*
He thought he heard a deep gong ringing in the darkness, but this darkness was of a different sort. It was the darkness of space, and there was a blue planet arching over his head. He blinked dizzily, trying to stand. He saw ice under his feet, and realized that he was standing on the surface right where he had begun this madness . . .
/// Don’t faint! ///
the quarx barked.
He caught himself stumbling. Whatever he had just been through, he felt as drained as he had this morning, after his healing.
/// Start walking—to your left!
Breathe, John—breathe! ///
He gulped air and shuddered, chilled to the bone. He had the presence of mind to call out to his suit for a system-check, and was reassured to hear that his life support was fine.
/// You’ve got to keep moving.
We meet Napoleon in nine minutes. ///
Napoleon . . . yes. He rasped in a lungful of air, trying to remember.
/// Do you understand what just happened? ///
/Not . . . no./ He started to stumble and caught himself before pitching over onto the cryogenic surface.
/// Keep walking.
It’ll help you recover.
You did well. ///
/I did?/ he whispered, moving his feet like lead weights, one after the other. Slowly, mindlessly, he pushed himself to a cautious jogging speed. He thought he remembered visions of . . . it was so hard to remember, like a dream, dancing tantalizingly at the edge of his memory. He knew it would come back, if only he could . . . focus. But he couldn’t focus while running.
/// You’ve just experienced a connection
not meant for corporeals.
I was afraid we’d lose you.
But you held together.
We got what we needed. ///
He followed the gentle directional nudges from the quarx, sensing that Charlie didn’t want him to try to comprehend it all now, but just to recover first, and get back to the rover. But he thought he would go mad if he didn’t recapture what had just happened. He was up to a full, loping run now, panting steadily, letting the quarx direct his feet as he ran toward their rendezvous with the robot, all the time trying desperately to focus on the memory that was rising now toward the surface . . .
It was a planet, blue and white, Earth, homeworld, floating serene and vulnerable through the vast eternal night of space; it was oblivious to the motions of certain bodies from the edge of the solar system, one of which was now tumbling inward at hellbent velocity.
He stumbled on a ripple of ice and pitched forward, gasping. He pushed himself back up to his hands and knees, the image quaking with crystalline clarity in his mind:
The Earth burning.
/// John, don’t stop.
You’ve got to keep moving. ///
He struggled to get up, but his legs and arms felt like putty. He looked up at blue Neptune over his head and saw another blue planet, its atmosphere clouding over with smoke and ash.
/// John, please— ///
/Charlie—/ he gasped /—is that really going to happen?/
/// Yes, if we don’t stop it.
It’s closer than I imagined. ///
/When?/ he croaked.
/// Impact in forty-seven days.
Now get up and run, damn it!
RUN! ///
Chapter 22
Virtual Truths
THE ROVER CAME over the hill to the north, kicking up a cloud of ice particles as it sped down the slope. At any other time, Bandicut would have been terrified by the sight of the robot driving his buggy that way, hanging off the side like a remora fish, the buggy slewing to come straight toward him before braking to a stop. Now, he was simply too numb to care.
“John Bandicut, survey strips Three A through Five B are completed. What further needs do you have?” Napoleon squawked, raising itself up on the cowling of the rover as Bandicut climbed back in. It looked as though it were trying to peer into the driver’s compartment to see what he was planning to do next.
/Charlie?/ he asked, buckling himself in.
/// Place your hand on the robot, please. ///
Bandicut reached out and touched Napoleon. He found the gesture oddly calming, like petting a dog. /Are we releasing it now?/
/// Yes.
Recon Thirty-nine,
terminate and delete special programming Beta.
Confirm. ///
“Termination confirmed,” squawked the robot. “John Bandicut, do you have further needs?”
“Ah . . . negative, Nappy. Go ahead and take up your regular station, I guess.”
As the robot unjacked and let itself back down onto the moon’s surface, Bandicut suddenly realized that, according to his work orders, he was to stay out here for three more hours before returning to base. He didn’t think he could stand to wait that long. /Charlie, if that’s really true, about the comet—/
/// It is. ///
/—then we’ve got to get back! Do you have all the orbital data? Is that what all that gibberish was, from the translator?/
/// Some of it.
And yes, I can give you the figures,
but they’re a complex interaction.
I’ll be able to show you better in the VR room. ///
/Never mind showing me. Can you show the people who can do something about it?/
/// John—remember?
There’s only one person
who can do something about it.
And that’s you. ///
Bandicut swallowed, his blood rushing. /Charlie, what can I do? We’ve got to notify somebody!/
/// We’ve been through this before.
Your planet has no defense.
Not against this. ///
Bandicut had trouble catching his breath. /No, but—what about—fusion warheads—?/ He was clenching and unclenching his fists. Napoleon was looking back at him from the top of the knoll.
/// Perhaps you should start driving.
I’m afraid, John, that warheads are not the answer.
It is likely they would only split the comet,
and make its effects all the more devastating. ///
/But we should at least warn people,/ Bandicut whispered.
/// Please start driving.
Your people would not believe a warning from us.
The comet is behind the sun, hidden
from the only stations that might confirm its orbit.
Please start driving. ///
Bandicut snapped the joystick forward, and the buggy lurched ahead, wheels churning on nitrogen ice. “Exo-op control, Unit Echo,” he croaked, pressing the long-range comm. “I’m coming in early. This ankle cast is killing me. Copy?”
“COPY, ECHO. HI, BANDIE. SHALL I ALERT, AH, ANYONE IN PARTICULAR?” answered the cheerful voice of Georgia Patwell.
Bandicut sighed. “Negative, control. See you soon.” At least he was grateful for Dr. Switzer’s casual treatment. If he hadn’t had an excuse to come in early, he would have gone crazy for the next three hours.
He thought, actually, that he might go crazy anyway.
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