“No.”

They walked towards the dog, still standing in his shaft of light, Henry’s bare feet padding on the tiled floor.

“…Jesus,” he said.

“What is it?”

Henry was standing over the dog, staring up into the anomalous light. She came to stand beside him.

The light, beaming in through the window, was so bright it was glaring, dazzling, like a spotlight in the face. But she could see it was a point source.

It was fixed in the sky. There was no noise, no rotor clutter.

The light was eerie. Not part of the natural order. This is bad news, she felt instinctively.

“What do you think?” he said. “A planet?”

“Too bright.”

“A satellite?”

“Not moving quickly enough.”

“A star, then,” he said. “It would have to be a nova. Or a supernova.” He frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“In case it’s a supernova?”

“Even if not. It shouldn’t be there.” He glanced at her. “Don’t you feel it?”

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “I guess I do.” Bad news. “What would a supernova do to Earth?”

He shrugged. “Depends how close. Supernovas are candidates for causing extinction events in the past. The radiation burst, the heavy particles… A massive star exploding within a hundred light years might give the planet a dose of five hundred roentgens.”

“Enough to kill.”

“Oh, yes. Even the trees. Did you know that? Trees are about as sensitive to radiation as humans. Also, all that ultraviolet hitting the atmosphere — disassociated nitrogen will oxidize to form nitrous oxide, which will react with the ozone and deplete it—”

“Just as well we destroyed the ozone layer already, then,” she said drily. “But maybe it isn’t a supernova.”

She couldn’t identify what part of the sky this lamp hung in. Her astronomy wasn’t so good, considering her career choice. But then it didn’t need to be, if you planned to spend your working life in low Earth orbit. “What else could it be?”