Starquake.pdf

had first come to
the resort, she had made arrangements to berth the flyer at a local repair garage for the resort's robotic
glide-cars. The mechanic was not there to attach the tie-bolts that kept the flyer from sliding around
during crustquakes, so she had to do that chore herself. She found the mechanic inside his machine shop,
impaled on a sharp piece of heavy equipment. She moved away in horror and went to the video link to
call the butchers. The link was dead.
The glide-cars at the garage were piled into a heap in one corner of the compound, so she had to make
the trip by her own tread. The streets were deserted and the crust was silent except for the low rumbles
coming up from deep in Egg. She passed by compounds with cracked walls. Through the cracks she saw
nothing but death. Flattened cheela bodies that had flowed through partially opened doorways, many
with eyes cooked and hide blistered. Pet Slinks imitated their masters in death, their hairs singed off.
Any plant of any size had either toppled or been sheared off at the root, while the smaller plants and
ground cover looked limp and lifeless. It took her a while to find the compound for the peace officers, for
there was little need for them in this exclusive resort area. The peace officers were dead too, and none of
the equipment in the office seemed to work. She finally left and returned to her flyer. When she turned on
her communications set, a voice blared through the deck.
"... anyone on Egg. Please reply on Channels 1, 12, 36, or 144. West Pole Space Station on an all-band
call to anyone on Egg. Please reply on channels…" The voice sounded squeaky and hurried since time
moved faster on the orbital space stations than it did on the surface of Egg.
She switched her set to channel 36 in the flyer band. "This is Qui-Qui in Flyer 7. I have landed at West
Pole Mountain Resort near the West Pole Rejuvenation Center. Everyone in West Pole Mountain Resort
seems to be dead. All the video links are gone, too. I'd appreciate it if you would call Bright's Heaven
and have them send a mechanic to service my flyer. I've got to get back by next turn to start rehearsals
for my show."
She then waited for the long two-grethturn interval while the signal traveled the 400 kilometers or so up
to the West Pole Station and back.
"Flyer 7," came a voice. "This is Lieutenant Shannon-Capacity. You are coming in weakly. Did you say
your name
was Qui-Qui?The Qui-Qui? I'm sorry, but I can't call anyone for you. As far as we know, you are the
only one on Egg with a working free-space transmitter."
Qui-Qui became concerned. "Do you see any signs of life anywhere? If it isn't too far, I could fly there
and find them." She had two grethturns to worry as she waited for a reply.
"Wait. I'll check with the Space Operations Commander," he said. A few sethturns later a harsh
harassed voice rasped through the deck.
"You there! This is Admiral Hohmann-Transfer, Commander of Space Operations. We have an extreme
emergency. As of now, I am commandeering your private flyer in the name of the government of the
Combined Clans. We will need it to restore contact with the remaining authorities on Egg and start the
recovery process. Let me speak to your pilot."
"Iam the pilot," she said and waited for the reply.