The Ashes of Worlds - Kevin J. Anderson [152]
“Moons and planets don’t just spontaneously explode,” BeBob said. “Do they?”
Margaret shook her head. “Not even the Klikiss have that kind of firepower.”
Rlinda scowled, trying to think of an answer. They stared in numb silence for a long moment, until BeBob finally said, “In the grand scheme of things, I suppose my arrest warrant isn’t going to be their highest priority. We should be safe taking the ship in.”
They approached, listening to the agitated chatter across the various communication bands. High-velocity lunar fragments tumbled toward Earth, and EDF ships were out in force to stop them, but the Hansa’s space military was like a handful of gnats against a tornado. Rescue and salvage ships of all different types dodged the debris, trying to create a defensive map of the oncoming clusters of rubble.
Seven sharp impacts banged against the Faith’s hull. A much larger rock, twice the size of their ship, tumbled slowly past on a nearly parallel course and shouldered them out of the way, caroming off in a slightly altered direction. BeBob yelped as he swerved violently. “There goes the new paint job. I don’t like this at all.”
“Let me take the controls,” Rlinda said; he did not argue with her.
The highest velocity ejecta from the exploding Moon had already reached the Earth’s atmosphere. When the fragments began to burn up, bright orange and white streaks made fingernail scratches through the air, then left thicker plumes as huge chunks hurtled toward the ground. The first fragments vaporized in flashes.
Margaret watched. “Earth hasn’t been pummeled with impacts like this since the Cretaceous Period. Any one of these could become an extinction event.”
“You sure we want to land in the middle of that?” BeBob said in disbelief.
“I believe Anton is down there,” Margaret said.
On their high-resolution imagers, they watched a succession of impacts smack the surface of the planet in bright orange explosions, flashes of liberated light. They listened to frantic calls of alarm, pleas for help, but no force could evacuate a population of billions in so short a time. And where would they go?
One massive fragment obliterated Dallas.
A few hours later, another wiped out all of Shanghai.
Margaret announced, “These are just the precursors. The largest fragments will move more slowly, but they are on their way. The most devastating impacts are still to come.”
* * *
105
Patrick Fitzpatrick III
When the Gypsy flew in toward Earth, Patrick was puffed up and ready to shout his accusations across all of the communication bands. He wanted to expose Chairman Wenceslas for the cold-blooded assassination of his grandmother, for authorizing blatant piracy at the Golgen skymines and the Osquivel shipyards, for causing scores of civilian deaths. He had graphic and appalling footage.
But no one paid any attention to them. They were just another ship among tens of thousands, all flying in the debris-strewn orbital lanes with no monitoring by space traffic control. After the destruction of the Moon, it was every pilot for himself. The Moon!
The problem was so obvious, yet inconceivable, that Patrick couldn’t even place what was wrong for several minutes. It took quite a while for him to get over his shock, and finally to get some answers. After that, he needed only a second or two to make up his mind that Chairman Wenceslas must have caused the disaster somehow.
Zhett said, “Nobody is going to be interested in politics after this. Our complaints about the Chairman are going to be lost in the noise.”
His eyes narrowed. “On the contrary, I can’t think of a better scenario for a revolution. The population has got to be ready to overthrow him, if we can only get Freedom’s Sword behind us. If we can make enough noise.”
Once the small yacht hit the atmosphere, they headed directly for Maureen Fitzpatrick’s mountain mansion. He felt a knot in his stomach and an odd reluctance as they approached. The Battleaxe had abandoned all her clout and possessions