Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(12)

Fowler reads my expression. “No doubt you’ve discerned what these readings mean.” He pauses, as if adjusting his presentation to my reaction. “Before we got these readings, a coalition of governments was evaluating possible… solutions to the Long Winter. The most viable, or perhaps ‘popular’ is a better term, was accelerating the greenhouse effect. That would heat the planet to compensate for the reduced solar output. Many options were presented, some more feasible than others. Underground colonies dependent on geothermal energy. Altering the Earth’s orbit.”

He sees my surprise.

“As I said, some proposals were more feasible than others.” He motions toward the image. “However, the probe data changed everything. We kept it a secret and launched a second round of probes four months ago. This group was much larger and had more precise instruments meant to verify the data. They traveled farther and wider into the inner solar system.” Fowler glances at Larson and me, as if mentally estimating whether we’re prepared, then hits a key. “This is what they found.”

The screen switches to a video of a black dot against the burning sun. It comes into focus, an oblong object that shimmers for a second before the video ends.

Larson’s mouth falls open. Apparently, he’s learning all this at the same time as I am. He didn’t need to know before.

I wasn’t sure what form it would take, but after seeing the probes’ solar radiation readings, I expected something like this. My mind swirls with questions. I need data. Fowler is prepared. I shoot questions at him rapid-fire.

“How many artifacts have you located?”

“One.”

“Did it detect the probe NASA sent?”

“Yes.”

“Reaction?”

“Destroyed.”

My body goes numb at the word. My mind reels with the implications.

Larson finally gets a word out, seven of them, all a waste of time. “Hey, what the heck is that thing?”

Fowler doesn’t break eye contact with me. “Please be quiet, Mr. Larson.”

“Did it take any further action after destroying the probe?” I ask.

“Possibly. We’re not certain.”

“Explain.”

“The probe relayed data to the ISS. Minutes later, the station experienced… a solar event that destroyed it. Along with every satellite in orbit.”

“You think it was trying to stop the data.”

“That’s the working theory.”

“What happened to the crew on the ISS?”

Fowler glances away. I’ve hit a sore subject. “They were killed in the attack. Except for one. She’s still up there. We’re trying to bring her home, but we’re not sure we can.”

I nod, sensing he wants to move on. “What else do you know?”

“That’s about it at the moment.”

In my mind, I begin running scenarios, Hail Marys in which some part of our species survives this. They all end the same: insufficient data. We need to know what we’re dealing with.

Larson shakes his head, frustrated. “Hey, will somebody tell me what’s going on?”

With my eyes, I ask Fowler, You want to tell him?

He glances away. Translation: You tell him, your way. He deserves it.

“Mr. Larson, we are not alone in the universe. Here’s the scary part: whoever is out there either doesn’t care enough to contact us, or is trying to kill us.”





Chapter 11





Emma





When I finally stop crying, I take stock of the capsule. There’s food strapped to the wall, as well as water and a med kit. A large package lies in one corner. I could almost cry again when I realize what it is: a SAFER module for my space suit (technically called an Extravehicular Mobility Unit or EMU). SAFER stands for Simplified Aid for Extravehicular Activity Rescue. It attaches to the back of my suit and has several small thruster jets, which are especially handy for avoiding floating away from the station—or for a human dart situation, which, as it turns out, has come up recently.

Behind the first note on the wall lies a second. It reads:

Keep suit on.

Use terminal to communicate.





Why would they want me to keep the suit on? I can pressurize the cabin. Maybe the event that destroyed the ISS isn’t over. Maybe the capsule is vulnerable.

I unlock the panel that covers the terminal, and the screen flashes to life. The keyboard is unusable with my gloved, fat fingers, but they’ve thought of that too. A stylus tethered to the wall floats free, like ET’s alien finger reaching out to me. I take it as the first message prints on the screen, in white letters on a black background, like a DOS or Unix command-line output.

Nice to see you, Commander Matthews.





I glance around the capsule and spot a black-domed camera in the corner. I wave and smile.

Medical status?





Typing with the stylus is a bit of a pain, but I get better with each letter.

No complaints





Be honest.





I wonder who’s on the other end. Someone down there who knows me. I start with the biggest issue: the decompression sickness.