“You diverted it into a trajectory that’s pulling it toward the Sun,” the secretary-general said, trying to smile. “It will break up into fragments and then fall into the Sun, if it doesn’t melt completely first.”
“You mean I killed it?” Cindy felt a pang of regret, remorse. The comet had been beautiful, in its way.
“You’ve saved the world,” the secretary-general said gratefully.
Cindy fished around for something to say, but nothing came to mind.
The secretary-general had more, though.
“The tanker . . .” The woman’s voice faltered. With an obvious effort, she went on, “The tanker . . . isn’t going to be at the rendezvous point. One of its rocket engines failed . . .”
“It won’t be there?” Cindy asked, surprised that her voice sounded so high, so frightened.
“I’m afraid not,” said the secretary-general.
Cindy felt her entire body slump with defeat. Numbers were scrolling on her data screens. The tanker would pass near the rendezvous point, but too far away for Cindy to reach it. She had no propulsion fuel left, only a bit of maneuvering thrust, nowhere near enough to chase down the errant tanker.
“Then I’ll continue on my current trajectory,” she said to the screens.
“Which is the same as the comet’s original path,” the secretary-general pointed out. She waited a decent interval, then added, “We don’t want you to crash into the Earth, of course.”
“Of course,” said Cindy, as she turned off her communications system. The secretary-general’s oh so-sad face winked out.
Cindy knew that her little ship was no threat to the world. It would burn to cinders once it hit the atmosphere. Maybe I can jink it a little so I’ll blaze through the atmosphere like a falling star, she thought. I’ll be cremated, and my ashes will scatter all across the world.
But then she thought, no, I’ll use the last of my maneuvering thrust to move out of Earth’s way al together. I’ll just sail out of the solar system forever. I’ll be the first human to reach the stars—in a couple three million years.
New Year’s Eve.
All across the world people celebrated not only the beginning of a new year, but the end of the fear that had gripped them. Comet Hara was gone. The world had been saved.
Cindy Lundquist floated alone in her little spacecraft as it streaked safely beyond the Earth and speeded out toward the cold darkness of infinite space. For days her communications screen had been filled with gray-headed persons of importance, congratulating her on her heroic and self-sacrificing deed.
Now the screen was blank. The world was celebrating New Year’s Eve, and she was alone, heading toward oblivion.
Precisely at midnight, on her ship’s clock, the comm screen chimed once and the blond, tanned face of Arlan Prince appeared on it, smiling handsomely.
“Hi,” he said brightly. “Happy New Year.”
Cindy didn’t have the heart to smile back at him, handsome though he was.
“I’ve been put in charge of your rescue operation,” he said.
“Rescue operation?”
Nodding, he explained, “Since we weren’t able to get the tanker to you, we decided to send out a rescue mission.”
“But I’m heading out of the solar system now.”
“We know.” His smile clouded briefly, then lit up again. “It’s going to take us at least six months to build the ship we need, and another six months to reach you.”
“You’re going to come out after me?”
“Certainly! You saved the world. We can’t let you drift off and leave us. You’re a celebrity now.”
“Oh,” said Cindy, dumbfounded.
“But it’ll take a year before we get to you,” he said, apologetically. “Do you have enough supplies on your ship to last that long?”
Cindy nodded, thinking that she’d have to skimp a lot, but losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt, especially if. . . “Will you personally come out to get me?” she asked.
“Yes, of course,” he replied. “When they asked me to head up the rescue mission, I insisted on it.”
“A year from now?”
“Exactly one year from today,” he said confidently.
“Then we can celebrate New Year’s Eve together, can’t we?” Cindy said. “Indeed we will.”
Cindy smiled her best smile at him. “Happy New Year,” she said sweetly.
WE’LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS
