Mira said, “It needs a name.”
They argued for a while, and settled finally on Louie. One of the other women, pale-skinned, with glittering wealth on display, announced that she thought Louie was the perfect name. This was Janet. “Yes,” she added, “I like it.”
They raised their glasses toward the screen. Toward the asteroid. “Here’s to you, Louie.”
“To Louie,” said Mira. “May you make your mark.”
Mira wondered how old Louie was.
The captain lifted his hands. Who knew? “Couple of billion years, probably. Maybe more than that.”
“It’s beautiful,” one of the women said.
The captain smiled politely. “Well, that’s what World’s End is all about. We take your breath away.”
And they did. The captain got behind the asteroid, maintaining a range of about five kilometers. We watched its broken surface rise in the wraparound. The passengers gasped and laughed and held on to their seats. Shadows moved across the rock as it turned slowly over in the glare of the sun. The captain was enjoying himself. He obviously loved the job. I wondered where he was today.
One of the passengers sent a wistful sigh to the Almighty. And we could still see the comet, its long fiery tail stretching across the stars.
The captain matched velocity with the rock. Then he got up from the pilot’s seat. “Mr. Brockmaier,” he said, “you have the conn.”
Brockmaier had the conn? He was a lawyer.
Alex grumbled something about what the hell was going on.
“He’s not really turning control over,” I said. “That would be crazy. The AI has it. Brockmaier knows it. Everybody knows it. It’s all part of the ride.”
Hugo produced an officer’s cap and, as he came forward, put it on at a jaunty angle. He lowered himself into the captain’s chair. “Okay, April,” he said. “Ready to go.”
“At your command, Captain Brockmaier.”
Hugo couldn’t suppress a grin. That last line had a nice ring to it.
“Give ’em hell, honey,” said Mira.
The passengers clapped. Hugo threw a glance at the captain. The implication was clear: Hugo could run this thing for real if it wouldn’t upset everybody.
The captain sat down beside Mira. I’d expected him to take the copilot’s seat, but he left Hugo on his own. It was more dramatic this way, and that was, after all, what the passengers had paid for.
Hugo studied the instruments as if he knew precisely what he was doing.
April enlarged the image of the asteroid on the main screen. “Everybody lock in,” she said. “You, too, Skipper.”
A security lamp went green.
“Okay, April. Let’s do the rock. Stay at a range of five hundred meters, and match course and speed.”
“Complying, Captain.” April’s voice was soft and calm. Everything was under control.
They closed on the asteroid. It grew in the wraparound, and grew some more, until it was directly in front of and slightly beneath the ship. Until they were close enough to make out every crevice and crater. Then, gradually, it slid beneath them, disappearing, though they could still see it on the navigation screen.
“Range five hundred,” April said.
Hugo leaned right and studied the panel. “Okay, April.” He tugged at his beard. “Take us down.”
“Beginning descent.”
“Navigation lights, April.”
They came on and bathed the battered, pockmarked surface.
Cracks and jagged ridges crisscrossed everywhere. As they descended, the horizon simultaneously widened and retreated. “Angle on the target.”
They moved to starboard. And the comet appeared directly over the horizon. Dead ahead.
“Done, Captain.”
Target? Belatedly, I realized what they were going to do.
The comet was getting big and getting bigger. The system provided a crosshairs for Hugo. It didn’t do everything automatically. That would have taken the fun out of the operation. The challenge was to get the timing down, pick a point of collision, and put the asteroid on course.
“Target range?” Hugo asked.
“Twenty-six thousand kilometers.”
“Louie’s approach velocity?”
“Forty-two thousand.”
“So when—?”
“Louie will impact, or cross the orbit, in thirty-seven minutes.”
They moved in still closer. Perspective shifted, and suddenly we were looking down at the surface.
“Do you know what they’re doing?” Alex asked.
“They’re going to use the antigravs to guide the asteroid. They’ve got juiced-up versions, level-four plates probably, on the prow. They don’t just negate the standard gee force, the way level-one units do. Level-four plates actually create a counterforce. A strong one. They push the ship away from the object. So, to move the object, the ship fires its engines and pushes. Theoretically, they should be able to control the flight of the asteroid. To a degree. They’re aiming at the comet.”
“But they can’t even see the comet now.”
“They don’t have to push the whole time, Alex. They’ll estimate what they need, give it a shove, then let go and check to see how they’re doing. Meantime, April knows where everything is, even if she can’t see it.”
“You ever hear about anything like this before? Banging asteroids around?”
“It’s a technique used in construction projects. I never heard of anybody doing it for entertainment.”
“Ready to lock on, Captain,” said April.
Hugo nodded. Straightened his cap. He was seriously into it. “Do it.”
They got it on the first try. The comet dissolved. And all that remained was a long, sparkling tail.
FIFTEEN
Those flickering candles in the endless night . . .
—Elizabeth Stiles, Singing in the Void
I don’t usually eat out unless I’m with somebody. My lunches at the country house routinely consist of raiding the refrigerator and munching down a sandwich while I keep working. All the mental-health editors insist that sort of behavior leads to problems, so I’ve promised myself to change. I rarely actually do it, though. But the day after we watched the Brockmaier flight, Alex was out of the building, and I deserved a treat.
There were several places nearby. I decided on Tardy’s, which has good food, decent prices, and soft music. It’s located on a two-by-four island in the Melony, just upstream from the falls.
I like Tardy’s. They’ve dispensed with the bots, everybody’s very friendly, and for reasons I’ve never understood, the place draws good-looking guys. But all the males appeared more or less worn-down or married that day. I ate quietly in one of their booths, looking out at the river, taking my time, not because it was a slow day but because I have a tendency when I eat alone to rush through the meal. So I proceeded deliberately, and even ordered a dessert, some cherry pie, half of which I left because the one problem with Tardy’s is that the portions are too large. When I was a kid, I had the screwball notion that restaurants knew what was best for you, and they gave you precisely what you needed. Finish your plate, love, my mom always used to say. Don’t waste food.