He reached for a screwdriver and ball peen hammer.
Let this work. Let this save her.
Using the screwdriver as a chisel, he gently dug the tip into the skull.
Then, teeth gritted, he pried off the circular cap of bone.
Blood billowed out. The larger opening at last allowed it to escape, and it gradually spilled out of the cranium.
So did something else. Eggs. A clump of them gushed out and floated, quivering, into the air. He caught them with the catheter, trapping them in the vacuum jar. Throughout history, mankind’s most dangerous enemies have been the smallest lifeforms. viruses. Bacteria. Parasites. And now you, thought Jack, staring into the jar. But we can defeat you.
The blood was barely oozing out the cranial hole. With that initial gush, the pressure on her brain had been relieved.
He looked at Emma’s left eye. The pupil was still dilated. But when he shone a light into it, he thought—or was he imagining it?—that the edges quivered just the slightest bit, like black rippling toward the center.
You will live, he thought.
He dressed the wound with gauze and started a new IV infusion containing steroids and phenobarbital to temporarily deepen her coma and protect her brain from further damage. He attached EKG leads to her chest. Only after all these tasks had been done did he finally tie a tourniquet around his own arm and inject himself with a dose of Ranavirus. It would either kill them both them both. He would know soon enough.
On the EKG monitor, Emma’s heart traced a steady sinus rhythm. He took her hand in his, and waited for a sign.
Gordon Obie walked into Special Vehicle Operations and gazed around the room at the men and women working at their consoles.
On the front screen, the space station traced its sinuous path across the global map. At this moment, in the deserts of Algeria, villagers who chanced to glance up at the night sky would marvel at the strange star, brilliant as Venus, soaring across the heavens.
A star unique in all the firmament because it was created not by an all-powerful god, nor by any force of nature, but by the fragile hand of man.
And in this room, halfway around the world from that Algerian desert, were the guardians of that star.
Flight Director Woody Ellis turned and greeted Gordon with a sad nod.
“No word. It’s been silent up there.”
“How long since the last transmission?”
“Jack signed off five hours ago to get some sleep. It’s been almost three days since he got much rest. We’re trying not to disturb him.”
Three days, and still no change in Emma’s status. Gordon sighed and headed along the back row to the flight surgeon’s console. Todd Cutler, unshaven and haggard, was watching Emma’s biotelemetry readings on his monitor. And when had Todd last slept? Gordon wondered. Every one looked exhausted, but no one was ready to admit defeat.
“She’s still hanging in there,” Todd said softly. “We’ve withdrawn the phenobarb.”
“But she hasn’t come out of the coma?”
“No.” Sighing, Todd slumped back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve never dealt with before. Neurosurgery in space.” It was a phrase many of them had uttered over the last few weeks. I’ve never dealt with this before. This is new. This is something we’ve never seen. Yet wasn’t that the essence of exploration? That no crisis could be predicted, that every new problem required its own solution. That every triumph was built on sacrifice.
And there had been triumphs, even in the midst of all this tragedy.
Apogee II had landed safely in the Arizona desert, and Casper Mulholland was now negotiating his company’s first contract with the Air Force.
Jack was still healthy, even three days being aboard ISS—an indication that Ranavirus was both a cure and a preventive against Chimera. And the very fact that Emma was alive counted as a triumph as well.
Though perhaps only a temporary one.
Gordon felt a profound sense of sadness as he watched her EKG blip across the screen. How long can the heart go on beating when the brain is gone? he wondered. How long can a body survive a coma? To watch this slow fading away of a once-vibrant woman was more painful than to witness her sudden and catastrophic death.
Suddenly he sat up straight, his gaze frozen on the monitor.
“Todd,” he said. “What’s happening to her?”
“What?”
“There’s something wrong with her heart.” Todd raised his head and stared at the tracing shuddering across the monitor. “No,” he said, and reached for the comm switch. “That’s not her heart.” The high whine of the monitor alarm sliced through Jack’s twilight sleep, and he awakened with a start. Years of medical training, of countless nights spent in on-call rooms, had taught him to surface fully alert from the deepest sleep, and the instant he opened his eyes he knew where he was. He knew something was wrong.
He turned toward the sound of the alarm and was briefly disoriented by his upside-down view. Emma appeared to be suspended facedown from the ceiling. One of her three EKG leads floated loose, like a strand of sea grass drifting underwater. He turned hundred eighty degrees, and everything righted itself.
He reattached her EKG lead. His own heart was racing as he watched the monitor, afraid of what he would see. To his relief, normal rhythm blipped across the screen.
And then—something else. A shuddering of the line. Movement.
He looked down at Emma. And saw that her eyes were open.
“ISS is not responding,” said Capcom.
“Keep trying. We need him on comm now!” snapped Todd.
Gordon stared at the biotelemetry readings, not understanding any of it, and fearing the worst. The EKG skittered up and down, then suddenly went flat. No, he thought. We’ve lost her!
“It’s just a disconnect,” said Todd. “The lead’s fallen off. She may be seizing.”
“Still no response from ISS,” said Capcom.
“What the hell is going on up there?”
“Look!” said Gordon.
Both men froze as a blip appeared on the screen. It was followed by another and another.
“Surgeon, I have ISS,” Capcom announced. “Requesting immediate consultation.” Todd shot forward in his chair. “Ground Control, close the loop. Go ahead, Jack.”
It was a private conversation, no one but Todd could hear what Jack was saying. In the sudden hush, everyone in the room turned to look at the surgeon’s console. Even Gordon, seated right him, could not read Todd’s expression. Todd was hunched forward, both hands cupping his headset, as though to shut out any distractions.
Then he said, “Hold on, Jack. There are a lot of folks down here waiting to hear this. Let’s tell them the news.” Todd turned to Flight Director Ellis and gave him a triumphant thumbs-up.
“Watson’s awake! She’s talking!” What happened next would remain forever etched in Gordon Obie’s memory. He heard voices swell, cresting into noisy cheers.
He felt Todd slap him on the back, hard. Liz Gianni gave a rebel whoop.
And Woody Ellis fell into his chair with a look of and joy.
But what Gordon would remember most of all was his own reaction. He looked around the room and suddenly found his throat was aching and his eyes were blurred. In all his years at NASA, no one had ever seen Gordon Obie cry. They were damn well not going to see it now.
They were still cheering as he rose from his chair and walked, unnoticed, out of the room.
The squeal of hinges and the clank of metal echoed in the vast Navy hangar as the door to the hyperbaric chamber at last swung open.
Jared Profitt watched as the two Navy physicians stepped out first, both of them taking in deep breaths as they emerged. They had spent over a month confined to that claustrophic space, and they seemed a little dazed by their sudden transition into freedom. turned to assist the last two occupants out of the chamber.
Emma Watson and Jack McCallum stepped out. They both focused on Jared Profitt, crossing toward them.
“Welcome back to the world, Dr. Watson,” he said, and held out his hand in greeting.
She hesitated, then shook it. She looked far thinner than her photographs. More fragile. Four months quarantined in space, followed by five weeks in the hyperbaric chamber, had taken its toll.
She had lost muscle mass, and her eyes seemed huge and darkly luminous in that pale face. The hair growing back on her shaved scalp was silver, a startling contrast against the rest of her mane.
Profitt looked at the two Navy doctors. “Could you leave us alone, please?” He waited until their footsteps faded away.
Then he asked Emma, “Are you feeling well?”
“Well enough,” she said. “They tell me I’m free of disease.”
“None that can be detected,” he corrected her. This was an important distinction. Though they had demonstrated that Ranavirus did indeed eradicate Chimera in lab animals, they could not be certain of Emma’s long-term prognosis. The best they could say was that there was no evidence of Chimera in her body. From the moment she’d landed aboard Endeavour, she’d been subjected to repeated blood tests, X rays, and biopsies. Though all were negative, USAMRIID had insisted she remain in the hyperbaric while the tests continued. Two weeks ago, the chamber pressure had been dropped to a normal one atmosphere. She had remained healthy.
Even now, she was not entirely free. For the rest of her life she would be a subject of study.
He looked at Jack and saw hostility in the man’s eyes. Jack had said nothing, but his arm circled Emma’s waist in a protective gesture that said clearly, You are not taking her from me.
“Dr. McCallum, I hope you understand that every decision I made was for a good reason.”
“I understand your reasons. It doesn’t mean I agree with your decisions.”
“Then at least we share that much—an understanding.” He did not offer his hand, he sensed that McCallum would refuse to shake it. So he said simply, “There are a number of people waiting to see you. I won’t keep you from your friends any longer.” He turned to leave.
“Wait,” said Jack. “What happens now?”
“You’re free to leave. As long as you both return for periodic testing.”
“No, I mean what happens to the people responsible? The ones who sent up Chimera?”
“They are no longer making decisions.”
“And that’s it?” Jack’s voice rose in anger. “No punishment, no consequences?”
“It will be handled in the usual manner. The way it’s done at any government agency, including NASA. A discreet shuffle to the sidelines.
And then a quiet retirement. There can’t be any investigation, any disclosure whatsoever. Chimera is too dangerous to reveal to the rest of the world.”
“But people have died.”
“Marburg virus will be blamed. Accidentally introduced to ISS by an infected monkey. Luther Ames’ death will be attributed to a mechanical malfunction of the CRV.”
“Someone should be held accountable.”
“For what, a bad decision?” Profitt shook his head. He turned and looked at the closed hangar door, where a slit of sunlight through. “There’s no crime to punish here. These are people who simply made mistakes. People who didn’t understand the nature of what they were dealing with. I know it’s frustrating for you. I understand your need to blame someone. But there are no real villains in this piece, Dr. McCallum. There are only heroes.” He looked directly at Jack.
The two men regarded each other for a moment. Profitt saw no warmth, no trust in Jack’s gaze. But he did see respect.
“Your friends are waiting for you,” said Profitt.
Jack nodded. He and Emma crossed to the hangar door. As they stepped out, a burst of sunlight shone in, and Jared Profitt, squinting against the brightness, saw Jack and Emma only in silhouette, his arm around her shoulder, her profile turned to his. To the of cheering voices, they walked out and vanished into the blinding light of midday.
A shooting star arced across the heavens and shattered into bright bits of glitter. Emma took in a sharp breath in awe, inhaling the smell of the wind over Galveston Bay. Everything about being home again seemed new and strange to her. This unbroken panorama of sky. The rocking of the sailboat’s deck beneath her back. The of water slapping Sanneke’s hull. She had been so long deprived of simple, earthbound experiences that just the sensation of the on her face was something to be treasured. During the last months of quarantine on the station, she had stared down at the earth, homesick for the smell of grass, the taste of salt air, the the soil under her bare feet. She had thought, When I am home again, if I am ever home again, I will never leave it.
Now here she was, savoring the sights and smells of earth. Yet she could not help turning her wistful gaze toward the stars.
“Do you ever wish you could go back?” Jack asked the question so softly his words were almost lost in the wind. He lay beside on Sanneke’s deck, his hand clasping hers, his gaze also fixed on the night sky. “Do you ever think, ‘If they gave me one more to go up there, I’d take it’?”
“Every day,” she murmured. “Isn’t it strange? When we were up there, all we talked about was coming home. And now we’re home, and we can’t stop thinking about going back up.” She brushed her fingers across her scalp, where the shorter hair was growing back as a startling streak of silver.
She could still feel the knotty ridge of scar tissue where Jack’s scalpel had cut through her galea. It was a permanent reminder of what she had survived on the station. An enduring record of horror, carved in her flesh.
Yet, when she looked at the sky, she felt the old yearning for the heavens.
“I think I’ll always be hoping for another chance,” she said. “The way sailors always want to go back to sea. No matter how terrible their last voyage. Or how fervently they kiss the ground when they reach land. In time, they miss the sea, and they always return.” But she would never return to space. She was like a sailor trapped on land, with the sea all around her, tantalizing yet forbidden.
It was forever out of her reach because of Chimera.
Although the doctors at JSC and USAMRIID could no longer detect any evidence of infection in her body, they could not be certain Chimera had been eradicated. It could be merely dormant, benign tenant of her body.
No one at NASA dared predict what would happen should she return to space.
So she would never return. She was an astronaut ghost now, still a member of the corps, but without hope of any flight assignment.
It was up to others to pursue the dream. Already, a new team was aboard the station, completing the repairs and biological cleanup that she and Jack had begun. Next month, the last replacement for the damaged main truss and solar arrays would be launched aboard Columbia. ISS would not die. Too many lives had been lost to make an orbiting station a reality, to abandon it now would be render that sacrifice meaningless.
Another shooting star streaked overhead, tumbled like a dying cinder, and winked out. They both waited, hoping, for another.
Other people who saw falling stars might think them omens, or angels winging from heaven, or consider them occasions to make a wish. Emma saw them for what they were, bits of cosmic debris, wayward travelers from the cold, dark reaches of space. That they were nothing more than rocks and ice did not make them any less wondrous.
As she tilted her head back and scanned the heavens, Sanneke rose upon a swell, and she had the disorienting impression that stars were rushing toward her, that she was hurtling through space and time. She closed her eyes. And without warning, her heart began to pound with inexplicable dread. She felt the icy kiss of sweat on her face.
Jack touched her trembling hand. “What’s wrong? Are you cold?”
“No. No, not cold…” She swallowed hard. “I suddenly thought of something terrible.”
“What?”
“If USAMRIID’s right—if Chimera came to earth on an asteroid—then that’s proof other life is out there.”
“Yes. It would prove it.”
“What if it’s intelligent life?”
“Chimera’s too small, too primitive. It’s not intelligent.”
“But whoever sent it here may be,” she whispered.
Jack went very still beside her. “A colonizer,” he said softly.
“Like seeds cast on the wind. Wherever Chimera landed, on any planet, in any solar system, it would infect the native species. Incorporate their DNA into its own genome. It wouldn’t need millions of years of evolution to adapt to its new home. It could acquire all the genetic tools for survival from the species already living there.” And once established, once it became the dominant species on its new planet, what then? What was its next step? She didn’t know. The answer, she thought, must lie in the parts of Chimera’s genome they could not yet identify. The sequences of DNA whose function remained a mystery.
A fresh meteor streaked the sky, a reminder that the heavens are ever-changing and turbulent. That the earth is only one lonely traveler through the vastness of space.
“We’ll have to be ready,” she said. “Before the next Chimera arrives.” Jack sat up and looked at his watch. “It’s getting cold,” he said.
“Let’s go home. Gordon will go ballistic if we miss that press conference tomorrow.”
“I’ve never seen him lose his temper.”
“You don’t know him the way I do.” Jack began to haul on the halyard, and the main sail rose, flapping in the wind. “He’s in love with you, you know.”
“Gordie?” She laughed. “I can’t imagine.”
“And you know what I can’t imagine?” he said softly, pulling her close beside him in the cockpit. “That any man wouldn’t be.” The wind suddenly gusted, filling the sail, and Sanneke-surged ahead, slicing through the waters of Galveston Bay.
“Ready about,” said Jack. And he steered them through the wind, turning the bow west. Guided not by the stars, but by the lights shore.
The lights of home.