In an instant, Clermont burst through the slit in the still settling dome.
Within seconds, Rikki lost sight of the ground convoy. The dry-dock area shrank into the landscape and the horizon began to curve. As they climbed, the night side of the world came into view, and only the occasional brave glimmer of a domed city relieved the darkness. Cargo in the holds must have fallen as far as it could, because the clamor from aft began trailing off.
But the acceleration went on and on and on….
In a corner of the display, the mission timer reached five minutes.
Dana announced, “Everything continues to look good. We’ve cleared the orbits of the innermost satellites.”
To Rikki’s right, the woman grunted, “How long?”
“Will we be accelerating?” Rikki guessed. “I have no idea.”
There must have been an open mike in the crew quarters, because Dana answered. “Better get used to it.”
“I was used to it,” the woman said, her voice a soft, airy contralto. “Then I moved to Mars.”
Rikki had guessed as much. Li was petite, even by Earthworm standards.
“And where are we going?” Li’s companion demanded.
“Another few minutes,” Dana said, “and we’ll be clear of most traffic. Then we’ll talk.”
*
The bulkhead display at which Rikki stared flipped to the interior of the bridge. Blake and Dana, in the gimbaled pilot and copilot chairs, hardly seemed inconvenienced by the acceleration. Earth-normal, Rikki supposed, struggling to see how “normal” could describe any aspect of this situation.
Certainly the stoical expression on Blake’s face wasn’t normal. The mask might fool the others, but she knew. He was terrified.
Dana said, “I’d join you if I could. The conversation we must have should be done face to face. That’s not practical.”
Because under acceleration, with the four of them splayed across the aft-bulkhead-become-deck, Dana would have had to hang like a bat from the forward-bulkhead-become-ceiling. Rikki swallowed the laughter that ached to burst from her. If she allowed it to start, it might never stop.
Dana said, “For what it’s worth, Neil Hawthorne asked me to extend his deepest apologies.”
“His goons abducted me,” Carlos said. “For what it’s worth, apology rejected.”
“He saved your life.” Dana waved off Carlos’s protest. Her eyes darted. Below the view of the camera, her hands did—something.
Rikki gasped as the ship slewed. Safety-harness straps cut into her left side. Their acceleration surged.
“Sorry about that,” Dana said. “As for Neil Hawthorne, hear me out before you condemn him. I don’t believe any of us knows everyone, so introductions first. I’m—”
“The pleasantries can wait,” Carlos interrupted. “I want to know—”
“You’ll know soon enough,” Dana said, with undertones of careful what you wish for. “I’m Dana McElwain, formerly of the Space Guard, and the captain of this vessel. Clermont is, was, owned by Percival Lowell University, which is to say, by the state.”
“I’m Blake Westford, ship’s engineer.”
“Captain, why was I shanghaied?” Carlos demanded. “Why did Hawthorne’s goons ransack my lab? Why—”
“Do you have a name?” Dana asked icily.
“As if you don’t know,” he huffed. “I am Dr. Carlos Patel. I hold the Francis Crick Chair in microbiology and nanotechnology at Bradbury University.”
Despite the brutal acceleration, Rikki risked turning and raising her head. Patel was taller than she. A native Martian, too, most likely. And he was hairy, with a shaggy mop of black hair, a bold, drooping mustache, and tufts sprouting from the collar of his jumpsuit. Hairy, haughty, and hawk-nosed.
“And you, Miz?” Dana’s voice changed. “Hold on, everyone.”
As the ship veered, this time the safety harness mashed Rikki’s right side.
“Can you not fly in a straight line?” Carlos snapped.
“Not today,” Dana said cryptically. “Miz?”
“I’m Li Yeo,” said the petite woman beside Rikki. Li was fine-boned, with expressive brown eyes, flawless complexion, and long, straight, raven hair—in a word, lovely. She might have been any age from forty to sixty. Something about her level gaze impressed Rikki as shrewd. “I’m a psychiatrist, specializing in family issues. Couples counseling, problem children, that sort of thing.”
“A medical doctor, then, too,” Dana said.
“Of course, by training. It’s been a while.”
“Why don’t we finish the introductions?” Dana said. “Antonio?”
“Antonio Valenti. Astrophysicist. Lowell…University.”
Leaving Rikki. She said, “Rikki Westford. Science historian.” Of late unemployed, or self-employed, take your pick, working on a book. Readership at most six, if she finished it.
A cackle tried once more to escape from her.
“Science generalist,” Dana said, “and I predict we’ll make use of that big-picture perspective. A biologist before that.”
Who here would a B.S. in biology impress? Having her qualifications defended only made Rikki feel more insecure. And why had Dana defended her?
“And that’s everyone,” Dana said. “Thank you.
“You now know, even if you first learned of it on the drive from New Houston, that a gamma-ray burst is aimed at us. The likely outcome is mass extinctions across the solar system. Governments on Earth, Mars, and elsewhere have been working frantically to construct new ‘habitats’ that are, in fact, colony ships. That’s why a few of us had been prepping to take this ship on a scouting mission.”
“A colony where?’ Carlos said. “You said the whole solar system was at risk.”
Dana said, “Alpha Centauri, precise destination to be chosen on the scene, because from this distance none of the planets looks all that hospitable. Unfortunately, the most recent data shows that we have only months until the GRB hits.”
Months? They had been told years! As Rikki turned toward Antonio for confirmation, the ship again zigged. Her stomach lurched.
“It’s true.” Antonio’s chin sank to his chest. “The closer the neutron…stars inspiral, the stronger…the gravitational waves they emit and…the shorter the…wavelength. The less…ambiguity in the signal. Older gravitational…wave observatories can now…detect the stronger, faster signal so…we can better triangulate to…the source. The GRB…hits Sol system in about eight…months.
“Put it all…together and…it now looks like Sol system will…be about…one-fourth light-year…from the beam edge. It will take us almost…eight months…just to get clear.”
“So what’s the point?” Rikki raged. “There’ll be no one for us to scout for. The new colony ships won’t, can’t, be completed in that time,
