by A. G. Riddle
I rub my face, trying to wipe away the weariness.
“What’re you working on?”
He yawns. “Our presentation. Looking for anything we can improve from our last outing.”
I take the laptop from him.
“Here, let me take over. Get some sleep.”
The Caspians brought us in the front door—flew us directly to their capital, which was glittering in all its glory, and escorted us to their seat of power. They wanted us to see their shining city in the desert, probably to intimidate us with their technological prowess.
But whatever the Pac Alliance has built, they want to hide it from us. They direct us to land on a Chinese aircraft carrier off the western coast of Australia. On the deck, they herd us into three of their own helicopters, the windows blacked out.
When we land a second time, we’re forced to remain in our seats for thirty minutes. And when they finally open the door, there’s a massive canopy above us, formed into a tunnel that leads to the outer doors of a building.
They really don’t want us to know where we are.
An Asian man in a tailored suit is waiting inside the building, a wry smile on his face.
“Dr. Sinclair, I’m Soro Nakamura. We spoke during your approach to Earth.”
“Yes. I remember. Nice to meet you in person.”
He squints. “Let us hope, for your sake, that this meeting is filled with less deception.”
The Pac Alliance is a tough audience. Even tougher than the Caspians. They ask more questions, are more suspicious, and demand data to support every one of our claims. There’s a lot of supposition in what we’re presenting. We simply don’t have the answers. The meeting is long. Seven hours in total. And grueling.
When it finally breaks, they lead us through an underground tunnel to what passes for a hotel. It’s more like a dormitory with shared bathrooms and small bedrooms. But it’s clean and warm.
“When will we be allowed to go home?” Fowler asks Nakamura.
He flashes a smile. “When it’s appropriate.”
For three days, the Pac Alliance confines us. I’m worried. So is Fowler, I can tell—though we don’t talk about it. We know we’re probably being watched, that every word we say is being recorded and analyzed and played back for the people making this decision. So we play our part. We talk about the mission and our presentation and the importance of it.
I don’t say what I’m thinking: Has a war already started out there? Did we fail?
Chapter 43
Emma
The day James leaves, I get Oscar to help me move the exercise equipment to the rec center. It’s only fair. My progress has stopped, and others should be able to benefit from the equipment. Besides, I know James would continue to fight me on this, so it’s easier to move it while he’s gone. He’ll understand. And it gives me something to do other than worry about him.
The larger fight between him and me looms: the mission. That’s another reason for getting rid of the equipment. Soon, I won’t be here to use it.
Caspia is only a few hours away by helicopter. James will be home tonight, and I’ll break the news to him that I’m coming with him. I dread it. I’m nervous about it. But I have to do it.
Around noon, Madison stops by. It’s just her. Owen and Adeline are at the gym, playing.
She finds me cleaning the kitchen. I always clean when I have a lot on my mind or when I’m nervous.
We sit on the couch, which now feels almost lonely with the room cleared out.
“You got rid of the exercise equipment?”
“Yeah. I was done with it.”
She cocks her head.
“My rehabilitation is over.”
She glances at the cane. “I see. Where’s James?”
“At a meeting.”
“Outside the camp?”
“Yeah.”
She eyes my cleaning supplies, still sitting on the kitchen counter, evidence of my nervousness.
“You’re worried about him?”
“A bit.”
“And?” When I don’t respond, she presses me. “What’s really going on?”
I need to tell somebody. I need to talk to someone about all the things going on right now. Oscar is great, but he just isn’t that someone. I need my sister.
“If I tell you, Madison, you have to promise not to tell anyone. I mean it. Not even David. Or the kids.”
She shifts on the couch. “I promise. What is it?”
“NASA’s launching another mission to space. Soon.”
Her mouth falls open. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“James is going?”
“James is leading the mission.”
“And you’re going to go.”
As usual, Madison has seen right to the heart of the issue.
“Yes.”
“And he doesn’t want you to go.”
“I don’t know yet. But I think he’ll say no.”
“And do you know why?”
I chew my lip. This is not the conversation I wanted to have. What I want is some help in convincing James.
“Because he’s stubborn.”
Madison gives me a look that says, You and I both know that’s not the reason.
I shrug. “Because he cares?”
“Emma, I think it’s a little more than that at this point. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I know you’ve seen it too.”
I have no idea what to say to that.
“Oscar,” I call over my shoulder.
He emerges from James’s office nook, where he’s been doing some work that James left for him.
“Yes, Emma?”
“Do you mind going to the depot to get our weekly rations?”
“Not at all. Is there anything else I should get while I’m out?”
“No thanks.”
Once he’s gone, I say to Madison, “We haven’t really talked about… that.”
“Well maybe you need to. Maybe your issue isn’t a debate about the mission. Maybe it’s figuring out what the two of you are.”
“Maybe.”
“There’s no maybe about it, Emma. Listen, I know I’m not a scientist or a genius like you and James, but I know people. And I know you. I know you better than I know any other person. Even David. Emma, you’ve never cared about anyone the way you care about him. If you don’t tell James how you feel, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I’m not the only one who needs to tell someone how they feel.
James’s brother works first shift. While he’s gone, I go next door to talk to Abby.
Like Madison, Abby now has a stay-at-home job that she does through the AtlanticNet. Everyone is working, no matter what, no matter where they sit. A day care (they call it a school, but there is no curriculum) has been set up in the gym so that parents can work full-time. There are no full-time mothers or fathers anymore. That’s not an option. Another cost of the Long Winter. Of survival.
She’s very apologetic when she answers the door.
“I’m really sorry, but I have a deadline in an hour, and I have to finish reviewing this document.”
“Please, take your time. Will you come over to our place when you’re free? No rush.”
“Of course. Everything all right?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I just… need to ask you something.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m back home, sitting on the couch reviewing a document on my tablet, when there’s a knock at the door. I move to get up, but Oscar is faster.
“Hello, Abby,” he says, opening the door.
“Oscar,” she says quietly. When she sees me, her expression brightens. “Hi. Now still a good time?”
“Sure, come on in.”
She joins me on the couch, and we sit together just as Madison and I did. And just as with my sister, I swear Abby to secrecy, and when she’s agreed, I say, “James is going on a mission.”
“What kind of mission?” Abby
asks.
“The kind he might not come back from.”
Abby glances away, trying to process the news. “Okay.”
“I don’t know when the mission will happen. Probably within a few months, if I had to guess.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“There is.”
“You want me to talk with Alex.”
“Yes. James has never said a word to me about what happened between Alex and him or anything that happened before. But I know, when he goes on this mission, it would help him to know that everyone back here supports him and is pulling for him. Whatever James did before, he’s been a good brother to Alex since the Long Winter began. He’s the reason we’re all here. He’s kept us alive. And he’s probably going to give his life for ours.”
Abby stands and rubs her palms on her pants as if to dry them.
“It’s a tall order, Emma. But I’ll see what I can do.”
James doesn’t return that night. Or the next day.
Oscar and I walk down to the Olympus Building. I dart in and out of offices, asking everyone I know if they’ve heard anything. After a while, I feel like a mail delivery person trying to find the recipient for an errant package.
No one has any information. Or at least, none they’re willing to share.
I’ve never missed satellite phones more than I do now.
I barely sleep that night. I can’t help thinking, What if the Caspians have taken James and Fowler hostage? Or shot their helicopter down? Or declared war?
The next day, I resume cleaning the house. Oscar studies me curiously. I think if I wipe down the kitchen sink and faucet one more time, the faux chrome and stainless steel will start to wear away.
“James is incredibly capable,” Oscar says mildly. “If anyone could return, it’s him.”
So he’s worried too. Oscar has a strange way of showing it—by comforting me. I’m thankful that he’s here with us, though he remains a mystery to me.
A knock at the door almost scares me out of my skin. I race to answer it, making the best time I can with my cane, hoping it’s good news. But I realize, just before I answer the door: James wouldn’t knock; he would just come in.
A messenger with bad news… they would knock.
Anxious now, I jerk the door open, and reel back at the unexpected visitor.
Alex.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Of course.”
Inside, he fixes Oscar with a hard stare.
“Hello, sir,” Oscar says, his tone completely divorced from the animosity Alex is directing at him.
Alex and I sit on the couch.
“Abby told me that James is leaving. And he might not be coming back.”
“That’s right.”
“And that he’s the reason we’re here.”
I nod.
“I want to know what’s going on. I want to know what he’s done, and what kind of danger he’s in. Will you tell me?”
For the next hour, I tell Alex everything—starting with the moment James rescued me from the wreckage of the ISS. He listens silently, thoughtfully. I can see the resemblance with James. They’re both deep thinkers.
When I’m done, he rises, and simply says, “Thank you.”
I push up on my cane. “Will you come to see him?”
“I don’t know yet. I need time to think about it.”
Another night without sleep. This is what it will be like if he goes on the mission and I stay here. I would do nothing but think about him and worry. I’m more convinced than ever: I have to go.
I’m sitting at the dining room table, typing on my tablet, when the door flies open. I turn and stand and my heart melts when I see who’s standing in the door, snow falling in sheets behind him.
James.
He looks haggard. But he’s here.
I grab my cane and race across the living room. When he sees me practically running, he runs himself, and we embrace. I hug him tightly, and he hugs me back.
“They said—” he begins.
“Forget what they said,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m glad you’re safe.”
When I finally release the hug, he studies me, a curious expression in his eyes.
“I was so worried about you,” I say.
He smiles. “I need to go away more often.”
Without thinking about it, I lean in. Suddenly, his lips are on mine and the kiss happens, so unexpectedly, and a nuclear bomb of emotions goes off inside of me. I actually feel my legs going weak. I’m not sure if it’s because my legs are weak, but it feels like I’m falling down a well.
When we break, he whispers in my ear, “Oscar?”
“He just left to pick up our rations.”
He kisses me again, more passionately, more urgently, and hugs me tighter, his hands moving down my back. I walk backward toward my bedroom, and he follows, and we close the door and do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.
Chapter 44
James
The world has changed. It’s not just the triple alliance among the Atlantic Union, the Caspians, and the Pac Alliance.
My world has changed.
Emma is that world. We’ve been orbiting around each other like two planets, both unsure about the gravity between us. That gravity, and the distance separating us, has now collapsed. We have collided, the mass of our attraction suddenly too great to keep us apart. I don’t know what comes next for us, but I’ve never been this excited in my whole life.
In the aftermath of the collision, we lie in bed, her head on my shoulder.
“How was the trip?” she asks softly.
“Piece of cake.”
“Liar.”
“All’s well that ends well.”
“They’re going to help us?”
“Looks that way.”
“How soon can we launch?”
“I’m not sure. When we were planning before, we didn’t know what kind of resources we had at our disposal. Whether the mission would be the Atlantic Union alone or us with the help of one or two allies. And we didn’t know the state of their space assets.”
“Have they told you?”
“Not yet, but Fowler and I have met with each nation’s space program and military. We’ve created a working group among the three nations. We’ll probably know what we have to work with by the end of next week. My guess is, we can be ready to launch in a few months. Three or four at the most. We need to be. I’m not sure how much more time we have.”
She pushes up from the bed and looks at me, chewing her lip the way she does when she’s nervous about something.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she mutters.
I doubt it’s nothing. There’s something she wants to say to me, but whatever it is, she decides now isn’t the moment to do it.
When Emma and I get up, we don’t talk about what happens next. Or what we are. It’s as if we’re both on autopilot. We move the pertinent items from my bedroom to her bedroom. There’s no decision to be made there—my room is a pigsty, hers looks like something out of a furniture catalog.
In fact, apart from my bedroom and my office, the rest of the house is spotless—cleaner than the day we moved in. I feel like I’m walking around some sort of CDC biocontainment room. She’s been tidying up. A lot.
“What do you want to do with the other bedroom?” she asks.
“I’m not sure.”
She grins. “I’ve got an idea.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Drone workshop.”
“Just like the Pax?”
“But with more gravity.”
“Perfect.”
We have dinner for everyone that night: Fowler and his family, Madison and her family, Abby and the kids. It’s crowded, and it’s kind of perfect that way.
Emma and I sit next to each other, and when dinner is over I put my arm around her and she leans closer to me, something we’ve never done before,
at least in front of everyone.
Madison fixes Emma with a curious gaze that I can’t read. Something between the sisters. I’m a good scientist and a capable investigator, but I’ll never crack that code.
Jack and Sarah and Adeline and Owen play together; the four of them have become fast friends. Fowler’s children are older, and they mostly study their tablets while the younger kids run around in circles and play with the robotic dog, which they’ve named Marco (I believe because he responds Polo to the name, which they feel is hilarious).
The scene reminds me of Christmas at my parents’ house. My father had a brother and two sisters, and everyone always spent Christmas together. It was a full house. It was a chaotic and joyous event and at times contentious. It was perfect. And so is this, with one glaring exception: Alex. It seems that’s a bridge too far. One with too much water under it. One that might be washed away forever.
That night, Emma and I are lying in bed, both reading, when she turns to me.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
She’s using the tone you see in a movie, when the girl breaks up with the boy or tells him she’s pregnant or breaks some kind of news that shatters their world. It’s nerve-racking. I’m instantly on the defensive. I just want her to spit it out so I can know what I’m dealing with.
I set the tablet aside. “Sure.” The word comes out like the sound of a sword chopping the air.
“I’m going on the mission.”
“What mission?”
“The mission.”
“To Ceres? To the harvester?”
“Yes, that mission.”
“Emma—”
“No. Don’t. I know you don’t want me to go. I know you’re worried about my health. But I’m worried about you too. It was agonizing when you were gone. Agonizing. I can’t do it for months at a time, wondering if you’re hurt or if something has gone wrong out there. I can’t stay here and wait and hope that you come back. I’m going with you. I have to.”
