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

years ago. On that day, I unknowingly brought in the very last of the supplies McMurdo would be receiving. Now, we’re going to be using it for a very different purpose. Jen?”
    “What we propose to do is fly the C-5 to Christchurch, with a select team of people. We’ll assess the situation on the ground, see how safe it is, if at all. If we determine that it’s not safe to return yet, we’ll locate necessary supplies, refuel the plane, and come back. Then we’ll try again in a few years.”
    “ Perdóneme , señor ,” said Arturo Onevás, head of the Argentinians. “But if you go, and something happens…”
    Shaw crossed his arms and shrugged. “Everyone here will be trapped.”
    The noise had only seemed loud before; now it was tremendous, with delegates jumping out of their chairs and shouting. Shaw looked over at Jennifer, but she just shrugged. “Just wait,” she said.
    He nodded and, as she had suggested, eventually the delegates realized that neither of the two at the front of the room were saying anything. Glancing at each other nervously, they took their seats again and waited.
    “You done?” asked Shaw. “Cause here’s the God’s honest, folks: you’re already trapped. You have been since Z-Day. We all have. The only way out of here is on that plane, and we can’t all fit, and we can’t make multiple trips unless—guess what—we can find more fuel at Christchurch . So what we’re going to do is send a scouting party, an expeditionary party, if you like. We’re going to establish a beachhead, if there’s anything resembling safety there. And then we’ll come back for you.”
    He stood and began pacing, a habit he’d picked up from his wife. “But there are no guarantees here. Hell, there’s no guarantee we’ll even make it there , much less make it back.
    “You haven’t even heard the best part of it yet,” he said with a grim chuckle. “We found out why there’s been no word from the outside for six months. Sabrina?”
    Sabrina Tanner stood from her chair at the side of the room and motioned to the technician at the back. A graphic display of the Earth and several satellites appeared. “These are the communication satellites in orbit—the ones we know of, at any rate. All of our bases used these to connect to the outside world.”
    She pointed to one of the satellites, positioned directly over the South Pole. The satellite flashed green. “That one is McMurdo’s primary commsat. It’s in geosynchronous—technically, geostationary—orbit, meaning that it stays overhead continuously in relation to us. Through that one, we get transmissions from these other four.” She pointed to four satellites that ringed the Earth at equal distances from each other, positioned further away—half-way to the equator.
    The four additional satellites now began flashing: three green, one red. Sabrina pointed to the red one. “As you can see, this satellite is positioned over the South Pacific. It covers from just east of Australia to about two-thirds of the way to South America.”
    “Why’s it red?” asked Jack Warner, the delegate from Australia.
    “Because it’s not working. And that’s why we’re not getting any communications from Christchurch. We don’t know why it’s not working, and we can’t fix it from here. And since no one is going to be doing any spacewalking anytime soon, we are cut off.”
    “We can’t use any of the others?” Nigel Mackey asked.
    “No. It’s all about line of sight. We have line of sight to the other satellites, but they don’t have line of sight to Christchurch.”
    “What about communicating with other parts of the world and having them relay messages for us?”
    “We’re not hearing anything from the rest of the world. It’s all gone dark, guys.”
    The mood of the room darkened. No one spoke.
    “Not that we would be hearing much from Christchurch, either,” Sabrina said, “but I’d rather have the lines open than not.”
    After a