Jack McDevitt by Moonfall

Author:Moonfall
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Comets, High Tech, Political, General, Science Fiction, Space colonies, Fiction
ISBN: 9780613167680
Publisher: Bt Bound
Published: 1999-10-15T10:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

TRIGGER

Saturday, April 13 to Sunday, April 14

1.

Micro Flight Deck. 10:40 P.M.

They’d survived the initial blast. Tony had run with the storm with consummate skill, reigniting the engine at the first opportunity and jinking the bus in ways that its designers would not have thought possible. Watching him, Saber had been grateful that she was riding that night with Tony Casaway.

The initial fury had subsided. They were still taking a lot of hits, but most were glancing shots that banged and clanged and did no serious damage. One tore into a storage compartment belowdecks, but the hatches held; another took out a power conduit and left the passenger cabin in darkness. Fortunately, the occasional boulders that leaped at them out of the dark, and the cascades of melted rock that slashed across the sky, did not have their exact coordinates, and so they lived.

It was as if a wave had passed. The void now was still filled with charging debris. But it was in quantities and at velocities that allowed the sensors to track major threats.

Morley asked whether the Micro had reestablished outside communications yet. The answer was no. “Damn,” he said, “this is great stuff.” But he added that he wouldn’t mind if the excitement died off a little.

Evelyn wondered whether the captain knew the passenger cabin had no lights.

“We know,” said Saber. “We’ll fix it later. But we’re a little preoccupied right now.” She was pointing out an incoming fragment while she talked. Tony nodded and moved the Micro out of the way. The fragment was a long, thin sliver, maybe half the length of a football field, tumbling end over end. She heard the reaction in the cabin as it sliced past.

The short- and long-range sensors filled the screens with returns. Sometimes they were rock shards and storms of pebbles and dust; more often they were amoeba-forms that might have been belches of gas or plasma. The viewports revealed mountainous shadows and liquid fire. Occasionally the stars disappeared altogether, as if the Micro were passing down a red tunnel.

They continued to move steadily through the crowded sky at one g.

“Micro, this is Skyport.” The voice crackled in his earphones. “Do you read?”

“We copy, Skyport. We are still here.”

“What is your status?”

Tony relayed what he knew, fuel usage, damage report, passenger list. “No casualties.”

“Micro, we’re missing one name.”

“Jack Chandler. He didn’t make it.”

“What happened?”

“Heart attack, we think. Died just before they were scheduled to come on board. His body was left at Moonbase.”

The response broke up.

“Say again, Skyport. Do you read?” There was only interference.

Something hit the blister again and was gone too quickly to be seen. It left a crooked star, not unlike the type that a flying rock might put in a windshield.

“We okay?” asked Tony.

The danger was that the blister had to withstand 14.7 pounds per square inch of air pressure. The three decks, cargo, passenger, and flight, were sealed off from each other. So if the worst happened, and the canopy blew out, at least the Micro would only lose its pilots.

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