Lisa Rand, of the Lunar Broadcasting Corporation, stood up. Why the mayor let her get away with it, and not Richard Glamna, Gerry couldn’t guess. Maybe because she was a lot prettier than Glamna.
“Mayor, have the Tarsalans made any moves against the Commonwealth of Lunar Colonies, and can we expect a similar shroud to develop around us?”
The mayor nodded, as if he had been anticipating this question right from the start. “I don’t have any concrete information on that right now, Lisa. But according to our customs records, all Tarsalan visitors to the CLC returned to their mothership three weeks ago, well before their negotiation team said sayonara to Earth. So does this mean they’re planning something for us? I don’t know. At this point I think we should be prepared for anything.”
The young LBC reporter persisted. “But as far as you know, we’re not looking at a shroud.”
“The real problem for us right now, Lisa, is this blockade of weaponized satellites the Tarsalans have deployed around the Earth. Earth can’t send us any supplies. So there’s nothing in the way of food coming in. Which means we do have a situation, but a situation revolving mainly around food. We could start to feel the pinch in as little as a few weeks. Bear in mind that the summer is our busiest season.
We’ve got more mouths to feed. I’ve sent some guidelines to the hotels. Nothing too drastic. At least not right now. A bit of rationing. Shorter menus. I think all of us on the Moon could benefit from cutting back, especially on the rich desserts. I know I could stand to lose a pound or two. I understand how some of our hotel guests…how they came up here to splurge and have a good time, and now I’ve got to throw a wet blanket on the whole shebang, and I guess they’ll end up being mad at me. But we have to watch ourselves if we’re going to be serious about this thing. I know that’s not our specialty on the Moon, being serious, but we have no idea how long the Tarsalans are going to go on with this.”
The mayor looked at his waferscreen, tapped it a few times to change text, then faced the cameras once more.
“You’ll want to know if the U.S. fired at the shroud. As a matter of fact, they have. But their missiles had little effect. They made a number of temporary holes, but that’s all. Secretary of Defense Sidower said it’s a bit like fighting a ghost; that you go to punch it and your fist goes right through. Anyway… since current military options seem to be limited right now, Sidower says it might be a good idea to take a scientific approach. And I say wunderbar, fantabulous, and muchas gracias, Mr. Secretary, for finally coming up with an idea that might actually work.” He raised his index finger. “Not to be outdone…” The self-immolating smile Hulke was so well known for came to his face. “But I think we should try to do the same thing here. We’ve got a lot of scientists on holiday here.” He let his finger settle to his side, and the holopaint on his T-shirt made the crescent moon wink. “So… to all you scientists out there, please give us a hand. Please join us. I’ve booked Section A of the H. G. Wells Ballroom at the Armstrong Convention Center for six-thirty tonight. I thought we all might sit around and talk. Shoot the breeze, so to speak.
See what we can come up with, rather than give Earth all the honors as usual. If nothing else, it should be a good time.”
2
Neil Thorndike sat on his yacht, the Escapade, his feet in braces, strapped into his casting chair, his fishing rod bent against the weight of a freshly hooked blue marlin. Louise stood next to him, a daiquiri in her hand. Pedro expertly maneuvered the yacht so the fish wouldn’t swim beneath it. Neil’s three daughters, Melissa, Ashley, and Morgan, leaned against the taffrail, watching. Things would have been perfect if it weren’t for the green storm approaching from the west.
Here in the West Indies, in the U.S. Virgin Islands off the coast of St. John, with Trunk Bay visible over the southern horizon, the sky was sunny and it could have been any June—oh, those two last glorious weeks in June, when he went on holiday with his family, when he was done with the school year, and hadn’t yet embarked on his summer research. The only time during the whole year he felt free. As usual, he had a blue marlin on his line. His luck with the great blue never failed.
Only what was he going to do about this green storm… this emerald shroud drawing ever closer to the sunny shores of Trunk Bay?
He wondered what effect it would have on the gardens of his fifteen-room vacation home overlooking the bay. Would all his beautiful tropical miracles wither and die? The marlin offered slack and he reeled it in. What kind of effect was the shroud going to have on his holiday? How long before Tony Bayard issued an executive order from the Oval Office to track him down? He wasn’t going to think about it.
The shroud. The media name for it. Still, he was curious. The Tarsalans never ceased to amaze him. It was like the old saying: What would they think of next?
The marlin jumped out of the water. Morgan clapped her hands. Melissa and Ashley looked bored. But Morgan—she was still young enough to appreciate the thrill. Poor Morgan. What was he going to do about her? The fish arched on its side and splashed spectacularly into the water. His line tightened and he braced against the resulting drag. Gabriel and Raymondo stood ready at the back with grappling hooks.
He wondered what they made of that green storm up there; whether they were concerned about their families or trying to figure out how they were going to cope with it. The marlin offered slack again and Neil relaxed. The Escapade shuddered as it plowed into a large wave. An explosion of spray rained down on the boat.
As the spray cleared, he saw a Coast Guard vessel approaching from Trunk Bay.
He sagged in his chair.
“Neil?” said Louise.
“Here they come,” said Neil.
“Who?” she said.
He pointed. “I knew it couldn’t last.”
She turned and watched the vessel. He glanced at Louise, the love of his life, and saw a slackening of her jaw.
He called out in Spanish, “Raymondo, it looks like you’re going to have to get in the chair and take over.” Raymondo glanced at Neil, then out at Trunk Bay. He put his grappling hook on the deck and helped Neil out of the straps. Neil got out of the chair and helped Raymondo strap himself in. He gave the man a benevolent grin. “Get some good pictures of it. And make sure you record its weight. I keep a log.”
He walked over to Morgan and stroked her light brown hair. “It looks like Daddy’s going to have to go.”
“You’re always going,” said Morgan.
“Not always.”
“But this was going to be special. You said you weren’t going to let them bother you, no matter what.”
“I know, sweetie. But Daddy’s going to have to deal with all those…green clouds up there. It looks like it’s turning into a big emergency. So I really have to go.”
“You were going to help me with my reading.”
“Mommy’s going to do that.”
“When will you be back?”
He kissed her forehead. “As soon as I can, sweetie. In the meantime, have fun. Ashley, Melissa, I want you including Morgan while I’m gone. And please don’t tease her.” He glanced at the sky, then turned to Louise. “I’m going to finish this up quickly. The Tarsalans think they’re smart, but they’re not that smart.”