Year 7943, Zabila, Adm. Draka Knov, Commanding, Sol System. Earth Observation Orbit (Year 2030, Earth)

Ptolemy Knof slipped into Observation as silent-footed as the cats his distant ancestors worshipped in Egypt. He cradled a small, black and tan terrier mix puppy in his arms. The puppy slept. He removed the earplugs of his com headset. A pop tune played faintly until he put the plugs in his flight suit pocket.

"Grampa," he asked, "What are you watching?"

"Earth."

"Oh. Where my human ancestors came from."

Draka nodded. He was not descended from Earth humans, but Ptol was descended from Cleopatra Philopator VII. Adm. Draka Knov had been commandor of monitoring the third planet of Sol for the past 147 years, and this was his last mission. He would retire and return to Scorpio.

"Cleopatra is my ancestor since we Zabilans retrieved her from Alexandria after the Romans took over the Egyptian kingdom." Ptol gave the details as if repeating an oft-told bedtime story. Draka smiled as he updated data on the meteor storm that was almost upon Earth. "Why didn't we take Mark Antony, too?"

"Antony was dead. And he was all Earthman. The Earthmen believe Cleopatra killed herself by an asp bite rather than become a prisoner of Augustus. We took her away because her mother was one of us. Agent Xantippe, who became a concubine of Ptolemy and bore Cleopatra. She was born as the result of an order of the Council of the Diaspora to help Earth advance to acceptance of extraterrestrial races and our sciences."

"So why did we take her?"

"The intervention didn't work. The Earthmen continued to worship stars and planets, and whatever, instead of developing the knowledge and science that would allow them to travel to the stars and return to the original home planets. Cleo knew she was different from other Egyptians, but not of her mother's origin on Zabila. The observers of that era received permission to retrieve Xantippe's daughter. She came to us, and had children, who had children, and so on, till you were born."

"I am called Ptolemy after her family."  He pulled his com from his pocket. Another song played, a man's rich baritone voice singing a love song.

"Yes."

"Here's your favorite singer, Grampa. Elvis Presley." He turned the volume up and the song played as Draka continued monitoring Earth. The young boy nodded his head in time to the music. "He's 'all shook up.' Ptol laughed. The puppy stirred and leapt to the floor. "Posik! Come here!" The puppy ran under a chair and snarfed up a crumb dropped from breakfast.

"Let him run around, Ptol."

"Do you remember this song, Grampa?"

"I sure do. It was a big hit. Arsinoe--your grandmother, and I listened to it often. I played it, and other songs when I went to Moscow in '57."

"To get the Laika pups.."

"Right." He rubbed his forehead, remembering the small, calm dog that was the first living Earth animal to travel in space.

"Why didn't they bring Laika back down?"

"They couldn't; they didn't have the technology."

"What happened to her?"

"She died when the capsule overheated." He stopped talking, remembering the small dog trapped in an overheated capsule, put there by the people who had taken her from the cold streets, fed her regularly, cared for her, and then shot her into space. They mourned, and memorialized her in the history of their cosmology. "We tried to get the Russians, and the US, to delay their space programs until we could get them moving in the direction of plasma power. Their last chance." He shook his head. "Earthmen are very stubborn, very set on a direction once they get the idea in their heads."

"Why didn't you just give the information to them?"

"Doesn't work. We've tried that on other planet-bound diaspora peoples. The Council no longer permits us to intervene directly, but we do try to influence their research in directions that will bring them to space travel."

"So that's why you couldn't take Laika from Sputnik. You just went to Moscow and found a few of her puppers. Posik's ancestors."

Draka nodded. It was almost time for the final stage of Earth observation.

Ptol fiddled with his com. "I like this song, but why do they say, 'We don't need another hero?' Like the song says." Ptol turned the volume up a notch, and they listened to Tina Turner's sorrowing voice.

Draka said, "Sometimes when people work as hard as they can and the world seems to get more difficult with no end in sight, they can't see past their day-to-day ordeal."

"Like all those wars Earth had?

"Yes, Ptol, and the plagues, the famines, the droughts, the destruction of the environment. Yet our cousins, the Earthmen, survived, and prevailed. Unfortunately, they keep circling back to the old ways, instead of moving forward, so we can welcome them back to the Galactic Union."

"Because they're descendants of the Diaspora from the first exploration of the galaxy, just like us, right?"

"Right. Many from the Diaspora have returned to the Union, but Earth resists all our efforts to bring them to a level where we can reunite."

Posik ran back to Ptol and the boy picked him up. He moved behind his grandfather's chair and looked at his entries. Draka could feel Ptol's warmth as the boy looked over his shoulder. The puppy nosed his hair. He pointed at the empty chair next to him and Ptol sat down. He scratched the little pup behind his upright ears. Posik curled up in his boy's lap.

Draka recorded notes about Earth's climate, a war in Asia, a forest fire that had burned for three weeks, and tracked the movement of hundreds of thousands of meteors. "Mmmmm."

"Look, Grampa, there's the comet. The one bringing the meteor cloud."

Draka looked over the eight-year-old's shoulder at the screen. A streak of light burned in the Sol System as it neared Earth for the first time since 97 BC.

"Yes, it's back. The comet's not exactly bring the meteors, they're just traveling in the same direction at the same time."

"Wait! Gram said you two tried to direct Earth science to space exploration in the early 1900's. Marie Curie."

Draka smiled at his grandson. "You remember her telling you that? Marie and Pierre were on the track we had waited for some 2300 years. We tried to encourage them to use magnetism and the radioactivity they worked on for fusion power, but when Pierre died, Marie, the genius we hoped for all those centuries, went in a different direction. Medicine, with x-rays, and treatment."

"World War 1."

"Right again. Mme. Curie used x-rays to enhance medical treatment. They didn't understand what radioactivity could do. How dangerous it could be."

"Hiroshima."

Draka nodded slowly. "Ptol."

"Yeah?"

"Um, find your grandmother and go to the entertainment center for the next few hours."

"Is it happening?"

"Later today. The meteor cloud behind the comet will begin to strike Earth in...4.2 Earth minutes. I don't want you to watch it."

Ptol was quiet. "Is it going to be that bad?"

"Yes." Draka entered the commands to remotely record the destruction of Earth, then the commands to leave Earth orbit for Mars. "Watch something."

"Oh, I'll watch Donald Duck cartoons. He's my favorite."

Draka smiled at the boy. He looked so much like Arsinoe, his grandmother, with his dark-hair and Mediterranean complexion, and big brown eyes. He had Draka's jaw and lean build, but not his lavender complexion or violet eyes. "Good choice."

"Are we returning to Zabila now?"

"Soon. One last set of orders."

"The Mars colony." The boy's eyes glowed. "I want to see it."

"You'll get a chance. We've received orders to retrieve the colony and take them to New Egypt with the other Earthmen we were permitted to retrieve."

"Do you think they'll come?"

"Can't force them, really. Doesn't work. By the time we get there, Earth and its Mars Colony will know that Earth will not survive. We'll offer the colonists the opportunity to come with us."

"Why don't we take Earth? Too many?"

"Mostly. We couldn't begin to move 7 billion people. Also, they'll never believe us and it would result in chaos. More chaos."

"Do you think they'll all come from the Mars Colony."

Draka shook his head once. "Some won't. Earthers are stubborn. They'll stick to their plan, in this case, the Mars Colony, to the end. Mars will survive the meteor storm, but its damage will hasten the end of the Colony."

"Gran says the Colony can't make it, even with Earth's help. Or ours."

"Right. That planet cannot be terraformed. Earthmen won't accept that until too late. They know it on some level, but won't accept it. Some of them will come with us. We'll take them. There's 405, no, 407 Martians after the last births. Birth count is too low. Some of them will come home with us."

Ptol looked at the screens, with Earth, blue and green, under misty clouds, unaware of the immense number of meteors heading its way. "It was such a pretty planet. I'm sorry I never got to visit it."

Draka smiled at him. "There are so many other planets we observe, waiting and hoping for the time when they'll look to the heavens to grasp the stars and return to us. One day, you might be on an observation crew for one of them.

"Yes! Maybe Betelgeuse 3. I like that planet best."

"Maybe. Go now and get something to eat and watch your cartoons. Feed Posik, too. And have the galley send me some sandwiches. I'm going to be busy for the next few days."

Ptol picked up the little black and tan terrier mix. The pup licked his cheek, and the boy hugged it. He walked out of Observation. "Posik? Do you want liver or chicken for your lunch. We'll watch Donald Duck cartoons. He's the best. Then we can—"

His voice cut off as the door closed behind him. Draka looked at the door for a long moment before returning to his monitoring equipment. He keyed in commands to summon the crew, and prepare to move to Mars orbit.

He looked at the planet, blue and green and as pretty as Ptol had said, for a short time. He watched a meteor of 9,200 tons enter Earth's atmosphere and begin to burn. The mountainous rock struck the North Island of New Zealand, destroying Auckland and setting the island to burn. Soon a tsunami would put out the fire, but the dormant volcanoes would erupt and burn again. The bombardment would worsen for months.

Draka observed the monitors one last time, as the smoke from the meteor began to darken the sky, before entering the command, General Quarters. The alarm sounded: 'General Quarters. All hands report to stations.' Draka listened to the faint sounds of crew members hurrying to their posts. He signed the order: Doomsday watch begun. All crew report to their stations. Adm. Draka Knof, commanding, Earth Observation.