepted, and three days later, found himself in Paris.  Despite his 
figurehead status, he quickly immersed himself in the problem of evacuating the 
entire population of a small world.
Nor was getting the people off Luna the only problem. Just getting them to 
Lunas three major spaceports would require every ground and local space vehicle 
on Luna.  Most of the outlying settlements would be evacuated by rolligon and 
moonhopper to the nearest station on the CircumLuna Monorail.  From there, they 
would go to Luna City, Tycho Terrace, or Mare Crisium.  Once at the spaceports, 
they would have to be housed, fed, and provided for until ground-to-orbit craft 
could transport them to the ships that would take them to Earth.
That latter was the reason the conference had been called. Initial simulations 
had indicated that if every spaceship in existence were used to evacuate Luna, 
70 percent of the population would not make it off the globe before the comet 
struck.  Clearly, a new approach was needed.
On average, human beings measure 180 centimeters by 60 centimeters, by 30 
centimeters. Thus, if people could be stacked like cordwood, each would fit 
easily inside a box measuring two meters long by one-meter square.  Two cubic 
meters per occupant had been approximately the habitable volume of the earliest 
space capsules.  As one expert pointed out, some of these had spent weeks in 
orbit, not the few days required for the trip from the Moon to Earth.  Thus, it 
was theoretically possible to stuff Lunas entire population into a spherical 
volume measuring a mere 350 meters in diameter!
With this unattainable minimum in mind, the conference formulated its plans. 
These did not call for the construction of any new ships.  There wasnt time.  
Luckily, new ships were not needed.  There had once been eight large cargo 
carriers that had shuttled between Luna and the space habitats.  Three of these 
were already in service at Thunderstrike and Avalon, while the five remaining 
were in orbital storage.
At 150 meters diameter, each bulk carrier was large enough to transport up to 
300,000 people per trip. With that packing efficiency, the ships would be 
neither comfortable nor luxurious in their accommodations.  Each passenger would 
be provided with a shallow bunk and the most rudimentary of life support 
mechanisms.  To increase the load of human cargo, the old chemically powered 
engines were to be removed and the hydrogen and oxygen tanks turned into bunk 
spaces.  Propulsion would be provided by deep space tugs.  The evacuation ships 
would be minimally habitable, smelly, and no place for claustrophobes.  
Nevertheless, each would have the capacity to evacuate up to three percent of 
Lunas population in a single trip.  Once in Earth orbit, the ships would be met 
by fleets of shuttles.  These, too, would be overcrowded, but the flights down 
to Earth would be mercifully short.
Slowly the design of the evacuation ships took shape as the conference groups 
met in marathon session. As the long days continued, shipyard engineers were 
briefed on the evolving evacuation plan.  They were given rough sketches that 
they used to make detailed computer drawings of the needed modifications.  By 
the end of the second week, work had already begun on converting the first of 
the evacuation ships.
With the end of the conference, Thorpe found himself free to continue his 
interrupted vacation. He was in the midst of packing when he received a call 
from Halver Smith in California.
Hello, Thomas. I understand that you are leaving for Newton Station.
Not quite yet. I am due to go up at the end of next week.  In the meantime, I 
thought I would tour Europe to unwind.
Are you dead set on this European vacation?
Ive made a few plans, Thorpe said, suddenly cautious. There was something in 
Smiths tone that told him the question had been far from idle.  If he had not 
known the boss better, he would have said that Smith was nervous about 
something.
Any chance that I can convince you to vacation here? Ill put you up on my 
estate.
I dont want to impose, sir.
No imposition, Thomas, I assure you.
Very well.
Excellent! Smith replied.  When and where were you scheduled to go up to 
Newton Station?
Sahara Spaceport on the sixteenth.
Ill have my people reroute you to Mojave and make all your other travel 
arrangements. Someone will be calling within the hour.
Thank you, sir.
Youre welcome, Thomas.
Smith switched off, leaving Thorpe to stare at an empty screen. After a few 
seconds, he frowned.  Something was definitely going on.
#
Thorpe lounged half asleep beside the pool at Sierra Hills. Overhead a bright 
sun hung in a powder blue sky.  If he thought about anything at all, it was the 
difference between this balmy weather and the cold that had seeped through his 
gloves that awful day Amber had been trapped under the icefall.  He had picked 
up a new nervous habit from that incident.  Now when he was distracted or 
worried, he rubbed his fingertips together.  The baby smooth flesh of the skin 
grafts somehow reassured him.  Every day on Earth saw the disparity in color 
between new skin and old grow less.
Thomas, are you awake?
He opened one eye against the glare of the sun to see Halver Smith standing over 
him. Smith was dressed formally, having just come from headquarters.  In the 
week Thorpe had spent at Sierra Hills, he had seen the boss fewer than ten 
times.  He had heard stories about Smiths work habits, but had always thought 
them inflated.  It reminded him that he was playing hooky and needed to get back 
into harness.
Im awake, sir. Just thought I would soak up some rays while I have the chance. 
 No telling when Ill be on Earth again.
Vacation been everything I promised?
More, Thorpe replied. When he had arrived, he would found all of the 
facilities of Smiths estate available to him.  That included admission to 
several private clubs in the area, many of which had a surplus of unattached 
women members.  Most were more than interested once they found out he was a 
guest at Sierra Hills.  Despite the rich hunting, however, Thorpes mind was not 
on the game.  He kept comparing the women he met to a certain blue-eyed blonde 
on the other side of the Moon.  No matter how beautiful or charming, his 
newfound friends always seemed to lack something in comparison.  Not that Thorpe 
was unhappy.  He was enjoying himself immensely.  After most of a decade spent 
in deep vacuum, the wind, sea, and surf were more than enough to make his 
vacation complete.
So, youre leaving us tomorrow!
Yes, sir. My ship lifts at 12:00 hours.
There was a long pause. When Smith spoke again, Thorpe thought he detected the 
same nervousness as during their telephone conversation in Paris.  I expect 
youll be getting acquainted with the other members of the Avalon Working Group 
within the next few days.
Yes, sir.
I was wondering, Thomas, if you will do me a favor.
Sure, Thorpe replied. What is it?
There is a young woman working with the working group. Would you deliver a 
letter to her from me?
Thorpe let his eyebrows lift. Ever since Smiths wife had died, he had had a 
reputation for being a confirmed workaholic.  Somehow, the thought that he might 
also have a social life was surprising.  Who is this lady, sir?
Her name is Barbara Martinez. Shes an analyst on the staff, on loan from Sky 
Watch... As he spoke, the edges of Smiths mouth turned up in a gentle smile.  
Thorpe wondered if he was aware of that fact.  We met recently when she was 
assigned to help me break the news to Carlos Sandoval.  Afterward, I took her to 
dinner.  Shes quite an extraordinary woman.
And youve only seen her that one time?
Actually, weve managed to get together three times now. She came down to Earth 
on assignment last month, and I stopped over at Newton Station a few weeks ago 
on my way to Sierra Skies.
Why not mail the letter? Shell get it before I can get it to her.
Smith laughed. You dont understand, Thomas.  We correspond twice a week and 
speak on the telephone every other day.  No, this particular letter is special.  
I want you to give it to her when you judge the time to be right.
Right for what?
Im asking her to marry me.
Youre kidding!
I know this must sound strange for a man in my position. You have to understand 
that I am doing thisbecause of my position.  Since my wife died, I have had any 
number of women throw themselves at me.  It is one of the hazards of being rich 
and single.  Barbara is different.  She knows who I am, but that does not seem 
to impress her overly.  She laughs at my jokes, tells me when she thinks I am 
wrong, and treats me like a human being.  I have fallen in love with her, and I 
think she returns the feeling.  Only, Im not sure.
Then why not call her up this minute and ask her to marry you?
Smith shook his head. I dont want her to feel she has to answer quickly.  She 
might accept, but then regret it when she has had time to think.  Worse, she 
could say no!  This way, she will have all the time she needs to consider her 
answer.  Will you do it?
Ill do it. Wheres the letter?
Smith looked sheepish. Actually, I havent written it yet.  I will be up most 
of the night composing it.  Youll have it before you leave in the morning.
#
The triple habitat rings of Newton Station grew steadily larger as the orbital 
ferry drew closer to the stationary hub with its multiple docking ports. Thorpe 
watched the approach with interest.  The giant spokes swept by overhead as the 
ferry ducked under the rotating rings.  Beyond the station floated clusters of 
instruments used by both Sky Watch and the station meteorologists.  It was easy 
to tell the two apart.  Sky Watchs instruments pointed out toward the black sky 
while the weather peoples looked down at Earth.
The ferry pushed its nose in through the docking collar and a teleoperated 
transfer tube extended to fasten itself against the port airlock. Thorpe made 
his way through the lock, towing his kit bag behind.
Mr. Thorpe! a voice called to him as he entered the hub of the station. He 
turned to gaze at the wiry man with the prominent bald spot who had hailed him 
from across the compartment.  They were still in the zero gravity portion of the 
station.  As Thorpe watched, the man kicked off and sailed to where Thorpe clung 
to a safety line.
Hello, Im Terence Zaller, Dr. Fusakas assistant. He asked me to meet you.  
Hes somewhat busy this morning.
Oh?
God willing, theyre going to light off Avalons engines today. In fact, 
Zaller glanced at his wrist chronometer, they should be powering up just about 
now.
I heard they wouldnt be ready for three more days.
Theyre ahead of schedule. Come on.  Well go down to the project offices and 
watch the show.
Thorpe followed Zaller to a spoke lift, and from there into ever increasing 
gravity. They got off the lift at Gamma Deck, Habitat Ring Number Two.  The 
gravity at that level was one-third of Earth standard.
The two dozen members of the Avalon Working Group were in a compartment 
outfitted as a conference room. As Thorpe arrived, they were gathered around a 
large screen on which Avalon Asteroid was displayed.  The view was from an 
orbiting spaceship, and showed the lopsided asteroid from a distance of several 
dozen kilometers.  Hovering just above it was one of the large cargo carriers.
The surface of the asteroid was pitted with craters from eons spent orbiting 
just outside the orbit of Venus. A number of tiny manmade shapes had been added 
to the collection.  There were clusters of lights spread over the asteroids 
surface.  Some were the bright white of work lights, while others were an 
eye-searing violet color.  The latter, Thorpe could see, emanated from several 
sticklike towers mounted at the ends of the asteroids major axis.  He noted 
that the oversize attitude control jets were in operation.
Whats going on? Zaller asked someone.  He was promptly shushed by several 
members of the group.  Someone whispered that they had just started testing the 
propulsion systems antimatter injection channels.
Zaller gestured for Thorpe to take a seat. He did so well back from the screen.  
While he waited, he let his eyes scan the room.  There were eight women present, 
but only three the right age to be Barbara Martinez.  Assuming the surname 
indicated Hispanic ancestry eliminated all the candidates but one.  He studied 
her profile while she raptly watched the screen.  He had to admit that the Old 
Man had an eye for the ladies.  She was not as beautiful as Amber, but she came 
close.  Thorpe patted his inside pocket to make sure Smiths letter was still 
there, and then turned back toward the screen.
A violet spark of light appeared on the potato-shaped rock at the point where 
the asteroids waist constricted slightly. The spark grew in brightness until 
the cameras light compensation circuits were affected.  At the same time, a 
glowing phantom shape seemed to rise from the vicinity of the spark.  Slowly, 
the radiance resolved itself into a fat cone of light as ionized nickel and iron 
spewed forth.
We have ten percent power,a voice announced from the speaker of the screen. 
Stand by for full thrust!
The spark suddenly exploded on the screen as the camera filtered the sudden 
burst of light. Where an explosion would have been over as quickly as it had 
begun, the spark continued unabated for minutes.  As it did so, the streamer of 
ionized material grew until it was a comet tail in miniature.  The full plume 
was an indication that hundreds of tons per hour of asteroidal material were 
boiling away to space.
Power is maximum. All indicators are steady in the green.  We have a measurable 
thrust!
Several more cheers echoed through the compartment. A large Oriental seated in 
the front row waited for them to die away before commanding, The furnace is lit 
and were underway, people!  I want your initial compliance numbers by the end 
of the watch!
There was sudden movement from the crowd. They slowly filed out into the 
corridor and dispersed.  The mood was festive.  Thorpe watched the woman he had 
tentatively identified as Barbara Martinez.  She left in the company of another 
woman.  Both were laughing and joking.
Come on, Zaller said. Lets meet Dr. Fusaka!
Thorpe, eh? Fusaka said after Zaller introduced him.  Its an honor.  How the 
hell did you ever come up with the idea of using Avalon as a billiard ball?
To tell the truth, I stumbled across it while fooling around with a computer.
Fusaka laughed. Ive had that happen a couple of times myself.  Kind of makes 
you feel stupid, doesnt it?
That it does.
Did they tell you what it is we do here?
You plan Avalons trajectory and oversee the work.
Fusaka nodded. Were responsible for making sure that Avalon is in the proper 
place when Thunderstrike comes roaring through the inner system 200 days from 
now.  Avalon impact will take place 80 days before Lunar impact.  That means we 
have no room for mistakes.  If we miss, its all over for Earth.
Thorpe nodded. When it came to Thunderstrike, the laws of orbital mechanics were 
as immutable as they were inconvenient.  If Avalon missed, there would be no 
second chance.
By the way, Fusaka said, I jumped at the chance to get you when they offered 
your services. We have a good group here, but every one of us is a theoretician. 
 We desperately need someone with practical experience.  Otherwise, we are 
liable to make some stupid mistake and kill everyone.  We do not want to be like 
the biologist who was so interested in the social hierarchy of rattlesnakes that 
he forgot they were poisonous.  With the experience you gained in movingThe Rock 
, we hope you can anchor some of our worst flights of fancy.
Ill try, sir.
Look over the basic plan and tell me what you think of it.
Yes, sir.
Fusaka held out his hand once more. Terence will show you to your cabin and see 
that you are straightened away.  If you will join me for dinner this evening, 
Ill introduce you to the other members of the team.
#
The next morning, Thorpe was seated in the staff lounge, reviewing the Avalon 
Projects master plan. Like the ancient PERT charts, the plan included a 
timeline that detailed every activity that had to take place between launch and 
impact with Thunderstrike.  Events were marked as they occurred, and any 
deviation from plan was instantly evaluated.  Thorpe had been struggling to 
understand the complex symbology for quite some time when he became aware of 
someone standing over him.
Mr. Thorpe?
Yes.
My name is Barbara Martinez. May I sit down, please?
Please do, he said. His tentative identification of the previous day had been 
correct.  Barbara was indeed the woman whose profile hed studied.
Sorry I didnt get to meet you last night. I had a program to run and the 
computer was balking.
I understand.
You work for Halver Smith, dont you?
He nodded.
I thought so. Hes spoken of you on occasion.
Likewise.
Oh? What did he say about me?
Only that you are the most beautiful, intelligent, and charming women he has 
ever met.
Did he really say that?
Thorpe nodded. He went on about it at great length.
When did you see him last?
Yesterday morning.
Is he well?
Better than Ive ever seen him. Why do you ask?
Im not sure. He seems more stiff and uncomfortable than when I first met him.  
I was wondering if there is anything wrong.
Hes a busy man with a lot on his mind.
Barbara shook her head. I get the impression that its me.  Ive been wondering 
if hes tiring of my company.
And you think hes trying to find a polite way to dump you?
The thought has crossed my mind.
Thorpe grinned and reached into his pocket. Well you can uncross it.  Mr. Smith 
asked me to give you this when I thought the time was right.  Its right.
She touched the depolarizer spot on the envelope and fumbled with the letter. As 
she scanned it, her eyes began to grow larger.  Finally, she looked up and 
asked, Do you know what this is?
In a general terms. He went on to explain Smiths desire not to put any 
pressure on her.  She got up before he had finished his explanation.  Where are 
you going?
To find a screen, she said, breathlessly. I have a phone call to make!
 
CHAPTER 34
 
It was three days after sunset when Amber Hastings came on duty in the telescope 
control room. The Big Eyewas now manned continuously whenever the comet or 
Avalon was in the sky.  Since the observatory staff was currently at half 
strength, even Ambers newfound celebrity had failed to keep her name off the 
duty roster.
As she sat at the operators station, she gazed at the light amplified image of 
the great telescope on the main viewscreen. The mirror bowl was tilted on its 
side with the cherry picker booms stretched out parallel to the crater floor.  
Each of the 400 ultra-sensitive hexagonal mirrors was aimed toward the eastern 
sky where comet and asteroid were slowly closing the black gulf between them.  
The telescope optics were divided into two sections.  One collection of mirrors 
tracked Avalon at full power while the other performed a wide-angle scan of the 
comet.  It was the latter view to which Amber switched after a few seconds.  The 
ghostly image of the comet materialized on the screen.  It was nothing like what 
she had observed during the long stern chase from Jupiter.  The seven months 
since her return to Luna had transformed Thunderstrike beyond all former 
recognition.  What had been a pale cloud of gas and dust had blossomed into a 
full-fledged comet!
By the time Thunderstrike reached the Asteroid Belt in January, it had developed 
the characteristic fan shaped coma caused by increased buffeting from the solar 
wind. By March, a streamer of gas fifty million kilometers in length had been 
ripped from the coma.  On April 1, Thunderstrike made its first appearance in 
the night sky of Earth.  It was far from spectacular, merely a faint smudge that 
was apparent only to those with superior vision or optical aids.  Even so, its 
appearance convinced billions of skeptics that the scientists warnings were 
real.  The patch of light in the sky had set off a new wave of worldwide panic.
After April, there were no longer any public pronouncements that the System 
Council was spending too much money preparing for the comet. Suddenly, everyone 
was interested in how the evacuation and meteor guard system were progressing.  
Anyone who doubted the seriousness of the situation need only step outside any 
clear night for a reminder of what the next year would bring.
As Amber scanned the body of the comet, her attention was drawn to the 
once-each-second pulse of red light from within the far-flung gas cloud. The 
beacon was a powerful laser that always pointed at Earth and Luna.  The 
pulsations were controlled by an atomic clock.  Each pulse had a coded time mark 
imbedded in it, as well.  By monitoring pulse arrival times, the observatory was 
able to continuously monitor the exact distance between the nucleus and Luna.  
With that data, they computed the orbit of the comet to an accuracy of plus or 
minus a single meter.  So far, Thunderstrike was following precisely the orbit 
Amber had predicted for it more than a year earlier.
#
Walter Vassilovich stood on the black iron plain of Avalon and watched as the 
ungainly shape of a heavy beam constructor shivered, then rose on the flames 
from four small boosters. The big machine pitched over and arrowed toward 
whereGargantua hung in the black sky.  The constructor was the last piece of 
equipment to be returned to the ship, and followed the last boatload of workers 
by an hour.  Their departure had left Vassilovich and his pilot Avalons only 
inhabitants.  In another few minutes, they too would abandon the nickel-iron 
asteroid for the last time.
As Vassilovich gazed across the body of the asteroid, he found it hard to 
believe that five days hence, this small world would be swatted from the sky. 
Yet, the scientists were predicting that the flash would rival the sun for a few 
minutes.  It was difficult to imagine the violence of such a collision, and even 
more difficult to remember that Thunderstrike would hardly be staggered by it.
Forty days after Avalons destruction, Thunderstrike would reach perihelion. 
Forty-two days after that, it would finish the long climb to the Earth-Luna 
couplet.  Because of the work of Walter Vassilovich and hundreds like him, 
Thunderstrike would arrive at its appointment with the Earth/Moon system three 
minutes late.  On those three minutes hung the fate of worlds.  They would allow 
Luna to interpose itself between the comet nucleus and Earth.  On its way to 
destroy the Mother of Men, Thunderstrike would encounter a mass a thousand times 
greater than itself.  Just as Avalon had done before it, Thunderstrike would 
vanish in a cataclysmic flash of light and heat.
Walter did not bother to watch as the beam constructor reached the hovering 
cargo carrier. He turned to face in the opposite direction.  There, silhouetted 
against the black of space, was the comet, now only 20 million kilometers 
distant.  Viewed head on, it took on the appearance of a misshapen cloud.  The 
tail of the comet was a great translucent sheet through which the diamond points 
of individual stars could be seen.  It swept upward from the asteroids horizon 
to the zenith.  At the very peak of the sky lay a solid looking ball of milk 
white cloud.
The coma was as large as half-a-dozen terrestrial harvest moons. Somewhere in 
that ball, Walter knew, lurked a 500-kilometer wide asteroid.  Thunderstrike 
would remain hidden behind the comas veil until the very moment of impact.  
Even then, it would arrive much faster than a rifle bullet, and far too quickly 
for human vision.  However, the instruments would record its approach.  They 
would also record the ensuing cataclysm. 
Ready to go up, Mr. Vassilovich, his pilot reported over his helmet comm 
circuit.
Thanks, Pierce. Stand by while I make the final checks.
Vassilovich moved across the nickel-iron plain and entered the pressurized 
Quonset he and his men had so painstakingly constructed. The hut was one of 
three.  Though it still contained breathable air, he did not bother to unseal 
his helmet.  Rather, he gazed one last time at the machines that would report 
the destruction of this tiny world.
All over Avalon, cameras and radar antennas were pointed skyward to observe the 
nucleuss approach. Other instruments were buried deep within Avalons 
nickel-iron heart.  While they lasted, they would record the first few 
milliseconds of Avalons breakup.  Nor were Avalons instruments the only ones 
that would observe the event. Godzilla s crew had spent the last six months 
instrumenting Thunderstrike.  It was hoped that at least some of the inertial 
sensors planted on the side of the nucleus opposite the point of impact would 
survive the collision.  If they did, humanity would have its first direct 
measure of whether or not they had succeeded in altering Thunderstrikes course.
Walter made one last careful circuit of the control room, ensuring that 
everything was in its place, switched on, and operating. He checked the triply 
redundant power packs and instrumentation cables.  He observed that all 
telltales were showing green and that no fault indications had appeared on the 
health monitoring equipment.  Finally, he keyed for a continuity check between 
this instrumentation control center and the two others.  When everything checked 
out properly, he turned to go.  As he entered the airlock, he reached out to 
switch off the overhead lights.  The door was nearly closed when he began to 
chuckle at his action.  Here they were about to destroy this miniature world, 
and he was still trying to save a few millicredits worth of electricity.
Old habits die hard.
#
Halver Smith stretched out on the foredeck ofSierra Seas and laid his head in 
his brides lap. He steadied a pair of wide-angle electronic binoculars and 
scanned the sky.  It was an hour before dawn, and overhead, the stars were cold 
points of blue-white radiance.  There was the barest hint of color low on the 
eastern horizon to presage the coming sun.
There it is, he said, using one hand to point to a spot in the sky low in the 
southeast.
Barbara Martinez Smith turned from the large holoscreen she had been fiddling 
with. She followed his pointing finger to the milk-white splotch of light in the 
sky.
I see it, she said. Its awfully dim.  How are we going to spot it later with 
no landmarks to guide on?
Well use the stars, Smith replied. See those two bright ones to the right?  
The comet lies on the imaginary line connecting them, two star distances to the 
left of the reddish one.
Got it, she said before returning to her adjustment of the entertainment 
screen. They had carried the monitor up on deck in order to split their 
attention between the sky and the live broadcast from space.  Aft on Smiths 
yacht, an antenna pointed upward toward CommStat 2.  Despite having been checked 
out earlier in the week, the receiver had malfunctioned periodically ever since 
they had left San Francisco the night before.  It kept losing lock on the 
communications station while the yacht rolled in the gentle swell.  Smith had 
almost given up fixing it when Barbara got the screen to work.  She had been 
fiddling with it for the past twenty minutes.  She currently had it tuned to the 
program that was being broadcast live from Newton Station.
Look! she said, laughing, Theres Tom Thorpe!
Smith turned his attention from the sky to the screen. On it, Thorpe was seated 
next to a well-known holo reporter.  Turn up the sound.  Lets hear what he has 
to say.
Thorpes voice emanated from the screens speaker. ...  That is right, Brad.  
We will be able to tell how we did almost immediately after the collision.  We 
have inertial sensors on the backside of Thunderstrike.  They will give us a 
precise reading of the change in the nucleuss velocity vector.  Once we have 
that, it will be a relatively easy task to project the impact point on Luna.
I understand that project scientists are concerned about the survival of those 
sensors, the broadcaster with the mellifluous voice said. 
Thorpe nodded. When Avalon hits, the shock will be horrific!  You have seen 
Ground Zero Crater, of course.  The impact that made that crater wasnt as great 
as the one we are about to induce.  There is a chance that the shock wave will 
dislodge our instrumentation.  Thats the reason why were using so many 
redundant systems, and why weve taken so many precautions to protect them.
But what if those precautions dont work? What if all your sensors are 
destroyed?
Then well be forced to fall back on visual and radar methods to determine 
Thunderstrikes new orbit. That would take a few days longer, but would still 
work...
Barbara reached out and ran her hand through her husbands thinning hair. 
There, except for the grace of God, go I!
What?
I was slated to be public spokesman for the Avalon Project, she explained. 
That was before you rescued me.  They only allowed me to play hooky after poor 
Tom offered to take my place.
Remind me to give him a raise, Smith said with a chuckle. After four months 
of marriage, I think this is the first full week weve had together.
The wedding of Halver Smith and Barbara Martinez had taken place in the office 
of the Newton Station commander. The entire wedding party had consisted of the 
bride, groom, Tom Thorpe as best man, and one of Barbaras coworkers as 
maid-of-honor.  It had hardly been what one would expect from the nuptials of 
one of the ten wealthiest men in the system.  The honeymoon had lasted two days, 
both of which were spent in the most expensive suite in the hotel section of the 
station.  After that, Barbara had gone back to work with the Avalon Project and 
Smith had returned to his duties on Earth.  They had seen each other only 
occasionally since.
How long? she asked after watching Thorpe answer several more questions.
Smith glanced at his wrist chronometer. Twelve minutes.
She snuggled close for warmth. The predawn chill off the coast was enough that 
they were wearing light jackets.  As she watched the screen, she wondered if 
this was what it had been like to wait out the first moon landing.
Five minutes, Smith said sometime later. The interview from Newton Station was 
no longer on the screen.  It had been replaced by a view of the comet nucleus 
from the cargo carrier pacing it.  The screen split and an image of Avalon 
appeared next to that of Thunderstrike.  The camera ships, he knew, were 
monitoring from a range of ten thousand kilometers.  Any closer and they would 
be in danger from flying debris.  To obtain their pictures they were using high 
magnification, causing the images to jitter slightly.
I wonder if we were successful, Barbara mused.
Well know in a few minutes, Smith replied.
Because the collision was taking place two hundred million kilometers from 
Earth, it had already happened. Only the speed-of-light delay, which at that 
distance was eleven minutes, kept them from knowing how Avalon and Thunderstrike 
had fared.  It was a strange feeling to know that Earths fate had been sealed, 
yet to be unaware of the outcome.
One minute, Smith said finally.
Both he and Barbara retrieved their binoculars, found their guide stars, and 
traced the imaginary line in the sky. They lifted the instruments to their eyes 
and quickly found the comet.  Built into the binoculars were light amplification 
circuits that made the hazy patch of light seem brighter than it truly was.  One 
of the reasons for takingSierra Seas a hundred kilometers offshore was to avoid 
the sky glow from the coastal strip cities.  At sea, the skies retained their 
pristine blackness.
The comet was a ball of light in the sky with a long feathery tail. Barbara 
tried to keep the coma centered in her field of view.  At first, she had 
difficulty compensating for the rocking of the boat, but she soon fell into the 
rhythm.  Smith divided his time between stealing glances at his chronometer and 
the screen, and viewing the comet directly.
Fifteen seconds, he said.
Barbara held her breath for what seemed like forever. Then, just as she was 
beginning to wonder if they had missed, the comets coma exploded in a flash of 
light.  The binoculars brightness controls dimmed the image.  She dropped them 
and stared upward in awe.  Her husband did the same.  A new star appeared in the 
sky.  It grew in brightness for long seconds until it rivaled Sirius.  Then it 
began to fade.
My God! Smith muttered.  I had no idea of the power!
Low in the southeast, Avalons funeral pyre continued to burn, a beacon of hope 
for all the frightened people of the Earth.
 
PART 5:  CATACLYSM AND HOPE
 
CHAPTER 35
 
The planetoid of ice had been staggered by humanitys blow. Staggered, but not 
destroyed.  For days afterward, Thunderstrike spewed a column of superheated 
steam skyward from a gaping wound in its side.  Robot probes sent into the 
geyser relayed pictures of an inferno bathed in a red-orange glow.  The new 
crater was more than two hundred kilometers across.  It had obliterated the 
Little Alps Mountains and was now the most prominent feature in the western 
hemisphere.  Ground Zero Crater had nearly been knocked loose by the impact.  
The plug of ice that humanity had failed to dislodge was now surrounded by an 
escarpment more than ten kilometers high.
Of Avalon, there was no sign. The billions of pieces that had composed the 
nickel-iron asteroid were now lodged deep in Thunderstrikes frozen heart.  
There they gave up their white heat to the surrounding ice, turning parts of 
Thunderstrikes interior into a subterranean sea.  As the ice turned to liquid 
water, it contracted, leaving great pockets of vacuum behind.  Despite the 
minuscule gravity, the ice that overlay these giant voids collapsed, producing 
surface crevasses and causing fierce temblors to ripple across the plains of 
steaming ice.
As the wound in the planetoids side cooled, the steam jet lost much of its 
vigor. At the edges of the impact crater, new ice formed a thin skin over the 
subterranean ocean.  Eventually the concentric rings grew together at the 
center, completing the formation of the new craters floor and sealing the 
underground sea against the vacuum of space.
#
Tom Thorpe took a private flyer from Mojave Spaceport direct to SierraCorp 
Headquarters. It had been a week since the successful conclusion of the Avalon 
Option and most members of the working group were still evaluating the data.  As 
violent as the collision had been, Thunderstrike had not broken up as a vocal 
minority of scientists had contended it would.  If anything, the nucleus had 
come through the collision in remarkably good shape.
As Assistant Director of the Avalon Working Group, it had fallen to Thorpe to 
coordinate the scientists efforts. He had been doing that when he received an 
urgent message from Halver Smith ordering him to report to headquarters by the 
fastest available transportation.  There was no other explanation.
The flyer pilot treated Thorpe to a panoramic view of the Golden Gate as he made 
his approach to headquarters at a thousand meters altitude. Barbara Smith was 
waiting for him on the wind swept landing stage as he deplaned.
Tom, welcome home!
Thanks, its good to be home.
I saw your broadcast last week.
How bad was I?
I thought you handled yourself very professionally, she answered. What was it 
like talking to five billion people?
Strange and a little frightening.
I can imagine.
How goes married life?
Great! I only wish I had taken it up earlier, say right after my wedding.
Whats happened? Why the hurry to get me back here?
Ill let Hal explain that, Barbara replied. Come on, hes waiting in his 
office.
They took the lift down to Smiths private office. When they arrived, Smith 
boomed out, Come in, Thomas! in his most hearty voice.  Despite his manner, 
Thorpe noted the pain behind his eyes as they shook hands.  Barbara moved to the 
office bar and poured each of them a drink.  She came back with a silver tray on 
which three glasses of dark liquid were balanced.
Thorpe took one of the glasses and thanked her. The liquid turned out to be 
Kentucky bourbon of remarkably high quality.
How is Amber? Smith asked.
Shes fine, Thorpe replied. I got a letter from her the day before yesterday. 
 She is helping with post collision analysis.  They are on round-the-clock 
operations there.  As soon as the nucleus disappears behind the sun, they will 
begin tearing downThe Big Eye and packing it for salvage.  Theyve arranged to 
have the mirrors picked up by one of the governments chartered freighters.
When is that to happen?
I dont know. They have slipped the date twice now.  Im getting anxious about 
how long its taking.
I understand that youve been helping with the post collision observations 
yourself.
Only coordinating the efforts of others. Frankly, I have been too busy to 
really study the data, except to note that Thunderstrike will definitely collide 
with Luna next July 17.  Director Fusaka has been looking over the big picture 
while I stay busy putting film in the camera.
Have you talked lately with Fusaka?
Not in the last three days. He went down to The Hague to some big conference 
the System Council is sponsoring.  Why, is something wrong?
Smith grimaced. Constance Forbin called yesterday.  Apparently, Avalon did not 
hit Thunderstrike as square as we hoped it would.  Dont get me wrong!  It was 
damned good shooting overall.  However, the comet is going to come down near 
Hertzsprung Crater rather than Korolev.  The point of impact has been moved a 
few hundred kilometers to the east.
Just so it hits!
Agreed, Barbara said from beside him. However, the System Council is 
concerned that an off center strike may cause a lot more debris to be sprayed in 
Earths direction than would a central strike at Korolev Crater.  Theyve asked 
Halver to assist them in correcting Thunderstrikes path.
How? Thorpe asked.
Smith gazed at him with a somber expression. They want to crashThe Rock into 
the nucleus just as we did Avalon.
Thats silly! The Rockis too light and we would not be able intercept 
Thunderstrike far enough from Luna to do any good.  I doubt we could intercept 
Thunderstrike more than one day out.
One-and-a-half, maybe two days, Smith corrected. The System Council will 
provide us with humanitys last reserves of antimatter, so energy wont be a 
problem.  If we can keepThe Rock together under the strain, we can intercept 5 
million kilometers sunward from here.
Thorpe suddenly understood the look in his superiors eyes. MovingThe Rock into 
Earth orbit had been the crowning achievement of Smiths adult life.  Now they 
wanted him to destroy everything he had worked for to gain Luna a few more 
precious seconds in which to cross the comets line of flight.
Are you going to do it?
Have I any choice? Smith responded.  I was the fellow who told Carlos 
Sandoval he would have to sacrifice Avalon, remember?  Can I do any less?
This is different. The comet was going to destroy Earth.  Now were merely 
arguing about a few hundred kilometers difference in where it will land on 
Luna.
What good is an iron mine in the sky if all your customers are dead? They will 
be, you know, if the meteor guard system is overwhelmed by debris splashed up 
from Thunderstrikes impact with Luna.
But SierraCorp will be bankrupt withoutThe Rock !
Theres always compensation from the nations, Barbara said. Constance Forbin 
will give us the same guarantee she gave Sandoval.
Which we all know isnt worth the magnetic characters its encoded in.
Even if the nations renege, well at least come out of this alive, Smith said. 
Anytime you can say that, youre ahead of the game.
Thorpe shrugged. Its your money.  Still, Im glad I wont have to watch it.
I was hoping you would do more than merely watch, Thomas. I want you to take 
command.  Weve fewer than 75 days left and we need to rendezvous with the comet 
as far from Earth as possible.
Thorpe chewed his lower lip and slowly rubbed his fingertips together. Im 
sorry, but I cant.
Why not?
Ill go out toThe Rock as your personal representative, but Eric Lundgren will 
have to command the operation. Ill be leaving as soon as the comet reaches 
perihelion.
What happens after perihelion?
That is when I plan to go to Luna to get Amber out. Ill put her aboard an 
evacuation ship even if I have to knock her out to do it!
#
The sky aboveThe Rock was the eternal black of space, but a dim purple glow 
peeked above the horizon aft. The glow came from ionized particles that escaped 
the magnetic field of the converter nozzle and flooded across the Acorns Cap.  
The glow was brighter than Thorpe had ever seen it in the old days, an 
indication of the quantity of antimatter they were pouring through the 
conversion chamber.  The asteroid had been thrusting at a full one 
ten-thousandth of a gee for a month, recklessly spilling precious antimatter and 
its own incandescent substance to space.  This was one journey where brute force 
counted for far more than finesse.
After escaping Earth, they had sentThe Rock directly across the chord of the 
planets orbit in an attempt to head Thunderstrike off. Impact would come in 39 
days, a mere 71 hours before Thunderstrike crashed down in the middle of 
Farside.
Thorpe gazed across the doomed landscape and shook his head ruefully. He thought 
of all the people who had given their lives for this bit of solar flotsam.  
There had been happy-go-lucky Perry Allen, killed without warning; and Lars 
Borlon, who had died after days in agony from a crushed rib cage.  There had 
been those who had been only somewhat luckier:  Walt Sewell had been invalided 
back to Earth with a disease that still baffled the doctors.  Garrett Timcox had 
been exiled to space by a heart that would never again stand up to full gravity. 
 These men and hundreds like them had sweated to turnThe Rock into a cornucopia 
of metals, an inexhaustible iron mine in the sky.  Now that era was over.  In a 
few short weeks,The Rock would follow Avalon into incandescent oblivion.
Thorpe shivered inside his vacuum suit and chided himself for falling into such 
a frame of mind. In truth, he reminded himself, all the work and sacrifice had 
given the human race their one chance to survive the greatest natural disaster 
in history.  Had it not been for the sacrifices of Perry Allen and all the 
others, Earth would not have a future.  Looked at from that perspective, the 
whole struggle to captureThe Rock seemed almost preordained.
What are you thinking about? a voice asked in his earphones.
Thorpe turned to Nina Pavolev, who was watching him from inside her own helmet. 
He smiled.  Sorry, I was just thinking of everything thats happened since I 
first came to this overgrown hunk of iron in the sky.
Her own nod was silhouetted against the backdrop of the sun blazing down on the 
nickel-iron plain. I know the feeling.  I am going to miss this place, too.  
Its been my home longer than any place else Ive ever lived.
Mine, too. I only wish there were another way for it to end.
Look there, Nina said, pointing with her gauntletted hand to the southeast. He 
turned to follow her gesture.  A steady pinpoint of light had suddenly appeared 
low in the sky.
Right on time, Thorpe muttered.
The ship was one of half-a-dozen that were shuttling between Earth andThe Rock . 
Mostly they transported antimatter toroids and other essential supplies.  This 
particular ship was the one in which Thorpe planned to begin his journey to 
Luna.  If he made all of his connections and his luck held, he would ground at 
Luna City spaceport a full thirty days before the end, plenty of time to coax 
his reluctant fiance off her doomed home world.
Ill be sorry to see you go, Nina said from beside him as she stared at the 
ships flare.
Its something I have to do.
I know it is. The tone of her voice made him turn in her direction.  The two 
of them stepped forward and embraced, not easy when one is encased in a vacuum 
suit.  Be careful, Tom, and come back safe.
I will.
With that, the two of them turned and headed back for the airlock that would 
admit them intoThe Rock s underground living spaces. Thorpe had some last 
minute packing to do.
 
CHAPTER 36
 
The evacuation shipPreserver was a big, spacious barn of a vessel with a smell 
best described as indescribable. Since it was on the outbound leg of its 
Earth-Luna shuttle run, there were fewer than five hundred people onboard.  
ForPreserver , that was a skeleton crew.
Captain Jesus Garcia-Gomez was a big cheerful man who did nothing to hide his 
opinion of Thorpes request to be transported to Luna. The Captain, who had made 
five evacuation runs so far, thought anyone going in the opposite direction was 
insane.  He had, in fact, refused Thorpe permission to board his ship until 
Halver Smith had personally interceded with the evacuation authorities.  Even 
with all clearances in hand, Thorpe had only been allowed to leave Columbus 
Station after a stern warning that his departure from Luna would be on a space 
available basis.
Captain Garcia-Gomez had met his special guest at the airlock and treated Thorpe 
to a quick tour of the ship. They started in one of the big bunkrooms that had 
until recently been one ofPreserver s liquid oxygen tanks.  It put Thorpe in 
mind of nothing so much as photos he had seen of troop ships during the First 
and Second World Wars.  Wide shelves were stacked ten high from deck to 
overhead.  Individual bunks were marked off by red lined boundaries.  When 
filled, Thorpe realized, most peoples heads would bump into others feet, and 
almost everyones elbows would overlap the boundaries.
It must get pretty noisy in here when youre fully loaded, Thorpe commented to 
the captain.
Noisy, hot, smelly, and messy, Garcia-Gomez confirmed. Worst of all is the 
chain reaction vomiting.  No matter what precautions they take on the ground, 
every bunkroom seems to have at least one idiot who has not taken their 
anti-nausea medicine.  No sooner have we got them strapped down than they lose 
their dinners, causing practically everyone else in the bay to follow suit.  
That, in case you have not already identified it, is the source of most of the 
smell.  The bulkheads are practically saturated with the contents of peoples 
stomachs.
Thorpe had identified the smell, but had been doing his best to keep his mind 
off the subject.
If you have any extra credits, you might want to try your luck in the crews 
pool.
What sort of pool?
Each crew member tries to guess how many babies will be delivered during each 
trip. If youre interested, the stats from all of our previous runs are posted 
in the wardroom.
I take it there are a lot of them.
More than anyone expected or made provisions for, the captain confirmed. I 
dont know what it is about a space voyage that sends women into labor.  But 
with a ships population of 300,000, you can count on two things:  Some of the 
old ones are going to die, and an awful lot of babies are going to pick that 
particular time to be born.  We always arrive with more than we started out 
with.
The ship left Earth two hours after Thorpes arrival onboard. Because it lacked 
engines of its own, it was accelerated into escape orbit by a deep space tug.  
Three days later, a similar tug met them as they fell behind Luna.  It locked on 
and retro boosted untilPreserver was in a high parking orbit.  As one of the 
crewmen remarked, the tugs were engaged in a long-range game of catch, with the 
evacuation ships playing the part of the rubber ball.
The tug had no sooner released itself fromPreserver s reinforced thrust frame 
than the first of the ground-to-orbit ferries swarmed around them. A dozen at a 
time latched onto the big ships multiple airlocks.  They immediately began to 
pour their cargo of humanity into the converted bulk carrier.
Well, Mr. Thorpe, Captain Garcia-Gomez said as he shook Thorpes hand at one 
of the airlocks, I still think youre crazy. Still, if I should happen to be in 
orbit when youre ready to come back, make sure you get aboard one ofPreserver 
s shuttles.  Ill find room for you even if I have to share my own bunk.
Thank you, Captain. I appreciate the offer.  Who knows, I may have to take you 
up on it!
With that, Thorpe gathered up his kit bag and vacuum suit. He turned and kicked 
off toward the airlock through which a mass of humanity was pouring into the 
ship.  Not for the first time in this strange odyssey, he felt like a salmon 
swimming upstream to spawn.
#
Luna City Spaceport was much as he remembered it. The big mass driver still 
stretched across the lunar plain straight as an arrow, and the underground 
departure concourses were still arrayed like the spokes of a wheel around the 
surface dome of the main transit hall.  What was different was the number of 
people crammed into the spaceports confines.
Everywhere he looked, evacuees waited their turn to board the ships. For the 
first time, Thorpe began to understand the logistics of moving ten million 
people off planet.  Crying babies, lost children, and grim faced parents 
returned his stare as he elbowed his way toward the lower levels and ground 
transportation.
The tube cars were nearly empty in the direction he was headed. He had twelve 
hours before his chartered moonhopper was to take him to Hadleys Crossing, and 
had booked a room in the same hotel as his previous visit.  It was not until he 
reached the Grand Concourse that he realized just how far the evacuation had 
gone.  What had been the bustling commercial and cultural center of Luna City 
was nearly deserted.  Fashionable shops were closed even though their display 
windows were still full of merchandise.  Those few cafes that remained open were 
gathering places for the very old.  He could feel their eyes on him as he strode 
by downramp toward his hotel.  He asked the harried desk clerk about them as he 
checked in.
They arent going.
You mean they arent being evacuated?
Nope.
Why not?
The clerk shrugged. Lots of reasons, I guess.  Some just refuse to leave.  
Others are too old.  They cant take Earth gravity.
They wont have to, Thorpe replied. The subject of what to do with the infirm 
had been one of the thorniest problems addressed at the Sorbonne conference.  
Anyone who cant withstand Earth gravity will be housed on the space stations 
until other arrangements can be made.
Maybe they dont like these other arrangements, the clerk replied. He handed 
Thorpe a keycard.  Third level down, second room on the right.  Youll have to 
carry your own bags, Im afraid.
No problem.
That night Thorpe had dined at Luigis, even asking for the same table he and 
Amber had occupied the night they were there. The wall scenics were the same, 
but somehow the forest clearing did not sparkle as it had.  The few waiters were 
obviously not professionals.  Thorpe suspected that they were merely warm bodies 
awaiting evacuation.  In addition, the food, when it came, was the bland fare 
put out by an autokitchen.  The waiter apologized halfheartedly and explained 
that the chef had been evacuated the week before.
Later, as Thorpe walked back to his hotel, he saw that the old people seemed to 
have disappeared. In their place were scattered gangs of youths.  Something in 
their manner told him that here too was a group with no plans for departing 
Luna.
For the first time, he began to seriously wonder how complete the evacuation 
would be. The first simulations at the Sorbonne had been atrocious.  By the end 
of the conference, the computers had been telling them that it was possible to 
evacuate Luna in the time available - barely.  However, computers are programmed 
by human beings, and as he watched a trio of youths swagger past him, Thorpe 
wondered just how many contingencies the programmers had considered.
He braved the crowd at the spaceport the next morning, fighting his way to a 
suiting stall where he climbed into his vacuum suit. He then walked with his 
helmet under one arm to the local departure lounge.  He found his pilot already 
there.
You Thorpe? the short, grizzled man asked.
Yes.
Im Gianelli. Got your gear?  Good, lets get out of here before someone gets 
it in their head that Ive got transportation off this rock.  Could start a 
riot.
Have there been many riots?
Depends on how you define many, came the curt answer.
They loaded aboard the hopper, which was similar to the ones Thorpe had flown 
during the expedition to explore Thunderstrike. The pilot blasted away from 
Oceanus Procellarum as soon as they were both strapped down.
Can you make orbit? Thorpe asked as he gazed out of the cabin bubble at the 
landscape drifting by below.
If I could, do you think Id still be here? Gianelli asked.  Im not 
scheduled to go up for another two weeks because they need hoppers to chauffeur 
the bureaucrats around.  Damned Republic hardly pays me for my time.  That is 
one reason why I jumped at this charter.  What kind of a damn fool are you, 
anyway?
Ive been wondering the same thing myself for the last twelve hours, Thorpe 
responded. It looks as though things are getting out of hand in Luna City.  He 
told Gianelli about the gangs of youths he had seen.
Yeah, the pilot confirmed. Mostly theyre kids who have missed their assigned 
slots for one reason or another.  Some stayed behind to loot while others had 
arguments with their parents and ran away.  The government has a policy that 
anyone who misses his or her slot goes to the back of the line.  Those who still 
want to go are slated for the last ships.
Why does the city allow them to roam the concourse that way?
The city aint got much choice. All the police are down at the spaceport 
keeping order among the evacuees.  They run occasional sweeps up and down the 
concourse, but with its spiral structure, its easy for the gangs to see them 
coming.
They did not speak much after that. Gianelli was busy with navigation and Thorpe 
was deep in thought.  They grounded at Hadleys Crossroads without incident.  
Thorpe quickly learned that the rolligon had been requisitioned by the 
government to assist in the evacuation.
How are the observatory personnel going to get out? he asked the functionary 
he found assisting with the monorail schedule.
Damfino, Mister! Word is that they have made their own arrangements.  I know 
there are a lot of them still out there.  They are trying to take that damned 
telescope of theirs with them.  A waste of good lift capacity if you ask me.
How can I get to the observatory?
Youve got a moonhopper, the functionary pointed out. Why not use it?
I thought flights to the observatory were prohibited.
Theyve relaxed those restrictions quite a bit since the emergency began. I 
know for a fact that ships have been landing and taking off out there for the 
past month.
Thanks, Thorpe said. He tracked down his pilot, who was attempting to arrange 
a return charter with the few families waiting at the crossroads for evacuation 
by monorail.  Thorpe offered Gianelli the same price for the 120-kilometer hop 
to the observatory that he had paid on the trip from Luna City.
When they reached Mendeleev Crater, Thorpe directed the pilot to put him down a 
full kilometer from the big telescope. No sense, he thought, in ruining all of 
the work the astronomers had put into salvaging it.  He clambered down one of 
the hoppers four landing legs and began trudging in the direction of the 
observatory.  He had barely gone two hundred meters when a brisk wind whipped 
the lunar dust around him.  He turned to see the hopper climbing swiftly into 
the black sky on a fountain of white flame.  It heeled over and disappeared to 
the west.
As Thorpe approached the telescope, he noticed numerous figures swarming over 
its girders. One of these detached itself from the work crew and bounded to meet 
Thorpe.  Whoever it was had obviously seen the ship take off, and had only been 
waiting for Thorpe to come to them.
Who the hell are you? a male voice asked over the general comm circuit. It was 
the voice of Cragston Barnard.
Hello, Crag. It is Tom Thorpe.  Is Amber Hastings here?
Thomas! Ambers voice squealed over the same circuit.  He turned to see 
another figure jump from the upper portion of the telescope support frame and 
drift slowly downward in the lunar gravity.  As soon as she hit, Amber bounded 
forward in space devouring leaps.
She arrived with enough velocity that she nearly bowled him over. She threw her 
arms around him and pressed her helmet against his.  Both of them leaned forward 
to get as close to one another as possible.  The kiss, separated as it was by 
two layers of indestructible plastic, was one of the least satisfying Thorpe had 
ever participated in.  Still, it was better than nothing.  When she finally 
released him, she asked what he was doing there.
You were supposed to leave by the time the comet was thirty days out. Why are 
you still here?
I cant leave yet, Thomas. Were still packing up the telescope.
Im here to take you out.
Takeme out? she exclaimed with a touch of anger in her voice. How do you 
propose to get yourself out?
#
Niels Grayson gazed at Thorpe across a table in the observatory lounge. Amber 
sat beside Thorpe, her head resting on his shoulder.
Order is beginning to break down, Grayson said as he watched Thorpe devour a 
steak. Too many officials have abandoned their posts and gone on the ships.  
Only essential services are manned, and then only to the minimum levels.
Thorpe told them about the gatherings of old people and the roving gangs he had 
seen in Luna City.
Its worse in Tycho Terrace, Amber replied. There theyve lost total control 
of the city.  The police and all evacuees have crowded into the spaceport.  The 
monorail isnt running since gangs attacked it outside the city.
I can believe it. Transport seems to be at a premium.  I thought I was stranded 
when I couldnt get a rolligon at Hadleys Crossroads.
The Republic has pressed everything that moves into service, Grayson said. 
They even took the two crawlers we use for transporting heavy equipment.  They 
just came in here, slapped down a requisition order, and took both of them!
That wasnt all, Amber said. Theyve moved Farside Station around to 
Nearside.  Now our long-range communications are by low satellite.  Were out of 
touch most of the time.
Thorpe nodded. I tried to call you before I left.  They said communications 
wouldnt be restored until late today.
Long-range communications on Earth are a matter of relaying radio beams through 
any one of hundreds of orbiting satellites. Each circles the planet at an 
altitude of 37,000 kilometers.  At that distance, a satellite requires 24 hours 
to make one complete circuit of the globe.  Since that is the speed at which the 
Earth rotates, a satellite in such an orbit appears to hang motionless in the 
sky.
There is no comparable orbit for Luna, however. Since the Moon rotates on its 
axis once each 28 days, for a satellite to appear motionless in the lunar sky 
requires that its orbit be so large as to be useless.  Luna is further 
handicapped by its lack of an atmosphere.  Without an ionosphere to reflect 
radio waves, communications are limited to line-of-sight.  The Earth hangs 
perpetually in the Nearside sky, so people on Nearside used the same 
communications satellites as Earth.  Luna Farside, however, was another matter.  
Since there is no naturally occurring relay station in the Farside sky, humanity 
had been forced to come up with a substitute.
In any two body gravitational system, there are five points at which a satellite 
will appear to be stationary - that is, at which it will rotate with the same 
speed the bodies rotate about one another. Since Joseph-Louis, Comte de 
LaGrange, was the first to notice this phenomenon, the points are 
calledLagrangian points .  One of them lay beyond Luna on the imaginary line 
linking the centers of the Earth and Moon - in the Farside sky.
Although the Farside Lagrangian point was not truly gravitationally stable, it 
was worth the fuel costs required to hold a communications station there to 
provide a relay point for the entire hemisphere. However, the evacuations need 
for additional comm channels had caused the Republic to order Farside Station 
moved into the Nearside sky.  The inhabitants of Farside were forced to use a 
substitute satellite in a low orbit.  This satellite was above the local horizon 
only a few minutes each day, making communications a very sporadic thing.
So how are you people going to get out? Thorpe asked.
Weve chartered a ship. It is a small freighter currently being used to lift 
cargo to orbit that will not survive launch on the mass driver.  Its scheduled 
to arrive here two weeks before the comet hits.  The freighter will take out the 
mirrors, the more important sensors, and us.  I just hope were ready in time.
How many of you are there?
Fourteen, Amber said. Niels, his wife, me, Crag and Cybil Barnard, Professor 
Dornier, and various technicians and junior staffers.  Everyone else has left.  
Oh, Thomas, I nearly forgot.  Niels has been appointed Director of the 
Observatory!
Congratulations.
For what? the astronomer asked. Im presiding over the disassembly of the 
place.
Youre salvaging the finest telescope ever built, Amber said. If you succeed, 
you will have done more for astronomy than Director Meinz ever did.
Besides, Thorpe continued, the position will look good on your resume.
Grayson snorted in derision. What good is an astronomer trapped beneath that 
soup Earth calls air?  Even if we save the essentials ofThe Big Eye , do you 
have any idea of how long it will be before we can have it reassembled and in 
operation?
It will take a few years, I imagine.
Decades.
It sounds as though you folks are a little busy here, Thorpe said. Could you 
use another set of hands?
That we could.
Will there be room for me when the freighter shows up?
Well make room.
Thorpe grinned and held out his hand. In that case, youve hired yourself 
another day laborer.  Im strong as an ox and almost as smart, and I dont eat 
hardly anything.
I wonder about that last part, Grayson said, eyeing the empty plate in front 
of Thorpe.
#
Each ofThe Big Eye s mirrors was mounted on a frame that was pinned to a trio 
of electro-mechanical actuators. The actuators were computer controlled and 
allowed each mirror to be precisely focused on one of the collector booms.  
Removing a mirror from the telescope involved pulling three pins and 
disconnecting a couple of electrical lines.  Once the big hexagonal mirrors were 
dismounted, however, the much more arduous process of preparing them for 
shipment began.
Before they could be packed into shipping containers, the mirrors had to be 
thoroughly cleaned. After years in the open lunar environment, they had 
developed a fine patina of dust.  The mirrors were not kept cleaner because the 
tiny percentage of light loss from the dust was insignificant compared to the 
possibility of damaging a mirror during cleaning.  Since there was no telling 
how long they would be in storage, however, that risk had to be taken in order 
to protect their delicate surface coatings.
The astronomers had set up a special cleaning facility inside the observatory 
complex. Once dismounted, the mirrors were transferred through the airlock and 
down to the facility.  There technicians in the bunny suits so familiar to clean 
rooms carefully vacuumed the mirrors front and back.  They then repeated the 
process using an electrostatic device to collect dust particles.  Finally, they 
sprayed the entire mirror with a plastic film to which any remaining dust 
particles would adhere.  Once the film dried, it was stripped away, leaving a 
pristine mirror without dirt or blemish.  Finally, they maneuvered the clean 
mirror into an airtight shipping container, secured it, and then injected a 
helium atmosphere.
It took approximately two hours to clean and pack each mirror and only two could 
be worked simultaneously. Before Thorpes arrival, the observatory staff had 
managed to process two hundred of the five-meter wide hexagons.  With his help 
and working round-the-clock, they finished the rest in only nine days.  They 
spent another day piling the mirrors near the makeshift landing site where the 
freighter would ground.
It was a tired group of staffers who gathered in the lounge for a final party 
the night before the freighter was due. Because of the occasion, dress was 
formal and all remaining supplies of gourmet food were served.  One of the young 
staffers managed to open Director Meinzs wine locker.  Inside they found 
several magnums of Earth champagne.
The evening began with a round of toasts, and quickly devolved into graveyard 
humor. After dinner, however, the jokes gave way to a feeling of camaraderie.  
It was the sort of feeling that comes with the end of a long political campaign, 
or a graduation party.  Everyone was suffused with a feeling of accomplishment, 
of a job well done despite difficulties.
Wheres Grayson? Thorpe asked as he nursed his third glass of champagne.  
Beside him, Amber snuggled close.  Their long separation had taught them both a 
lesson.  Neither had strayed far from the others company during the past ten 
days.
Professor Barnard heard the question and laughed. You know Niels.  He has to 
worry about everything or else he does not think he is doing his job.  Last, I 
saw he was headed for the communications center.  The comsats due to be above 
our horizon about now.  Hes checking the ships arrival time.
How long do you think it will take to load the mirrors?
Barnard shrugged. Depends on whether theyll have any power equipment.  We have 
our two small handcarts, of course, but if we have to hoist them into the holds 
by hand, it will take us most of the day.  Too bad the sun is not up.  Wed at 
least be able to see what were doing.
Thorpe nodded. It had been near local sunset when he had arrived at the 
observatory.  The sun was due to rise again in three days time.  By then, they 
would be gone, of course.
He opened his mouth to say something to Amber and realized that the background 
buzz of conversation had disappeared. The lounge was tomb silent for the first 
time that night.  He swiveled his head to see what was going on.  All eyes were 
on the entrance where Niels Grayson had just appeared.  The directors 
expression told everyone that something was wrong.
Niels, what is it? Margaret Grayson asked as she rushed to her husbands side.
Grayson ignored his wife. He walked stiff legged to the table where they had 
placed the liquor.  He picked up one of the smaller bottles and upended it, 
drinking three large gulps before putting it down again.  After seconds that 
seemed an eternity, he turned to face them.
Its the ship, Grayson croaked. Its not coming.
There was a sudden clamor as everyone tried to speak at once. When order was 
finally restored, Grayson continued.  They sat down at Tranquility Monument to 
load up with relics.  Apparently, a crowd had gathered, stormed the ship, and 
damaged it.  Luna City says it wont be lifting again.
Theyll just have to send another, Allison Nalley, one of the young staff 
assistants said.
Grayson shook his head. None available.  Luna City recommends that we trek 
overland to Hadleys Crossroads as quickly as we can get there.  The trains are 
still operating, but sporadically.  They say it will take at least three days to 
get from Hadleys to the spaceport even under the best of circumstances.
What about the mirrors? another staffer asked.
Well have to leave them. Maybe once we are in Luna City, we can arrange to 
have them picked up.  Its certain we cant do anything about them while were 
still in this wilderness.
You mean all of our work has been for nothing? Jamie Bryant, one of the 
technicians demanded.
I mean that order is breaking down, Grayson replied. Theyve declared martial 
law in Luna City.  The controller there does not know how long they will be able 
to keep the spaceport open.  Theyll try to hold a ship for us, but that they 
cant make any promises after essential personnel abandon their posts.
 
CHAPTER 37
 
A hike of 120 kilometers on Earth is little more than two days healthy 
exercise. On Luna, in vacuum suits, it is an expedition.  After quick 
consultation in the staff lounge, Thorpe and the others spread out through the 
facility to prepare for the coming ordeal.  Their first act was to collect and 
fill every air bottle they could find.  After that, they gathered food, water, 
vacuum tents, first aid kits, and electrical power packs.  These they loaded 
onto two handcarts that normally transported delicate equipment around the 
observatory.  When the handcarts proved too small, Niels Grayson assigned three 
staffers to fashion several Indian-style travois from pieces of tubing.  The 
remaining equipment was divided up and each staffer assigned to pull a suitable 
load.
It was nearing midnight when all fifteen of them gathered in the surface 
Quonset. Everyone was in his or her personal vacuum suit sans helmet.  Because 
Thorpes suit contained an inertial mapper, he had been placed in charge.  His 
first official act was to inspect everyone elses suit.
Thorpes own was a heavy-duty industrial model much favored by vacuum monkeys. 
Likewise, Amber wore the deluxe suit she had purchased for the Comet Hastings 
Expedition.  However, most of the others were typical urban dweller models -- 
good for a few hours in vacuum, but with underpowered coolers and simplified 
environmental controls.  They also lacked the oversize water reservoirs, food 
tubes, and sophisticated waste disposal capabilities of the professional models. 
 Even a few hours of moderate exercise in sunlight could render their interiors 
unbearable.
When he finished his inspection, Thorpe turned to Grayson. How the hell did 
your people come to buy this junk? he asked.
The director shrugged. We dont go for many afternoon strolls on Luna.
Can any of your suits communicate with the satellite?
Sorry, no. The satellite is an old one they resurrected from storage.  It uses 
the low frequency communications bands.  All of our suit radios are too modern 
for that.
How low a frequency? Thorpe asked, suddenly suspicious.
Grayson told him.
Damn! I am not on that frequency either.  What about you, Amber?
Sorry.
Barnard?
Me neither.
Just fine! Thorpe growled sarcastically.  Weve got a communication satellite 
going over a couple of times a day, and we wont be able to talk to it!  That 
means well be deaf and dumb the whole time were out there.
What about the observatory radio? Amber suggested.
Grayson shook his head. Its a system we cobbled together ourselves.  The whole 
thing is strewn out across three equipment racks and has a tracking antenna up 
top.  Even if we could get the radio put back together, wed never be able to 
aim the beam.
Then we dont communicate, Thorpe said. No sense wasting any more time 
worrying about it.  Lets gather everyone together for a final briefing.
Everyone gathered around at Thorpes order. He gazed at them with a scowl on his 
face.  Look, people.  It is three days before dawn and we lack both transport 
and communications.  That means that we are going to have to walk all the way to 
the crossroads before the sun comes up.  Those suits most of you are wearing 
would be down checked during their first inspection onThe Rock .  On the other 
hand, they are the best we have, so they will have to do. 
Those are the parameters of the problem. It will do no good to wish they were 
different.  In order to make it before dawn, we are going to have to average 
forty kilometers a day.  That means we do not stop unless I say we stop.  You 
are going to have to keep the pace I set.  If you cannot, the rest of us will 
have to carry you.  Frankly, I dont think we have the strength for it.  Any 
questions?  If not, lets get to it.
Everyone clamped their helmets in place and performed a pressure integrity 
check. Thorpe used the opportunity to listen on the general comm circuit.  It 
was a trick he had learned while onThe Rock .  What he heard gave him reason to 
hope.  There was considerable black humor, but no grumbling ... yet!  When 
everyone signaled that they were ready, he ordered the Quonset huts air spilled 
to vacuum.
They began their hike in single file, with each staffer dragging his or her 
assigned portion of the supplies. Navigation proved to be childishly simple.  
Thorpe merely followed the multitude of tracks left by the rolligon over the 
years, taking care to keep in the center of the wide impromptu highway.  It took 
four hours and two brief rest stops to reach the top of Twelve Klick Rise.  It 
was there that Thorpe called their first long halt.  He still had not heard any 
complaints, but for the past twenty minutes, he had been listening to a chorus 
of increasingly ragged breathing over the open comm circuit.
Several members of the party lay down as soon as he gave the order. Thorpe 
gathered two of the younger men together and set about inflating one of the 
tents.  Once the half-transparent/half translucent hemisphere was taut, he 
directed his charges to enter two at a time.  There was just enough room inside 
to remove helmets, purge overloaded waste disposal tanks, and refill water 
reservoirs and food supplies.  Three people needed new battery packs, giving 
Thorpe reason to worry about their stock of batteries.
After topping the rise, they found themselves on level ground. The march turned 
into a routine.  Thorpe was followed by Amber, the two Graysons, Professor 
Dornier, the two Barnards, and then the younger technicians and staffers.  By 
assigning the younger people to the rear of the procession, he hoped to keep 
others from straggling.  His efforts were only partially successful.  By the 
time they had been hiking eight hours, they were strung out for nearly three 
hundred meters.  Ahead lay the base of the Mendeleev ring wall.  They would 
begin climbing it in another quarter-hour.
How far have we come? Amber asked over a private comm circuit they both 
shared.
He checked his mapper and said, About thirty kilometers.
Weve got to stop. Niels is ready to collapse.
All right, he said, not unhappy to have someone suggest it. Between the 
cumbersome suit and the weight of the supplies he was dragging, any advantage 
Lunas low gravity might have given his Earth-bred muscles was totally negated.  
In addition, his suit had been chafing at him for several hours.  He would walk 
funny for days after this ordeal was over, he knew.
Well make camp, get some sleep, and tackle the climb when weve rested. Were 
ten klicks behind schedule, but we cant have the people dropping of 
exhaustion.
Camp consisted of four vacuum tents into which the weary travelers crawled. They 
got out of their suits one at a time, opened cold rations and wolfed them down.  
There was considerable shuffling of suits and bodies before everyone got 
comfortable.  Thorpe set his helmet alarm to go off in four hours, closed his 
eyes, and was instantly asleep.
The buzzing woke him on schedule. After a fight with his conscience, he sat up 
and stretched.  That proved to be a mistake as every muscle in his body 
protested.  Amber came awake beside him and the two of them gazed into each 
others eyes for long moments.  Near them, Niels Grayson and his wife slept in 
one anothers arms.
Maybe we should let them sleep, Amber whispered to him as Thorpe glanced at 
the supine figures.
Wish we could, he responded. We dont have the time.  Better they wear 
themselves out than be fried when the sun comes up.
Youre the voice of reason, my love. She held out her hand to him.  Are you 
sorry you came to get me?
Not so far. I have been happier these past few days than any time since we 
parted.  If we miss those ships at Luna City, though, Ill have to consider 
revising my opinion.
Do you think we will? Miss them, I mean.
He shrugged. No way to tell.  If we do, well just have to find some other way 
off this barren lump of dirt.
Careful what you say about my home world, sir! she said with mock severity.
Pardon me, he chuckled. Thisbeautiful barren lump of dirt.
Better.
Thorpe clambered into his suit, no small feat in the crowded tent. He then sent 
out the radio call that would set helmet alarms to buzzing in every tent.  
Waking everyone took fifteen minutes.  Breakfast was a single nutrition bar 
hurriedly gulped with a few sips of tepid water.  After that, it took nearly an 
hour to strike the camp and prepare for the second days march.
#
If the first day had been bad, the second was even worse. Whatever refreshment 
four hours of sleep had given them was quickly eliminated by the climb up the 
craters ring wall.  Eventually they reached the top and descended the other 
side to find themselves on the crater-pocked plain that characterizes the vast 
majority of the Farside highlands.  After leaving the ring wall behind, they 
threaded their way along ridges between craters.  The rolligon trail had been 
preselected for easy traveling, and they made good time.  Despite their best 
efforts, however, the rest stops came more quickly and took longer than they had 
the day before.  Sixteen hours after they started out, the older members of 
their party were staggering from exhaustion and the younger were making ever 
more frequent missteps.
Amber asked the ritual question. How far have we come?
Thorpe glanced at the glowing symbols inside his helmet. In the past forty-eight 
hours, he had learned to hate them.  They changed ever more slowly as the hours 
dragged on, until a single kilometer seemed like five, and five kilometers was a 
distance that didnt bear thinking about.
We passed the halfway point in our trek about an hour ago, Thorpe said. Were 
fifty-eight kilometers from Hadleys.
Were not going to make it, are we?
Not at this pace. Not before sunrise.
What do you want to do? Keep on?
We cant, he said. If we keep at it another hour, theyre going to start 
dropping in their tracks.  About the only thing I can think of is to make camp 
and get at least six hours sleep.  Four hours last night wasnt enough.
God, Thomas, I could sleep a week!
I wish we had the time. However, if you have not noticed, we are starting to 
run low on breathing air.  Its all this inflating and deflating the tents.
Maybe we should set up the tents and then send a small party for help, she 
suggested. They could travel faster.
In normal times, I would agree with you. Then, in normal times, we would merely 
camp out at the observatory until they sent a rolligon for us.  What if the 
advance team gets to Hadleys to discover they cant come back to get the people 
left behind?
While they had been discussing their options, they came upon a flat area large 
enough to inflate the tents. It was as though automatons were setting up camp.  
There was no longer any of the chatter that had echoed on the main circuit early 
in their trek.  Now everyone did his or her job with a minimum of conversation.
That night, as people shucked their suits, wolfed down protein bars, and then 
fell into a fatigue drugged sleep; Thorpe considered ways that he might speed up 
the pace. No brilliant ideas came to him and he found himself looking at the 
sky.  Overhead, the stars were bright sparks distorted by the transparent 
plastic of the tent wall.  He was still watching them when he drifted into a 
dreamless sleep.
#
By the end of the third day, they were still twenty kilometers from Hadleys and 
the air situation was becoming critical. They camped on a rise from which they 
could see the lights of the surface installations across a wide depression that 
had once been a crater, but which subsequently had been obliterated by other 
meteor falls.  Having their destination in sight allowed Thorpe to talk to the 
Republic representative hed met during his brief stopover two weeks earlier.  
He aimed a communications beam at the settlement as soon as he entered the 
vacuum tent.
I have a group of fifteen from Farside Observatory, he reported after making 
contact. Were worn out.  We need help getting in.  Can you assist us?
The hissing of the stars filled his earphones for several seconds. The answer 
when it came was expected.  Sorry, no.  We have no transport here.  You will 
have to make your own way in.
Thorpe explained the condition of his partys vacuum suits and what would happen 
when the sun finally rose in a few hours. The representative had no suggestion.  
Worse, he told Thorpe that the next train was scheduled to arrive in less than 
eight hours and that he did not know when there would be another.
Damn, Thorpe muttered after signing off. He had been using one of the channels 
the rest of the party could not receive.
Whats the matter? Amber asked.  She was half in/half out of her suit, 
preparing to bed down for the night.
Thorpe told her what he had learned in whispered tones. When he finished, she 
asked, What are we going to do?
Whatcan we do? he asked. Were too worn out to go on, but were going to have 
to anyway.  We will rest here for an hour, get everyone fed, then suit up and 
strike out for the crossroads.  We will abandon all but one tent and most of the 
supplies.  We either make it within the next eight hours or else we might as 
well forget it.  We will take the carts and travois with us.  If anyone 
collapses from exhaustion or heat prostration, we will drag them along.  Come 
on, lets get the bad word out.
He called for everyone who was out of their suits inside the other tents to put 
their helmets on. He then explained what they would have to do to make the train 
in time.  To his surprise, there was no argument.  In his and Ambers tent, the 
Graysons quietly began slipping back into their suits.  Elsewhere he could see 
dark shadows of bodies silhouetted against the artificial lights doing the same.
They headed down the near slope of the depression an hour later. Two hours after 
that, sunrise caught them as they reached the broad floor.  Thorpe felt the 
sudden heat and heard his cooling system switch to high within seconds.  He 
could only imagine the effect on those whose suits lacked his cooling capacity.
Despite what must have been agony, they managed to continue onward for two more 
hours more before they had their first casualty. Dr. Dornier, the oldest of the 
astronomers, muttered something unintelligible in German before falling forward 
to land on his faceplate in the brown-gray dust.  No one said a word.  Two of 
the younger staffers hurried to where he had collapsed and put him on top of one 
of the travois.  He did not quite fit and his boots hung over the end to drag in 
the dust.  That did not seem to bother the man pulling him.
They started out again after Cybil Barnard hurriedly gazed through Dorniers 
faceplate and diagnosed heat prostration. By the time they had closed the 
distance to ten kilometers, they had suffered three more collapses.  Three 
others reported their helmet reservoirs empty of water.  Not only did those 
reservoirs provide drinking water, they humidified the air in the suit.  The 
reports had come from rasping, husky voices damaged by breathing the super dry 
air.  The situation was getting desperate.
At five kilometers, they had the monorail towers in sight. The party reached the 
point where everyone still erect was pulling one casualty.  One young astronomer 
was pulling two.  Amber, Thorpe noticed, was also becoming unsteady on her feet. 
 Even her more efficient suit could not totally stave off the effects of three 
days of sustained effort.
Weve got to stop, he told her.
We cant. Were almost there.
He shook his head. At the rate were going, well never make it.  We will put 
the tent up and use our last reserve air to inflate it.  These people have to 
get into the shade or else theyll be boiled alive!
All right, Amber said. Well put up the tent and get the worst cases in the 
shade.  You go ahead and see if you can get someone to help.  If nothing else, 
you can bring back some of Verns rental suits.  Theyre old and dirty, but 
theyve got better environmental units on them than these.
Thorpe grinned inside his helmet. I should have thought of that myself.  I must 
be getting tired.
Were all tired, Amber replied. Who do you want to take with you?
No one. If they faint, they will just slow me down.  I can make better time by 
myself.
At least take a cart and one of the oxygen bottles in case you run low.
I can move twice as fast without them. See you.
He wished he could have given her a kiss, but settled for a gentle hug instead. 
Then he turned and bounded off in the direction of the monorail tower.  He moved 
in distance eating jumps, mindful of the danger of falling, but afraid that if 
he slowed he would be too late.
Once, in high school, he had entered a marathon. He had thought the experience 
would kill him.  His efforts now put him in mind of that earlier experience.  As 
he bounded across the lunar wasteland, his muscles began to ache from fatigue 
poisons and his breathing came in deep-throated gasps.  His heartbeat pounded in 
his temples with the sound of thunder.  The air the suit blew on the back of his 
neck no longer seemed cool.  As he jogged along, the temperature inside his suit 
began to rise.  It made him wish for the freezing cold of Thunderstrikes ice 
plains.
At one kilometer, he saw a glint of light out of the corner of his eye. He 
turned to watch as a twelve-car monorail train rushed silently down the opposite 
slope of the depression.  The string of beer cans slowed and pulled into the 
station.  He did not wait to see any more.  He redoubled his efforts, bounding 
in giant leaps across the rocky landscape.  His head grew lighter with each 
passing minute and he realized that he could not keep this up for very much 
longer.
Finally, Thorpe reached the top of a small mogul and found himself a hundred 
meters from the train strung out along its single wispy rail. He could see the 
flexible pressure tube attached to the trains forward airlock, and a number of 
vacuum suited figures milling about outside.
He shouted once, and then felt his legs give way beneath his weight. He did not 
feel the impact as he hit the ground.  Rather, his next conscious moment was of 
someone leaning over him and peering in through his faceplate.
Mr. Thorpe, isnt it? Vern Hadley, the small settlements owner asked.
Thorpe nodded.
Where are the others?
Five klicks out. They had to take shelter from the heat.  I came in to get them 
better suits.
Hadleys answer was unexpected. He laughed.  Thorpes head refused to stop 
buzzing.
Whats so funny?
Sorry, the gruff, outland entrepreneur responded. I should have told you.  
This train has orders from Luna City to wait for your party.  They have also 
brought a small tractor/trailer rig.  We were going to come out to find you.
 
CHAPTER 38
 
NEWS ITEM:
 
UNIVERSAL FAX, LUNA CITY, REPUBLIC OF LUNA - 07 July 2087
 
(For distribution to Ausl, Chn, NorAm, SoAm, UnEur, Xterr)
 
The evacuation of Luna entered its twentieth week today. The effort, which has 
already seen the resettlement some 9.7 million people, was originally scheduled 
for completion no later than July 1.  Sources in the Lunar Parliament attributed 
the delay to an early shortage of ferry craft and some initial confusion before 
the evacuation procedures were refined.  Mechanical breakdowns and some 
incidents of violence were also cited as contributing factors.  Despite past 
problems, the government continues to estimate that the last evacuee will be on 
his way to Earth at least 96 hours before the arrival of the comet.
Official estimates place the number of persons still on Luna at approximately 
300,000. This includes persons who earlier refused evacuation, but who are still 
expected to change their minds.  When asked if there were sufficient ferry craft 
to evacuate 60,000 people each day, the spokesman for the Republic of Luna 
assured this reporter that there are more than enough ships, even if our 
current estimates of utilization rates are optimistic.
On another note, Prime Minister Hobarts representative was asked about 
continued heavy censorship of news accounts and all channels of communication 
between Earth and Luna. He stated that such controls were necessary, otherwise, 
rumors would get out of hand and impede the evacuation.  Remember, the 
spokesman went on to say, that we still have people coming into Luna City from 
the hinterlands.  Since they are not here to see the situation for themselves, 
we dont want them frightened by some reporters overblown rhetoric.  When 
asked to confirm that this was the reason for the censorship, the prime minister 
refused comment.
 
End.
#
The trip to Luna City took three days in the cramped confines of the monorail. 
By the time they approached the capital, there were over 300 people stuffed into 
the twelve cars.  Tom Thorpe and Amber Hastings had been relegated to the floor 
in the third car in the string.  They both sat most of the time with their backs 
pressed against the knees of other passengers.  The car was hot, cramped, and 
stank of too many unwashed bodies.  It reminded Thorpe ofAdmiral Farragut s 
storm cellar during the times they had orbited through Jupiters radiation 
belts.  Despite the cars shortcomings, it was infinitely more comfortable than 
wandering the wilds of Farside in a vacuum suit.
The train pulled into Luna City Station well past midnight. As the tired 
travelers disembarked, carrying their suits over one shoulder, they found a 
cordon of police to direct them.  Each held a riot gun.  The guns convinced 
Thorpe that the reports of civil unrest had been accurate.  Like the fabled 
London Bobbies, Luna Citys police force had never needed firearms to keep 
order.  That they needed them now spoke volumes.
Thorpe and Amber moved along the underground platform to where Niels Grayson and 
the other astronomers were gathering in a clump. The party had been split up at 
Hadleys Crossroads and had not seen each other for the full three days.
Well, what do we do now? Amber asked her superior.
I understand we have to register, Grayson replied. Lets pile our suits here, 
then go up to the next level and find out where we do that.
The next level up was a sea of humanity even more dense than the one Thorpe had 
observed on his arrival. The crowd was different in composition, however.  Where 
before there had been a large number of families, now there were more singles, 
many of who were obviously from the lower strata of Lunar society.
The process of evacuation, they soon learned, took place in two parts. The first 
involved registering with the spaceport authorities.  At one time citizens had 
been assigned priorities based on a range of factors.  Now priority was on a 
strict first come, first served basis.  Once a person registered, they were 
assigned the next available berth on a ground-to-orbit ferry and given a 
boarding pass.  The pass admitted them to the embarkation concourse where the 
ships were being loaded.  If they lost their pass or otherwise missed their 
ship, they went to the end of the line.
The tension was palpable in the long registration lines. As each moved forward 
at a differing speed, those in the slower queues gazed covetously at their 
neighbors.  It was a situation designed to rub peoples psyches raw.  It took 
nearly three hours for the group from Farside Observatory to make their way to 
the front of the line.  Niels Grayson handed over his own and his wifes 
identity cards, and after a few seconds, was given a white slip on which a date, 
time, and ships name were printed.  Amber was next in line behind the Graysons. 
 She, too, obtained a pass without difficulty.  Then it was Thorpes turn.
Card, please, the tired functionary behind the desk said as he held out his 
hand without looking up.
I dont have one, Thorpe said. Im a tourist.
That brought an angry look. Step out of line.
But I need a pass.
Step out of line. Non-Lunarians are being processed in Concourse B, one flight 
up.
What about me? Amber asked.  Were engaged and want to be on the same ship.
Concourse B, one flight up, the functionary repeated.
The two of them elbowed their way to the exit. The Graysons and Barnards were 
there, waiting for the rest of their people to make it through the lines.  Amber 
told them what had happened.
I plan to go up to the surface dome and look over the evacuation after were 
finished here, Niels Grayson told Thorpe. Well wait for you there.
Thorpe shook his head. Dont miss your flight on my account.
No danger of that, Grayson replied, showing him the pass. The date on it was 
four days hence, and only 72 hours before the comet was due to strike.
But thats a whole day past when the evacuation is due to end! he protested.
Apparently, theyve rescheduled the end of the evacuation, Barnard drawled.
What about you, Amber?
Same date, different ship.
Come on, lets see what we can do about me.
The two of them pushed through the crowd to the ramp leading to the next level. 
This was not as busy as below, but it was still crowded.  From their bearing, 
Thorpe took most of the people in the crowd to be government officials.  
Apparently, Concourse B was the evacuation point for essential personnel and 
VIPs.
Hello, he said twenty minutes later when he had worked his way to the front of 
the inevitable line. Im a non-Lunarian.  They said that I should come here.
When did you arrive? another tired functionary asked. This one was a young 
woman who would have been pretty if it had not been for the dark bags under her 
eyes.
Thorpe told her. Her reaction made clear her opinion of people who chose this 
particular moment in history to tour Luna.  She asked a few more questions, and 
then punched his name into her computer.  Her scowl grew even deeper.
It says here that you are to have an A-1 priority. Here... She handed him a 
green card.  ... Take this to embarkation.  We should have you on a ship within 
the hour.
This young lady is traveling with me. What about her?
Name?
Amber told the woman her name.
After a few seconds, she looked up. Sorry, you have no priority.  Youll have 
to wait your turn.
Thorpe shook his head. Ive come a long way to find this young woman and I will 
not lose her again.
Im sorry, sir, but we have no time for individual requests. Please take your 
priority pass and move out of line.
Go ahead, Tom, Amber said. Well meet as wed planned on Earth.
No! I refuse to go without you.  He handed the woman the green pass.  Could 
you please issue me a pass for the same ship Amber is assigned to?
Let me see your pass, Citizen, the woman said, holding out her hand. There was 
something in her voice that caused Thorpe a twinge of uneasiness.  For just an 
instant, he thought he detected the inner smirk of a bureaucrat about to get 
even with a truculent client.  Amber handed over her document.  When the woman 
handed Thorpes green card back to him, it bore the same notations as Ambers 
pass.  He could feel the womans eyes on the back of his neck all the way to the 
rear of the concourse.
Amber led him up to the transit hall. Around the dome were a series of large 
viewports overlooking various sections of the spaceport.  They found Grayson and 
the other refugees from Farside Observatory clustered around one such port 
watching the ships as they landed and took off.  Thorpe gazed at the dozens of 
ground-to-orbit ferries scattered across the surface of Oceanus Procellarum.  It 
was an impressive sight.
Because there were far more spacecraft landing than Luna City Spaceport had been 
designed to handle, most of the ships had been forced to set down in temporary 
landing areas. To expedite their loading, reaction mass was pumped out to them 
through insulated hoses that crisscrossed the lunar plain.  People, too, were 
delivered via pipeline.  From the embarkation concourse, dozens of transparent 
loading tubes snaked their way across the flat mare toward the ships.  Each was 
filled with lines of people waiting patiently for their turn to go aboard.  It 
seemed impossible that so many could crowd into a single small vessel.  When the 
boarding tube was empty, it would be pulled back and the loaded craft would 
stagger into the sky on a tail of fire.  A minute later, another would land to 
take its place and the process would begin again.
An efficient operation, Thorpe said as he watched the closest ground-to-orbit 
ferry take off.
Niels Grayson turned from the viewport and asked how things had gone. Amber told 
him.
That was very gallant of you, Thomas, Grayson said, but not very wise.
Thorpe shrugged. Wise or not, its done.  What do we do now?
We thought we would go into the city. The police still patrol the sectors near 
the spaceport, so they are relatively safe.
Lets go retrieve our suits, Amber said, then find accommodations where we 
can wash up. I have a weeks stink to get off of me!
#
They found a small hotel on the third level, fourth residential ring. Although 
deserted, all of the services of the hotel were still operating.  They assigned 
themselves rooms in a single wing, and despite the police patrols, decided to 
take extra precautions.  As in all dwellings on Luna, the hotel had a number of 
emergency pressure doors designed to seal in case of a blowout.  Two of the 
observatorys technicians rewired the doors at each end of the long hall.  They 
closed one immediately and installed a switch that would close the other on 
command.
After a sponge bath and a shave, Thorpe felt like a new man. As he came out of 
the bathroom, he saw that Amber had the entertainment screen switched to a news 
program.  For the past six months, Lunas news services had been government 
controlled and heavily censored.  Their primary function was to control the 
spread of rumors and to aid in the evacuation, and as such, they lacked much of 
the excitement of pre-evacuation times.  Even so, they were the primary source 
of information for those awaiting evacuation.
What have you learned? he asked, still drying his hair.
I know why they were scheduling everyone out four days from now.
Why?
Thats the last day of the evacuation. All five ships are currently in orbit.  
They will stay there until forty-eight hours before the end.  After that, the 
tugs will send them to Earth.
Are they going to have enough room to take everyone onboard?
They say that it will be crowded, but that everyone will be evacuated if they 
follow instructions exactly.
Thorpe nodded. There had been a group at the Sorbonne whose primary task had 
been to consider the final days and hours of the evacuation.  In many ways, 
ending the giant enterprise was very like disengaging an army under enemy fire.  
If not done properly, disaster would result.
Once they were clean, a scrounging party went out to find food. Rations on the 
train had been skimpy, although not as bad as on the trek from the observatory.  
The hotels autokitchen was still operating, and everyone soon had a full 
stomach for the first time in a week.  One of the junior staffers discovered 
several bottles of Lunarian vodka in a small bar.  After a glass or two, they 
drifted off to their individual rooms to sleep.
It was late afternoon when Thorpe awoke. He discovered that Amber was already 
up.  She showed him a note Niels Grayson had hung on their door.  It informed 
them that he would be calling a strategy session that evening.  What it was he 
wished to strategize about, he did not say.
Thorpe and Amber arrived at the meeting early. They had bathed again and 
scrounged up a snack from the leftovers of the previous nights feast.  They 
found approximately half of their party already there.
What is it, Niels? Amber asked after seating herself on the couch.
Weve got three days before we are to be evacuated. We can spend those days in 
this hotel eating and drinking ourselves into a stupor, or else we spend the 
time trying to salvage the mirrors we left at the observatory.
How can we possibly salvage the mirrors now, Niels? Dr. Dornier asked.  The 
elder astronomer still showed the strain of the cross-country trek.  They are 
on the opposite side of Luna and we have no ship.
I dont knowhow were going to do it, Feliz. All I know is that we ought to 
try.  I am open to suggestions.
What about a hopper? Thorpe asked.  Maybe we can add enough tankage to make 
orbit.
The Republic has already done that. Many of the evacuation craft are converted 
hoppers.  Any moonhopper that has not been converted is too small for our 
purposes.  Im afraid that we need a real ship.
Perhaps we can repair the freighter at the Tranquility Monument, Cragston 
Barnard suggested.
Amber shook her head. Its too far.  There would be too much chance of missing 
our evacuation ships.
Repair some other ship then! Margaret Grayson said.  Surely there are some 
hulks on Luna that fifteen technically trained people can make minimally ready 
for space in the next three days.
Do you have any idea of how much needs to be done to a ship to make it 
spaceworthy? We would never finish in time.
No, Grayson said, holding up his hand. The idea has merit.  We should not 
reject it without looking into it.  Where would we find such a ship?
Theres a salvage yard on the other side of the spaceport, Amber said. Ive 
seen it dozens of times when flying in and out of Luna City.
How does one get there?
A good question. Im not sure the tunnels run that far.
Then I suggest that you and Thomas don your suits and check it out. Meanwhile, 
my wife and I will go to the authorities and try to talk them out of a ship.  
Perhaps I can be more persuasive than I was that last night at the observatory.
Even if we find a ship, how can we save the mirrors? Feliz Dornier asked.  
The authorities will never allow them to be taken aboard one of the evacuation 
ships.
One step at a time, Grayson responded.
#
May you live in interesting times!
Halver Smith stared at the luminescent letters and contemplated their 
significance. He had coded his workstation to prominently display the ancient 
Chinese curse whenever it was activated.  It was a reminder that the events that 
made the times interesting to historians usually terrified those who lived 
through them.  The times were especially interesting for Smith.
 Narrowly averting the Earths destruction should have been enough excitement 
for one life.  And though Thunderstrike was now on a collision course with Luna, 
the problems resulting from the wayward planetoid were far from over.  A 
full-scale effort was underway to protect Earth from the debris thrown up by the 
impact of the comet on Luna Farside.  Refining the comets orbit withThe Rock 
was an attempt to minimize the quantity of ejecta.  Still, no amount of orbit 
shaping would eliminate the problem.  For that reason, Earth was also building 
an in-depth defense against meteors.
The meteor guard system was to be composed of two-dozen orbiting search radars, 
each with the power to track millions of targets simultaneously. Those pieces of 
debris discovered to be a danger to Earth would be targeted by 
antimatter-propelled missiles tipped with nuclear warheads.  The resulting 
explosions would hopefully push the debris into a safer orbit.
Several thousand industrial facilities were feverishly rushing to complete the 
orbiting necklace of radars and missile carriers. Because of its expertise in 
orbital construction, Sierra Corporation was one of the prime contractors.  In 
addition to working on the meteor guard system, Halver Smiths people were also 
manufacturing as much antimatter as Sierra Skies accelerators could produce.  
Half of the powerstats output of antimatter was going to power the interceptor 
missiles.  The other half was being used to fuel the exodus from Luna.
Nor was the meteor guard system Halver Smiths only worry. He also had to 
concern himself with the financial health of his corporation.
The stock market had reacted swiftly to the news that SierraCorp was about to 
directThe Rock into a collision with Thunderstrike. Within a handful of days, 
the price of the corporations stock had plummeted 75 percent.  Since he had no 
hope of stopping the downturn, Smith had resolved to take advantage of it.  For 
the past three months, Smith had been liquidating his assets to raise cash with 
which to buy back his own stock.  He was gambling that the nations would make 
good on their promise to pay forThe Rock .  If they passed the necessary 
legislation quickly enough, the corporations coffers and Smiths own personal 
wealth would be vastly enhanced.  If not, he and his brainchild would face the 
bankruptcy courts together.
Smiths reverie was interrupted by his desk intercom. Your wife is here, sir.
Send her in!
Barbara swept through the door almost simultaneous with his words. He rose, 
crossed the thick carpet, and kissed her with an ardor that some would have 
found unseemly in a man of his years.
Good morning, he said when he finally released her.
Morning, yourself.
Something the matter?
The evacuation is running behind schedule,
With Avalons successful intercept of Thunderstrike, the working group aboard 
Newton Station had been disbanded. Barbara had chosen to join the working group 
that served as advisors to the Lunar evacuation.
How far behind?
Too far. They are not going to make it.  There will still be people left on the 
ground when the comet hits.
Are you sure?
Ive run the figures through the computer a dozen times. The pace of the 
evacuation is slowing precipitously.  The flight crews are exhausting themselves 
and their fatigue shows up in the daily figures.  The totals are down 10% in the 
past ten days alone.
How many will be left behind?
At least fifty thousand. It could be two to three times that many if they lose 
control of the crowd.
Smith nodded. As soon as those on the ground realized that there was a good 
chance they would not be leaving, it wouldnt take long for the riots to start.  
The onset of widespread rioting would effectively end the evacuation.  Without 
an orderly boarding process, no flight crew would dare land at Luna City for 
fear of being overrun by panic-stricken crowds.
Im glad Tom Thorpe and Amber Hastings got away in time.
Oh? Barbara asked.  Have you heard from them?
No, but it shouldnt be long now. Their special ship should have the whole 
observatory off the Moon by now.  Ive got a car and driver standing by to pick 
them up once they arrive at the spaceport.
We need to pick up the pace, Barbara said, returning to the subject of the 
evacuation. That means well have to find more ships somewhere.
If only we could, her husband said. Unfortunately, there arent any ships to 
be had.  We are using everything else forThe Rock or the meteor guard system.  
It is heartless to say so, but we will just have to rescue as many as we can.  
After all, weve saved ten million of them.
Youre right, of course, Barbara said. It could have been a lot worse.
From her tone, it was obvious that her brain might agree, but her heart never 
would.
 
CHAPTER 39
 
Look at all of these old hulks!
The salvage lot stretched in front of Thorpe and Amber for nearly a 
quarter-kilometer. From their vantage point, it was possible to view a hundred 
ships that ranged from two seat moonhoppers to a large ground-to-orbit bulk 
freighter.  Despite differences in size, the hulks all resembled one another.  
Each was a jumble of geometric shapes ending in the cruciform landing gear 
characteristic of vessels designed to operate from the airless surface of the 
Moon.  Unlike a similar collection on Earth, these vessels hulls sparkled 
vacuum bright in the rays of a late afternoon sun.
As Amber had commented in the hotel, Luna Citys system of pressurized tunnels 
did not extend to the old salvage yard. To get there, they had been forced to 
exit through a surface lock and approach overland.  En route, they had passed 
close to the complex that served as the breech end of the Luna City mass driver.
The giant electromagnetic cannon sat idle, with dozens of cargo pods scattered 
around as though dropped there by some careless giant child. At the time of 
Thorpes arrival on Luna, the mass driver had been working overtime.  With a 
shortage of orbit-capable ships, the Republic had been loading everything that 
could withstand the stress of launch into pods and launching them into space.  
The cargo had been sent into solar orbit, there to remain until someone 
collected them.  It would take years to retrieve everything.  However, nothing 
is ever lost in space, and the mass driver was the only way to save many of 
Lunas priceless treasures.
Maybe we should have launchedThe Big Eye s mirrors into storage orbits, Amber 
said, eyeing the mass driver as they trudged past the quiet complex.
Could they withstand the acceleration without cracking?
You would have to fill the crates with foam, of course, but I think you could 
do it.
Keep it in mind, Thorpe said. If we can find a way to transport the mirrors 
from Farside, we might try it.
They had trudged on until they reached their destination.
Lets look at that big one over there, Amber said, pointing toward a large 
splayfooted sphere with four exhaust nozzles clustered around its base. It 
appeared intact, and sported no obvious external holes or missing pieces of 
equipment.
They bounded over to the big ship and climbed the access ladder leading up its 
side. Fifteen minutes later they came out again, sorely disappointed.  The 
freighter was older than it looked.  Its engines had been fission powered and 
the reactor had long ago been removed for burial.  The hull had been 
systematically stripped of everything of value, leaving an empty shell behind.
The ships open upper airlock had offered a panoramic view of the spaceport and 
the dozens of ferries that were taking on passengers. If one stood far enough 
inside the ship to remain in shadow, it was also possible to see the milk-white 
patch of sky glow that was the approaching comet.  As they stood together and 
gazed up at the sky, Thorpe spent a few minutes searching for the star that 
wasThe Rock .  He knew that it was too small to be seen with the naked eye, but 
that did not stop him from searching.
They tried again. The next ship was not as thoroughly stripped as the first had 
been, but it was also beyond repair.  Over the next six hours, they explored 
thirty ships, hoping each time that the next would be the one they needed.  They 
even considered the possibility of cannibalizing several ships in order to 
repair one.  After six hours of frustration, Thorpe stopped the search.
Lets head back, he said over the suit comm channel. Maybe Niels had better 
luck today.
#
How did it go? Thorpe asked Niels Grayson as soon as he and Amber returned to 
the hotel in Luna City.
Not good, Grayson replied. We went straight up to the top official still on 
Luna.  In case you are interested, that is your old friend John Malvan!  He 
listened politely, and then turned us down.  There just are not any ships to be 
had.  What about you and Amber?
Thorpe told him what theyd found at the salvage yard. Grayson listened quietly, 
then nodded.  I was afraid of that.  I heard something half a year ago about 
the Republic salvaging a lot of old ships.  Apparently, they swept the cupboard 
clean.
What do we do now? Amber asked.
I have no idea, Grayson replied.
Theres one more possibility, Thorpe said. I can call Halver Smith on Earth 
and see if SierraCorp can spare a ship.
An excellent idea, Thomas.
Maybe not so excellent.
Why is that?
Because Mr. Smith cant afford to be philanthropic. He has taken a beating in 
the stock market over losingThe Rock .  Ships cost money and hell have to 
demand some kind of payment to defray the cost.
There was a long pause finally broken by Margaret Grayson. Will the university 
pay, Niels?
Her husband shook his head. For all practical purposes, the University of Luna 
no longer exists, my dear.  A promissory note from them is worth about as much 
as a communist ruble.
What about salvage? Cybil Barnard asked.
Theres an idea.
What salvage? Thorpe asked.
The Big Eyes mirrors are literally priceless, Amber explained. They are four 
hundred of the most optically perfect surfaces ever produced.  If they can be 
saved, the astronomical community will pay handsomely for their return.
You mean SierraCorp could hold them for ransom?
Why not? It will take decades to replace them.  Paying for their return might 
not be any cheaper than building new mirrors, but it will most certainly getThe 
Big Eye back into operation earlier.
Can we get the astronomical union to sign a contract to that effect?
Theyre probably too busy at the moment to worry about it.
What about you, Niels? You could sign a contract as Director of Farside 
Observatory.
I told you, Thomas, we no longer have the means to pay.
Not necessary. It would establish SierraCorps right to the mirrors.  Salvage 
law is tricky.  The fact that Luna is being evacuated under an agreement with 
the System Council will also cloud the issue.
If a signed contract will get us a ship, Grayson replied, Ill be more than 
happy to provide you with one.
Excellent, Thorpe said. Then Ill put in a call to Mr. Smith.  It would 
probably be better if you put the proposition to him, Niels.  What time is it in 
California?  Noon?  I hope he hasnt gone to lunch.
Like most telephone systems, that of Luna City had been designed to operate 
unattended. Thus, although most of the lunar population had already been 
evacuated, telephone calls could still be placed throughout the city.  That was 
the case anywhere on Nearside.  The loss of Farside Station had limited 
communications to the far hemisphere, but even that was possible while the 
communications satellite was above the receiving partys local horizon.  When it 
came to placing a call from Luna to Earth, however, one ran into special 
difficulties.  None of these had anything to do with the equipment.  Censorship 
had been imposed on all forms of communication, including telephone calls.
Thorpe punched for off planet service and was rewarded by the appearance of an 
efficient looking young woman on the screen.
Earth long distance operator. How may I help you?
I would like to place a call to San Francisco, please. He gave her Halver 
Smiths private office number.
You understand that this call will be computer monitored for compliance with 
emergency regulations, Citizen?
I do.
Very well. Stand by.  There will be a five-second monitoring delay when your 
party speaks.  Please remember that when you are waiting for his responses.
The method the censors used to monitor screen calls was the same as that 
invented for radio talk shows a century earlier. Rather than take a chance on an 
obscenity going out over the airwaves, the stations had delayed transmitting 
their signals for seven seconds.  This gave programmers the opportunity to cut 
off any offending words before they were broadcast.  In the current situation, 
computers listened to the conversations and broke the connection if certain 
taboo subjects were broached.  Since the monitors were attempting to keep 
unauthorized information from flowing in one direction - from Earth to Luna - 
only that portion which originated on Earth was delayed.
There was a long pause before Halver Smiths features appeared on the screen. 
Thomas, is that you?
Yes, sir.
Where the hell are you?
Luna City. I have Director Grayson of Farside Observatory here with me, Thorpe 
said, taking advantage of the long delay.  He has a business proposition for 
you.
Niels Grayson took Thorpes place in front of the telephone pickup and explained 
their idea to Smith. He stressed the value ofThe Big Eye s mirrors and the 
amount of money the astronomical community would pay to get them back.  Smith 
listened quietly, but his expression told Thorpe that he had something else on 
his mind.  When Grayson finished his pitch, Smith stared blankly out of the 
screen for eight long seconds.  Then he slowly shook his head.
Im sorry, Director Grayson, but there are no spare ships to be had. We are 
supporting operations onThe Rock , as well as helping finalize the meteor guard 
system.  If I had even one more ship, I would have a dozen other uses for her.  
I thought you people had arranged to have a ship take the mirror components out 
for you.
Grayson recounted what had happened to their freighter, and told Smith of some 
of their adventures since.
And you are all in Luna City? Smith asked, his brow furrowed in a worried 
look.
Yes, Grayson replied. Weve got priorities to ship out on the fourteenth.  We 
were hoping to save the mirrors before then.
Is Thomas still there? Smith asked after the requisite delay.
Thorpe returned to the pickups field of view. Here, sir.
Barbara was asking about you the other day. She has a new job, you know.  She 
works for one of the big travel agencies here in the city.
Travel agency, Mr. Smith?
Thats right. They specialize in all kinds of tours - round the world, orbital 
vacations, that sort of thing.  She says that the comet has really messed up her 
scheduling.  She was telling me the other day about one tour group whose 
reservations had been screwed up.  It was so bad that she suggested that they 
make their own alternate arrangements.
Thorpe frowned, not sure what he was supposed to say. Finally, he asked, And 
did they?
I dont know, came the slow response. I hope so.  Otherwise, their vacations 
were ruined.  Sorry I cant help you with the ship, Tom.
It was just a thought. Thanks anyway.  Goodbye, Mr. Smith.
Bye, Tom. Good luck.  Give me a call when you get back to Earth.
We will, Thorpe said as he cut the connection.
#
What was that all about? Grayson asked.  His irritation was evident in his 
tone.
Thorpe chewed on his lower lip for a moment before answering. I think we were 
just told that we wont be evacuated in time.
WHAT?
Barbara Smith doesnt work for a travel agent. She has been an evacuation 
facilitator ever since the destruction of Avalon.  I think Mr. Smith was trying 
to tell us that they arent going to get everyone off before the comet hits.
Then he would have said so, Margaret Grayson said.
Thorpe shook his head. Not with the computer listening.  Speculating on the 
evacuation timetable is prohibited, remember?  That is what set off the riots at 
Tycho.  He told us, as directly as he could, that we will have to find our own 
way off Luna.  If we wait our turn, well still be here next Thursday when the 
comet arrives.
But, Tom, there must be a couple of hundred thousand people left in Luna City! 
Amber said.
He nodded.
Are you telling me that all those people are going to die?
Everyone who doesnt get evacuated in time will.
We have to tell someone!
Why? he asked. His mind had been working furiously ever since hed cut the 
connection to Halver Smith.  He did not like the conclusion it was drawing, but 
that did not change to situation.  If we spread the word, what will happen?  
There will be riots and the evacuation will come to a screeching halt.  Tens of 
thousands who would have otherwise been saved will be trapped here.
We must go back to the government officials and confront them with this 
information, Grayson said. They have to put us on ships.  Between us we have 
more than a century of hard won astronomical knowledge.
What makes our lives any more valuable than anyone elses? Thorpe asked.  I 
know John Malvan.  He will not buy it, although he knows some of us personally.  
He wont play favorites.  He cant!  If word got out, it would start the 
disturbances as fast as if they announced that some people arent going to be 
saved.
What else can we do, Thomas?
Precisely what Mr. Smith suggested.  Save ourselves.
But what if Smith is wrong, Margaret Grayson asked. Wouldnt we be giving up 
our places aboard the evacuation ships for nothing?
There is no need to give up our slots. If everything is going well the day we 
are scheduled to leave, then we present our passes to the guards and load up.  
If we find our departures postponed, then well have our alternate to fall back 
on.
All of this assumes that we can find an alternate arrangement, Barnard said.
That is a problem, Thorpe agreed. Anyone have any ideas?
There was a long pause. Grayson broke it by saying, Were back to the idea of 
repairing that freighter at the Tranquility Monument.  It must be in better 
shape than the ships in the salvage yard.
Thorpe frowned. It was 1300 kilometers from Luna City to the Tranquility 
Monument.  They would undoubtedly be able to find a small moonhopper that could 
take them there, but any mishap could easily strand them.  With no details as to 
the extent of the freighters damage, it was hard to fault the idea.  Still, it 
was a horribly risky thing to do.  On the other hand, what choice did they have?
I suppose its worth a try. Where can we lay our hands on a moonhopper?        
  
 
CHAPTER 40
 
Professor Barnard knew of a landing field on the southeast side of Luna City 
where corporate moonhoppers were based. Such vehicles were popular with the 
mining companies, whose business took them wherever ice was to be found.  
Hoppers were often the only means of access to wilderness mines.
It was decided that the initial scouting party would consist of five people: 
Barnard, Thorpe, Amber, Jamie Bryant, and Allison Nalley.  The advance team 
planned to acquire a hopper that they would then fly to the monument to inspect 
the wrecked freighter.  If it were repairable, they would telephone the hotel 
with a list of needed spare parts and supplies.  The remainder of their party 
would try to obtain whatever was needed and then fly out to join the advance 
party at the monument.
There had been reports all weeks of individuals and couples being set upon by 
roving gangs. Because of this, each member of the scouting party was armed with 
a long knife from the hotel kitchen.  In addition, Thorpe and Jamie Bryant 
carried heavy metal bars they could use for clubs.  Their route would take them 
well beyond the fuzzy boundaries of the secure enclave.  Thorpe did not expect 
any trouble, but he was not taking any chances.  To make sure that they had 
their hands free, he had everyone lash their vacuum suits to their backs.  The 
arrangement reminded him of the way firemen carry victims down a ladder.
Their path through the city was to be straight down the north radial tunnel, 
across the Grand Concourse, and out the southeast spoke. When they reached the 
center of the city, they found the great cavern deserted.  The spiral gallery 
was still lit by the artificial sun, which glowed a mere hundred meters above 
their heads as they cautiously crossed one of the spider bridges.  Gazing down, 
Thorpe could see the outermost edge of the spiral terrace all the way to the 
cavern floor.  Nowhere, however, did he see any sign of other people.  It was as 
though they were the last human beings on Luna.
The thought intrigued him. Neil Armstrong had been the first man on the Moon.  
Someone else would have to be the last.  Thorpe wondered who that would be.  If 
Halver Smiths suspicions were correct, the honor would go to upwards of one 
hundred thousand souls.  Would two of those be Thomas Thorpe and Amber Hastings? 
 If they were, would anyone remember their names as long as they had remembered 
Neil Armstrongs?
He shook off the morbid thought and concentrated on the business at hand. Twice 
as they rode the slidewalk southeast, they caught glimpses of others.  The first 
time was when they came upon three scruffy men lounging in a side corridor.  The 
trio watched them slide past without moving or speaking.  A few minutes later 
the scouting party caught sight of a man and a woman hurrying away.  Each 
encounter ratcheted up Thorpes feeling of unease.  Luna City had become a tomb, 
and it was easy let ones imagination get the better of them in tombs.
They reached the landing field ten minutes after leaving the Grand Concourse. 
Thorpe put Bryant and Allison Nalley on watch while the rest of them suited up.  
He then waited with Barnard in the corridor while the two technicians slipped 
into their suits.  The whole operation took fifteen minutes, and nothing 
untoward happened to interrupt it.  Once encased in their suits, they searched 
out a surface lock and cycled through into the vacuum beyond.
The landing field reminded Thorpe of the salvage yard. Here, too, the ships had 
been lined up neatly in multiple rows.  The difference was that these ships were 
new.  All were hoppers - there were no true spacecraft in the lot - and they 
ranged in size from single passenger models to buses seating up to eight.  The 
dearth of larger machines was a further indication of the thoroughness with 
which the lunar government had converted the more capable hoppers into orbital 
craft.
A quick check of the nearest hoppers found each with full reaction tanks and 
sufficient antimatter charges for several flights. They chose one of the larger 
machines and Bryant went to work bypassing the security locks on the instrument 
panel.  Thorpe watched him as he worked, causing the young technician to look up 
and grin as power came on in the flight cabin.
I learned to do this during my misspent youth, he explained.
Remind me to write a note of appreciation to your parole officer.
Ready to go, Bryant said as he slipped into the pilots seat. Lets get them 
aboard.
 Thorpe ordered everyone into the hopper.  He and Amber took the third pair of 
web seats and strapped themselves down.  While the others made ready, Thorpe 
gazed out through the hoppers bubble in the direction of the surface lock.  He 
was surprised to see three heads silhouetted against the light streaming through 
the lock window.  Whoever they were, they seemed content to watch with their 
noses pressed against the armor glass.  Their presence sent a shiver down 
Thorpes spine.
The hopper lifted and heeled sharply over toward the east. As in all ballistic 
point-to-point travel, the engines fired for a few dozen seconds before shutting 
down.  After that, they rose slowly under the influence of Lunas gravity.  It 
took twenty minutes to reach the apex of their flight, after which they started 
down.  The hopper fell to within half a kilometer of the Sea of Tranquility 
before its engines flared again.
They grounded one hundred meters distant from the damaged freighter, which was 
itself located close to the southern edge of the monuments geodesic framework. 
They disembarked after a series of hurried suit integrity checks, and moved to 
the side of the ship that should have been their savior.
The freighter was theNeaptide, Thorpe noted as he climbed the external 
accommodation ladder. He stepped into the emergency airlock halfway up the big 
spheres side and waited for Amber and Barnard to join him before keying the 
lock to cycle.  The main lock circuits proved inoperative and he switched to the 
emergency override circuits.  The damage to the airlock controls did not bother 
him.  In fact, they would accept a great deal of internal damage so long as the 
engines were operable.  All Thorpe really cared about was whether the ship could 
be lifted and contained sufficient fuel to make orbit.  Landing it again was not 
his problem.
The airlock filled with pressure and the inner door swung open to reveal a 
shambles. There was evidence of a battle royal having taken place everywhere.  
As soon as Thorpe removed his helmet, he could smell burned insulation and other 
less identifiable odors in the stale atmosphere.  They moved up a ladder to the 
control room.  The damage there was extensive.  Every control seemed to have 
been smashed.  Shards of glass lay underfoot on the steel deck and crunched as 
they walked on it.  Here and there, the deck and bulkheads still sported dark 
stains that Thorpe suspected were blood.
What a mess, Amber said from beside him.
Nothing to save in here, he said, surveying the destruction. No wonder they 
declared her a complete write off.  When the mob didnt seize control in time, 
they must have taken out their frustrations in here.
Does this mean we cant use her?
He shrugged. We could fly her from the engine room if thats intact.  Remember, 
we only have to achieve orbit.
Lets look at the engines then.
The ships engines were four decks down a long ladder that ran the entire length 
of the ship. As they slid down, Thorpe let his eyes scan those corridors they 
passed.  Again, they found evidence of a frantic fight for control of the ship, 
a fight that everyone had lost.  However, the damage in the passageways was not 
nearly as extensive as in the control room.
The engine room was spotless. Its brightwork was so shiny that it looked to have 
been wiped down that morning.  The ships engineer must have heard the 
commotion, Thorpe realized, and sealed himself in before the mobs arrival.
Thorpe jumped the last three meters to the deck and immediately moved to the 
engine control panel. It was the work of a few minutes to bring the instruments 
online.  However, it only took a second for him to realize that all their 
efforts had been in vain.
Shit!
Whats the matter?
The containment field is switched off. We dont have any antimatter onboard.  
Not even the tiniest microgram.
Perhaps we can get some more.
Where? he asked. Besides, if they shut down the containment toroid, you can 
bet they drained the reaction mass as well.
He quickly keyed for the displays that showed the ships fuel state and was not 
surprised when the reaction mass reading came up zero. The tanks were as dry as 
the lunar plain outside.  Some other ship had undoubtedly long since 
usedNeaptide s fuel and reaction mass in the evacuation.
That does it. Lets get back to Luna City.
Perhaps we can get more reaction mass, Thomas.
Sure, he said. And when we do, well need a tanker to get it here.  Of 
course, if we had a tanker, we could use that to make orbit and forget this 
hulk.
It was a dejected group that climbed into the moonhopper and headed back west 
towards Luna City. Their ground track was the same as it had been coming out, 
although their destination was different.  After seeing the faces in the airlock 
window, Thorpe had recommended not going back to the landing field.  Rather, 
they would set down near the salvage yard and return to the hotel through safe 
territory.
As the hopper followed its low ballistic trajectory back toward Luna City, 
Thorpe gazed out across one of the largest mares on Luna. It was hard to believe 
that this changeless terrain would very soon be smashed beyond recognition.  
Again, he was struck by a morbid thought.  If they were unable to escape in 
time, it might be worth blasting off in a moonhopper just before Thunderstrike 
smashed into Farside.  That way they would be able to view a few seconds of the 
Moons destruction before it reached up to envelop them.  He roughly put the 
thought out of his mind.  Such thoughts bred defeatism and it was far too early 
for that.
They reached the top of their trajectory and started down again. As Copernicus 
Crater came into sight, Thorpes eyes searched out the straight line that was 
the Luna City mass driver.  Something stirred deep within his brain at the 
sight.  The thought never had a chance to form.  At that moment, Amber let out a 
whoop that startled everyone in the hopper cabin.
Whats the matter? Thorpe asked, mistaking the yell for one of fright.
Thats it! Amber said, pointing excitedly out the bubble.
Thats what?
The mass driver! That is how we will do it.  Well load ourselves into a cargo 
pod and shoot ourselves into space!
Thorpe thought about it for a second. It would be risky, and take a lot of work, 
but it ought to be possible.  Cargo pods had never been designed as manned 
vehicles.  At the least, they would need a supply of oxygen, a radio, and some 
method to protect the passengers against the brutal acceleration of launch.  
Still, they had 84 hours before Thunderstrike was due to arrive.  With luck, it 
would be enough.
#
The mass driver? Impossible!
Feliz Dornier stared at Amber in horror. They were again gathered in the 
Graysons suite at the hotel.  Amber had just explained her idea to them, and 
though Dorniers reaction had been the most vocal, he was not alone in his 
assessment.
Why impossible, Doctor? Amber asked.
The mass driver accelerates its loads at 30 gravities! No human can survive 
that!
Thirty gravities peak, Dr. Dornier, Thorpe said. He had studied the mass 
drivers operation while looking into the economics of ice mining.  It can be 
turned down, you know.
Turned down how far and still make escape velocity?
Thorpe shrugged. Perhaps as low as ten gees.
That would still kill us.
No it wouldnt, Amber said. Fighter pilots used to routinely take nine gees.
Perhaps I am being selfish, but it would most certainly killme , young lady. 
Im not a young man any longer.
There would be a risk, Amber agreed. But there are acceleration drugs we 
could use.  If you are properly cushioned and drugged, theres a good chance 
that you would survive launch.
Survive to do what? Drift in space until our air runs out?
That is a problem, Thorpe said. Well have to make sure that we have enough 
breathing gas onboard to survive until rescue.  We will also need a radio to 
differentiate our capsule from the debris that Thunderstrikes impact will throw 
up.  We dont want the meteor guard system to shoot us down.
It beats being in Luna City when the comet arrives, dont you think?
She has you there, Feliz, Niels Grayson said.
Barnard nodded, as did several others.
There is one problem, Dornier said, undeterred.
What is that?
The mass driver is a secure facility. How are you going to get access to it?
Simple, Amber replied. We tell John Malvan that we know his dirty little 
secret and we want to save ourselves.
No we dont, Thorpe said. If it becomes known that we are converting cargo 
pods into escape pods, well be mobbed.
Do we have the moral right to keep this to ourselves? Margaret Grayson asked.
Look, Thorpe growled, hating himself for it even as he said it, not everyone 
is going to get off Luna. There are too many of us left to be evacuated.  Those 
are facts.  I wish we could take everyone along, but we cant.  Therefore, we 
keep our escape route a secret long enough to allow us to use it.
What if someone else comes up with the same idea?
Then we welcome them, show them where to find their own cargo pods, and help 
them all we can without retarding our own efforts.
I agree, Niels Grayson said. As distasteful as the facts are, we must still 
face them.  That still leaves us with the problem of what we tell the 
authorities.
The mirrors! Amber said, snapping her fingers.  Well tell Malvan we want the 
mass driver to launch the mirrors.  She hurriedly explained the plan that she 
and Thorpe had discussed on their first visit to the salvage yard.
He wont believe us, Barnard said. The mirrors are at Farside Observatory.  
Were due to be evacuated in less than twelve hours.
Not any longer, Grayson told him. They announced that everyone should delay 
their arrival at the spaceport by 24 hours.  They blamed technical delays for 
the problem and assured us that there was still time to get away.
When was this?
About two hours ago. I havent had the chance to tell you.
Theres the answer, Amber continued. We can tell them that we are using the 
extra time to fetch as many mirrors from Farside as we can.  Remember, if the 
evacuation is lagging behind schedule, he will not care what we do.  His only 
concern will be to keep the lid on as long as possible.  If he can get us off 
his back by handing us the keys to the mass driver, hell probably do it.
Grayson mulled the plan over for a long minute, and then nodded. It just might 
work.
I know it will work, Amber insisted, still running on adrenaline. Once we 
have access to the mass driver, we can begin converting a cargo pod in full view 
of God and everyone.  Theyll just think were crazy.
Two pods, Thorpe said. There are fifteen of us.  We will need air tanks, 
radios, food, acceleration webbing, and God knows what else.  We wont all fit 
into a single pod.
Amber sidled up to him and put her arm around him. Now that there was hope again 
after so many disappointments, she felt like celebrating.  Right.  Make it two.  
Just as long as we go out in the same pod.
#
As Amber had predicted, the scam went off without problem. When Niels Grayson 
arrived at the head of his delegation of concerned astronomers, John Malvan 
greeted his shipmates like old friends.  If he was disturbed by the fact that a 
cruel universe had sentenced them to death, he did not show it.  Having spent 
the last several hours soothing thousands of angry evacuees, any remorse on 
Malvans part could easily have been hidden by his harried expression.  Malvan 
was only too happy to provide the astronomers with the access code to the mass 
driver control room. 
What Thorpe saw at the spaceport convinced him that Halver Smith was right. As 
they passed through the cavern where they had registered for evacuation, they 
found it empty.  By this time, everyone still on Luna had received his or her 
evacuation priority.  Those without priorities were people who, for reasons of 
their own, had decided to die with their world.  What impressed Thorpe was the 
absence of police.  Save for a squad at the entrance to the embarkation 
concourse, they were gone.  Their sudden disappearance told him that essential 
personnel were being taken up to the ships in preparation to calling a halt.  
Whatever the deadline to get all ships out of orbit, it was approaching quickly.
They returned to the hotel and packed their bags. The corridor leading to the 
mass driver was a large one designed for cargo.  It was barred by a large 
pressure door.  Grayson keyed in the combination he obtained from Malvan.  The 
emergency door swung back to reveal a vast cavern beyond.  The small band of 
refugees walked inside.
The cavern was a quarter kilometer long and half that in width. It reminded 
Thorpe of pictures he had seen of airplane factories.  There was a long 
unsupported space a hundred meters tall.  Hugging the overhead was a large 
traveling crane used to move heavy cargoes from one section to another.  Around 
them, they found empty pods stacked neatly in rows.  At the opposite end of the 
cavern was a long conveyer ramp that disappeared into an upward sloping tunnel.  
This was where filled pods were transferred to the mass driver.  Once on the 
surface, the pods were loaded into the breech, and accelerated into space on a 
massive magnetic field.
Thorpe, Amber, and Barnard walked to a personnel lift at one side of the cavern. 
They took the lift upward to the mass drivers control room, which was just 
below the surface.  It reminded Amber ofThe Big Eye s control room.  Here, too, 
outside cameras allowed the operators to survey the entire line of the giant 
machine they controlled.  Amber switched the view from one tower/accelerator 
ring combination to another.  Everything seemed intact and operational.  She 
next powered up the control board using one of Graysons combinations.  A large 
screen came to life with a computer display showing the orbit a pod launched 
with the current settings would pursue.
Can you run this? Thorpe asked her.
She nodded. After some study.  That board over there is for power control.  
See, it shows an outline of the capacitor bank.  This one controls the strength, 
duration, and timing of the pulses.  Once I get the hang of it, I can reprogram 
for a minimum acceleration launch.
Good. We want a departure orbit that will swing us around Earth in order to 
maximize our chance of being picked up.
Ill see what I can do, she said.
Thorpe left Amber poring over the controls and descended back into the cavern 
below. Programming the mass driver to orbit two pods in quick succession was the 
easy part.  Now they had escape vehicles to prepare, vehicles that would keep 
them alive long enough for them to be rescued.
 
CHAPTER 41
 
The cargo pods were seven meters long and three meters in diameter. They were 
constructed of low carbon steel rather than the special alloys that had been 
developed for space vehicles.  In order for the mass driver to accelerate them, 
the pod hulls had to be made from a magnetic material.  Though they looked like 
railroad tank cars bereft of wheels, the pods were actually sophisticated space 
vehicles in their own right.  Each was equipped with a thruster system used for 
midcourse corrections and to keep the cylinder from tumbling in flight.
Pods came in three basic types. One was well insulated and equipped with a 
refrigeration system able to keep cryogenic liquids cold for long periods.  
Another maintained Earth normal pressures and temperature to keep seeds, 
pharmaceuticals, and other perishables from going bad.  The third, and most 
common, was merely a gas tight barrel into which all manner of bulk materials 
were loaded.  The pods they found in the service cavern were all of this third, 
and simplest, type.
Thorpe climbed into one of the cylinders and was surprised at the interior room. 
He wondered briefly if all fifteen of them could be squeezed into a single 
container.  He began to mentally block out the volumes they would need for 
breathing gas, water tanks, food, medicine, tools, waste disposal, and 
communications equipment.  As he put each necessity into place, the volume 
available for people shrank precipitously.
The largest space requirement by far was for the liquid oxygen they would boil 
off for breathing gas. The simple transport pods lacked both the heavy 
insulation and the refrigeration equipment of the cryogenic storage modules.  As 
a result, they could expect to lose most of their oxygen to solar heating and 
boil off.  He estimated that devoting half the pod to oxygen storage would give 
them a two-week supply.  With everyone in a single pod, those two weeks would be 
cut to one.  That alone, Thorpe decided, was reason enough to go with two pods.
In addition to oxygen storage, the passengers would need to be protected against 
launch acceleration. Thorpe considered salvaging acceleration couches from the 
nearby scrap yard, but quickly discarded the idea.  Not only would there be too 
much surface activity - thereby calling unwanted attention to themselves - the 
couches would take up too much room.  A better approach would be to rig several 
nets across the cylinder and use them as acceleration cushions.  Once in space, 
the nets could be stowed to increase the useable volume.
Thorpe reviewed his ideas with Niels Grayson, who had accompanied him inside the 
cylinder. Grayson reminded him that they would need portholes cut in the sides.  
With Thunderstrikes arrival imminent, neither man relished missing the 
excitement by sealing himself into a windowless steel can.
Following their discussion, the two adjourned to one of the offices that dotted 
the caverns periphery. There they found a computer drafting station.  During 
his tenure onThe Rock , Thorpe had become proficient at producing sketches of 
projects he had planned.  Within two hours, he had a full set of conversion 
blueprints for each of their makeshift spacecraft.
While he and Grayson planned, the other members of their party explored the 
cavern. The mass driver complex proved to be a cornucopia of things a castaway 
might find useful.  In addition to large stocks of lunar ice awaiting export, 
they discovered two giant flasks filled with liquid oxygen and liquid hydrogen.  
A storeroom yielded dozens of large rolls of heavy electrical cable.  These last 
they would use to weave their nets.  From another storeroom came a stock of 
radio transmitters and electrical generating equipment.  These would be turned 
into radio beacons to allow their rescuers to find the pods in the vastness of 
space.
After listening to the caverns inventory, Thorpe organized the refugee 
astronomers into working parties. Four hours later, the first interior partition 
was welded into place in one of the pods.  Thorpe watched while several staffers 
manhandled a large piece of steel into the first pod.  It took him a moment to 
realize that Niels Grayson was standing beside him.
Hello, Niels. I didnt hear you come up.
Im not surprised. You look like youre about to drop.
Im all right.
How long since you slept?
Thirty hours, I guess.
More like forty, I would say. Why dont you curl up somewhere?  They can do 
without you for a few hours.  Besides, youll want to be chipper for the big 
show tomorrow.
Thorpe blinked in confusion. What happens tomorrow?
You ought to remember. Youre the one who set things in motion.
Oh, yeah! The Rockintercepts Thunderstrike, doesnt it?
That it does.
I must be more tired than I thought. I think I will take you up on your 
suggestion.  What about Amber?  Shes been awake as long as I have.
No she hasnt. She fell asleep while trying to decipher this damned complexs 
operating manual.  I had her go into that little anteroom just off the managers 
office.
I guess Ill find a hole to crawl into as well. Wake me just before the crunch, 
or if anything bad happens.
Will do.
Thorpe walked to an office he had noticed earlier. It had a table where he could 
stretch out and a door that could be closed.  That latter requirement was the 
most important.  His crew of amateur ship fitters was making more noise than he 
would have thought possible.
#
Thorpe came awake as a rough hand shook his shoulder.
Time to wake up, Mr. Thorpe. The director wants you up in the control room.  
Youll have to hurry.
Thorpe opened his eyes. Jamie Bryant was looking down at him.  He groaned, and 
then struggled to a sitting position with his legs hanging over the edge of the 
table.
How long have I been asleep?
Six hours. Its nearly ten hundred.
How are the modifications coming?
Pretty well. We have the center bulkhead welded into both pods.  We are 
installing a second bulkhead one meter in front of the first.  We should be 
ready to pressure test the oxygen tanks in another hour or so.
Two bulkheads? Thorpe asked, still trying to clear his head.  Who ordered 
that?
It was Dr Dorniers suggestion. He pointed out that we would be up to our 
armpits in liquid oxygen if a single bulkhead were to give way during launch.  
We plan to fill the space between the two with water.  The water will freeze 
once we load the oxygen.  The combination of steel and ice should make a strong 
barrier.
What about expansion when the ice freezes?
Weve taken care of that. We have glued Styrofoam blocks to the inside of the 
forward bulkhead.  The ice will compress it as it freezes.  Also, it will help 
insulate the tank.
Thorpe nodded. Tell Dr. Dornier he had a good idea.  It would be a shame to 
finish this trip as an icicle.
Thorpe got to his feet, stretched, and moved stiffly toward the door. He felt 
worse than he had when he had gone to sleep.  If there was one consolation, it 
was Lunas gravity.  It made a hard table as soft as any bed on Earth.
Niels Grayson and Amber were both in the mass drivers control room when he 
stepped from the lift.
Morning, my love, he said, reaching to gather Amber in for a kiss.
She resisted his advance. Not too close.  My breath isnt anything to brag 
about this morning.
Whose is? he asked, kissing her anyway.
Look at this, Thomas, Grayson said, gesturing toward a screen that had been 
tuned to a news broadcast.
Thorpe looked. The screen showed the familiar white fog of the comets coma.  
Thorpe had imagined what the comet would look like as it approached Earth.  He 
had had visions of a gossamer arch stretching from horizon to horizon.  He could 
not have been more wrong.  The comet was a lumpy ball of diffuse light that 
covered a patch of sky ten times the diameter of a full moon.  Earth had entered 
the comets tail three weeks earlier, and there are few less flattering vantage 
points from which to view a comet than by staring straight up its ass.
Perihelion passage had seen the coma grow perceptibly thicker. Thunderstrikes 
ice plains must have boiled furiously during the close approach.  In the 
process, the nucleus had added millions of tons of water vapor, gas, and dust to 
the surrounding cloud.  Hidden somewhere in that cloud, Thorpe knew, were two 
solid masses, each of which was fast closing with the other.  In a matter of 
seconds, there would only be the one.
He listened in silence to a garrulous announcer explain for the twentieth time 
what was about to happen. Then an official sounding voice announced that it was 
one minute to impact.  Thorpe waited without breathing as the voice continued to 
mark off the final seconds.  Suddenly, the screen went blank as an overpowering 
brilliance blossomed at the center of the coma.  The light slowly dimmed as it 
expanded from a dimensionless spark.  Then the rapidly expanding flood of 
radiance suffused the whole coma, making it glow like an old fashioned 
fluorescent lamp.  Slowly, minute-by-minute, the glow faded, dimming finally to 
something approaching its former brightness.  In its heart, a tiny fire 
continued to burn with furious abandon.
Well, I guess thats that, Thorpe said, hoping that neither Grayson nor Amber 
would notice the quaver in his voice. How are you coming with the launch 
programming, Amber?
I should have it shortly, Amber replied. According to the manual, well have 
to go out at a minimum of ten gees if we hope to achieve Lunar escape velocity.
Then ten gees it is.
How goes it on the floor?
Bryant reports that were on schedule. I guess I would better get down there to 
check things out.  See you for lunch?
Sure, she said.
He glanced at the screen and gestured at the still glowing point of light in the 
comas center. I guess that means Thunderstrike is definitely on its way.  One 
thing is for sure.  We dont want to be here when it arrives.
Eight hours later, they were testing the habitat section of the converted pods 
for pressure integrity. The test consisted of sealing one of their people into 
the pod and then slowly bringing up the pressure to three standard atmospheres.  
The shut-ins then listened for leaks - using their eardrums to sense minute 
changes in pressure rather than actually hearing them.
No leaks, Mr. Thorpe, Jamie Bryant reported after half an hour.
No leaks at all?
No, sir. We sprayed soap solution around the portholes and all the new 
fittings.  No fizzes.
Very well. Tell your caulkers that they did a good job.  Now, lets 
depressurize, power up the overhead crane, and get that first pod to the loading 
docks.  I want the oxygen tank chilled for one hour before you actually put 
liquid in it.  Weve come too far to thermal shock our welds.
One hour chill down before filling. Yes, sir!  The technician who had become 
Thorpes de facto assistant moved off to issue the orders.
How long before we can launch? Niels Grayson asked.
Give us another couple of hours after we top off the oxygen tanks, Thorpe 
said. The longer we let them cold soak, the more gas volume we can store.
Ill have the people start gathering up their things. Well want them stowed 
through the launch.
Damned right! Thorpe said.  At ten gees, anything loose will bounce around 
like a shot.  Well need everything doubly tied down before we can...
Thorpe never had a chance to finish his sentence. At that moment, Margaret 
Grayson appeared from inside the makeshift kitchen they had set up in one of the 
offices along the cavern periphery.  The caverns acoustics were not the best 
and it took a moment for Thorpe to realize what it was that she was yelling.  
When he finally did, it was like being punched in the stomach.
There was a riot at the spaceport!
#
The small cubicle was not large enough for everyone. Nevertheless, nine bodies 
squeezed inside.  Margaret had been watching the news on a small screen in the 
corner.  The local station had been broadcasting commentary concerningThe Rock 
s collision with the comet nucleus.  They had interrupted to report a 
disturbance at the Luna City spaceport.  As Thorpe and the others arrived, the 
scene shifted to a reporter who was crouching behind a pillar.  The reporters 
voice was a hushed whisper as he explained what was going on:
 The firing began two minutes ago, Mary Ann.  Eyewitnesses say that several 
youths attempted to force the checkpoint at the departure concourse.  Who fired 
the first shots is unknown.  All we do know is that there is a gun battle going 
on up the ramp and around the corner from here.  I can hear occasional small 
popping noises, punctuated by loud bangs.  These latter are from police 
shotguns, I believe.  There was complete panic among the citizens waiting to be 
evacuated, although that has largely died down.  You can see the indecision on 
the peoples faces.  Many want to flee, but they are also afraid of missing 
their ships.  The firing has died down a bit now.  Perhaps it is about over.  
Wait a second!  I can see people running down the ramp now.  My God, theyve got 
guns and theyre coming this way ...!
None of the refugees from Farside Observatory learned anything more. The 
reporters voice died at the same moment the screen and every other light in the 
cavern went dark.  One instant they were watching the drama unfold on the 
screen, the next they were plunged into blackness.
 Thorpe looked around as cries of alarm erupted from his team.  There is nothing 
blacker than the inside of a Lunar cave with the lights off.  In a few seconds, 
the emergency lights began to come on.
Everyone keep calm. Power will be restored momentarily.  Even as he said it, 
he knew it was not true.  On Luna, electrical power was as essential to life as 
oxygen.  The Luna City power grid had been built quadruple redundant to prevent 
even momentary outages.  It required a failure bigger than he cared to think 
about to plunge the mass driver complex into night.
Ambers voice echoed through the darkened cavern. Tom!  Come here, I need you.
Thorpe fought his way out of the press of bodies and found her standing on a 
catwalk that ringed the caverns upper walls. As soon as she saw him, she turned 
and stepped through the door that led to the main control room.  He hurried to a 
ladder and climbed to the catwalk.  A few seconds later, he joined Amber in the 
darkened control room.
The powers off all over the city, she said without preamble.
Are you sure?
As soon as the lights failed, I called several public screens. Everything shows 
emergency lighting.
The power plant?
It has to be.
I wonder what happened.
She shrugged. Either the government cut the power to stop the riot, or else 
someone has done something to damage the power plant.
If it had been the government, the lights would have been back on by now.
Agreed, she said. That means that it must be the rioters.  They probably 
coordinated the attack at the spaceport with one on the power plant.  Maybe they 
thought they could blackmail the authorities into letting them board a ship.
Switch on the outside cameras. Lets see whats going on at the spaceport.
Amber keyed for an external view on a screen that was powered off the emergency 
circuits. At first, everything seemed normal.  As they watched, flame erupted 
from the tail of one of the ferries on the opposite side of the wide plain.  The 
ship rose slowly into the black sky, heeled over, and disappeared from the 
picture.  A moment later, a second ship followed it.  Then more and more ships 
lifted and disappeared into the black sky, until there was no longer any doubt.
The authorities were abandoning their posts. The evacuation was over.
Well ... Ill ... be ... damned! Thorpe growled as he realized what was 
happening.
I never thought theyd do it, Amber said, uncomprehending. I suppose I knew 
it would happen, butI never thought they would do it! 
The two looked at each other for long seconds. So far, they were alone in the 
control room.  Only they were aware of what was happening.
Whos going to tell them? Amber asked, inclining her head to indicate the 
cavern where the rest of their party was waiting.
I will. I think wed better launch as soon as we can get loaded.
Amber put the back of her hand to her mouth and stared at him wide eyed. Oh, 
no!
Whats the matter?
Wecant launch! There are warning signs all over about being careful not to 
leave the capacitor bank fully charged for long periods.  Apparently, that can 
damage them.  I planned to charge them just before launch.
Were out of power? We dont have any at all?
Not enough to achieve orbit, Amber said. If we try to launch with whats left 
in the capacitors, well drill a hole in some ring wall on the way out!
#
Thorpe gathered everyone together in the service cavern. They took the news of 
their abandonment well.  Whether that was because they had expected it, or 
because their exertions over the past week had worn them down, he was not sure.  
Nor was their reaction to news concerning their lack of power what he had 
anticipated.  Rather than blame Amber for not charging the capacitors sooner, 
most took this latest hurdle in stride.
Maybe the power plant can be brought back online, Allison Nalley said.
Unlikely, Thorpe replied, explaining his and Ambers theory about what had 
happened. It was probably a bomb.  In any event, the power generators are on 
the other side of the city.  We dont want to alert anyone to what were 
planning.
Weve got lights, Jamie Bryant pointed out. What sort of emergency system 
does the mass driver have?
Thorpe frowned. The thought that there might be a source other than city power 
to charge the capacitors had not occurred to him.  What about it, Amber?
I saw a reference to emergency power in the operating procedures, she mused. 
I didnt read it though.
Its easy enough to find out, Thorpe replied. He directed the younger staffers 
to move the first of the pods to where it could be loaded with liquid oxygen 
while he, Amber, Grayson, and Dornier adjourned to the control room.  They 
clambered up the ladder to the catwalk, and from there, back through the gloomy 
corridors to the control room.  Amber sat in front of the big control screen and 
keyed for the instructions.  A long list of options flashed on the screen.  Near 
the bottom was a section on emergency power procedures.  She keyed for it and 
was soon reading what to do in the event city power was lost.
This doesnt say anything about launching during a power outage, she said 
after scanning the first several screens of data. Mostly it talks about keeping 
the cryogenic storage tanks and other essential equipment operating.
All that equipment takes a certain amount of power, Dornier said as he read 
over Ambers shoulder. Perhaps we can divert that to the capacitors and 
accumulate sufficient charge for a launch.
Grayson gestured impatiently at the screen. Put up the power system schematic.
It took a few minutes for Amber to search out the systems electrical schematics 
and find the one she wanted. Soon, however, she had the mass drivers power 
circuits displayed as a series of multicolored, glowing lines.  Normal circuits 
were displayed in green, mass driver control circuitry in yellow, emergency 
power components in red.
As Thorpe had suspected, the lights and other low power devices were all fed 
from the citys emergency power system. They did not interconnect with the 
complexs machinery at all.  Mass driver essential equipment was powered by a 
small fusion generator located two levels below the control room.  The generator 
had never been intended to provide power for a launch.  Still, the complexs 
essential equipment drew enough power that the generator had to be large to 
supply it.  In time, it would also charge the capacitors.
Dr. Dornier immediately set out to calculate how long it would take. When he 
finished, he looked up at the others and said, I make it six hours to full 
charge, possibly as little as four hours to accumulate enough energy for a 
launch.  That last is a bare minimum and I wouldnt trust it too far.
Then were back in business, Thorpe said. Well begin charging the capacitors 
immediately and load the first pod while were waiting.
You realize, of course, Grayson said, that the first launch will alert 
everyone that the mass driver is still operating. How long do you think it will 
take them to figure out that this is their last chance to get off Luna?
Maybe theyll think its a late cargo launch.
So what? They will still see it as their last chance.  This place will be 
mobbed within minutes.  What chance of getting the second pod off then?
Have you a better suggestion?
Ive already made it. Everyone should go in the first pod.
Damn it, Niels, weve been all through that. We are not carrying enough oxygen. 
 Wed be asphyxiated within a week.
You dont know that, Grayson responded. The boil off rates are nothing more 
than a guess.  The oxygen may last twice as long as we think.
Or half as long.
We may be overlooking something here, Dornier said. Do we even have time for 
a second launch before Thunderstrike gets here?
Grayson turned to him. You said that it would take six hours to accumulate each 
charge, twelve hours total.  That leaves a good ten hours to spare before the 
comet arrives.
Dornier nodded. Before itarrives .  But how long before that must we launch to 
ensure that we can clear the explosion?  Maybe we dont have time for the second 
pod to get far enough away to be safe.
Grayson turned to Amber. Its your discovery, will we be able to get to a safe 
distance if we launch ten hours before impact?
She shrugged. Define safe distance where 60 million billion tons of ice are 
concerned.  Hell, we could be sitting in the deepest cave on Earth and still not 
be safe.  If ten hours is all we have, then it will have to do.
Look, Thorpe said, tiring of what was threatening to become an academic 
discussion. Were wasting time.  Sticking with two pods is not something I 
prefer doing, it is something that is necessary!  We will need some time to 
cross connect the wiring.  I propose that we shoot our first pod no later than 
eight hours from now, our second as soon after as we can manage.
And how do you propose keeping the mob from beating the door down while the 
capacitors are charging? Dornier asked.
Weve got eight hours to figure something out. In the meantime, lets get those 
capacitors charging so we can get the hell out of here!
    
CHAPTER 42
 
Harold Barnes was more frightened than he had ever been in his entire life. Six 
months earlier it had seemed so simple when he had given up his evacuation 
priority to stay in Luna City until the very end.  The decision had been an easy 
one.  By staying behind, Barnes hoped to become a very rich man.
The idea had first come to him shortly after Prime Minister Hobart had 
capitulated to the terrestrials demand that Luna allow the Avalon Option to 
proceed. Barness position as one of the prime ministers unofficial advisors 
had afforded him an early look at the problems of evacuating Luna.  Evacuating 
the Moon involved far more than merely transporting its people to Earth.  There 
was also the matter of dealing with the disruption to their lives.  Lunas 
people had worked for generations to turn their airless world into a home for 
their children.  In the process, they had accumulated considerable wealth.  
While wealth is often measured as patterns of ones and zeros in a bank computer, 
there was still plenty in the form of possessions that were too bulky to load on 
the ships.
The personal possessions allotment for each refugee was five kilograms of mass 
or half a cubic meter of volume, whichever was less. These were sufficient for 
the clothes on a persons back and a few family mementos.  Most Lunarians had 
been forced to abandon prized possessions, and under the agreement with Earth, 
were entitled to be compensated for the loss.  One of the first acts of the 
Republic following the public announcement of the Avalon Option had been to 
establish a system for authorizing compensation for property losses.
The first step in the process was for an individual seeking compensation to file 
a claim with his local branch of the Bank of Luna. For most items, the claim was 
granted without further effort.  For high value properties, such as works of 
art, gold, and other precious substances, an appraisal was required.  The 
petitioner was then required to deliver the item in question to a central 
clearinghouse where teams of appraisers established the items fair market 
value.
Once an item was appraised, the owner was credited with its value in his 
evacuation account on Earth. He then surrendered the item to bank to prevent a 
second claim being made.  This precaution was primarily necessary for the gold 
bullion and other items that were not individually identifiable.  Although it 
was not necessary, paintings, sculptures, and other works of art were handled in 
the same way.
A month before the comet was due to arrive; Harold Barnes had put his plan into 
motion. He used his influence to obtain launch rights for six cargo pods.  These 
he loaded with the gleanings from the banks storerooms.  Only the most valuable 
items were loaded into the cargo pods.  Along with the works of art and rare 
collections, he piled several tons of precious metals into the pods.  Barnes had 
then watched each of the pods leap across the gaps in the accelerator towers to 
disappear into the black sky.
Only he knew the parameters of their orbits!
It had then been a matter of waiting his turn for evacuation. He had originally 
been assigned to go out a week before the comets arrival, but had then been 
notified that there would be a two-day delay.  Two days had turned into four.  
Then had come the nerve-wracking ordeal of standing in line for more than a day 
while he waited his turn to board.
He had finally had the debarkation lock in sight when an organized group of 
armed men had tried to crash through security. Like thousands of others, Barnes 
had cowered on the floor, shivering, as the bullets flew overhead.  He had 
expected the security forces to make short work of their attackers, but they 
hadnt.  The moment the lights failed, the attackers had rushed the security 
barrier.  They discovered the defenders had fled.  Their whoops of triumph 
turned into screams of frustration when the ground to orbit craft began to lift 
off one after another.  Inside the terminal, Harold Barnes found himself 
abandoned within fifty meters of his goal.
Afterward, Barnes had gravitated toward the transit hall. That, at least, had 
windows to let in sunlight.  He was not the only one.  More than a thousand 
people packed the dome shoulder to shoulder as they milled about in confusion.  
Barnes found a bare spot near one of the observation windows and collapsed into 
it.  He was slowly beginning to realize that valuable as they were, those six 
cylinders full of riches were not worth his life.
Hey, Citizen! How about moving your legs so someone else can sit down?
Barnes looked up listlessly at the young punk who stood over him. There seemed 
to be more of them than ever.  Just a few months ago, no such dreg would have 
dared talk to him, let alone with such insolence.  Now they swaggered about as 
though they owned the Moon!  Barnes thought of complaining, but decided not to 
make a point of it.  Around them, hundreds of others sat hugging knees and 
rocking in quiet desperation.  Here a person sobbed, there another cursed, but 
mostly they sat in silence.  It had been hours since they had lost all hope of 
rescue and now there was nothing to do but wait for the end.
Hey! someone yelled, Whats that?
Barnes glanced toward the view window. For an instant, he saw nothing.  Then he 
noticed a cylinder traversing the mass driver towers.  He snapped his head 
around to look through the window to his left.  He was just in time to see the 
cylinder leap the gap between two towers and disappear into the distance.  It 
had still been accelerating as it went.  Of that, Barnes was sure!
There was a sudden buzz in the observation dome as those who had seen it told 
their neighbors who had not. The buzz quickly grew to a roar as the same idea 
occurred to nearly a thousand people simultaneously.  Harold Barnes was not 
alone in his reaction.  He found himself on his feet, screaming at the top of 
his lungs.  Whether the scream was in rage or relief, even he could not have 
said.  His lips were turned upward in a snarl that belonged more to a wolf than 
a man!
#
Theyre off! Amber said, watching the dwindling pod on the screen inside the 
mass drivers control room.  The displays showed a near perfect launch.  The 
pods velocity as it exited the last of the launch towers had been 3.2 
kilometers per second, comfortably above escape velocity.  Its orbit showed it 
sweeping around low behind Earth before climbing upward toward the Moon once 
more.  The pod would never complete that orbital track.  When they passed behind 
Earth, the pods occupants would use their limited supply of maneuvering fuel to 
slow and go into a highly elliptical orbit around the Mother of Men.  After 
that, they would wait for either rescue or the end of their oxygen supply.
How much power did we use? Thorpe asked from beside her.
Eighty-five percent of full charge, she reported. That means we can be back 
to full power in five hours.
Push it all you can. Im going down to check our defenses.
Up until now, they had relied for security on the fact that no one knew that 
they were inside the mass driver complex. Thorpe was sure that lack of knowledge 
had been changed by their first launch.  Hundreds must have seen the pod 
accelerate past the transit hall.  Soon thousands would know.  For people whose 
last hope of escape had just vanished, the reminder that there was still a way 
off Luna would be a revelation from on high.  Thorpe had no doubt that they 
would soon have visitors.  The only question was, when?
The access route that had initially appeared the most difficult to defend had 
turned out to be the easiest. The tunnel from Luna City was one of the citys 
major thoroughfares.  It was as wide as a two-lane highway on Earth, with a 
vertical dimension of four meters.  The tunnel was the main route through which 
ice cargoes and other bulk materials were shipped to the mass driver.
All corridors on Luna were interrupted every few hundred meters by emergency 
pressure doors. They are there to limit the damage if there were to be a blow 
out.  As they had at the hotel, the observatorys technicians quickly fooled two 
adjacent sets of doors into closing.  The stretch they sealed off was one with a 
branch corridor leading to a surface airlock.  After closing and welding the 
doors to their frames, a vacuum suited technician then disconnected the safety 
devices that kept the airlocks doors from being opened simultaneously.  He then 
opened the inner door, wedged it open with an iron bar, and punched to have the 
outer door cycle.  The resulting hurricane of escaping air smashed the outer 
door and nearly swept the technician out with it.
In normal times, the sudden decompression of an entire section of main corridor 
would have set alarms to sounding all over the city. Perhaps it still did.  
There was no one to answer the alarms.  The double barrier with vacuum in 
between would slow any intruders.  Whether it would slow them enough to allow 
the astronomers to make their getaway was a question no one could answer.
Before closing the emergency pressure doors, Thorpe had had the corridor cameras 
rewired to show the city side of the barrier. Fifteen minutes after Pod 1 was 
launched, Amber notified him via hand radio that people were milling about on 
the opposite side.
What are they doing? he asked.
Nothing. They look confused.
Good, lets hope they stay that way!
As he continued his tour of inspection, he tried not to visualize the scene on 
the other side of the barrier. If he could have seen the crowds of desperate 
people pounding their fists against the barrier, it would have been too easy to 
wonder what right he had to deny them their only possibility of escape.  What he 
was doing was necessary, but it did not make Thorpe like himself any better.
The next stop on his tour was a maintenance corridor just under the breech end 
of the mass driver. Here too they had rigged the airlock.  This time their 
defense was to latch the inner airlock door open after mounting a camera outside 
to cover that approach.  With the inner door open, there would be no forcing the 
outer door.  It was held shut by several thousand kilos of force.  One of the 
technicians was watching the monitor that showed him the surface.  He was 
wearing his vacuum suit, with his helmet hanging down from its carrying strap in 
front of his chest.
Any movement?
Not yet, Mr. Thorpe.
Keep an eye out. It wont be long.  Once they discover the inner door is open, 
they may try to break the safety port.  Make sure the decompression does not 
catch you on the wrong side of the emergency door.  We wont have time to rescue 
you.
Understood, the technician, a young Lunarian named Albert Segovia, replied.
Tom!
Yes, Amber.
I see men in vacuum suits outside our front door. They have something with 
them.  I think its a portable airlock.  Theyre going to depressurize the 
section in front of our barrier and see if they cant penetrate it.
Smart, he replied. Keep me informed as to their progress.  Hows the charging 
going?
On schedule, maybe a little ahead. Ive turned off everything I can and am 
using what little city power were getting to help.
Good thinking. Ill be in the cavern if you need me.
Thorpe glanced at his wrist chronometer. It had been twenty-five minutes since 
they had launched Pod 1, more than four hours to go!
The second pod was illuminated by two lone work lights, both of which operated 
from battery. All other power was being diverted to the capacitors.  They had 
loaded the liquid oxygen hours earlier and the rear end of the capsule glistened 
with a thick layer of frost as the humidity from the air condensed and then 
froze on the cold surface.  Jamie Bryant periodically wrapped a cable around the 
hull and scraped the frost away.  Thorpe was afraid that if they let it get too 
thick, it would clip one of the launching rings on takeoff and cause the pod to 
tumble.
How are things going? he asked Bryant.
Were all set to send it up into the breech. When should we load up?
Not for awhile yet. Theres not much the seven of us can do against that mob if 
they get in, but theres nothing we can do if we are sealed inside of this 
thing.  Are you listening to the radio?
Bryant nodded.
Listen for my order to don suits, then do it as quickly as you can. Where are 
Niels and Margaret?
Bryant hooked his thumb toward the pod. Securing the cargo inside.  We did not 
weld nearly enough padeyes to the hull as we should have.  Theyre having 
trouble finding places to tie things down.
Im sure there are a hundred things we could have done better, Thorpe replied. 
We did all we had time for.
Uh, Thomas...
Yes?
Ive been wondering. What happens if that mob gets in here?
They will tear us limb from limb, then fight over who is to get the pod, and 
probably destroy it in the process.
And if they realize they cant get in? What will they do?
If it were me out there, and I was really frustrated, I think Id try to damage 
the mass driver and stop the launch. Misery loves company, you know.
What a happy thought!
Thorpe gave him a quick smile of reassurance. Lets hope that they dont think 
of it.
#
Three hours later, it was obvious that they would not have to think of it. The 
crowd in the main corridor had gone efficiently to work on erecting their 
portable airlock and had managed to pump down the section of corridor in front 
of the barrier.  The whole operation had taken a little more than ninety 
minutes.  As one group worked, more and more had disappeared back up the 
corridor.  Presumably, they had gone to get their suits, because a like number 
of vacuum suited individuals showed up several minutes later.
If Thorpe had been working to break through the barrier, he would have closed 
another pressure door upstream of the break, and then vented the corridor to 
space. That would have eliminated the need to set up the bulky emergency 
airlock.  Of course, it would also have trapped everyone on the city side of the 
newly closed pressure door, leaving access only to those vacsuited individuals 
who took part in the breakthrough.  The crowd, Thorpe suspected, had not been 
willing to do it the fast way.
The penetration effort hit a roadblock when they discovered that the pressure 
door would not open even when the differential had been removed. This had slowed 
them another fifteen minutes while they conferred on the opposite side of the 
emergency airlock.  The portable airlock was made of a translucent material that 
allowed shapes to be discerned, but hid the details from Thorpes cameras.  The 
gloom of the emergency lighting did not help matters either.
The reason for the delay became obvious when the corridor camera suddenly failed 
and a few seconds later, a distant whump! was heard through the cavern walls. 
The first barrier door had been blown with explosives.
It wont be long now, people. Into your suits!  Quickly!
Thorpe had already taken the precaution of putting his own on. It limited his 
mobility, but would save his life if the crowd in the corridor managed to vent 
the complex to space.  The service cavern was of a size where 
compartmentalization was not feasible.  If the pressure doors in the corridors 
were breached, the entire volume would undergo explosive decompression.
He hurried to the control room. How long until we have enough power to launch?
We still need ninety minutes to full charge, Amber said. She, too, had her 
suit on and was carrying her helmet.
We arent going to have the time for a full charge. Whats the earliest we 
could launch, assuming nothing goes wrong.
Twenty five minutes, she reported. That will barely get us over the curb.
The curb was Lunas escape velocity. A ship that launched with just above 
Lunas 2.38 kilometers per second escape velocity was said to have coasted over 
the curb.  It would nearly halt in space before crossing over into Earths 
gravity field, and then begin its long fall toward the larger planet.
All right, he said. Set the controls for launch in thirty minutes, then get 
to the ship.
We ought to have more margin, she warned.
We dont have the time. Now do as I say, damn it!
Yes, Thomas. Ill be on my way in five minutes.
Thorpe next checked with Segovia. Anything?
Im not sure. I think I saw a shadow cross my field of view a few minutes ago.
Where? Thorpe asked.
Right there! he said, pointing to the lower edge of the screen. The sun was 
behind the camera, and if someone had crossed behind it, his or her long shadow 
might well have intruded into the field of view.
Thorpe was thinking about what to do when the screen went blank.
We are sure now! he said. Get to the ship.  Ill look this over.
As Segovia raced down the corridor, Thorpe edged forward, stepping over the 
raised coaming of the emergency pressure door just inside the airlock. Building 
codes on Luna required such a device at that position.
Thorpe cautiously peeked around the airlock coaming until he could see the small 
ten-centimeter window set in the outer door. Beyond it was the bright sunlight 
of the Lunar plain.  Suddenly, there was a shadow across the window as though 
someone were standing in front of it.  Then the shadow went away to reveal a 
toroidal object with wires extending from it plastered to the outside of the 
glass.
Thorpe lunged backwards, tripping over the pressure door coaming just as the 
glass pane exploded inward and a hurricane of air rushed past him. The hurricane 
lasted for just an instant as the pressure door fired its explosive charge and 
slammed out of its recess in the wall to cover the corridor.  As it did so, it 
missed Thorpes boot by one centimeter.  He gazed at it for a second and 
shivered.  Pressure doors were designed to close regardless of what they found 
in their way.  Had his leg been in the door, it would have been amputated.
He got to his feet and stepped forward to look at the door.  The invaders now 
had two choices.  They could unlatch the inner door, close it, and pressurize 
the space between, which would allow them to open the emergency door.  Or else 
they could blast it open with explosives, venting the mass driver complex to 
vacuum.
Helmets on, people! he ordered into his radio. Acknowledge.
He waited until he received the weirdly echoing responses that were the result 
of transmitting inside a cave, and then put his own helmet on.
Five minutes later, he was back at the pod. All six of his people were already 
there.
Lets get onboard. Ill stay outside to operate the winch.
When a pod was ready for launch, an automatic loading system sent it upwards 
through an airlock and into the breech mechanism of the big electromagnetic 
cannon. Since the mechanism was automatic, anyone who initiated the sequence had 
less than thirty seconds to cross the cavern, clamber aboard, and seal the hatch 
behind him before they were positioned in the launcher.  Without his vacuum 
suit, it would have been easy.  With it, there was a chance that he would not be 
able to make it.
Ready, Tom, Amber reported to him. She was inside the pod, with her helmet and 
shoulders outside watching him.  He moved to the nearest computer terminal and 
punched the control that started the sequence.  Next, he bounded back toward the 
pod as the automatic hoist reached down to grab hold of it with long, flexible 
arms.
He made it with five seconds to spare, diving headfirst through the pod hatch 
just as it was upended and carried toward the roof access tunnel. Inside he lay 
on the acceleration net they had woven from electrical cable.  He helped Amber 
secure the makeshift hatch from the inside, and then lay down on the net to 
catch his breath.
They heard the explosion just as the pod was entering the equipment lock that 
would transfer them to the surface.
Thorpe turned his head to look at Amber lying beside him. Well, one group or 
the other has managed to punch through.  How many minutes to launch?
Six, she replied.
How difficult will it be for them to cancel our launch?
They cant, she said, shaking her head inside the helmet. I put everything on 
priority.  Theyd need the password to get in and stop us.
And what is the password?
Sesquicentennial, she said with a laugh.
That ought to do it. Can they smash the equipment in the control room and stop 
us?
Only if they get at the computer one level down. That door is armored.
Theyve got explosives.
I hope they wont think of it until too late.
Once through the airlock, the rest of the loading sequence took thirty seconds. 
They found themselves resting in a cradle that aligned the pod with a long 
series of coils.  The structure was not solid, however, and Niels Grayson 
reported that he could see sunlit ground beyond the braces of the breech 
accelerator.
They waited in silence for two minutes. Suddenly, Niels reported that he could 
see figures moving outside.
Oh my God, Thomas! They are climbing up through the structure.  They can see 
the pod.
Keep calm. How long now, Amber?
Two minutes, twelve seconds, she reported through clenched teeth.
Tell me when they arrive, Thorpe said. His brain was racing, trying to think 
of what he could do.  Finally, he was struck with an idea.  Quick, everyone, 
switch to Channel Seven.  When they get close enough to see you through the 
port, Niels, signal that your radio is out.
There was a series of clicks as each of them changed to one of the special 
purpose channels that was hardly ever used for communications.
Theyre here, Grayson reported a moment later. There were pounding noises on 
the side of the pod.  Then one of the vacsuited figures leaned close to look in 
the darkened port.  They see me.
Signal that your radio is out.
I am. He seems agitated.  I am signaling that I do not understand.  ...  Now he 
is telling me to come out with hand signals.  ...  I am sending back that I 
dont understand.  ...  Wait, hes disappeared.
How long?
Ninety seconds.
Is there anything out there that will tell them were about to launch?
I dont think so.
Hes back, Grayson reported. He just stuck something to the port.  It looks 
like a doughnut, with thick wires extending outward.  He is signaling me to come 
out again, pointing at the object, and making hand gestures.  I cant quite make 
it out.
I can, Thorpe said. Hes telling us to come out or else hell blow us up.  
Start unstrapping, then move up one net.  Can he see anyone else?
No, came the response. The portholes were just in front of the pods midpoint, 
near the rear bulkhead.  Grayson had claimed the window seat by right of 
seniority.  Thorpe heard him rather than saw him as he moved slowly off the net 
and clambered forward as though he was heading for the hatch.
How long? Thorpe asked.
Thirty seconds.
Make sure you are secure, he warned Grayson. Now only one worry to go.
Whats that?
Will they have time to set that thing off when we begin to move, and if not, 
will the magnetic field induce enough current in the lead wires to set it off?
There was nothing to say to that. Amber began counting off the seconds until 
launch.  The pod suddenly echoed with a loud banging noise as those outside 
increased their demands that they come out.  Amber reached five and Thorpe held 
his breath.
He was about to comment that her chronometer must be slow when a fist smashed 
into his entire body. That was the last he remembered for a long time.
 
CHAPTER 43
 
Thorpe woke to the feel of a wet cloth on his forehead. He lay there for a 
moment, luxuriating in the sensation.  He opened his eyes to see Ambers face 
hanging over him.  She had a concerned look as her blue eyes searched his 
features.
How long have I been out?
About two hours, she said. Weve been worried about you.
He took a deep breath. The movement caused a grating sensation inside his chest. 
 He also noticed for the first time that his neck muscles were stiff, as was his 
right knee.  How are the others?
Niels has two broken ribs. Apparently, he was still strapping himself down when 
the electromagnets kicked in.  We got him out of his suit and taped up.  Jamie 
sprained his shoulder.  Margaret tore some ligaments.  Albert and I have a few 
sore muscles and bruises where the nets cut into us.  Allison is fine.  All in 
all, not a bad launch.
Did we make escape velocity? he asked. It had suddenly occurred to him that 
the minor casualties might be an indication that the launch had been too soft 
and they had failed to achieve orbit.
I think so, Amber replied as she folded the cloth and pressed the clean side 
to his forehead. We seem to be rising more slowly than we were, but were still 
rising.  I think we will make it over the curb.  Care to see?
Indeed I do!
Thorpe sat up and unhooked the crude restraining strap that had secured him to 
the net. As he did so, he noticed a few more aches and pains.  These were minor 
compared to the sudden throbbing that started in his head and threatened to 
spread down his neck.  He wondered if the launch could have torn his brain from 
its anchor points, leaving it to rattle around inside his skull.
Amber noticed his sudden grimace. Hurt?
He tried to nod, but thought better of it. Its like an anvil going off in my 
skull.
Hardly surprising, she said. She handed him two white pills and a drinking 
bulb.  Youve got a nasty bruise on the side of your head.  The padding in your 
helmet must be thin there.
He swallowed the pills with a quick gulp of tepid water. After a few minutes, he 
moved gingerly, pulling himself to where the acceleration net had been unhooked 
from one of its anchor points.  The three other nets had likewise been unhooked, 
yielding a clear passage to the cluttered rear bulkhead.  He noted that the air 
in the compartment was very dry.  Each breath irritated his nasal passages.  The 
rear bulkhead was covered with a thin layer of frost, giving visual evidence of 
where all the humidity had gone.
Margaret Grayson was huddled next to her husband on the net directly below the 
one he and Amber shared. One level down, Jamie Bryant, Albert Segovia, and 
Allison Nalley nodded to him as he floated past their perch.  The arrangement 
was not as it had been during the launch, a further indication of how long he 
had been unconscious.
The interior lights were on, transforming the viewport into a dull mirror. As he 
gazed at his own reflection, he noted that his hair was plastered down into a 
dark mass on the right side.  He moved his gauntletted hand up to touch the spot 
and was rewarded with a quick flash of pain.  He realized that he had been lucky 
not to have split his skull open.  To do that much damage, his helmet must have 
hit the bulkhead sometime during the launch.
Mind if I turn off the lights? he asked. When no one objected, he reached for 
the switch that had been one of the last items installed in the compartment.
The canister was steady in space, he noted, held there by occasional bursts from 
its attitude control jets. He could see some vapor emanating from the tail.  
Whether that was from the jets or from oxygen tank boil off, he could not tell.  
The canisters attitude was such that Luna was visible through two of the four 
viewports.  Immediately after launch, they had been moving back along the Moons 
orbital track with a velocity of some 9000 kilometers per hour.  As the canister 
climbed, it had been slowed by gravity - Lunas last attempt to claim six more 
victims for the coming cataclysm.  After several minutes spent staring at the 
Moon aft, Thorpe thought he could detect a slow dwindling of its diameter.  They 
were still rising, and far enough from Luna that it appeared that they would 
indeed escape its influence.
Having assured himself that they would not fall back, Thorpe let the other 
features of the scene seep into his consciousness. The sight, he realized, was 
decidedly odd.  Space was no longer its normal midnight black.  It had taken on 
a faint milk-white radiance, making Luna appear to be a dull pearl set against 
pale ivory.  He puzzled over the effect for a moment before realizing that they 
were looking at Thunderstrikes coma from the inside.  At more than a million 
kilometers in radius, the coma preceded the comet nucleus by several hours.  
Apparently, its leading edge had swept past them while Thorpe had been 
unconscious.
Thorpe turned and squinted in the direction of Sol, which was ninety degrees 
from Luna in the sky. He was surprised to see that the sun had a faint ring 
around it.  Normally in vacuum, the sun has the appearance of an incandescent 
light bulb.  With the majority of the comets coma between it and Luna, the sun 
had begun to take on the appearance it has during a hazy day on Earth.  Gazing 
toward the sun did not help his headache.  He looked away quickly, trying to 
find Earth.  It must be out of sight above them, he decided.  He then turned 
back toward Luna.  The Moon was definitely smaller than it had been when he 
first looked at it.  Since their path took them back along Lunas orbit, each 
hour they climbed gave them a better view of the small doomed world.  Their 
vantage point showed them fully one-quarter of Farside, with Mare Crisium and 
Mare Smythii directly beneath them.  Copernicus Crater and Luna City were almost 
out of sight behind western limb of the Moon.
Thorpe turned around in the cramped quarters and quickly let his gaze scan the 
other three viewports. He then pulled himself to the one through which Niels 
Grayson had pantomimed at the poor bastard who had been unlucky enough to be 
inside the mass driver breech when they had launched.  Thorpe did not know what 
effect the sudden surging magnetic field would have had on the interloper, but 
suspected that it hadnt been good.
The small, yellow explosive charge of the type miners used for seismic testing 
was still attached to the viewport. Of the detonator wires, however, there was 
no sign.  Apparently, they had snagged on something as the canister rocketed out 
of the breech.  Thorpe gazed at how close they had all come to death and took 
the opportunity to do something he had not had time for previously.  He was 
quietly sick as reaction overtook him.
#
The next ten hours were quiet ones inside the crowded compartment. Niels Grayson 
found it progressively more difficult to breathe, causing his wife to give him a 
sedative to let him sleep.  She stayed by his side, stroking his furrowed brow. 
It will be a shame if he misses Thunderstrikes arrival, Amber told her.
The astronomers wife looked up and smiled. He would never forgive me.  
Besides, well have to wake him to get him back into his suit before the big 
event. 
Periodically, either Amber or Thorpe would move to the viewport and judge their 
progress. The canister was rising very slowly now, its momentum nearly spent by 
the long climb out of Lunas gravity well.  Even so, they appeared to be safe.  
The Moon was no longer a nearby world that had to be seen in separate pieces.  
It had shrunk to a sphere small enough to be seen in a single glance.  The haze 
that enshrouded the universe had grown thicker.  Amber was keeping a journal of 
her observations for a paper she planned to write.
Between observations, the two lovers huddled together on the forward 
acceleration net and whispered to one another. Mostly they talked about what 
they would do after they were rescued.  Neither made note of the fact that their 
continuous radio calls had yet to be answered.  Also absent from their 
conversation was the very real possibility that they would not survive the 
coming hours.
As far as they knew, they were the last people to escape the Moon. Their tardy 
departure, coupled with their relatively slow velocity, made it nearly certain 
that they would be the closest space observers to the coming explosion.  All 
previous estimates of the destruction Thunderstrike would cause now seemed 
woefully inadequate.  Thorpe remembered that there were still scientists who 
maintained that the force of the blow would shatter the Moon, causing it to 
break up into millions of pieces.  If they were right, Earth was about to become 
a ringed world like Saturn.  Whatever the damage, it would not take much to end 
the seven lives in their tiny lifeboat.  One large chunk of debris thrown off at 
the wrong angle would leave no trace.
As the time grew short, they began their preparations to monitor the nucleuss 
arrival. As promised, Margaret Grayson roused her husband and helped him into 
his suit.  Niels tried not to wince during the process and the others pretended 
not to notice when he failed.  When they were all suited up and on internal air, 
they stowed the two lower nets to give themselves more room to move about.  They 
split into groups of three and gathered around the two viewports where Luna was 
visible.  Amber, Thorpe, Jamie Bryant, and Allison Nalley clustered around one 
port while a groggy Niels Grayson, his wife, and Albert Segovia took the other.
Thorpe gazed into space some thirty degrees off the line between Luna and Sol. 
Since it had only been three days sinceThe Rock had crashed into the nucleus, he 
hoped to see some sign of its approach.  A much denser gas cloud surrounded the 
nucleus, and the point whereThe Rock had impacted was almost certainly still 
incandescent.  The limitations of the human eye being what they are, he saw 
nothing.  He turned back to Amber.
How long until impact?
She glanced at her suit chronometer. Three minutes.
Check your polarizers, he ordered.
Each of them chinned the helmet control that caused their faceplates to darken. 
From inside the dark bubble, Thorpe could barely make out the outline of the 
Moon.  He chinned again to relieve the darkness, then watched as each of the 
others helmets cleared one by one.
Amber, please instruct us in proper procedure.
She nodded inside her helmet. We go to dark one minute prior to impact.  At 
fifteen seconds, squint until you can barely see your helmet instruments.  In 
any event, do not look directly at the Moon.  For Gods sake, if your eyes start 
to ache, close them fully until the flash has passed.  Pain is your bodys way 
of sending you a message.
Everyone got that?
They each acknowledged on the common circuit. Before he knew it, Amber announced 
that the time to impact was down to a single minute.  Thorpe waited until the 
other helmets had turned glossy black before again chinning his polarizer.  At 
fifteen seconds, he squinted as instructed.
Ambers voice continued the countdown.  As she reached zero, the interior of his 
helmet turned violet despite the polarizer.  He had planned to watch the whole 
thing, but the daggers stabbing deeply into his retinas caused him to wince.  It 
was worse than the time he had been caught by sunrise on the monorail.  He 
turned away and screwed his eyelids tightly shut.  It helped a little.  After a 
dozen seconds, the glow began to fade.  After a minute, he was able to open his 
eyes and turn back to gaze at the Moon.  The glow was still uncomfortably 
bright, but tolerable.  For the first time, he caught sight of Luna.
He gasped.
#
A fireball was trying to dig its way into Luna heart. The outer edge of the 
expanding zone of destruction was defined by a spherical shockwave.  The 
shockwave was a transparent bubble that was already several times Lunas 
diameter.  Below it was another shell of destruction.  This one glowed 
incandescent, and had shaded down from violet to blue-white.  This, Thorpe knew 
from reading the scientific projections of the impact, consisted of millions of 
tons of the lunar crust and cometary iron that had been vaporized by the impact. 
 The glowing gas was racing outward from ground zero.  Soon it would cool and 
start to condense into molten rock and iron.  It would be from this shell that 
billions of micrometeoroids would form.  They would provide Earth with 
spectacular meteor showers for several centuries to come.
Behind the incandescent gas shell was a layer of solid material from the 
periphery of the impact crater. It had been thrown outward in the crown shaped 
splash that is characteristic of impact craters.  This third layer was the 
dangerous one.  Some of its individual pieces were the size of small mountains, 
and all were speeding away at greater than lunar escape velocity.  Finally, at 
the center of the expanding cloud of debris was a vast inferno of violet-white 
heat still too bright to look at directly.
As Thorpe slowly reduced the degree of polarization in his faceplate, other 
details began to appear. A moving line of dust was working its way across the 
Farside highlands near the eastern limb of the Moon.  As he watched, other dust 
lines appeared at both poles and began marching toward the equator.  Although he 
could not see it, he knew that such a line was also marching westward, and that 
all would converge at a point diametrically opposite from where the comet 
nucleus had struck.
The line of dust was caused by the moving ground shock. As it moved through 
Lunas interior at the speed of sound, the surface wave produced a moving 
moonquake.  As the quake passed, it tossed grains of dust and even small 
boulders high into the sky.  Behind the dust, vast chasms of red appeared as the 
ancient surface split open under the stress.  For the first time in four billion 
years, molten lava flowed again on Luna.
The marching wavefronts converged at the end of ten minutes, leaving the lunar 
surface a raw red scar. All across Nearside, the mares were once again seas of 
liquid rock.  Thorpes gaze was drawn to where the Tranquility Monument had 
been.  It was now an unbroken red-orange glow.  No longer were the boot prints 
of two intrepid astronauts imbedded forever in the soft grey soil.  In just a 
few minutes, Thunderstrike had wiped clean any sign that humanity had ever 
visited its nearest neighbor in space.
Lunas normally sharp features suddenly began to soften, as though seen through 
haze. Thorpe blinked, thinking his own tears were clouding his vision.  It took 
a few moments to realize that the effect had nothing to do with his eyes.  It 
was very real and entirely external. 
Whats happening? he yelled into his radio. Up until that moment, no one had 
said a word.  Each had watched the cataclysm wrapped in their own cocoon of 
thoughts.
Its the water vapor from Thunderstrike, Amber replied, her voice as excited 
as his own. The Moon is being engulfed in a vast cloud of steam.  It should 
begin to rain there any minute!
As though to underscore her words, the canister was buffeted as though by high 
winds. The viewport suddenly dulled as it was coated with a thin film of frost.  
Moments later, the interior clattered as their crafts hull was scoured by 
unseen particles.  Several tiny pits appeared in the transparent surface of the 
viewport.
Amber pointed to the haze on the ports exterior. Ice!  We have entered the 
debris cloud!  It wont be long until the next phase.
Next phase? Jamie Bryant asked, turning from the port to look at Amber.  
Thorpe did the same.  For the first time, he noticed that she was very pale 
behind her faceplate.  The spectacle of Lunas destruction had excited her.  
That had been evident just a few seconds earlier.  Now that excitement had 
turned to fear.
Whats the matter?
Weve been overtaken by the outermost debris layer, she explained. Its 
mostly microscopic ice particles, so theres not much to worry about.  Soon, 
though, we will be engulfed by the large stuff.  This light snowstorm is about 
to turn into a blizzard of rocks.  If we survive that, we may get through this 
alive.
Thorpe frowned. When will we know?
Eight hours.
So if were alive in eight hours, were liable to stay that way?
Correct.
Then I guess we wait and trust our luck, Thorpe said. He reached out and took 
her hand.  Scared?
Youre damned right I am!
Me, too. Whatever happens, well meet it together.
 
CHAPTER 44
 
Thorpe gazed at Luna and shook his head in wonder at the difference a mere 
hundred hours could make. No longer was the Moon the grey-brown rock that had 
decorated Earths sky since the beginning of time.  The Man in the Moon was 
gone, his unchanging stare never to be seen again.  The familiar landmarks were 
no more.  The renowned craters were now filled with magma and shrouded in 
mystery.  For Thunderstrike had not so much destroyed Luna as transformed it.  
The changes had started only a few hours after the nucleuss impact.  None 
aboard the makeshift lifeboat had seen the transformation begin, however.  They 
had been too busy coping with Ambers blizzard of rocks.
The clatter of particles hitting the sides of their escape pod had marked the 
arrival of the debris cloud. The sound reminded Thorpe of hailstones falling on 
a metal roof.  The microscopic debris had rebounded from their hull for four 
long hours without respite.  Sometimes the sound became a machine gun staccato, 
other times it softened to a few clangs per minute.  The two viewports facing 
Luna were almost immediately sandblasted into uselessness, their surfaces so 
pitted that it was impossible to see out.
Nor were the micrometeoroids the only components of the storm. Three hours after 
the first clattering noises, they were all surprised by a bang that rattled 
their teeth inside their suits.  Thorpe looked up, and was startled to see a 
centimeter-wide hole not a meter in front of his nose.  Across the pod, a nearly 
identical hole marked where something had exited the ship.  The black of space 
was visible through both holes and a brisk wind was blowing in their direction.  
Thorpe had patched the entrance hole with shaking hands while Jamie Bryant took 
care of where the meteor had exited.  After that, everyone lay down on the 
acceleration nets to ride the storm out.  With each new sound, however, Thorpe 
could not help wishing for a deep foxhole to crawl into.
Eventually the clattering noises subsided and Amber announced that the worst was 
over. It was another three hours, however, before the slight rotation of the pod 
brought the two undamaged ports into line with Luna.  Their first sight of the 
Moon in more than twelve hours brought home the extent of what had happened.
What the hell? Thorpe asked as he gazed down on a snow-white world of cloud 
centered where Luna had been.  The clouds were like a comets coma, only far 
thicker.  Luna had become a miniature Venus, growing appreciably in the process. 
 Thorpe estimated the cloud layer to be more than a thousand kilometers thick.  
That was ten times the depth of Earths own atmosphere.
My God! Amber exclaimed.  I had no idea there would be so much steam.
You mean thats water vapor?
What else? Thunderstrike massed 60 million billion tons and most of it was ice. 
 That ice was vaporized by the impact.
All of it vaporized?
Every last gram. Most of the steam must have been driven down into the interior 
or else wed see a much thicker atmosphere.
Any chance of there being liquid water under that blanket? Margaret Grayson 
asked.
Amber shook her head. Not yet.  The Moon is still too hot.  Give it a few 
months.  The rains will begin in earnest then.  Once started they will go on for 
years.
Thorpe frowned. Are you saying that Luna is liable to develop oceans?
Fairly sizeable ones, I should think. Thunderstrike contained one-twentieth as 
much water as Earths oceans.  It dumped its load onto a world with only 
one-thirteenth Earths surface area.
The idea that Luna would come out of this with an ocean was one Thorpe had to 
think about. It was just too alien an idea.
All of them had thought about it for three days. They rested, ate, talked, 
watched Luna, and took turns calling for help on the radio.  They had long since 
gone over the curb and were now falling toward Earth.  Despite the closing 
range, the blue-white planet seemed oblivious to their pleas.
The antenna must be gone, Thorpe told Bryant after inspecting the radio for 
the twelfth time. A loop back test proved that the transmitter was putting out a 
signal.  Either everyone on Earth was ignoring them or else that signal was not 
being broadcast to space.
How can we check it?
Ill have to go around back to take a look. Lets get everyone into their suits 
so we can depressurize.
As soon as the cabins oxygen had been vented to space, Thorpe opened the hatch 
and clambered out onto the flat forward face of the pod. The dust had thoroughly 
scoured everything, totally erasing the marks they had painted during the 
modification process.  He slowly made his way aft, grabbing the occasional 
handhold like a mountain climber going up a sheer rock face.  He reached the 
guidance pack and was careful to give the business ends of the attitude control 
jets a wide berth. 
Here it is, he relayed back through the electrical cable they had rigged for 
him to stay in contact. The antenna must have been carried away during launch.  
No wonder its been so quiet.
What can we use to fix it? Ambers voice asked in his earphones.
Unravel one of the acceleration nets. Well use the wire as an antenna.
A few minutes later, Ambers helmet appeared around the forward edge of the pod. 
She passed him the stiff cable and he quickly attached it to the stub of the 
damaged antenna.  He tugged gently on his repair job to make sure that it would 
hold.
Send something, he ordered. He was rewarded by Albert Segovias voice calling 
any ship within range on the emergency circuit.  The signal was loud and strong.
Amber helped him inside ten minutes later. They had barely repressurized and 
removed their helmets when Segovia yelled that he had made contact.  Thorpe 
immediately swarmed to the back bulkhead where the radio was located.  The cold 
air caused a streamer of exhalation fog to trail him. 
We are seven survivors from Luna, falling toward Earth in a mass driver cargo 
pod, he said after a demand to identify himself. Who is this?
This is Meteor Guard Station Number Sixteen, a voice with a British accent 
responded. Are you in difficulty?
Youre damned right were in difficulty. We need help!
Understood, the voice answered. Give me your position and your orbit.
Amber read off several figures. They were her projections of their orbit.  She 
warned the meteor guard operator that the numbers were very rough and 
recommended that he attempt to triangulate on their radio signal.
Give me a continuous count.
 Amber began counting slowly.  A few minutes later, he told her to stop.  All 
right, we have you triangulated from three meteor guard stations.  We will be 
listening for you next hour and every hour thereafter.  Once we have plotted 
your orbit, we will see what can be done to get a ship to you.  I warn you, 
however, that it may take some time.  We are a trifle busy just now.
They were aware of just how busy the meteor guard system was. Several times in 
the past four days, large tumbling objects had appeared near them, and then 
veered off to disappear into the black.  In space, there is no way to judge 
distance.  The mere fact that they could see the pieces of debris told everyone 
that they were big enough to be very dangerous.
Over the next forty-eight hours, space was illuminated by a series of flashes as 
nuclear warheads rose from the meteor guard stations to explode against bits of 
dangerous space junk. Despite the stations efforts, they had not always 
succeeded in deflecting their targets.
With the radio repaired, they listened to news accounts. They quickly learned 
that the casualties on Luna had been enormous.  The official toll of those left 
behind stood at twenty six thousand.  Crueler, perhaps, was the evacuation ship 
that had been holed while in Earth orbit.  It had been offloading during the 
disaster, and there was no official estimate of casualties.  Finally, there were 
the meteors that fell near Brisbane, Kansas City, and Le Havre.  The destruction 
had been especially bad at Le Havre.  Relief workers were still digging through 
the remains.
So many! Amber said as they listened to the growing list of casualties two 
days after establishing contact with the meteor guard station.  The two of them 
were sitting cross-legged on the acceleration net on the level of the viewports. 
 They were out of their vacuum suits for the first time in days.  Two hours 
earlier, a meteor guard communicator had announced that a ship was on its way.  
It would arrive within forty hours.  Amber rested her head on Thorpes shoulder. 
 For the first time since they left Farside Observatory, she felt safe and 
secure.
It would have been a lot worse if Earth had been the target, he reminded her. 
We were lucky.
I agree, but not for the reason you think.
Oh? he asked as he nuzzled her hair. It was matted, unkempt, and very dirty.  
He did not mind at all.  Care to enlighten me, my love?
If you like, she said, swiveling around to face him. Niels and I have been 
doing some calculations.  We think Luna may acquire a real atmosphere.
The Moons too small. The gas molecules leak off into space.  Thats why its 
original atmosphere dissipated billions of years ago.
True enough, she said. This atmosphere, too, will eventually leak away.  The 
question is how long the process will take.  With all that water that was driven 
deep, we estimate that Luna will be able to keep its new mantle for anywhere 
from 100,000 to one million years.
He whistled. Too bad its all superheated steam.
That wont last long. As soon as the cloud cools, most of it will condense into 
rain.  Ultraviolet light will begin to disassociate the water molecules, 
releasing free oxygen and hydrogen.  The hydrogen will rise to the top and be 
swept away by the solar wind.  Eventually, the Moon ought to have a climate 
approximating Earths tropics - at least, in temperature.  The atmospheric 
pressure is liable to be higher than Earths.
Are you telling me that Lunas about to develop anoxygen atmosphere? Thorpe 
asked, dubious.
A rudimentary one, she replied. Photo-disassociation tends to be self 
limiting, you know.  It only goes on until the ozone layer forms.  Of course, 
there are all those virgin rocks to oxidize.  They will eat up a lot of the free 
oxygen as soon as it is produced.  No, if the Moon is to develop a real 
atmosphere, well have to help it along.
We?
Of course. I am going back.  I hope youll go with me.
I havent thought much about it.
You should. It will rain most of this decade.  By the end of that time, the 
weather ought to settle down sufficiently for the first colonies to be planted.  
They will be very different from the old ones.  Well have to learn all over the 
lessons of living on the Moon.
Youre serious! You want to go back?
She nodded.
Why?
Its my home, she said simply. Her blue eyes searched his.
But we just risked everything to escape the place!
Going back will be even more difficult. It will take generations to produce a 
breathable atmosphere.  Someday our children or grandchildren will play in green 
fields beneath a blue sky filled with fluffy white clouds.  Only, they will not 
have to fight Earths gravity and they will be able to fly under their own 
power.  The combination of thick atmosphere and low gravity may make Luna 
perfect for flying.
It might be fun at that, he admitted. The idea had been a shock, but the more 
he considered it, the more it intrigued him.  Perhaps one day he would find 
himself sailing the Sea of Tranquility, or braving the high, slow waves on the 
Ocean of Storms.  He grinned.  In fact...
Amber lifted her face to his and silenced him with a kiss. Enough deep thinking 
for one day, my love.  We have plenty of time for that later.  Please, hold me!
He slipped an arm around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into his lap. 
They sat and gazed out the viewport at the cloud-covered world that would one 
day be as hospitable as Mother Earth.  On that day, Thorpe knew, the human race 
would finally be safe.  Never again would a single wayward asteroid, comet, or 
meteor threaten humanitys extinction.  As he looked at the tiny world that was 
even now rising from the ashes of its own destruction, he knew that here wasHomo 
sapiens  second permanent home in the universe.
Second, but far from last!
#
The End
AUTHORS BIOGRAPHY
 
Michael McCollum was born in Phoenix, Arizona, in 1946, and is a graduate of 
Arizona State University, where he majored in aerospace propulsion and minored 
in nuclear engineering. He is currently employed at AlliedSignal Aerospace 
Company, Tempe, Arizona, where he is a senior engineering manager in the 
Pneumatic Controls Product Line. In his career, Mr. McCollum has worked on the 
precursor to the Space Shuttle Main Engine, a nuclear valve to replace the one 
that failed at Three Mile Island, several guided missiles, Space Station 
Freedom, and virtually every aircraft in production today. He is currently 
involved in an effort to create a joint venture company with a major Russian 
aerospace engine manufacturer and has traveled extensively to Russia in the last 
several years.
In addition to his engineering, Mr. McCollum is a successful professional writer 
in the field of science fiction. He is the author of a dozen pieces of short 
fiction and has appeared in magazines such as Analog Science Fiction/Science 
Fact, Amazing, and Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine. His novels (all 
originally published by Ballantine-Del Rey) includeA Greater Infinity 
,,Procyon's Promise,Antares Dawn ,Antares Passage ,The Clouds of Saturn, and The 
Sails of Tau Ceti.  His novel,Thunderstrike! , was optioned by a Hollywood 
production company for a possible movie.Several of these books have subsequently 
been translated into Japanese and German.
Mr. McCollum is the proprietor of Sci Fi - Arizona, one of the first 
author-owned-and-operated virtual bookstores on the INTERNET. He has completed 
the first book in a series titledThe Gibraltar Stars Trilogy . Gibraltar Earth 
was the first original novel published on Sci Fi -Arizona.  Mr. McCollum is now 
working onAntares Victory .
Mr. McCollum is married to a lovely lady named Catherine, and has three 
children: Robert, Michael, and Elizabeth. Robert is an engineer, and Michael is 
studying to be a policeman. Elizabeth is a student at Northern Arizona 
University, where she is majoring in communications.
Sci Fi - Arizona
A Virtual Science Fiction Bookstore and Writers Workshop
Michael McCollum, Proprietor
WWW.SCIFI-AZ.COM
 
If you enjoy technologically sophisticated science fiction or have an interest 
in writing, you will probably find something to interest you at Sci Fi - 
Arizona. We have short stories and articles on writing- all for free! If you 
like what you find, we have full length, professionally written science fiction 
novels in both electronic form and as hard copy books, and at prices lower than 
you will find in your local bookstore.
 
Moreover, if you like space art, you can visit our Art Gallery, where we feature 
the works of Don Dixon, one of the best astronomical and science fiction artists 
at work today. Don is the Art Director of the Griffith Observatory. Pick up one 
or more of his spacescapes for computer wallpaper, or order a high quality print 
direct from the artist.
 
We have book length versions of both Writers Workshop series, The Art of 
Writing, Volumes I and II and The Art of Science Fiction, Volumes I and II in 
both electronic and hard copy formats.
 
So if you are looking for a fondly remembered novel, or facing six hours 
strapped into an airplane seat with nothing to read, check out our offerings. We 
think you will like what you find.
 
NOVELS
 
1. Life Probe -US $4.50
 
The Makers searched for the secret to faster-than-light travel for 100,000 
years. Their chosen instruments were the Life Probes, which they launched in 
every direction to seek out advanced civilizations among the stars. One such 
machine searching for intelligent life encounters 21st century Earth. It is not 
sure that it has found any...
 
2. Procyons Promise -US $4.50
 
Three hundred years after humanity made its deal with the Life Probe to search 
out the secret of faster-than-light travel, the descendants of the original 
expedition return to Earth in a starship. They find a world that has forgotten 
the ancient contract. No matter. The colonists have overcome far greater 
obstacles in their single-minded drive to redeem a promise made before any of 
them were born...
 
 
3. Antares Dawn - US$4.50
 
When the supergiant star Antares exploded in 2512, the human colony on Alta 
found their pathway to the stars gone, isolating them from the rest of human 
space for more than a century. Then one day, a powerful warship materialized in 
the system without warning. Alarmed by the sudden appearance of such a behemoth, 
the commanders of the Altan Space Navy dispatched one of their most powerful 
ships to investigate. What ASNS Discovery finds when they finally catch the 
intruder is a battered hulk manned by a dead crew.
That is disturbing news for the Altans. For the dead battleship could easily 
have defeated the whole of the Altan navy. If it could find Alta, then so could 
whomever it was that beat it. Something must be done
 
4. Antares Passage - US$4.50
 
After more than a century of isolation, the paths between stars are again open 
and the people of Alta in contact with their sister colony on Sandar. The 
opening of the foldlines has not been the unmixed blessing the Altans had 
supposed, however.
 
For the reestablishment of interstellar travel has brought with it news of the 
Ryall, an alien race whose goal is the extermination of humanity. If they are to 
avoid defeat at the hands of the aliens, Alta must seek out the military might 
of Earth. However, to reach Earth requires them to dive into the heart of a 
supernova.
 
5. Antares Victory - Coming, 2000
 
The long-awaited conclusion of the Antares Series will be available on Sci 
Fi-Arizona in the summer of 2000. Watch for it!
 
6. Thunderstrike! - US$6.00
 
The new comet found near Jupiter was an incredible treasure trove of water ice 
and rock. Immediately, the water-starved Luna Republic and the Sierra 
Corporation, a leader in asteroid mining, were squabbling over rights to the new 
resource. However, all thoughts of profit and fame were abandoned when a 
scientific expedition discovered that the comets trajectory placed it on a 
collision course with Earth!
 
As scientists struggled to find a way to alter the comets course, world leaders 
tried desperately to restrain mass panic, and two lovers quarreled over the 
direction the comet was to take, all Earth waited to see if humanity had any 
future at all
 
7. The Clouds of Saturn - US$4.50
 
When the sun flared out of control and boiled Earth's oceans, humanity took 
refuge in a place that few would have predicted. In the greatest migration in 
history, the entire human race took up residence among the towering clouds and 
deep clear-air canyons of Saturn's upper atmosphere. Having survived the traitor 
star, they returned to the all-too-human tradition of internecine strife. The 
new city-states of Saturn began to resemble those of ancient Greece, with one 
group of cities taking on the role of militaristic Sparta ... \
 
8. The Sails of Tau Ceti - US$4.50
 
Starhopperwas humanity's first interstellar probe. It was designed to search for 
intelligent life beyond the solar system. Before it could be launched, however, 
intelligent life found Earth. The discovery of an alien light sail inbound at 
the edge of the solar system generated considerable excitement in scientific 
circles. With the interstellar probe nearing completion, it gave scientists the 
opportunity to launch an expedition to meet the aliens while they were still in 
space. The second surprise came whenStarhopper's crew boarded the alien craft. 
They found beings that, despite their alien physiques, were surprisingly 
compatible with humans. That two species so similar could have evolved a mere 
twelve light years from one another seemed too coincidental to be true.
One human being soon discovered that coincidence had nothing to do with it ...
 
9. GIBRALTAR EARTH - First Time in Print -- $6.00
 
It is the 24th Century and humanity is just gaining a toehold out among the 
stars. Stellar Survey StarshipMagellan is exploring the New Eden system when 
they encounter two alien spacecraft. When the encounter is over, the score is 
one human scout ship and one alien aggressor destroyed. In exploring the wreck 
of the second alien ship, spacers discover a survivor with a fantastic story.
The alien comes from a million-star Galactic Empire ruled over by a mysterious 
race known as the Broa. These overlords are the masters of this region of the 
galaxy and they allow no competitors. This news presents Earths rulers with a 
problem. As yet, the Broa are ignorant of humanitys existence. Does the human 
race retreat to its one small world, quaking in fear that the Broa will 
eventually discover Earth? Or do they take a more aggressive approach?
Whatever they do, they must do it quickly! Time is running out for the human 
race...
 
10. Gridlock and Other Stories - US$4.50
 
Where would you visit if you invented a time machine, but could not steer it? 
What if you went out for a six-pack of beer and never came back? If you think 
nuclear power is dangerous, you should try black holes as an energy source -- or 
even scarier, solar energy! Visit the many worlds of Michael McCollum. I 
guarantee that you will be surprised!
 
Non-Fiction Books
 
11. The Art of Writing, Volume I - US$10.00
 
Have you missed any of the articles in the Art of Writing Series? No problem. 
The first sixteen articles (October, 1996-December, 1997) have been collected 
into a book-length work of more than 72,000 words. Now you can learn about 
character, conflict, plot, pacing, dialogue, and the business of writing, all in 
one document.
 
12. The Art of Writing, Volume II - US$10.00
 
This collection covers the Art of Writing articles published during 1998. The 
book is 62,000 words in length and builds on the foundation of knowledge 
provided by Volume I of this popular series.
 
13. The Art of Science Fiction, Volume I - US$10.00
 
Have you missed any of the articles in the Art of Science Fiction Series? No 
problem. The first sixteen articles (October, 1996-December, 1997) have been 
collected into a book-length work of more than 70,000 words. Learn about science 
fiction techniques and technologies, including starships, time machines, and 
rocket propulsion. Tour the Solar System and learn astronomy from the science 
fiction writers viewpoint. We dont care where the stars appear in the 
terrestrial sky. We want to know their true positions in space. If you are 
planning to write an interstellar romance, brushing up on your astronomy may be 
just what you need.
 
14. The Art of Science Fiction, Volume II - US$10.00
 
This collection covers the Art of Science Fiction articles published during 
1998. The book is 67,000 words in length and builds on the foundation of 
knowledge provided by Volume I of this popular series.
 
15. The Astrogators Handbook - Expanded Edition
 
The Astrogators Handbook has been very popular on Sci Fi - Arizona. The 
handbook has star maps that show science fiction writers where the stars are 
located in space rather than where they are located in Earths sky. Because of 
the popularity, we are expanding the handbook to show nine times as much space 
and more than ten times as many stars. The expanded handbook includes the 
positions of 3500 stars as viewed from Polaris on 63 maps. This handbook is a 
useful resource for every science fiction writer and will appeal to anyone with 
an interest in astronomy.
 