The Calculating Stars (Lady Astronaut, #1)(24)
“She’s in the kitchen.”
Nathaniel appeared in the door as I picked up a carrot to grate into the salad. He set his folder of papers down on the kitchen table. “Hey. Feeling better?”
“Yes, thank you.” We needed to get him a new briefcase, but it seemed low on the list of priorities. I picked up the grater and ran the carrot over the rough surface with quick downstrokes. “How did it go?”
“Good. Thank God.” He loosened his tie and leaned against the counter. “Anything I can do?”
“Um … make a cocktail?”
“Gladly.” We had added to the Lindholms’ liquor cabinet as soon as Nathaniel had received his first paycheck from the military. And, yes, we stockpiled some under the bed in our room—currency. In case things really collapsed. “Martini okay?”
“Perfect.” I set the grater aside and scraped the carrots into the bowl with the lettuce. Every time I’d handled food since doing the calculations, I wondered if this was the last year I’d be eating it. But carrots and lettuce … they’d both survive the meteorite winter years. I think. “So what did Eisenhower say? Tell me about your brilliance.”
Nathaniel snorted as he pulled the gin out of the freezer. “Well … your brilliant, brilliant husband—hang on.” He wandered over to the door to the living room, and I wanted to scream at him. Such a tease. “Do you all want martinis?”
Their hushed conversation broke off and Eugene said, “God yes. If my wife allows—oof.”
“Thank you, Nathaniel. That would be very much appreciated. Might I have a double?” You could have caught flies with the honey in Myrtle’s voice.
Chuckling, I rinsed the grater in the kitchen sink. At least there were no issues with clean water here. Some of the refugees had been without it for days by the time they got to us. Of course, the acid rains hadn’t reached the Midwest yet. “A double sounds like an excellent idea.”
Nathaniel turned back from the doorway with his brows raised. “And I’m the one who had the meeting.”
“Medicinal. And you should have a double too.” The dressing was already made, but I wouldn’t add it until we were ready to eat. That left … checking the tagliarini. “You were telling me about Eisenhower and your brilliance.”
“Ah. Right.” He grabbed a pitcher from the cabinet. “Well … after I dazzled them with my rhetoric and awe-inspiring elocution, I stunned Eisenhower into silence by handing him your brilliant, in-depth report. Not that he could follow the calculations, but—”
“See, I didn’t need to be there.” As I opened the oven door, the heat from it rushed up into my face. Four hundred and fifty degrees. That was cooler than the air that would have hit Washington from the airblast.
“Well, I did have to bluff my way past some of his questions.” Nathaniel measured gin into the pitcher. “But he has enough understanding of rocketry, from a military perspective, to understand that moving the asteroid would have been impossible given the Soviet’s current level of technology.”
“Thank God.” I teased the foil off the tagliarini so the cheese could brown, then shut the oven door. “What about the weather?”
“The weather today was lovely.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do. And it’s relevant. It’s hard to convince people that catastrophic weather changes are coming on a nice day.” The bottle of vermouth was standing on the counter next to him. “Besides, it doesn’t have ‘military significance,’ so he didn’t feel the urgency of it.”
“The bulk of the report was about that!” I should have gone with him. Next time. Next time, I would have to go. “So … do you get to see the president? Is that what happens next?”
He shrugged and grabbed the ice from the freezer. “I’m trying. Eisenhower said he would attempt to expedite it, but without the Soviet threat, the urgency isn’t there. Acting President Brannan is, understandably, busy with restoring the U.S. government.”
“Ugh.” I stood with my hands on my hips and hated myself even more for this morning’s lie. If I had been there—what? Would General Eisenhower really have listened to a girl talk about math and weather? Maybe, for the sake of my father, he might have given me time, but I doubt I could have changed his mind. “I’m glad I already asked for a double, because if they don’t make plans…”
“I know.” He lifted the lever to crack the ice in the tray with such force that a piece hopped out and skittered across the floor. “But one step at a time. They aren’t going to attack the Soviets, and that would have been far worse.”
It wouldn’t have been. Just more immediate.
NINE
POLLUTION DEFIES EUROPE’S BORDERS
Norway Finds Air Waste From Abroad a Problem
By JOHN M. LEE
OSLO, Norway, April 3, 1952—Rising European concern about air pollution deriving from last month’s Meteor strike found expression in Norway this week when a leading scientist declared, “Our freshwater fish and our forests will be destroyed if these developments continue uncontrolled.”
After that glorious week of calculations, my life returned to volunteering at the hospital while we waited to hear from the president. April 3rd. One month, to the day, after the Meteor struck, one of the daily refugee planes landed. You would think they would stop coming at a certain point, but there were always more. The people who had survived the initial devastation had held out until it became clear that the infrastructure wouldn’t recover any time soon.