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Tens Of Thousands Flee Coastal Areas
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Found In Desk Once Owned by The Quarterly Review Moonbase Spaceport. 1:02 P.M.
Bigfoot's new crew had just come on. There were five of them, two short of a full complement. They'd stay through the rest of the day, and ride up to orbit on the last flight. He made it a point to thank everyone on the outgoing watch and wish them well.
He was out on the bay floor helping set up for the next refueling operation when the radio operator reached him. "Tony wants to talk to you, Bigfoot."
The Micro was on its way down, having completed a rendezvous with Rome. It was noisy in the bay so he walked into one of the offices to take the call.
"Yes, Tony, what can we do for you?"
"Bigfoot, I think we can get everybody off."
Bigfoot was tired of thinking about it. If they could make up a few hours somewhere it could be done. But they'd run every conceivable launch pattern in simulation, and they had the best they could get. The only other way was to try packing extra people on board the buses, which were staggering under their current loads. Chandler had ruled out going over the limits they'd set. He had no intention, he told Operations, of allowing a minor disaster to turn into a major one.
"How you going to do that, Tony?" he asked.
"My last flight lifts off tonight at seven thirty-five. I take my passengers up to the plane and deliver them. Then I'm supposed to get on the plane myself and ditch the Micro."
"Go ahead. So far, you're doing fine."
"You've got two more busloads leaving shortly after I do. And that's it. But I can get back to Moonbase by ten-ten. Give or take. That's twenty-five minutes before impact. If we cut the usual routine to bare bones, we can get the vice president and the rest of them on board and skedaddle. We bypass all the usual procedures. Don't close the roof to refuel. Instead, put somebody in a p-suit to handle it. Have the passengers ready to go. We can be out in twenty minutes."
"Five minutes ahead of the event. That's good. And where would you take them? The plane will be gone."
"Anyplace is better than here."
"Whom do you suggest I ask to hang around to fill your tanks?"
There was a long, uncomfortable silence at the other end. Then Bigfoot sighed. "I'll see what I can do," he said. Moonbase Commcenter. 1:21 P.M.
Andrea was the last of the nonsupervisory personnel to be relieved. She hurried back to her quarters, where her bags waited beside the bunk. They weren't going anywhere. No luggage other than light carry-ons was allowed on the flight. But she'd packed anyway. Just in case.
She opened one and took a zero-gravity coffee mug out of it. It carried the Ranger logo: a full Moon resplendent on a windblown U.S. flag. She pushed it into her pocket.
The apartment was cramped and not much to look at, but she felt as if she'd lived here a long time. It housed a lot of good memories. And a few not so good: a failed romance and some lonely evenings. Nothing earth-shattering. It had been home for much of her adult life, and she was going to miss it.
She stood on the threshold making one last survey. A peculiar feeling came over her that she'd been through this before and that she'd be back to do it again. In this life or in another.
An hour later she boarded a crowded moonbus. Her fellow passengers were subdued. They were all MBI employees, like herself. The dependents, visitors, consultants, and assorted VIPs were long gone. She settled into her seat and drew the harness around her. She realized she was glad to be leaving, not only for the obvious reason that the comet was coming, but because Moonbase suddenly seemed alien, unquiet.
It was an impression that had been growing, fostered probably by the increasingly empty malls and walkways and the closed shops and whispered conversations. During the few days since the crisis had begun, she'd been constantly in other people's company. But almost all her friends were gone now, either already in orbit, or well on their way to Skyport. She looked around the bus and saw Eleanor Kile, who'd stayed with her to work the last shift. Eleanor smiled. She looked scared.
"Ladies and gentlemen." The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom. "We'll be departing within five minutes. The ride up to the plane will be brief, not quite two hours. Once there, we'll transfer through the same door by which you entered the spacecraft. The plane will leave orbit at nine-thirty this evening. My copilot and I will be with you on that flight, and we're looking forward to a spectacular show.
"We know the ambiance on the bus isn't what any of us are accustomed to, or what we would like to make available, and I regret to announce there are no flight attendants. One of us will be along after we've gotten under way to see if we can do anything to make your trip more comfortable. I'll let you know when we're ready to leave."
Andrea closed her eyes and tried to sleep.