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Book: Search & Recovery: A Retrieval Artist Universe Novel by Kristine Kathryn Rusch
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Authors: Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Tags: Fiction
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was quieter in here, if stranger.
She ran a hand over her face.
Daddy , she sent through her links. Please answer me the moment you get this. Please .
She wondered if she should let her brother know that their father was in the middle of this mess. But Bert was on the Frontier, and he probably didn’t even know there was a mess.
Torkild was shouting at someone—shouting! A man looked up, as if he had done something wrong, and Torkild headed toward him.
Berhane was done traipsing along like the dutiful fiancée. She had thought she was supposed to be talking to Torkild. Instead, he was heading toward someone named Barry who apparently was an old friend.
Berhane leaned on one of the chairs. It slid, which she didn’t expect. Most of the furniture in the port was bolted down, but apparently not in here.
Daddy , she sent again. She had a feeling she wouldn’t hear from him for some time, but she couldn’t stop herself from pinging his links. Maybe she should try his business offices and see if they could track him down.
She might not be on his emergency list, a thought that would once of have twisted her stomach but now seemed as normal as breathing.
She slid the chair back into position. She was suddenly tired and in need of a seat. Maybe she would just close her eyes for a few minutes, and when she did, this long and terrible morning would be over.
She was reaching for the chair when the floor shook. The chair skittered away from her— bounced away from her—and she was having trouble staying on her feet.
A couple of the Disty fell off their tables. Two of the Peyti’s chairs toppled sideways. The Rev’s weird arms came out and caught the walls.
The shaking seemed to go on forever, but she knew it only lasted a few seconds.
People were screaming and shouting. A number of them had fallen, but she hadn’t.
She’d been through worse.
She even knew what this was.
The dome had sectioned. For the third time in her life, the dome had sectioned.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and looked up at the screens.
All the images of the governor-general and Arek were gone, replaced by images of burned-out buildings and smoke rising out of the center of domes. Only the areas didn’t look familiar. When the bomb had exploded four years ago, that area had still looked like itself. Like a horrible disgusting terrible rendering of a once-lovely place.
She didn’t recognize these places.
Voices around her, still shouting, were talking about the sectioning, but she didn’t care.
She was looking at those images.
Was she looking at Littrow? Or somewhere else? She thought she saw smoke rising out of one of the craters—Tycho Crater? Damn the Moonscape. It was impossible to tell exactly where the images were coming from.
She was spinning, slowly, staring at the screens, trying to make sense of them, and knowing, deep down, exactly what they were showing her.
The Moon. All of it. Looking like that little section of Armstrong had not four years ago.
The entire Moon.
Torkild reached her side. He grabbed for her, but she didn’t let him touch her. He looked panicked.
She didn’t need someone who panicked.
Not right now.
Still, her gaze met his.
“Do you know what this means?” she asked—softly, she thought, but with all the chatter, she probably hadn’t spoken softly at all.
He shook his head. All the color had leached from his skin. He still didn’t look like Arek, though. No one looked like those images of Arek.
“Nothing is going to be the same,” she said. “Nothing is ever going to be the same again.”
ONE WEEK LATER
NINE
FOR DAYS AFTERWARD, most everyone went outside after dark and stared up at the sky. The moon was full, or near full, and some of the destruction was visible to the naked eye.
Pippa Landau had been to the Moon more times than she wanted to think about, usually to Armstrong, which was mostly spared. But she had lived on Earth long
She ran a hand over her face.
Daddy , she sent through her links. Please answer me the moment you get this. Please .
She wondered if she should let her brother know that their father was in the middle of this mess. But Bert was on the Frontier, and he probably didn’t even know there was a mess.
Torkild was shouting at someone—shouting! A man looked up, as if he had done something wrong, and Torkild headed toward him.
Berhane was done traipsing along like the dutiful fiancée. She had thought she was supposed to be talking to Torkild. Instead, he was heading toward someone named Barry who apparently was an old friend.
Berhane leaned on one of the chairs. It slid, which she didn’t expect. Most of the furniture in the port was bolted down, but apparently not in here.
Daddy , she sent again. She had a feeling she wouldn’t hear from him for some time, but she couldn’t stop herself from pinging his links. Maybe she should try his business offices and see if they could track him down.
She might not be on his emergency list, a thought that would once of have twisted her stomach but now seemed as normal as breathing.
She slid the chair back into position. She was suddenly tired and in need of a seat. Maybe she would just close her eyes for a few minutes, and when she did, this long and terrible morning would be over.
She was reaching for the chair when the floor shook. The chair skittered away from her— bounced away from her—and she was having trouble staying on her feet.
A couple of the Disty fell off their tables. Two of the Peyti’s chairs toppled sideways. The Rev’s weird arms came out and caught the walls.
The shaking seemed to go on forever, but she knew it only lasted a few seconds.
People were screaming and shouting. A number of them had fallen, but she hadn’t.
She’d been through worse.
She even knew what this was.
The dome had sectioned. For the third time in her life, the dome had sectioned.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and looked up at the screens.
All the images of the governor-general and Arek were gone, replaced by images of burned-out buildings and smoke rising out of the center of domes. Only the areas didn’t look familiar. When the bomb had exploded four years ago, that area had still looked like itself. Like a horrible disgusting terrible rendering of a once-lovely place.
She didn’t recognize these places.
Voices around her, still shouting, were talking about the sectioning, but she didn’t care.
She was looking at those images.
Was she looking at Littrow? Or somewhere else? She thought she saw smoke rising out of one of the craters—Tycho Crater? Damn the Moonscape. It was impossible to tell exactly where the images were coming from.
She was spinning, slowly, staring at the screens, trying to make sense of them, and knowing, deep down, exactly what they were showing her.
The Moon. All of it. Looking like that little section of Armstrong had not four years ago.
The entire Moon.
Torkild reached her side. He grabbed for her, but she didn’t let him touch her. He looked panicked.
She didn’t need someone who panicked.
Not right now.
Still, her gaze met his.
“Do you know what this means?” she asked—softly, she thought, but with all the chatter, she probably hadn’t spoken softly at all.
He shook his head. All the color had leached from his skin. He still didn’t look like Arek, though. No one looked like those images of Arek.
“Nothing is going to be the same,” she said. “Nothing is ever going to be the same again.”
ONE WEEK LATER
NINE
FOR DAYS AFTERWARD, most everyone went outside after dark and stared up at the sky. The moon was full, or near full, and some of the destruction was visible to the naked eye.
Pippa Landau had been to the Moon more times than she wanted to think about, usually to Armstrong, which was mostly spared. But she had lived on Earth long
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