“This is the Earth, right? For the damage to be circular it would have to have come in straight.” He pointed towards where he’d had his hand cupped, then pointed from the sides. “But a meteor can come in from any direction. It’s much more likely that it will come in at an angle. And if it hits,” he clapped his hands together and then fanned them out, “it’s like throwing a rock into a mud puddle. Most of the mud splashes away from the rock. Some splashes straight up. Some, a little, splashes back. They think the one that took out the dinosaurs hit down in the Yucatan. ‘Splashes’ from it hit in Europe and up in the tundra. The plasma wave crossed most of North America. Say one came in from the west for this. First of all, we should have seen, have reported, some sort of air-track. ‘A shooting star in the day.’ Then, we should have had flaming bits of rock raining all the way from here to Cocoa.”

“Which we didn’t,” the battalion commander said, nodding his head. “The Orange County Sheriff’s department wants to send a helicopter into the area to assess the damage and find out what’s going on. They have their own chemical and biological response person, but they want a military presence who knows something about nukes. All we’ve got for that is you. Will you volunteer for the mission?”

“Yes, sir,” Crichton said, his eyes lighting.

“It could be dangerous,” the commander pointed out.

“So was driving Highway One, sir,” the specialist replied. “But I’d give my left arm to be on the first survey team. For us it’s like being the first one through the door is for infantry. This is the mother of all doors for an NBC specialist.”

“Okay,” the battalion commander said, smiling. “I’ll give them a call and then call the Chief of Staff.”

* * *

“Well, that was the Army Chief of Staff,” the defense secretary said. It was forty minutes from Washington to Camp David by UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter.