consent they had abandoned thought of the return climb.
“Depends how big a punch the Russians could deliver and how long a start they had. If they had summoned up a hundred-megaton punch say five years ago they could have gone for quite a few hazardous objects in the kilometre class. There are plenty of asteroids which pass close by. Too many.”
“Like two trains going round intersecting tracks, Oliver,” suggested Leclerc, puffing. “You only have a collision when they reach the point of intersection at the same time.”
They slowed; Judy went down on her backside, and edged down some scree. Webb said, “What you and I ought to do, André, is match past Russian interplanetary probes to asteroids along their track. The further in the past they deflected it, the bigger the shift they could have achieved by now.”
“Good, Oliver. You draw up a hit list of near-missers and I will see whether any of the Phobos and Venera series could have passed close to them, maybe even with a side probe fired off.”
Now they were off the scree and running together down lightly wooded hillside. Inside his Eskimo suit, Leclerc was sweating, red-faced.
“Even a fast flyby,” Judy suggested. “Our kamikaze cosmonauts could have—” she raised her hand and they stopped, almost cannoning into each other. “Did you hear that?”
Webb strained his ears.
“Gunfire,” Leclerc said, and sure enough there was a crackle of shooting down and to their right. It seemed as if several weapons were being fired.
“Hunters?” Leclerc wondered, gasping for breath.
“The survivalists,” Webb suggested. “How far have we come?”
“We must have dropped a couple of thousand feet.” Suddenly, even after their exertions, the woods seemed chilly.
“Maybe we should cut off to the left and find the road,” Judy proposed.
“Let’s take five minutes,” Webb said, glancing in alarm at Leclerc’s beetroot face. They sat down on the pine needle carpet and, joy of joys, Judy produced a large bar of chocolate. The gunfire had stopped. They munched quietly for a while, a little uneasy. Leclerc got up and strolled in the direction the gunfire had been. He vanished into the gloom of the woods.
A couple of minutes later Whaler and Webb were relieved to see him strolling back.
“See anything?” Webb asked.
Leclerc gave a Gallic shrug before flopping down again. “I am not sure. Perhaps some animal.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Judy suggested.
They stood up. The Frenchman glanced nervously back in the direction he had come. “We are lost, yes?”
“Somebody knows where we are,” Judy said looking into the trees on the route they had just come down. A man of about twenty, wearing khaki and green battledress and carrying a long-barrelled rifle with a telescopic sight, emerged from the shadows. A country boy, overweight but with an abnormally thin face smeared with black. The dark eyes in the face were set close together. Webb recognized the eyes as he approached. They were xenophobic eyes, intolerant eyes; they were eyes filled with ignorance and suspicion and the superstition of centuries.
“Mo’nin’. You folks from the Fed’ral Gov’ment?” Spoken through tight, disapproving lips.
“No, we’re just visiting,” Webb said, slipping into an exaggerated Oxford accent. Leclerc would lay on the Parisian and Judy would keep her mouth shut.
“But y’all from up top, right?”
“The observatory, yes.”
The man contemplated that, his close-set eyes flickering from Webb to Judy to Leclerc and then back to Judy. He rested his rifle on his forearm.
“One thang I kin shorely tail is y’all ferners.” He paused, his face expressionless. “Y’ain’t bin spyin’ on us, have you now?”
The Barringer Crater, Northern Arizona
The man stood in shadow, on the floor of the giant bowl, shivering in the cold desert air. Six hundred feet above him, sunlight was illuminating a thin strip of clifftop and creeping down the
“Depends how big a punch the Russians could deliver and how long a start they had. If they had summoned up a hundred-megaton punch say five years ago they could have gone for quite a few hazardous objects in the kilometre class. There are plenty of asteroids which pass close by. Too many.”
“Like two trains going round intersecting tracks, Oliver,” suggested Leclerc, puffing. “You only have a collision when they reach the point of intersection at the same time.”
They slowed; Judy went down on her backside, and edged down some scree. Webb said, “What you and I ought to do, André, is match past Russian interplanetary probes to asteroids along their track. The further in the past they deflected it, the bigger the shift they could have achieved by now.”
“Good, Oliver. You draw up a hit list of near-missers and I will see whether any of the Phobos and Venera series could have passed close to them, maybe even with a side probe fired off.”
Now they were off the scree and running together down lightly wooded hillside. Inside his Eskimo suit, Leclerc was sweating, red-faced.
“Even a fast flyby,” Judy suggested. “Our kamikaze cosmonauts could have—” she raised her hand and they stopped, almost cannoning into each other. “Did you hear that?”
Webb strained his ears.
“Gunfire,” Leclerc said, and sure enough there was a crackle of shooting down and to their right. It seemed as if several weapons were being fired.
“Hunters?” Leclerc wondered, gasping for breath.
“The survivalists,” Webb suggested. “How far have we come?”
“We must have dropped a couple of thousand feet.” Suddenly, even after their exertions, the woods seemed chilly.
“Maybe we should cut off to the left and find the road,” Judy proposed.
“Let’s take five minutes,” Webb said, glancing in alarm at Leclerc’s beetroot face. They sat down on the pine needle carpet and, joy of joys, Judy produced a large bar of chocolate. The gunfire had stopped. They munched quietly for a while, a little uneasy. Leclerc got up and strolled in the direction the gunfire had been. He vanished into the gloom of the woods.
A couple of minutes later Whaler and Webb were relieved to see him strolling back.
“See anything?” Webb asked.
Leclerc gave a Gallic shrug before flopping down again. “I am not sure. Perhaps some animal.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Judy suggested.
They stood up. The Frenchman glanced nervously back in the direction he had come. “We are lost, yes?”
“Somebody knows where we are,” Judy said looking into the trees on the route they had just come down. A man of about twenty, wearing khaki and green battledress and carrying a long-barrelled rifle with a telescopic sight, emerged from the shadows. A country boy, overweight but with an abnormally thin face smeared with black. The dark eyes in the face were set close together. Webb recognized the eyes as he approached. They were xenophobic eyes, intolerant eyes; they were eyes filled with ignorance and suspicion and the superstition of centuries.
“Mo’nin’. You folks from the Fed’ral Gov’ment?” Spoken through tight, disapproving lips.
“No, we’re just visiting,” Webb said, slipping into an exaggerated Oxford accent. Leclerc would lay on the Parisian and Judy would keep her mouth shut.
“But y’all from up top, right?”
“The observatory, yes.”
The man contemplated that, his close-set eyes flickering from Webb to Judy to Leclerc and then back to Judy. He rested his rifle on his forearm.
“One thang I kin shorely tail is y’all ferners.” He paused, his face expressionless. “Y’ain’t bin spyin’ on us, have you now?”
The Barringer Crater, Northern Arizona
The man stood in shadow, on the floor of the giant bowl, shivering in the cold desert air. Six hundred feet above him, sunlight was illuminating a thin strip of clifftop and creeping down the
Similar Books
