Robert Silverberg - In Another Country

Kleph moved closer to her. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Loved,” Laliene said.

“Here. Some more tea.”

“Yes. Yes.” Laliene smiled grimly. “He wanted me to send a warning to that woman of his, do you know? She lives right across the way. Her house will be destroyed by the shock wave, almost certainly.”

Lutheena said, looking shocked, “You didn’t think of doing it, did you?”

“Of course not. But I feel so sad about it, all the same. He loved her, you know. And I loved him. And so, for his sake, entirely for his sake—” Laliene shook her head. “But of course it was inconceivable. I suppose she’s asleep right at this minute, not even suspecting—”

“Better the meteor than the Blue Death that follows,” said Omerie. “Quicker. The quick deaths are the good ones. What’s the point of hiding from the meteor only to die of the plague?”

“This is too morbid,” Klia said. “I almost wish we hadn’t come here. We could have skipped it and just gone on to Charlemagne’s coronation—”

“We’ll be there soon enough,” said Kleph. “But we’re here, now. And it’s going to be wonderful—wonderful—”

“Places, everybody!” Kadro called. “It’s almost time! Ten—nine—eight—”

Laliene held her breath. This all seemed so familiar, she thought. As though she had been through it many times already. In a moment the impact, and the tremendous sound, and the first flames rising, and the first stunned cries from the city, and the dark shapes moving around in the distance, blind, bewildered—and then the lurid sky, red as blood, the long unending shriek coming as though from a single voice—

“Now,” said Kadro.

There was an astounding stillness overhead. The onrushing meteor might almost have been sucking all sound from the city toward which it plummeted. And after the silence the cataclysmic crash, the incredible impact, the earth itself recoiling with the force of the collision.

Poor Thimiroi, Laliene thought. And that poor woman, too.

Her heart overflowed with love and sorrow, and her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away from the window, unable to watch, unable to see. Then came the cries. And then the flames.