Chapter One
The Broadcast
The weather warning came through the workshop speakers while Keira Vellard had both arms inside a cooling duct. Somebody had left the volume too low. She heard the word impact, then a burst of static, then the afternoon canteen menu.
"Again," she said, and Jo Veylen reached past a rack of tools to turn the dial.
The announcer was explaining that the comet had broken apart. Fragments had appeared where there had been one object. The first estimates placed most of them over open water. Specialists were revising those estimates. People in low coastal districts should watch official messages and avoid unnecessary travel. It was spoken in the calm voice people use when they have decided that a louder voice would create the very trouble they are trying to prevent.
Jo held the dial between two fingers. "Should I turn it off?"
"No. Tell me when they say something that can be used."
Keira returned to the duct. The gasket had settled crooked against its flange, and the closing ring had drawn it into a fold. Under pressure, that fold would become a leak. She loosened the ring and worked the rubber flat with her thumb. Jo handed her a clean cloth without being asked.
"You heard what he said," Jo said.
"I heard a prediction changing."
"That sounds like a nice way of saying we are in trouble."
"It is a way of saying they are still looking."
