Moonseed. Stephen Baxter

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       II ARD TOR

      I

      Geena Bourne woke up before dawn. She was, of course, alone in the apartment.

      She got up in the dark and walked around putting on lights.

      Henry had gone.

      Fled. But he’d taken nothing. No furniture, no carpets or curtains, no CDs or books, not even his own clothes. Nothing but his geology hammer, as far as she could see.

      Oh, and Rocky, their labrador, the Rock Hound.

      Shit.

      It was worse than if he’d taken everything, or trashed the place.

      Still, she knew where he’d be. She pulled a coat over her pyjamas, got in the car and drove out, through the night, to the USGS.

      It was cold. Always cold, here in the mountains.

      The Cascades Observatory of the United States Geological Survey was a squat, unimposing two-storey building, a slab of cinder-block. In the harsh, incomplete glow of its security lights it looked sinister, like some prison block transported from Soviet Russia.

      She had a little trouble with the guards. Lady, it’s 3 a.m. Do you know what time it is? 3 a.m. … But her NASA pass and a little sweet-talking got her inside.

      And here was Henry, tucked up on top of a sleeping bag he’d spread out on the floor of his cramped office. The clutter of his work lay everywhere: geological maps and structure charts, trays of samples, microscope slides with slivers of rock, electronic parts, his precious polarizing microscope inside its grimy, worn-smooth wooden box. And Henry himself in the middle of it all, as sound asleep as if he were out on a field expedition in the Kalahari, his long, thin body folded over, his heavy black hair falling around his face.

      Rocky was here, lying on a blanket in a crate in the corner. The mutt came forward, licked her hand regretfully, and went back to the crate and fell asleep.

      She prodded Henry’s kidney with her toe, reasonably gently. ‘Hey. Crocodile Dundee. Wake up.’

      He came awake, with an ease she’d always envied.

      ‘It’s you.’ He rolled over and sat up.

      ‘Of course it’s me.’

      ‘I left, Geena. It’s over.’

      ‘Do you have any coffee in here?’

      He ran his hand over his stubble and yawned. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Go away and leave me alone.’

      ‘Believe me,’ she snapped back, ‘there’s nothing I’d like better. But I can’t just walk away.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because we have things to talk about.’

      ‘Geena, my lunar probes just got canned. My career is stiffed. What things?’

      ‘Our assets, Henry. Our property.’

      ‘All there is, is stuff. Burn it. I don’t care. Sell the apartment. It was no use anyhow, since we both spent the last two years working out of Houston.’

      She said heavily, ‘We’re taking apart our home.’

      He closed his eyes.

      ‘I know.’

      ‘Then you can’t just walk away. You have to go through the pain, Henry …’

      There was a light in the window.

      Maybe it was the torch beam of some security guy, Geena thought, distracted. Rocky whined a little, and padded over to the window. Whatever the light was, it was high up; it cast Rocky’s shadow on the floor behind him.

      Not a torch beam, then.

      Even as she tried to deal with this situation with Henry, her damn problem-solving brain kept working. Something in the sky. A chopper beam, maybe a police patrol? But the beam would shift. And there’d be noise. The Moon, then? But the light was the wrong quality, vaguely yellow-white. And besides, the Moon was near new tonight.

      The dog was staring up at the light as if he’d seen a ghost.

      She said, ‘What about the dog?’

      ‘He comes with me. He’s my dog. He predates you.’

      ‘I suppose he does. But he’s used to staying with my mother –’

      Henry unfolded off the floor and stretched, tall and wiry, strong hands flexing. His face was dark in the uncertain light from the window, weather-beaten by all those days in the field. He looked towards the yellow glow at the window. ‘What the hell’s that?’

      ‘I thought it was a chopper. But it isn’t.’

      ‘No.’

      They walked towards the dog, still standing in his shaft of light, Henry’s bare feet padding on the tiled floor.

      ‘… Jesus,’ he said.

      ‘What is it?’

      Henry was standing over the dog, staring up into the anomalous light. She came to stand beside him.

      The light, beaming in through the window, was so bright it was glaring, dazzling, like a spotlight in the face. But she СКАЧАТЬ