Heaven's Shadow (31 page)

“Copy that.”

Downey reached the rim before Dennis arrived. He stopped, catching his breath, wheezing a bit. He could see
Brahma
off to his right, a six-story silver skyscraper that seemed ridiculously close . . . and
Venture
beyond, squat, lit like a Halloween pumpkin.

“Downey.” Dennis stopped several meters away. “Welcome back.”

The lag was driving Pogo crazy—even though the EVA suits effectively masked physical gestures that accompanied speech, it was annoying to see the Russian raise his hand in greeting . . . and have the words trail by seconds.

Maybe that explained what happened next. In silence, the cosmonaut reached out to him with his right hand . . . but there was something in his left! And Dennis was raising that hand—

Downey blocked it with his cane. The movement was exaggerated by low gravity—Chertok spun.

And the icy tip pierced Chertok’s suit.

The Russian stared at the gash in the thick blue fabric and a quick spew of bloody droplets that quickly froze, becoming red sleet.

Only then did Downey hear the man say, “Take my hand.”

So it hadn’t been a mistake! Dennis Chertok was drawing him close to hit him, likely to smash his helmet.

Now it was Dennis Chertok whose air and life were hissing out of a hole in his suit. He dropped the tool and frantically reached for his chest—obviously he couldn’t see exactly where he’d been cut.

Did he have a patch? One hand pawed at a pocket on the left leg of the suit.

His faceplate fogged over, then frosted. Words in Russian. Downey heard what he knew to be a curse, followed by a single word:
Spaseniye.
Help.

Then a strangled hiss. Chertok fell over, face down in the snow of Keanu. No movement. He was dead.

Pogo dropped his ice spear and picked up the tool. Better.

Pogo had no memory of the next few minutes. It was as if he had tele-ported, à la
Star Trek
, from the rim of the crater to a place midway between the two vehicles, approaching
Venture
from its back side.

He hadn’t meant to hurt Dennis Chertok. Well, maybe he had wanted to punish him for meeting him with a weapon. Surely the Russian must have known what would happen. Did the man have no understanding of what Downey had endured?

But dead? No. Of all people, Downey knew what
that
felt like. The sudden, permanent, inescapable disconnect. Of course, whereas Downey had been dismembered, literally seeing if not really feeling his body being torn apart, Chertok had frozen and suffocated . . . it must have been like drowning.

Downey had always heard that drowners felt peace at the end. He rather hoped the same was true for cosmonauts exposed to vacuum. . . .

Still, it shouldn’t have happened. He was too quick to react, too uncontrolled.

But it was done. “Yvonne, Pogo. I’ve got a problem.”

At least the lag was gone—Downey could communicate directly with
Venture
through line of sight. “No shit, you stupid bastard. I saw what you did.”

“Then you know it was an accident.” As he talked, Downey realized he couldn’t just stand on the surface of Keanu debating Yvonne Hall. He continued to approach the lander.

“What do you want?”

“What the hell do you think? I want to come aboard! I can’t stay out here.”

Another half dozen steps closer. “Where are Zack and Tea?”

“No idea. Still in Keanu.”

“How do I know you didn’t hurt them?”

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“I would if I could.”

“Well, they were fine last time I saw them.” That was the truth . . . Downey had no reason to lie. “Come on, Yvonne, it’s me. We’re friends.”

“We’re
crewmates
. A whole different deal. Especially when it’s past tense.” For the first time since returning to life, Pogo Downey felt a flash of real anger. Stupid bitch—she really had no understanding of the loyalty one member of a crew owed another. Especially during a mission. What was it the Russian trainers told cosmonauts? “Learn to work together, because if one of you screws up, all of you get blamed.” That was the reality.

“Well, I’m returning to
Venture
.”

“I can’t let you in.”

“You can’t stop me.”

There was another long silence. This time it was broken by a familiar crackle in Downey’s headset. “
Venture
, Houston.
Venture
, Houston, do you copy?”

As quickly as he could, he said, “Houston, Downey on EVA. Do you copy?”

Houston’s response would have taken eight seconds, but Downey would never know, since Yvonne immediately radioed, “Downey is on the surface and attacked Chertok. I consider him a threat.”

Then she switched to Channel B, making it impossible for him to hear. “Downey for Houston, how me?”

Another long lag. Finally a different capcom: “Ah, welcome back, Pogo. Stand by.”

Shit.

For a moment he paused, looking to his right at the taller
Brahma
lander . . . it was unoccupied. Taking that over—it would be another Horatio Hornblower maneuver, just like the gravity gauge. Only now they would be “cutting out” an enemy vessel. Well, not they . . . just Pogo Downey.

Then what? Claim it for the United States and NASA? Repel boarders? Launch it and leave Taj and his crew stranded?

The display in his helmet had just flipped to yellow. He had half an hour of oxygen left. Getting aboard
Brahma
would allow him to keep breathing, but he’d be trapped. It was unlikely he could recharge his suit’s tanks from those on
Brahma
—hell, he’d spend an hour just trying to make the radios work.

No,
Venture
had to be his target.

“Downey for
Venture
through Houston. I’m at the ladder.”

No answer. No answer!

Although NASA’s
Destiny-7
mission has had its share of setbacks, including the loss of a crew member, the agency is reporting that communications should resume shortly and that the astronauts will soon complete their EVA and return to the
Venture
lander. The crew of three is expected to splash down in the Pacific sometime Sunday.

Meanwhile, an insurgent armed with a handheld missile launcher brought down an American helicopter in northern Pakistan today. . . .

LEAD TEXT,
CBS CABLE NEWS
, AUGUST 23, 2019

“We’ve got AOS,” Josh Kennedy said.

Harley knew it before the worn-out flight director said it, because all around him, at the twenty consoles, blank or safe-mode screens had suddenly lit up with data, live feed from
Venture
.

Knowing acquisition of signal was imminent, Harley had left the Home Team room, leaving one order behind: Jillianne Dwight was to take Rachel and her friend Amy home. Rachel was exhausted, for one thing. For another, the outcome of the whole Keanu adventure was still in doubt. Harley ordered Jillianne to deliver Amy to her parents, then put Rachel to bed and get hold of the information flow. (He had given the girl back her Slate. It was hers, after all, and with revelations flooding the data devices in the Home Team, Harley no longer needed it.)

Now he watched as Shane Weldon walked into mission control hours after his team—lead for the mission, scheduled originally to handle ascent from Keanu and rendezvous with
Destiny
—should have been on duty. Although he loomed over Josh Kennedy, Weldon let the junior flight director reestablish contact, which he did, first, by nodding to Jasmine Trieu, his capcom. “Make the call.”

“
Venture
, Houston, acquiring you at Stay plus twenty-six hours, eighteen minutes.”

Within seconds, Harley and the others were horrified to hear a very shaky, obviously rattled Yvonne Hall. “Houston,
Venture
, we’ve got a serious problem.”

The next ten minutes were completely panicked, though an outside observer would never have known. The default setting in mission control was cool, calm, collected. Smart decisions required smooth hands and lowered voices. But from experience, Harley saw the signs of confusion . . . the furtive glances between Kennedy, Weldon, and Trieu. And then between Weldon and Jones and Bynum, who had just arrived.

The tension was also evident in the way several controllers in the back row pushed their chairs together and conferred quietly.

Eventually they all got the update: Yvonne was out of her mind with fear, trapped in
Venture
, and Patrick Downey was trying to get inside.

Dennis Chertok was dead, apparently killed by Downey. (That explained why Trieu’s fellow capcom, Travis Buell, was so busy. He was talking to Bangalore.)

And there was no immediate word from the five explorers inside Keanu—or information about the three Revenants.

Four Revenants, if one included Pogo Downey. For a moment, Harley was genuinely glad that he was not responsible for unfucking this clusterfuck, to quote one of his early flight instructors. Yet . . . he wasn’t sure he trusted Jones and Bynum to find the best solution.

“What do I do?” Yvonne had gone to the encrypted channel and was talking to Jasmine Trieu—another woman’s voice, which Harley hoped Yvonne would find soothing.

Meanwhile, Buell was apparently talking to Pogo Downey. Harley rolled toward the capcom console . . . more out of morbid curiosity than any operational need—the same reason he had left the Home Team and come to mission control at this particular moment.

But after a cursory confirmation, Buell was not saying anything to Downey. And it didn’t appear that Downey was being verbal.

He was active, however. Yvonne had turned on both of
Venture
’s exterior cameras. The forward view showed nothing, but the anterior had Downey coming up the ladder, a horror-movie version of Armstrong’s first steps on the Moon . . . in reverse.

There was an in-cabin view, too, locked off and aimed at the forward console. As Harley and the entire team watched, Yvonne Hall briefly appeared, hopping on one foot and trying to steady herself. In Keanu gravity, that meant keeping herself from bouncing toward the ceiling.

“What is she doing?” Harley said.

Buell had been watching more carefully, it seemed. “Trying to find something to jam the hatch.”

“Doesn’t it lock?”

“Not by design.” And why should spacecraft hatches lock? The most likely result would be an EVA crew member trapped outside thanks to a loose washer in an otherwise “foolproof ” system. True, there had been locks for the main hatch of the early space shuttle, back when NASA had been forced to fly several commercial or foreign “astronauts” who had not been thoroughly vetted concerning their mental stability under duress.

Jasmine Trieu was handling this matter, however. “Okay, Yvonne, keep this in mind: As long as the inner hatch isn’t sealed, the outer hatch can’t be opened.”

Harley realized he should have thought of that. It was better than a padlock.

“Copy that,” Yvonne responded. “But that leaves me at risk if he pokes a hole in the chamber!”

Trieu conferred with Josh Kennedy. “Can you put on your suit?”

Harley knew what that answer would be: No, it was torn. Sure enough, the only thing Jasmine Trieu could tell Yvonne now was, “Stand by.”

Meanwhile, Harley became aware that Bynum, Jones, and Shane Weldon were having what passed for a violent argument—at least, what passed for one in the reading room–like silence of mission control. Harley couldn’t wheel himself closer without announcing that he was eavesdropping, but by turning his head, he could hear Bynum’s mention of “dire circumstances in a worst-case scenario” should the “Item be enabled,” followed by Weldon’s calmer “don’t think we’re there yet.”

Gabriel Jones reacted strangely, jabbing a finger in Bynum’s chest and saying, “You are way ahead of yourself!” Then he walked out of mission control.

After a moment, Bynum and Weldon hurried after him, leaving Harley and anyone who witnessed the outburst baffled. Granted, the situation on Keanu—unusual by definition—was unprecedented and unpredictable. There were no back pages in a flight data file dealing with “crazed astronaut tries to break into lander.”

But to leave in the middle? What the hell was wrong with Gabriel Jones?

And what the hell was this “Item”?

This is
Destiny
mission control. Keanu’s rotation now allows direct
line-of-contact communication between Houston and the
Venture
vehicle
on the surface. Telemetry is being received here; astronaut Yvonne
Hall is in a rest period. We expect to regain contact with the EVA team
momentarily, at which point live transmissions will be resumed.

NASA PUBLIC AFFAIRS COMMENTATOR SCOTT SHAWLER, AUGUST 23, 2019

At the first blow, the entire cabin rang like a church bell. “Stop that!” Yvonne said, feeling in equal parts frightened, ill, and, especially, foolish, since no one, least of all Downey, could hear her.

She had done as Trieu instructed, leaving the hatch between the
Venture
main cabin and its airlock open, essentially locking the outer hatch. (An interlock inside the hatch froze the outer latch mechanism unless the inner one was closed.)

But Downey had climbed the ladder and, after a fruitless session of tugging on the door, had actually struck it with something hard.

She finally got on the radio again. “That won’t work.”

“What choice do I have?” he said, after a lag. “I can’t stay out here.”

“Let’s talk, Pogo. Talk to mission control, too.” She had been able to see him through the hatch port, but now light streamed through. Where had he gone?

“Sorry, I don’t have time for that.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to go home.”

“You and me both!” Yvonne said. Then the other channel lit up. “Yvonne, Houston. The director is online.”