All the King's Horses
Jun. 12th, 2011 12:00 amAt least it missed us. That was the good news. We spotted it just as it was crossing Saturn’s orbit – a giant asteroid, a dwarf planet really, originating from outside Pluto’s orbit. Nobody knows what perturbed its track, but when we first spotted it, it was on what looked like a direct intercept course for Earth. Astronomers bestowed upon it some obscure Greek name that nobody remembers, but it was given a nickname by the popular media that stuck: Toro, the charging bull.
As it dove towards us, we scrambled to try to find a way to save our planet. We looked at using atomics; diverting other bodies into its path; even strapping engines to it. None of these ideas were practical; Toro was just too big for things we could do in the time we had available. All we could do was pray.
And our prayers, it seemed, were answered. Close observations revealed that Toro was a hair off target. Every day of its approach, the astronomers downgraded the chances of a direct hit. It would pass close to us for certain, but it seemed that it wouldn't actually kill us. Humanity breathed a sigh of relief. But our relief turned to consternation when we realized that Toro would miss us only to hit another target: the Moon.
It was a direct bullseye. The vectors for Toro and the Moon were almost exactly opposite each other when they collided. Toro punched through the Moon’s crust and mantle, dove through its liquid core and slammed into its solid iron center. Like a cue ball sinking the eight in a game of pool, it knocked the Moon’s heart out the back side. The rest of the Moon cracked into three irregular large pieces and many smaller ones, and the pieces began to drift apart.
Those first few weeks were interesting, with plenty of material from the Moon and Toro raining down on Earth. But it wasn’t until later that we realized the real damage that had been caused. The change in the Moon’s mass and momentum had destabilized its orbit. Tidal disruption caused havoc to Earth’s seas and aquatic ecosystems. Worst, there was a chance that the remnants of the Moon might scatter, some of them decaying enough in orbit to swing down and intersect the Earth.
That’s where I come in. My company, Hatfield and Schmidt, is the largest engineering firm in the solar system. We built the Ares artificial moon that orbits Mars, and we won the contract to clear the Jovian Trojans to make outer-system shipping safer. When the United Nations approached us for the Moon job, at first I didn’t know what to say. It was too big a task; nothing like it had ever been done. But I came around. I gathered my troops.
Boys and girls, I told them, Humpty Dumpty has fallen off the wall. We’re all the King’s horses, and all the King’s men. And we’re going to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
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As it dove towards us, we scrambled to try to find a way to save our planet. We looked at using atomics; diverting other bodies into its path; even strapping engines to it. None of these ideas were practical; Toro was just too big for things we could do in the time we had available. All we could do was pray.
And our prayers, it seemed, were answered. Close observations revealed that Toro was a hair off target. Every day of its approach, the astronomers downgraded the chances of a direct hit. It would pass close to us for certain, but it seemed that it wouldn't actually kill us. Humanity breathed a sigh of relief. But our relief turned to consternation when we realized that Toro would miss us only to hit another target: the Moon.
It was a direct bullseye. The vectors for Toro and the Moon were almost exactly opposite each other when they collided. Toro punched through the Moon’s crust and mantle, dove through its liquid core and slammed into its solid iron center. Like a cue ball sinking the eight in a game of pool, it knocked the Moon’s heart out the back side. The rest of the Moon cracked into three irregular large pieces and many smaller ones, and the pieces began to drift apart.
Those first few weeks were interesting, with plenty of material from the Moon and Toro raining down on Earth. But it wasn’t until later that we realized the real damage that had been caused. The change in the Moon’s mass and momentum had destabilized its orbit. Tidal disruption caused havoc to Earth’s seas and aquatic ecosystems. Worst, there was a chance that the remnants of the Moon might scatter, some of them decaying enough in orbit to swing down and intersect the Earth.
That’s where I come in. My company, Hatfield and Schmidt, is the largest engineering firm in the solar system. We built the Ares artificial moon that orbits Mars, and we won the contract to clear the Jovian Trojans to make outer-system shipping safer. When the United Nations approached us for the Moon job, at first I didn’t know what to say. It was too big a task; nothing like it had ever been done. But I came around. I gathered my troops.
Boys and girls, I told them, Humpty Dumpty has fallen off the wall. We’re all the King’s horses, and all the King’s men. And we’re going to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.
( Read more... )