Day of the Dragonstar Read Free Page B

the orbit of Jupiter, approximately forty degrees to the ecliptic. Cometary orbit with a period of about two hundred years. Velocity, thirty kilometers per second, increasing as object approached perihelion, closest position to Earth before heading back out.
    The thing was some kind of cylinder.
    Three hundred and twenty kilometers in length.
    Sixty-five kilometers in diameter.
    And it wasn’t a comet, either. Labate’s mass estimates indicated that neither was it a solid body.
    Question was, just what was the thing?
    He swallowed the last of the tea, packed the papers together, and placed them in his briefcase. He pushed the half-eaten breakfast away and stood to go, still feeling baffled and excited and . . . somehow, distant. If Labate’s wildest notion were reality . . . the thought just took one’s breath away.
    “You’re not finishing?” Becky said, trying to take the sourness out of her voice. She wasn’t one for holding grudges, though when her temper flared, it was scorching.
    “No. I’m sorry, but I’m just not hungry. This is pretty important stuff, Be-cky. I . . . I do wish I could tell you about it, but —”
    “I know. You’re a stickler for rules. Especially for your own rules. Never sleep with your girlfriend more than three times a week; it takes too much time and attention away from work otherwise. Never take more than a half-day a week off. People depend upon you. Never say ‘I love you’ other than when absolutely necessary. Makes your lover too smug and self-assured and hard to handle. Have everything in control. Never let loose of too much emotion. Kemp’s Commandments.” She spoke blithely, with no bitterness.
    “I do love you. You know that.”
    “Do I? Hmm. I guess the only reason I put up with your crap is that I love you, too.”
    “Rotten luck, right?” Relieved, he let go of a boyish grin.
    “For me, maybe. You seem to handle yourself pretty well.”
    “Thank you for, staying, Becky. Thank you for breakfast.” Almost reluctantly, she accepted the invitation of his open arms, hugging him softly and firmly.
    “One promise.” she said.
    “Which is?”
    “You’ll tell me what all this was about at least one minute before you are officially allowed to.”
    “I think that can be arranged.”

    * * *

    The shuttle whined to a stop. Phineas Kemp jumped onto the subway platform. The terminal was almost empty at this early hour since the night shift —a skeleton crew anyway—was still on duty, and the day-personnel were probably still sleeping. Kemp took the elevator to the top floor of the Admins Dome, the only level located on the lunar surface.
    As he entered the office complex, he nodded curtly to the security woman on duty. He walked straight through to his office, adjacent to the conference room. Soon that chamber would be occupied by the Joint Chiefs, sealed off from the rest of the base under a Level One Security net. Kemp knew that he should be preparing some kind of introductory speech, something to quickly explain the nature of the emergency conference, but the words would not come to him. Instead, thoughts of his father kept interfering. Kemp tried to temper those memories by asking himself how his father might handle the impending situation. The old boy had indeed had quite an effect on him, Kemp thought, smiling with a touch of sadness.
    Kemp walked to the broad, curving slope of smoked glass, the executive-sized window which gave him a spectacular view of the northern quadrant of Copernicus Base. Roughly a hexagon in design, the Colony was a series of domes and geodesic structures connected by underground tunnels. Eighty percent of the Colony was located beneath the surface of the crater basin, partially for protection from the infrequent meteoroid showers, but primarily because it allowed a more efficient use of lunar construction materials. Copernicus Base was the oldest permanent lunar settlement. Hard to believe it would soon be celebrating its thirtieth