Was that even a prayer? To pray for such destruction?
He knew enough military history to know he was not the first.
The first explosion, of the consoles in the command post, was too contained by the dome to be visible on the Return’s wall screen. Nor was it visible on the transmitted image from the surveillance camera set a few miles from the domes. Those explosions, however, were mostly backup in case the main effort failed. Jason didn’t know whether conventional explosions would destroy every last virophage spore at Monterey Base. He was taking no chances. Before it was destroyed, the command post had sent the signal to the quantum computer.
Five minutes later, Specialist Martin, seated at the radar console brought from the signal station, said crisply, “Incoming ICBMs from Alaskan silos, sir.” Her voice sounded rich with satisfaction.
But, then, she was young.
Three minutes.
Two.
Please please please…
The transmitted image from the ground camera exploded into smoke and fire, eerily silent, before it disappeared. Images on the wall screen were smaller, no more than gray puffs. Still, Jason thought he glimpsed a mushroom cloud rising to the sky. But even if he hadn’t, the domes—the two unshatterable domes built by unknowable super-aliens—were bursting into cleansing flames. Monterey Base was no more. And the virophage no longer existed on Earth.
On the bridge, no one spoke. The silence spun itself out, so long it became painful. Jason realized it was up to him to speak, not only to give the order but to set the tone for everything human to come. Even though he had no real idea what it would be, even though he could not control what happened, even though the order itself might sound like the cheesiest of clichés.
“Lieutenant Allen, set course for World. We are going to the stars.”
No book is written in isolation. I would like to thank my beta readers, Jack Skillingstead and Maura Glynn-Thami, for their valuable suggestions during the writing of this novel, and my editor, Beth Meacham, for her equally valuable revision suggestions after it was submitted to Tor.
THE SLEEPLESS
Beggars and Choosers
Beggars Ride
AGENT ROBERT CAVANAUGH
Oaths and Miracles
Stinger
PROBABILITY
Probability Moon
Probability Sun
Probability Space
GREENTREE
Crossfire
Crucible
YESTERDAY’S KIN
Tomorrow’s Kin
If Tomorrow Comes
Terran Tomorrow
Maximum Light
One
Steal Across the Sky
Beaker’s Dozen
Nancy Kress is the author of more than thirty books, including novels, short story collections, and nonfiction books on writing. Her work has won six Nebulas, two Hugos, a Sturgeon, and the John W. Campbell Memorial Award. Kress’s work has been translated into two dozen languages, including Klingon, none of which she can read. Kress lives in Seattle with her husband, writer Jack Skillingstead, and Cosette, the world’s most spoiled toy poodle.
@nancykress
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TERRAN TOMORROW
Copyright © 2018 by Nancy Kress
All rights reserved.
Map by Rhys Davies
Cover art by Stephan Martiniere
A Tor Book
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ISBN 978-0-7653-9035-6 (hardcover)
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eISBN 9780765390370
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First Edition: November 2018