Happy days on the prairie.
They had no salt, no condiments of any kind, but that seemed only a detail.
Hutch made an announcement during the meaclass="underline" "Marcel," she said, "tells me that the media are only a couple of days away. They were coming to shoot the collision, but now it's all about us."
"Of course," said Chiang.
"Anyhow, they're asking whether they'll be able to interview us when they get here."
MacAllister was clearly enjoying his supper. "That should be intriguing," he said, between bites. "We can have an end-of-the-world party right there on Universal News, which reports only the facts. Without bias or principle." It was a mild reference to Universal's Without bias or distortion credo. He looked toward the eastern sky, bright with unfamiliar constellations. It was too early yet for Morgan. "Yes, indeed," he said. "If they play it right, they should be able to get their best numbers of the year. Except maybe for the World Bowl."
"Hutch, we got a response from the Academy on your early reports at the tower. They congratulate you for your work and want you to keep digging. That's the phrase they use. Look for more evidence of the state of their science, it says. They want you to let the other sites go because there isn't time."
"Good," she said. "Tell them we'll comply."
"They also want you to be careful. They say to avoid any hazardous situations."
"Augie, wake up."
Emma didn't always sleep well, and she sometimes prowled the ship at night. What she did out there he didn't know. It was even possible she ran an occasional liaison with the captain. He didn't really care all that much. As long as she was available when he needed her. But she had hold of his arm at the moment, and was dragging him out of a very sound sleep. His first thought was that the Edward J. Zwick had sprung a leak. "What's wrong?" he asked, looking up at her.
She was the image of delight. "Augie, we've gotten a huge break."
He tried to imagine what it could be, but utterly failed. In any case, he thought, surely it could wait until morning.
"They've had an accident," she said. "Some of them are stranded down there. They're trying to find a rescue vessel and apparently not having much luck."
That woke him up. "What kind of accident? Was anybody killed?"
"Yep. Two or three. And you know who's among the strandees? MacAllister."
"My God. Is that right?"
"Absolutely."
"How could that happen?"
"Don't know. They're not putting out details yet. But we've got a great story falling into our laps." She pressed her lips against his cheek. "I've already been in touch with them. With Clairveau. And there's no competition within light-years." She clapped her hands and literally trembled with joy.
Canyon was still trying to grasp what she was telling him. "They're going to get them off okay, right?"
"Hell, I don't know, Augie. Right now it's touch and go. But if we're lucky, things will stay tense for a while. At least until we get there."
"We might have a problem," said Beekman.
The ocean and the northern coastline were on-screen. The area looked cold and gray, and the tide was very far out. Marcel wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Beekman was about to tell him.
"It's like what happens," said Beekman, "when a tsunami is coming."
Marcel waited impatiently. It was hard to feel any serious alarm. The coast was a long wall of high mountains. He'd been prepared to hear that there might be disturbances at sea, but the shoreline looked pretty well protected. "Is a tsunami coming?" he asked.
"Not exactly." They were seated in armchairs, in Beekman's office. The project director wore a short-sleeved shirt printed with frolicking dragons that he'd bought in Hong Kong. "It's just going to be another very high tide. The problem is that, as Morgan approaches, it's going to keep getting higher. Every day. The water's getting distorted by Morgan's gravitational pull. Mounting up. It's the first stage."
"What's the final stage?"
"The ocean gets ripped out of its bed."
"Gunny," Marcel said, "that's not going to happen tomorrow."
Beekman nodded. "No."
"If it's a problem, why didn't we talk about it before?"
"Because it didn't look as if it would become a factor. Because the coastal range has the ocean effectively blocked off until you get so far east it doesn't matter anymore."
"What's changed?"
"There are sections of the range that might not hold. That might collapse."
"Where?"
Beekman showed him.
"When?" he asked.
"Don't know. They could stand up until the water has to come over the top. If that happens, there's nothing to worry about. Or they could give way."
"Okay. What's the earliest it could break down?"
"We don't know that either. We don't have enough detailed information to be sure."
"Make a guess."
"Midnight, Tuesday. Our time."
Marcel checked his calendars. "That gives them eight days. Local days."
"Yes."
"They've lost a couple of days."
"That shouldn't be a major problem for them. They still have adequate time. But keep in mind, Marcel. It's only a guess."
Marcel nodded. "I'll alert Hutch." He felt the bulkheads closing in on him. "Do we have any ideas for a backup plan?" he asked.
"You mean if Tess won't work?"
"That's right."
He shook his head. "Short of hoping for divine intervention, no. If Tess won't fly, they're dead. It's as simple as that."
XV
One timer fully appreciates civilization until the lights go out.
— Gregory MacAllister, "Patriots in the Woodshed," The Incomplete MacAllister
Hours to breakup (est): 210
There's got to be a way."
Beekman's eyes were bloodshot "If there is," he said, "I'd be grateful to know how."
"Okay." Marcel got up and looked down at him. "You've been talking about the tensile strength of the stuff we cut off the assembly. How about if we removed a piece of that?"
"To do what?"
"To reach them. To give them a way off the surface."
"Marcel, it would have to be three hundred kilometers long."
"Gunny, we've got four superluminals up here to work with."
"That's fine. You could have forty. So you've also got a very long shaft. What are you going to do with it?"
"Ram it down through the atmosphere. It wouldn't collapse under its own weight, would it?"
"No," said Beekman. "It wouldn't. But we'd have no control over it. Atmospheric forces would drive it along the ground at supersonic speed." He smiled sadly. "No, you wouldn't want to try to hitch a ride on something like that"
Marcel was just tired of all the defeatism. "Okay," he said, "I'll tell you what I want to happen. You've got a brain trust of major proportions scattered around this ship. Get them together, do it now, put everything else aside And find a way."
"Marcel, with any luck less will be enough to get them off." "There are too many things that can go wrong. And if we wait until they do, there'll be no time to come up with an alternative." He leaned over and seized Beekmarfs arm. "Consider it an intellectual challenge, if you want. But find a way."
Chiang was still awake when Morgan appeared in the east. Surrounding stars faded in its glow, which' seemed to have acquired a bluish tint. It was starkly brighter than it had been the previous evening. He could almost make out a disk.
He stood his watch under its baleful light. After Nightingale relieved him, he lay a long time watching it move through the trees. It seemed to him that he'd barely fallen asleep when Kellie roused him. "Time to get rolling, big fella," she said.