Impact

96

Simic stared at Abbey, her gray eyes settling down into a steady gaze. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"We're quite serious," said Abbey. "I need you to reposition this dish."

After a moment, Simic said, "All right."

"You're going to point it at Deimos. You know Deimos, one of the moons of Mars? You can do that, right?"

Simic recrossed her arms. The look of surprise on her face ebbed away, replaced by hostility. "Maybe."

"Yes or no? I imagine you can get the coordinates of Deimos's current position off the Internet."

"Maybe if you tell me what's going on--"

Straw raised the gun, pointing it up. "Dr. Simic? Please answer her questions and do exactly what she says. Understood?"

"Yes." Simic's face remained steady, unintimidated. "I can point the dish at Deimos. If you could just tell me what it is you want, it would help me help you."

Abbey considered this. It was at least worth a try.

"You saw what happened to the Moon tonight?"

"The asteroid strike?"

"That was not an asteroid strike. It wasn't natural at all. It was a warning shot. A demonstration of power."

"But . . . of whose power?"

"A while ago, the Mars Mapping Orbiter satellite imaged a device on Mars's smallest moon, Deimos. A device that had been there a long time, maybe long before Homo sapiens appeared on Earth. Built by an alien race. This device appears to be a weapon, and it fired that shot at the Moon. It wasn't a normal asteroid--it was a chunk of strange matter, a strangelet. You saw what it looked like--the projectile passed right through the Moon and came out the other side."

Simic looked at her and swallowed hard, her gray eyes full of skepticism.

"Two months ago," Abbey went on, "the device on Deimos also fired a shot at the Earth. It passed right over here and struck Shark Island, went through the Earth, and emerged in Cambodia."

"Where have you gotten all this . . . information?"

"We have access to classified government data from the National Propulsion Facility."

Simic blinked. "Frankly, this story of yours is crazy and absurd, and I have grave doubts about your sanity."

"Be that as it may," said Abbey. "What you're going to do is point this dish at Deimos and I'm going to send a message to that alien device."

Simic's mouth worked. "A message? As in a telephone call?"

"More or less."

"What message?"

The moment of truth had arrived. A feeling of weary panic overwhelmed her. What would she say? The long, long night flashed before her mind, the attack on the island, the chase, the terrifying fight at Devil's Limb, the meat-smack of the bow striking the killer and sending him to his death in the roiling ocean.

And suddenly she knew exactly what message to send. The answer lay in what had happened that night. So simple, so logical--so perfect. Or . . . perhaps disastrous.