The Silent War

HABITAT CHRYSALIS

Big George scowled at the display splashed across his wall screen as he sat in his favorite recliner, feet up, a frosty mug of beer at his side. Solar storm, he said to himself. Big one.

The IAA forecasters were predicting that the storm would not reach Ceres. The cloud of ionized particles followed the interplanetary magnetic field, and the field’s loops and knots were guiding it across the other side of the solar system, far from Ceres’s position. George felt grateful. Chrysalis was protected by electromagnetic shielding, just as most spacecraft were, but George had no great ambition to ride out a storm.

Poor bastards on Vesta are gonna get it, he noted. Hope they’ve got the sense to get their arses underground in time. George shrugged and reached for his beer. At least they’ve got plenty of warning.

The display showed spacecraft traffic. Elsinore was the only vessel George was interested in. Edith Elgin was aboard, coming to Ceres to do a video report on the war out here. About fookin’ time somebody in the news media paid attention, George thought.

Elsinore was swinging clear of the radiation cloud, he saw. She’ll be here in four days and some, George said to himself. Good. We’ll be waitin’ for her.

He took a long swallow of beer. There was nothing else for him to do, except wait.