Turning toward the southwest, Antonio Hables zoomed his camera out so he would have the widest possible field of vision while he searched for the asteroid through the panoramic lens. For her part, Anna Roberts turned to her left and watched, ever mindful that at any moment she would be part of an image beamed around the world to countless millions of television viewers. Tim Vandergraff, who had selected the site and had done so much to convince his superiors that his team was going to be the one for viewers to follow, stood next to their vehicle, nervously waiting. For the first time in hours, the headphones he wore over one ear were silent as journalists, editors, anchors, experts, and everyone who was on the World News Network loop held their breath.
From the studio in New York, one of the astronomers looked up at the clock across from him and cleared his throat. "If our calculations are correct," he stated in a guarded tone, "the asteroid should already be cutting into the upper layers of the atmosphere."
This statement caught the production manager off guard. Scanning the row of monitors before him, he saw nothing. "Vandergraff," he snapped. "Do you have anything yet?"
Anxiously, Vandergraff looked over at his cameraman. Having heard the same question in his earphone, Hablas glanced over his shoulder at Vandergraff. With a shake of his head, Hablas indicated that he was seeing nothing. Despite the cold, Tim Vandergraff now began to feel sweat running down his forehead. Had he erred. He began to wonder.
Like all projections and estimates, the incoming track of Nereus 1991 HWC was little more than an educated guess. It was a well studied and frequently revised prediction, but it was still a guess, using calculations based upon measurements that were in themselves only guesses.
As so often happens when man attempts to define something as random and chaotic as nature, Nereus 1991 HWC did not cooperate with the earthbound experts. Like a stone hitting a smooth millpond, a major chunk of the shattered asteroid ricocheted off the upper layer of the atmosphere. It wasn't a very big hop. Rather, it was more of a burble. But it was enough of an interruption on the otherwise smooth and steady flight to alter the asteroid's angle of arrival and its speed. The new track, occurring as the asteroid traveled at a rate of twenty kilometers per second, took every astronomer who was watching by surprise. And though they endeavored to record, analyze, and input this new data into revised predictions, the speed of events outpaced their abilities.
While he had seen the computer-generated images of what the asteroid would look like as it bore down on planet Earth, Hablas was still unsure of what, exactly, to look for. Vandergraff wasn't much help here, having been born and raised in a city where flickering streetlights and not twinkling stars decorated the night sky. From her spot, Anna Roberts joined in scanning the southeastern sky. But her assistance in this search was limited since she needed to keep one eye on the camera at all times, just in case it turned on her. Not even their Russian guide, a native of the region, was of much help at the moment, though his problem was more a result of the vodka he was all but inhaling rather than his lack of visual-acuity skills.
Back in the control room in New York City, where it was just after midnight local time, the production manager was feeling the effects of stress and uncounted cups of coffee. "What in hell is going on out there?" he snapped. Though he didn't preface this question with the name of a site as he usually did, no one had any doubt that he was directing the inquiry to Vandergraff. When his team leader in Siberia said nothing and he saw no indication of anything even remotely looking like an asteroid on the screen labeled "Siberia," the production manager pivoted about and began to pace in the close confines of his small domain. "Does anyone have anything?" he pleaded over his open mike.
Had he been paying attention to his monitors, the harried coordinator of the live news show would have noticed that the chair in which the NASA expert in Pasadena had been seated was shoved to one side and empty. An even closer examination would have revealed a flurry of activities in the background, where a number of NASA astronomers were scrambling to sort out the alarming new data that was flowing in.
In Siberia, Anna Roberts felt a sudden chill, the kind of chill brought on by an inexplicable feeling of insecurity stemming from a danger that is perceived but not yet visible. Though ever conscious that she was standing in front of a live camera, she slowly turned her head this way, then that, in an effort to see if she could find the source of her vague uneasiness. While Vandergraff and Hablas scanned the distant southwestern sky, Roberts searched the area around them.
With the exception of the Russian guide, who was far too drunk to pose anything resembling a threat, Anna saw nothing amiss. This immediately caused her fertile imagination to conjure up all sorts of threats, ranging from Russian internal-security forces creeping up on them, to predatory animals in search of their next meal. It was only when her body's natural responses overrode her sophisticated logic that the source of this inexplicable discomfort became obvious.
Craning her head back ever so slightly so as not to look silly on the camera should she be in its field of view, the veteran TV journalist stared out along the crest of the ridge they were on and off to the west. It took her only a moment to realize that the glowing orange ball hanging in the sky above the ridge was, in fact, the very asteroid they had been sent to watch. It took another second or two for her to realize that the aspect of the asteroid, as she had been prepared for, was all wrong. For one thing, there was no tail, no long streak of burning gases and molten material trailing the intruder. Only bits and pieces peeled away from its surface as it through the ever denser atmosphere. And the object didn't seem to have any apparent motion, not at first. It simply appeared to be hanging there, like the gigantic glowing ball that hangs over Times Square on New Year's Eve. It was all very odd to the journalist, as well as disconcerting. Still, she managed to find enough of her voice to warn her cameraman. "Pan right, Antonio," she whispered. "To your right and—"
At that moment, as the cameraman was in the act of complying with her order, Anna Roberts knew why things weren't making sense. What she was watching was not an asteroid harmlessly streaking through the sky in the distance. Rather, the ever-expanding ball of fire before her eyes was the very object they had been sent to capture on live TV, now bearing down on them with all the relentlessness of a locomotive.
Back in New York, a vigilant member of the production staff saw the camera held by Antonio Hablas in faraway Siberia suddenly swing about to the right, then fix upon a tiny red dot in the sky. Even before the cameraman was able to zoom in on the object, the staffer switched the feed going out to the audience to the one he himself was watching. "That's it!" someone yelled, catching the pacing production manager off guard.
"What?" he shouted as he turned to see what everyone about him was jumping up and down about. "Who told you to send that out?" he demanded before he took the time to consider what his staff was looking at.
"Vandergraff's team!" an excited assistant editor answered. "They've got it! They're tracking the asteroid!"
Relieved and thinking clearly now, the production manager swung into action. "Okay, boys and girls, we're in business. Is everyone seeing this?" he asked, fighting the excitement that gripped everyone around him. "Anna!" he all but shouted into his mike, "say something. Start talking."
On the other monitors, anyone who cared to look would have seen the New York anchor, the experts in the studio, and countless others scattered about the globe who had a World News Network camera on them, turn away from the camera before them and cast their eyes upon the nearest TV monitor. In silence, they watched as the asteroid grew larger, more distinct, and ominously closer with each passing second. Only in the control room of the production manager did anyone speak. "Harry," the manager snapped, "check the audio. Make sure we're getting a good feed from Siberia."