Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(15)

It’s clear from the timeline and simulation that the launch needs to happen soon—while Earth is still close to the artifact. That will cut down the distance the two ships have to travel and the fuel requirements.

“And how does the crew get back?”

Fowler breaks eye contact. “We’re still running simulations.” He taps the keyboard. “This is our best idea.”

The simulation shows the ships floating beyond the artifact, then breaking up once again. Two small modules jettison from the bottom of each ship. Escape modules? They must be. The view zooms in on the pods, which show three passengers each. So there’s a crew of six on each ship. Splitting the crew on the return voyage has the advantage of increasing the survival rate.

The pods don’t move at first. But slowly, they begin to accelerate away from the artifact. My guess is they’re solar powered.

I study the two ships—the Fornax and Pax. Fornax was the Roman god of fire (specifically, the god of the oven, but fire fits the analogy better). I bet the ship’s loaded with nukes. Or a rail gun. Both, probably. Pax was the Roman goddess of peace. They’re going to try to communicate first. If the probe is any indication, the artifact will blow Pax away. Then Fornax will send a brick to Earth with the result before firing its guns. Those of us in the escape modules will see the results and report back.

I’m betting the artifact will destroy Fornax too.

It’s a good plan. One that might even get me home alive. It’s a long shot. And as far as I can tell, it’s our best shot.

Fowler’s voice is somber. “What’s described here is how we anticipate the mission going. That is far from certain. The risks are—”

“I know what the risks are. I knew them the moment I saw the artifact. And I know what you’re asking of me. I’m in.”

Fowler nods, studies the floor of the van, then stands.

“Well. We should get down to KSC.” He shakes his head. “That’s Kennedy Space Center. Your module will launch from there.”

“One question.”

Fowler cocks an eyebrow.

“Why me?”

Fowler’s eyes meet mine. “In truth, you weren’t our first choice. Or second, third, fourth, or fifth.”

That hurts a little, but I don’t react.

“When we presented what you just saw to our first-line candidates, three of our choices declined the job. They wanted you to go. Said they would only support the mission if you were on it.”

“Why?”

“The broad consensus is that you have more imagination and technical skill than any person alive. That you think fast and act fast—sometimes too quickly—and if anyone could pull this mission off, it’s you. When they knew their own lives, and their families’ lives, were on the line, they wanted you.”

“What about the other two?”

“Our second-choice candidate accepted the job. He’ll be on one of the ships, you’ll be on the other.”

“And the last candidate?”

Fowler glances at Larson, who has assumed a vapid expression like a man who has just had a lobotomy. “He was unable to adequately process the information provided.”

“Not surprising. That’s going to happen to a lot of people. And worse.” Now it’s my turn to glance at Larson. He’s sort of a case study in what the entire human race is going to go through when news breaks. “This secret… it’s too big. It won’t keep.”

“I agree. That’s the other reason we have to hurry.”





The helicopter that takes us away from Edgefield is filled with military, but they’re not National Guard. Special ops would be my guess. They’re all business, and when they look at me, they don’t blink or glance away. Glad they’re on our side.

As we fly south, the helicopter’s rotors pounding, I glance up at the sun. I’ll never see it the same way. I’ll never see the world the same way. Life. The solar system, the universe. I feel I’ve crossed a Rubicon. Nothing will ever be the same.

And for reasons I can’t explain, I only want one thing: to make peace with the only person who matters to me in this world. My brother.

I activate my headset. “Fowler, I have a request.”

Larson spins and adjusts his mouthpiece. Since exiting the van, his lobotomized state has receded. He’s back to normal pit-bull status. “You don’t get to make requests. That was part of the d—”

“What is it, James?”

“I have a brother. He has a wife and son.”

Fowler nods, waiting, then looks up. “And a daughter now. Ten months old.”

“Right. I’d like for them to have a place in one of the habitable zones.”

“Impossible,” Larson barks.

“Done,” Fowler says quietly.

“He lives in Atlanta.”

“They moved six months ago, to a suburb of Charleston. Mount Pleasant.” The NASA administrator seems to have memorized the file. I’m impressed.

“Which is on the way to Canaveral.”

Fowler nods slowly.

Larson glares at me. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

I stare back. “Hey, I know you weren’t picking up a lot of what was thrown down in the van, but odds are, I’m punching a one-way ticket tomorrow night. He’s the only family I have left. I just want to see him. For two minutes. To say I’m sorry. That’s it.”