Impact

1.

Jenny

Tom´s Diner wasn´t exactly the place to bring a date, or to take your family out for dinner. It sat right next to the road, where trucks would rumble by, sometimes stopping to grab a coffee or something to eat, but most preferring to continue on to the next small town. The exterior looked run down, and the paint, which was once a bright yellow, was faded and flaking. Only a few dusty cars stood outside, which was how it usually was, and once inside, a visitor would notice the sand and dust, especially near the door, that threatened to bury the place. The only thing that kept Tom´s Diner running was that it was old enough to be debt-free, and it had a few steady patrons who would tip nicely. It was a relic of the past, and working there was a dead end with no prospects whatsoever.

Jenny Salinger picked up the greasy plate, and stacked it up top of the others. The tip wasn´t much, but it would do. She put it in her apron pocket, and lifted the stack of plates to take out to the kitchen. The only customer left today was a regular, a trucker who stopped by once a week. She tried not to look his way, although she would soon have to go over and ask if the food was to his satisfaction. He wasn´t all bad, and he always tipped well, but he had a way of making her uncomfortable. Sometimes he would touch her arm or accidentally brush up to her just a bit too close for comfort—never anything worse. But then he would ask how she was doing, if she was lonely, or maybe she wanted to hang out after work. And those piercing eyes would scan her up and down, which was the worst. So she tried to avoid him as much as possible.

She looked out the window at what had once been a playground. At 26, she was too young to remember, but she had heard from Tommy, who had taken over the diner ten years ago when his father died, that the place used to be packed with people, families. The kids would swarm the playground back then, and if the timing was right they could pick oranges straight from the trees. She imagined that would be nice. But desert sand had overtaken the playground, and the orange trees were all dead. Last winter had been the final nail in the coffin. As if the summer drought that fueled the ever-increasing expansion of the desert hadn´t been enough. That winter had killed off a lot of people, and Jenny wondered if next winter would be as bad. She shook her head. They were paying a high price for the years of fossil fuels that their grandparents had enjoyed.

Not that it mattered; with Devastator on its way, they didn´t have much time left anyhow.

Slow day, for sure, Tommy said as she entered the kitchen and put the plates down in front of the dishwasher.

Maybe someone will stop by later, she said. It wasn´t likely, but it was possible.

She walked over to the old coffee maker and poured herself a cup. She sipped it and wrinkled her nose. Not only had it been standing too long, but it was the fake version—real coffee mixed with artificial flavoring. Pure coffee was hard to come by these days. Wars and failed crops made it an expensive luxury, and not something to be brewed in a run down diner in the desert.

Remember real coffee? she said, and Tommy came over and grabbed a cup of his own.

Yeah... He sat down where he could see the entrance, in case a customer would enter.

Look, Jenny, he paused. I can take over for you. I know you don´t like that guy, and I get it.

Jenny smiled. Tommy, almost sixty now, was like the father she never had. She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead.

Thanks, but I´m all right. Tommy looked up at her.

Why haven´t you ever finished that novel of yours? he said. Jenny smiled back at him.

What´s the point? I dropped out of college because there´s no point, and I´ll never finish the novel because there´s no point. In two years we´re all dead anyway.

Yes, but wouldn´t it be nice to have created something? To have completed something? he said.

I just... You know, Tommy, I´ve tried. I tried studying too, but I just couldn´t. And I´ve tried sitting down to write, but it just slips away, if you know what I mean. I just can´t finish a sentence. Feels pointless, I guess.

But what you showed me, it was really good. I liked it. I´d love to read it before...well, you know.

It was just a partial first draft.

Nevertheless. I am a reader, you know. I´ve read hundreds of books. He waved his hand, indicating everything around them.

I would have gone to college too, done something completely different, if not for this place. I had to help my dad, you know. And then, all of a sudden, here I am, pushing sixty, with two years left to go. That´s life, I guess. At least you could go out knowing you wrote a book. That´s not too bad.

Jenny placed her still half full cup on the counter, and shook her head.

I don´t know, Tommy, I guess I would do it if I could. I still try, now and then. Who knows?

She steeled herself and walked out to face the trucker.

2.

Mark

––––––––

Mark Novak considered the sorry state of his cabin, wondering if he should have brought some materials with him to replace the rotten boards on the south wall. While he would have if he had planned to spend more time here, he knew this would be the last time he ever came, and there was no use in spending time fixing up the place now. With just two more years to go, he´d be spending more time in the underground facilities, getting everything ready for the big day. The cryo technique worked, same as it had since before they sent the starship off, but there were still so much left to do. He had discovered something about the cryo sequence that might lead to a groundbreaking discovery, and he wanted to complete as much of his research as possible before Impact, since who knew what would be left afterward.

The view was still breathtaking though. The sun was slowly descending and the lake gave off an orange glow that bathed the entire area in light—like something straight out of a fairy tale. The deep forest surrounding Lake Roanoke, Virginia, one of the last preserves in the East, had grown thicker these past twenty years, and while the rest of the state was part of the ever-expanding metropolis stretching from Florida to New England, this was a place to breathe, to rest.

I brought beer, his friend called from inside the cabin, but your fridge is busted. It´s leaked all over the floor, and something stinks in there.

We´ll just have to drink it all then, Mark said.

Trevor came out to stand beside him on the porch, and placed the six-pack on the railing. He took one and handed it to Mark, and grabbed another for himself. Neither of them said anything as they opened the cans. Mark sat down on a rickety chair.

Are you on the list? For the shelter? he said.

Trevor nodded. For now. My guess is that the list will change several times before Impact.

Mark nodded, and took a big gulp from his can.

Any word from the senator?

Trevor shook his head, and frowned. Nothing. My guess is he realized Thatcher would break, as would any man. And the best way to make sure nobody knew where he was going was to not tell anyone.

Mark stared out at the lake again. Trevor had told him that when Richard Thatcher, the mastermind who planned the infiltration of the Exodus Project, was caught, he had been interrogated and probably tortured. Although everything was set up so that each member of the resistance knew only a handful of others, Thatcher´s capture had lead to the arrest of hundreds of people. Mark was still surprised that neither he nor Trevor had been arrested.

I wonder what´s going to happen? he said, absently.

You mean to us, or to the senator? Trevor asked.

On Aurora, Mark said. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Mark began thinking about the starship and the people on board. Most of them would be asleep by now, inside their cryo chambers, as they would for more than a century and a half, until they reached the 55 Cancri System. Aurora, the fifth planet out from the primary star, would become the new home for a small part of humanity, a backup plan in case everything on Earth died. Mark knew he might have a chance still, to survive what was coming. He was one of the lucky ones to be on the list for the president´s shelter, but it was no guarantee. The ones landing on Aurora might well be the last humans in history.

Speaking of humans in space... Trevor said, and cleared his throat.

"You probably don´t know this, but right now, as we speak, there are several efforts to send people off planet. The Chinese are doing it, and India, among others. Most are like the Exodus Project, and there´s no way to know if they have a chance or not. There is one project that I think we need to look into more closely. It began as a joint effort between some of the biggest companies in Norway and Russia, and it has attracted some of the best scientists from the ESA. The European Space Agency has been working with us, as well as on its own project. It seems they´ve had trouble funding their efforts, and nobody believes they’ll be able to launch anything before it´s too late. It’s every country for itself over there, and the EU is losing ground to national governments bent on spending their money on ground-based shelters rather than sending people onto space.

But the Norwegian and Russian project has been working steadily for years now, and they are funneling huge amounts of money into it. Lately, the governments of both countries have jumped on board, providing even more funding and resources. They’re on a tight schedule, but my sources claim that these guys may be able to save several thousand people.

How is that even possible? Mark said. We’ve poured everything we´ve got into the Exodus Project, and we were only able to send sixteen hundred people

Yes, it is impressive, Trevor said, knowingly. But they aren’t sending up a starship. They are building a base on the Moon, and they will shuttle people and supplies up there as long as it is possible to get anything off the ground.

Mark nodded. It made sense, if they planned to return to Earth. If they believed Earth could become inhabitable again. So it´s a gamble. They are hoping they will be able to return to Earth before their supplies run out, he said.

Trevor nodded.

Seems like it, he said, It´s all or nothing, of course, but if they do succeed, thousands of people will be saved.

Well, I guess we´ll find out. If we live that long. Trevor said, emptying his can and grabbing another.

Mark looked at his friend. He thought about telling Trevor about his scientific discovery, but decided not to for now. If they both survived Impact, they would have plenty of time to talk. And if he managed to find a way to put his findings into practical application, they would have more time than either of them could imagine.

3.

Jenny

––––––––

It was a day like any other at Tom´s Diner: sand everywhere, and a few truckers coming in from time to time. Tommy was out in the kitchen, but there wasn´t much for him to do, so he sat playing some game on the battered old computer. Jenny had already swept the floors twice today, but the sand kept creeping in, through air vents and every crack. She hated the sand.

A car pulled over and parked just outside the window, and a blond man with close-cropped hair stepped out. He was wearing sunglasses and a worn denim shirt that hung loosely over his jeans. Jenny could see he was fit, and something in the way he walked told her this was a man who knew what he wanted. He entered the diner and took off his sunglasses, revealing icy blue eyes that scanned the interior quickly, efficiently. He closed the door behind him and found a booth in a corner, sat down and pulled out a worn and tattered paperback.

When she walked over to take his order she saw the faded cover of the book. Starship Troopers, by Heinlein. She smiled. She’d read it years ago, a real classic.

Loved that book, she said. He looked up, and a smile appeared on his face.

It´s my third read-through, he said, so I sort of know the ending.

So, what can I get you? Some coffee, a bite to eat?

Some coffee, please.

She went and got him a cup of coffee. She put a little mint next to the cup, and a bag of sugar. She didn´t have any brown sugar left, only the white refined stuff.

Jenny put the cup down in front of him, and stood for a moment before he said thank you. Then she walked over to the counter, and began folding napkins.

Ten minutes later, he signaled her, and she walked over to his table again.

Can you fix me a refill? he said

Of course, sir.

"And