Lucifer's Hammer - Larry Niven [137]
Desmond Morris, The Naked Ape
For two hours the Earth had turned, while Hammerlab made one circle and a fraction more. Europe and West Africa had moved from sunset to night.
Perhaps they were all afraid to speak. Rick knew he was. If he spoke, what would come out? Johnny's ex-wife and children had not been in Texas. Rick hated him for it: a shameful secret. He watched the turning Earth in silence.
It was hot in Hammerlab. Sweat didn't run in free fall; it stayed where it formed. When Rick remembered he mopped it away with the soggy cloth clutched in his left hand. When tears formed they covered the eyes like thickening lenses. Blinking only distorted the lenses. They had to be mopped away; and then he saw.
Orange holes glowed on the dark Earth, like cigarettes poked through the back of a map. Hard to tell where each glowing spot was. City lights had disappeared across Europe, covered by clouds, or simply gone. Sea looked like land. Rick had watched land become sea in places: down the American East Coast, and across Florida, and deep into Texas. Texas. Could an Army helicopter move faster than a wall of water? But the winds! No, she was dead …
But he'd seen the strikes in daylight, and Rick remembered. The glow in the Mediterranean had died away. The smaller Baltic strike had been quenched almost immediately.
Much bigger strikes in the mid-Atlantic still showed. You saw only a diffuse pearly glow until Hammerlab was right above one. Then you looked down into' the clear center of the tremendous hurricane: down through a clear pillar of live steam, into an orange-white glare. Three of these, and they were much smaller now. The sea was returning.
Four small bright craters scattered across the Sudan, and three in Europe, and a much larger one near Moscow, still shed their orange-white light back to space.
Johnny Baker sighed and thrust himself back from the window. He cleared his throat and said, "All right. We have things to discuss."
They looked at him as if he had interrupted a eulogy. Johnny went doggedly on. "We can't use the Apollo. That big Pacific strike was practically on our recovery fleet. The Apollo's built for sea landings, and the sea … all the oceans … hell … "
"You must beg a ride home," Pieter Jakov said, nodding. "Yes. We have room. Accept our hospitality."
Leonilla Malik said, "We have no home. Where shall we go?"
"Moskva is not all of the Soviet Union," Pieter said gently, reprovingly.
"Isn't it?"
Rick was giving him no help. He was framed in the window, and Johnny saw only his back. "Glaciers," Johnny said. Yes, he had their attention. "There was a strike above Russia, in the … ?"
"Ikara Sea. We did not see it. It would have been too far north. We only infer it from the way the clouds swept down."
"The clouds swept down, right. That had to be an ocean strike. The clouds will keep coming down across Russia till the crater on the seabed is quenched. They'll dump tens of millions of tons of snow all across the continent. White clouds and white snow. Any sunlight that falls will be reflected back to space for the next couple of hundred years. I … " Johnny's face twisted. "God knows I hate to ruin your day, but those glaciers are going to sweep right down to China. I really think we ought to head for some place warm."
Pieter Jakov's face was cold. He said, "Perhaps Texas?"
Rick's back flinched. Johnny said, "Thanks a whole lot."
"My family was in Moskva. They die by fire and the blast. Your family dies by water. You see, I know how you feel. But the Soviet Union has survived disasters before, and glaciers move slowly."
"Revolution moves quickly," Leonilla said.
"Eh?"
Leonilla spoke in rapid Russian. Pieter answered in kind.
Johnny spoke low-voiced to Rick. "Let them talk it over. Hell, it's their rocket ship. Listen, Rick, they could have got a helicopter there in time. Rick?" Rick wasn't listening. Finally Johnny looked where Rick was looking, down toward the dark mass of Asia …
Presently Leonilla switched to English. Almost briskly almost