In any case, this appeared to be a true interstellar. If both sightings were the same object, it had to be.
No interstellar comet had ever been recorded. If he was right, Wesley Feinberg was going to take his place with Shapley, Herschel, Eddington, and Galileo.
Assuming the two bodies were the same, he now tried to calculate a trajectory. At the kind of velocity he'd expected, around forty kilometers per second, the comet would curve around the Sun and go back out. But at four hundred kilometers per second, it was going to keep coming.
With any kind of luck, they might get an extraordinary show.
He went out and delivered a cheerful good morning to the security guard, who seemed to be the only other person in the observatory. "I thought about waking you, sir," the guard said. "You didn't look comfortable on that couch. But I thought it best not to disturb you."
Feinberg gave the man his most amiable smile. "Exactly right, sir," he said. "Exactly right." He turned on the coffee machine in the meeting room adjoining Hoxon's office. He was hesitant to move precipitately, but it was only a matter of time before someone else drew the same conclusions he had. If that happened, he'd have to share credit. So he went back to his computer and forwarded his data to the Astronomical Union's Central Bureau in Cambridge, where they would be logged and redistributed.
Please, God, let it be true.
NEWSNET. 12:30 P.M. UPDATE.
(Click for detail.)
Alleged Thief Faces Ten Years
"It's Not Going To Change Me"
Takes Time Off From Primaries For PR Bonanza
"We Have A Rendezvous With The Stars"
Leads In Total Delegates By Sixteen
Haskell A Distant Third
System Covers 700 Miles, Will Serve Two Million Passengers Daily
World War II Leader Became Honorary U.S. Citizen 64 Years Ago Today
Predict Life Span Will Double For Newborns
Population Activists Warn Of Disaster
Passed Safety Inspection Last Week
India Announces New Education Effort
Sun's Glare Had Hidden Celestial Visitor Moonbase, on tour. 4:30 P.M.
Isabel Heyman, who usually worked with the special response detail at the White House, had politicked to get the Moonbase assignment. That she'd succeeded was less attributable to her influence than to the fact that the agents usually assigned to the vice president had been working long hours as he plunged into the crucial early primaries. Unlike Isabel, they did not perceive a flight to Luna, with a reduced force that guaranteed round-the-clock hours, as a benefit.
So now Isabel toured the Greenhouse, keeping station on Teddy's left, surveying faces for any telltale suggestion of ill intent, looking for tics or compressed lips, for eyes perhaps a little too narrowly focused, for any sudden movement, for a hand slipped inside a garment.
It was hard, wandering among Moonbase's wonders, to keep her mind on her job. But her training took over, and it was enough just to know where she was.
She would come back, she decided. On her own.
CHAPTER THREE
Wednesday, April 10
1.
Arecibo, Puerto Rico. 8:03 A.M. Atlantic Time (7:03 A.M. EDT).
The radar returns had been coming in for several hours. Tomiko was a monster, 180 kilometers in diameter. But the incredible revelation was its velocity: It was moving at 480 kilometers per second! Yesterday Foster Cardwell would have bet the mortgage that order of velocity wasn't possible.
Cardwell was director of operations at Arecibo. He stood over the display, rubbing the back of his neck. He was wearing a bright yellow shirt stenciled with palm trees and dolphins. "Run it again," he said.
Penny McGruder nodded and keyed in the command. "It's not going to look any different."
A cursor moved unerringly toward a rendezvous with the Earth-Moon system. The comet was passing the Sun now. It would cross the orbit of Mercury later today, and that of Venus early Friday. It would close to within 384,000 kilometers of Earth. Where it would strike the Moon!
"Are we sure?"
They checked everything again.
Saturday night. At ten thirty-five EDT.
"Cardy," she said, "this comet doesn't obey the rules."
He nodded and shrugged.
She highlighted the velocity: 480. What would it do to the Moon?
"It'll be a hell of a show," he said.
• • • Beaver Meadow Observatory. 7:33 A.M. EDT.
Feinberg was ecstatic. Messages of congratulation had already begun pouring in. Tomiko was indeed an interstellar. But even given that, its velocity was difficult to account for. They would have to rethink some of their assumptions.
A variety of emotions washed through him when he saw it would impact on the Moon. There would be a magnificent display, and they'd have an unparalleled opportunity to observe their extrasolar visitor. Why, then, did he feel a sense almost of despair?
He'd have given much to see a mission to the comet. Who knew what they might have learned, given an opportunity to do an inspection. Perhaps they would even have uncovered the secret behind its velocity.
He'd given much thought to the matter. The object was billions of years old. Had to be. It had experienced a series of encounters, each accelerating it until it reached its present rate. It seemed a farfetched explanation. Yet, what other possibility was there?
Hoxon dithered about, worrying that Feinberg's health would suffer if he didn't "get out and get some fresh air."
"In a while," said Feinberg.
"Where's it going to hit? Will we be able to see it?"
"It'll impact on the back side."
"That's a pity."
"Maybe not." Feinberg let his concern show. "Giant comet coming hard." He made a noise deep in his throat, and tapped a key. A single set of numbers appeared on the screen:
7x1029
Hoxon made a face. "Energy release?"
"Approximately."
"Wes, that can't be right."
Feinberg ignored the familiarity. "I'd like to think not," he said. "It's enough to take the top off the Moon." He stared out at the cool green lawn, still damp in the morning light. "There might be a downside to all this." White House Dining Room. 8:04 A.M.
"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. President." Al Kerr, Henry Kolladner's chief of staff, loomed in the doorway. He looked unhappy.
The president was seated at his breakfast table with the first lady. Emily Kolladner frowned. She had fought a losing battle for two years to guard the family's privacy, before finally acceding to the reality that a president has no personal life. Henry had tried to find time for her; he usually rose early, worked two hours or so, and then joined her for a casual breakfast. It was supposed to be understood that the meal not be interrupted for any calamity short of nuclear war. Of course, that understanding had been violated almost daily. The first chief of staff, Kerr's predecessor, had lost his job over the issue. Henry smiled at Emily, shrugged, and finished chewing a piece of bacon. "What is it, Al?" he asked.