Hours before the spaceship reached Moonbase, the men stationed there saw the horror begin. The orb of Earth, silver and blue against the black void of space, began to erupt with tiny bubbles of orange-and-white, faster and faster, until the shapes of the continents were limned against the steady blue glow of the oceans. Then the fringe of the oceans began to billow white rolling clouds of steam, and the planet shrouded itself in impenetrable heaving seas of angry white vapor.
Some common tacit urging made the men continue with their jobs there, go through the routine of scanning the universe, radioing reports to stations long since molten piles of slag, metering the water and precious oxygen that kept them alive. No one wanted to talk of what they'd seen; life went on for many hours as though nothing untoward had happened. Then, when the last strained thread of control was fraying madly—
The spaceship landed, with its five-person complement.
"More mouths to feed," said the Moonbase commander, looking out through the port at the spacesuited figures moving clumsily toward the airlock. "I don't know if we should let them in. Even if it's the President, I don't know."
"Sir," said an aide, "Look there, in the lead. The small one, leaning on the arm of another one. I think it's a woman."
The commander's eyes hooded for a moment, then he turned to his aide and said, "Let her in."
"Before the others, you mean, sir?" asked the man.
"Let her in. Period."
"S-sir ..." said the aide, his voice shaking. "You're not thinking of—"