But in a world of billions there was a fraction of a percent imaginative enough, or crazy enough, to take the threat to heartand a fraction of them looked for somebody to blame. As the man who had figured out the sunstorm, there were plenty prepared to dump their fear on Eugene. There had even been death threats. It had been a mercy he had stayed on the Moon, she thought, where his safety was relatively easy to assure. But even so he must have felt as if he were being flayed alive.
She got out her softscreen and began making notes. Let me help you, she said. You need an office. A secretary She saw panic in his eyes. Okay, not a secretary. But Ill set up somebody to filter your calls for you. To report to me, not you. But I think you will need somebody here on the Moon to hold your hand, she thought. An idea struck her. Hows Mikhail?
He shrugged. Havent seen him.
I know he has his own priorities. The Space Weather Service, which had suddenly grown from an obscure near joke to one of the most high-profile agencies in the solar system, was almost as inundated as Eugene himself. But she had seen Mikhail work with Eugene; she had a sense the solar astronomer would be able to get the best out of the boy. And, given the way Mikhail looked at Eugene, it would be a task Mikhail would perform with competence and affection. Ill ask him to spend more time with you. Maybe he could move back here to Clavius; he doesnt have to be physically at the pole station.
Eugene showed no notable enthusiasm for the idea. But he didnt reject it outright, so Siobhan decided she had made some progress.
What else? She bent forward so she could see his face more clearly. How are you feeling, Eugene? Is there anything you need? You must know how important your welfare is, to all of us.
Nothing. He sounded sullen, even sulky.
What you found is so important, Eugene. You could save billions of lives. Theyll build statues to you. And believe me, your work, especially your classic paper on the solar core, is going to be read forever.
That provoked a weak smile. I miss the farm, he said suddenly.
The non sequitur took her aback. The farm?
Selene. I understand why they had to clear it all out. But I miss it. He had grown up in a rural area in Massachusetts, she remembered now. I used to go work in there, he said. The doctor said I needed exercise. It was that or the treadmill.
But now the farms been shut down. How typical that in trying to save the world we kill off the one bit of green on the Moon!
And how psychologically damaging that might be. In trying to figure out these spacebound folk she had read stories of cosmonauts on the first, crude, tin-can space stations, patiently growing little pea plants in experimental pots. They had loved those plants, those small living things sharing their shelter in the desolation of space. Now Eugene had shown the same impulse. He was human after all.
Ill fix it, she said. A farms out of the question for now. But how about a garden? Im sure theres room here in Hecate. And if there isnt well make room. You lunar folk need reminding of what youre fighting to save.
He looked up and met her gaze for the first time. Thank you. He glanced at the softscreen before him. But if you dont mind
I know, I know. The work. She pushed back her chair and stood up.
That night she went to Buds room.
He whispered, I wasnt sure if youd come.
She snorted. I knew for sure you wouldnt walk down the corridor.
Am I so transparent?
As long as the journey got made by one of us, she said.
I told you wed be a good team.
She unzipped her jumpsuit. Prove it, hero.
Their lovemaking was wonderful. Bud was a lot more athletic than she was used to, but he was more focused on her than most of her lovers ever had been.
And he was ingenious in his use of the Moons gentle gravity. One-sixth G is the gravity of choice, he gasped at one point. On Earth youre crushed. In zero G youre floundering around like a beached salmon. In one-sixth, youve enough weight to give you a little traction, and yet youre still as light as a kids balloon. Why, Im told that even on Mars
Shut up and get on with it, she whispered.
Afterward she stayed awake for a long time, just relishing the strong warmth of his arms around her. Here they were, two humans in this bubble of light and air and warmth on the lethal surface of the Moon. Like the cosmonauts and their pea plants, she thought: all they had, in the end, was each other.
Even when the sun betrayed them, they had each other.
21: Showstoppers
So there it is, Rose Delea said flatly. You have two problems you cant get over. Without the Chinese heavy-lift capability, you cant finish the shield infrastructure on time. And even if you could, you dont have a way to manufacture all the smartskin you need. She sat back and stared out of her softscreen at Siobhan. Youre fucked.
Siobhan pressed the balls of her thumbs to her eyes, and tried to keep her temper. It was January 2039six months after she had seen those first shield components stacking up on the Moon, already eighteen months since the June 9 event. Another Christmas had come and gone, a bleak and joyless festival, and little more than three years remained before the sunstorm was due to hit.
Save for Toby Pitt and the talking heads from space on the softscreens, Siobhan was alone here in the Royal Society Council Rooms, the location that had come to serve as her communications base. Tobys job as the Societys events manager had gradually evolved into his becoming her PA, amanuensis, and shoulder-to-cry-on. And she certainly felt like crying now.
Were fucked, Rose, she said.
What?
Rose, sometimes you sound like my plumber. Youre fucked is wrong. Language is crucial. Its not my problem, its ours. Were fucked.
Bud Tooke, peering from another softscreen, laughed gently.
Rose glared. Fucked is fucked, you stuck-up pom. I need a coffee. And she pushed herself out of her chair and drifted out of shot.
Here we go again, Mikhail said grimly.
Despite her usual intrinsic anxiety about the schedule, before she had come into work this morning Siobhan had actually felt optimistic about the way things were going.
On the Moon, after months of stupendous effort by Bud and his people, the Sling was completed and operational. Even the construction of a second mass driver was under way. Not only that, but the glass manufacturing operations were proceeding apace: plants had been set up all over the bare soil of Clavius Crater, so that streams of components poured into the Slings launching bay by lunar day and night. Rose Delea, seconded from her helium-3 processing work, had proven a more than capable manager for that end of the project, despite her dour attitude.
Meanwhile Aurora2 had been safely brought back from Mars and was lodged at L1, the crucial Lagrangian point suspended between Earth and sun. With the Sling fully operational the first loads of lunar-glass buttresses and struts had been fired up to the assembly site, and construction of the shield itself had started. Bud Tooke was now in nominal charge of all the subprojects at L1, and, as Siobhan had always known he would, he was delivering quietly and efficiently. Soon, it was said, the proto-shield would be big enough to see with the naked eye from Earthor would have been, were it not forever lost in the glare of the sun.
Even Siobhans personal life had been looking up, to general astonishment among friends and family. She hadnt expected that her affair with Bud would deepen so smoothly and so quickly, especially since they spent almost all their time on separate worlds. In the toughest days of her life, the relationship had been a source of comfort and strength to her.