Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(111)

On the ground, they take me to a quarantine facility and perform an endless battery of tests. I remain in isolation until I’m cleared and moved to a hospital room. I know I’ll need lots of physical therapy from the mission, but I can still walk.

Fowler is the first to visit me.

Without preamble, I ask the question that’s burned on my mind.

“Is Emma back?”

“No.”

“Any contact from her?”

“I’m sorry, James.”

“We have to go look for her—”

“We’re already launching satellites. It could be nothing. Just an anomaly in the acceleration of the two escape pods.”

Fowler seems to sense how hard I’m taking the news. He changes the subject.

“But we have recovered some escape modules.”

“The crew of the Pax? How are they?”

Fowler smiles widely. “They’re fine. That was very clever, James. And very brave. That’s not all of the good news. Solar output has normalized.”

“How? When?”

“A little while before your transmission, around the time the battle was over, the solar cells just scattered. They’re still out there, but they’re not harvesting any of the solar output directed at Earth.”

“It makes sense. The harvester got access to all of Oscar’s memories. He knew about the nukes we prepared for launch, so the harvester would have known about them, known they would destroy the solar cells if they continued to threaten Earth. Their priority is the conservation of energy. By removing the threat, they get to continue collecting energy. And they’re a lot harder to go after if they aren’t grouped together.” I chew my lip for a moment. “This may not be over.”

“It’s over for now.”

“Have you analyzed Sparta One’s computer core?”

Fowler’s smile vanishes.

“What did you find?” I ask urgently.

“We’re still running tests.”

“It sent a transmission?”

“We think so. James, there’s some people who want to see you. I just wanted to say thanks and tell you how proud I am of everything you all did up there.”

Before I can ask another question, he walks out, leaving the sliding door to the hospital room open.

Footsteps on the linoleum floor echo in the hall, like a stampede of people. But it’s only four: Alex, Abby, Jack, and Sarah. They last time I saw them, they were all underweight, Abby and Alex the worst of the four. They aren’t quite healthy now, but they look a great deal better, faces fuller. They barrel through the door, Alex first. He pulls me into a hug and squeezes me so tight I think my brittle, space-weakened bones are going to break. I can hardly breathe. In my ear, he says, barely audible, “I’m proud of you. Thank you.”





Chapter 59





Emma





The person I rescued from the wreckage is a comm officer named Gloria. I made the decision to accelerate away from the wreckage at extremely low speed. I’m glad I did. She’s fine overall, but she has a concussion. Leaving Ceres at maximum burn could have exacerbated her injury.

The slower exit from this battleground will add some time to our return trip, but it will drastically improve her prognosis.

The weeks drag by like months. It seems like ages since I’ve seen James, and Madison and her family. That period feels like a lifetime ago. Indeed, my life now seems split into three parts: my time before the attack on the ISS; the interim in between, in space, and in Camp Seven; and this period, after the Battle of Ceres. This is the first time since the ISS that I haven’t been in constant danger. It’s a new beginning. And I can’t wait to get home and figure out what that beginning is like.





The landing in this escape pod is a lot smoother than the one James and I experienced in that makeshift return module the crew of the Pax rigged up.

Still, we take precautions. Both Gloria and I dress in our EMU suits, pressurize them, and strap in tight, preparing for the worst.

Through the porthole I see the sands of the Sahara and the beaches of southern Italy. The glaciers are receding. The ice is melting, flowing into the sea.

I don’t know if the world we’re returning to has gotten back to normal—in fact, maybe normal will never be the way it was. Maybe normal is something new. But as I look out, I’m hopeful that our new normal will take place in the light of day.





The quarantine seems endless. I lie in bed, in the hospital room, staring at the walls, waiting for the results. The room looks and feels the same as the one I spent so much time in after returning from the Pax. I was broken then. We were defeated. Nearly hopeless. Once again, I have a feeling of returning to the beginning, except now I’m filled with hope. I feel strong. And we are victorious. For now.

Finally, the doctor comes in and clears me.

Fowler arrives next and hugs me without saying a word. He holds me gently, for a long moment, then looks into my eyes, his misting over.

“You may be the luckiest astronaut in history.”

“Any astronaut with James Sinclair on their mission is lucky.”

“Very true. And speaking of, he’s been asking about you.”