Free The Dying of the Light: Interval by Jason Kristopher Page A

bouncing off the walls and echoing. Most put their hands over their ears, but all of them stopped talking.
    Jennifer took her fingers out of her mouth and looked at the faces arrayed in front of her one at a time. Twenty-four people sat in the rows of chairs facing the screen behind her. With each of them representing their countries, they were heads of state now, whether they—or she—liked it or not.
    “That’s enough. You’re all smart people, or you wouldn’t be here. We’ve all known this decision was coming for a long damn time, and we’ve hidden our heads in the sand—in the ice—for too damn long.” They grew uncomfortable, shifting in their seats and glancing around, as if to find a target for the blame. “We’re done with that, now. We have a problem, and we need to find solutions, not continue blaming each other for things none of us can change.”
    When no one refuted her charge, she continued. “Hacker said we have maybe eighteen months, if we stretch it. Doc Stirling says we won’t last even that long. So we need to come up with something else. We need food, people. Give me some ideas.” The group was quiet, intent on coming up with a way out of the mess, but no one came up with any insights right away. Several looked more scared than thoughtful, and Jennifer wasn’t at all surprised.
    Nigel Mackey, delegate from the UK, raised his hand. “I’m a vegetarian. And I’m not the only one here. None of us are sick, so why should we worry? Clearly, there’s enough protein for us to survive, so I don’t see the problem.”
    Jennifer leaned back on the folding table and looked at the delegate. “Sure, there’s enough for you and the others. Lemme guess, you eat extra beans or veggies, right?”
    “Well, yes.”
    “Now imagine every one of the 1,132 people we’ve got on this base eating that way. Better yet, let’s ask the expert.” She turned to Hacker, sitting off to one side. “Can you grow that much food, Reuben? If we turned everyone on the base into vegetarians?”
    The question didn’t even faze the portly biologist; he’d known this was coming. “Simple answer? No.” There was another round of murmurs, but he just spoke up, his voice cutting through the noise. “There’s not enough equipment. Hydroponics or aeroponics is the only way to grow anything out here, and aeroponics requires specialized equipment—high-pressure pumps, reservoirs, injection manifolds… Given an unlimited supply of equipment, I could grow an unlimited supply of fruits and beans and vegetables, enough to satisfy even the hungriest of us. We just don’t have the materials.”
    “What if we scavenge the other bases? Go through them again?” asked Mackey. Hopeful murmurs rose from the rest.
    Jennifer answered, “Those bases were picked clean in the move to McMurdo. Even if we could send scavenging parties out, which we can’t, they wouldn’t find anything. We did that on purpose, so we’d never have to go back. You were there, Nigel.” She looked around at the others. “You all were.”
    The mood turned dark and somber.
    “Fortunately,” Jennifer said, her voice quiet, “I have a plan. Major Shaw, if you please?”
    Shaw stood from one side, gesturing to the back of the room and the technician manning the audio-visual equipment as he moved to join his wife at the front of the room. The screen behind them lit with a picture of a very large airplane.
    “Many of you know what this is, but some of you are seeing this for the first time,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “This is a C-5M Super Galaxy, one of the largest aircraft in the world. This one, specifically, is my C-5M Super Galaxy.” He motioned to the technician once more and the screen changed to show a picture of the major in front of the plane, discussing something with a mechanic working on the plane. The date on the photo was clear, showing that it was taken earlier that day. “This is the very plane I arrived here on four