He was still staring out at the view below, searching for a hint of a coastal outline among the veils blanketing the surface, when a female voice spoke from behind him. “It must be a terrible thing to come home to, Lan.” He turned to find Shayle holding on to a handbar in the access hatchway. She was dressed in orange flight coveralls, her red hair cut short now.
Keene grunted. “There isn’t much down there that I think I’d call home anymore.”
“It must be strange, all the same.”
“I’ve had time enough to get used to it.”
“What were you so wrapped up in thought over?” Shayle asked. “I was here, watching you, for a while.”
Keene looked down again at the patterns of jet streams and vortexes painted in off-white streaks on the curtain of grays, lusterless yellows, and browns. It brought to mind the storm front that had moved in on the West Coast from the Pacific in the early days of the encounter, when Athena’s approach was first being felt. That had been before there was any wide grasp of what would follow, and the world had been hectically mobilizing evacuation plans and emergency services, believing it could pull through.
“I was thinking about a time in the last days before Athena closed in,” he answered distantly. “It was in California. We were at one of the airports, trying to get to the Air Force’s launch place at Vandenberg. Some people were trying to take it over and grab a shuttle to get out.”
“Vandenberg . . . Wasn’t that where Gallian and his group shuttled up from to rejoin the Osiris?”
“Yes. Most people didn’t know how bad it was going to get. They thought that if they got everyone away from the coasts and up to the highlands, the world could make it. . . . Earth was moving into Athena’s tail . . . ash and dust falling everywhere. Huge storms were heading in from the west, piling the sea up into black, heaving hills of water. I’d never seen anything like it. Everyone was going frantic, trying to get the last planes out while anything could still fly. I remember the buses and ambulances coming in from the hospitals, and nurses bringing in lines of little kids holding dolls and toys, some of them in wheelchairs. . . . All for what?” He broke off abruptly and turned his head back. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to be cheered up like this.”
Shayle laid a hand on his shoulder and let it rest for a moment. “I just came to check how you were doing. Anyway, there’s eggs and pancakes going with coffee in the crew mess.” Pre-made pancakes, heated up. You couldn’t make them in zero-g. “I didn’t think you’d want to be left out.”
Keene managed a grin. “Sure. Okay, come on, then. Let’s have at ’em.” He set himself gyrating and pushed off with a foot to follow after her.
“Heard anymore about the Colombian station?” Shayle asked over her shoulder as she moved across the compartment opening inboard from the observation bubble. A descent party had gone down to check over a possible base site in South America.
“Not yet. We can stop by Comms for an update on the way to Mess Deck,” Keene answered.
They took a shaft that passed by the Communications Room, which formed an extension on the nearside of the ship’s Control Center. The Executive Officer was inside when they looked in, conferring with several of the operators. He looked up as Keene and Shayle hovered in the doorway. “We wondered if there’s any news from Colombia yet,” Keene said. “Maybe some idea of when we might be going down?”
“It doesn’t look good. Earthquake activity across the whole region.” The EO was a Terran, reporting directly to Gallian. He nodded toward a screen showing figures in heavy-duty surface fatigues and hard helmets, standing amid cases, scientific instruments, and other equipment in front of a couple of inflatable tents. Part of a lander was visible against dark mists behind. “The officer in charge down there doesn’t see much point in staying further. So I’m afraid you’ll have to remain patient for a while longer.”