Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(32)

“Stand by, Doctor. We’re undocking you and re-pressurizing your capsule.”

“Copy.”

I pop open the med kit. My mind rifles through what could be going on with her. Suit has pressure. She hasn’t asphyxiated—unless there was a malfunction. How long has it been since she last ate? Too long, probably.

I take stock of the kit. As usual, they’ve thought of it all.

“Capsule pressure is nominal, Dr. Sinclair. Remove her helmet and commence first aid.”

As soon as I get her helmet off, I hold two fingers to her neck.

My heart sinks when I feel how cold her skin is.





Chapter 23





Emma





I awake with a mask over my mouth and a man squeezing an attached plastic bag, pumping air into me.

My chest burns. Throat throbs.

He takes the mask away and studies my face. “Commander Matthews, can you hear me?”

My voice is scratchy, barely audible. “Yeah.”

He holds a bottle to my lips. “Drink this, okay? It’ll help.”

I nod, and he squeezes the liquid into my mouth—a salty, sugary mix that must be glucose, sodium, and other electrolytes. It’s like balm on my burning throat, coating and soothing.

His helmet is off. His eyes pan away from me. I can tell he’s speaking into the headset. “Goddard, we’re okay here. I think she’s just dehydrated and malnourished. Borderline hypothermic from the reduced environmental output on the capsule and low blood sugar and electrolyte imbalance.”

A few seconds pass, him listening to Goddard’s reply. I study him as I gulp down the liquid. His face is lean and unlined except for a few shallow creases radiating from his eyes. He must be about my age, mid to late thirties. His hair is short, sandy brown, and hangs about halfway down his forehead. Eyes are blue and focused, but gentle. Beyond the concentration, there’s an element of concern. I feel an instant level of comfort with him.

“Copy that, Goddard.” To me, he says, “Feeling better?”

“Some.”

“Good.” He takes the bottle and Velcro-straps it to the wall so it won’t float free. “I’m sorry, but I need to examine you.”

We stare at each other for a second. I simply nod.

He reaches for my right glove and slips it off, then takes the left.

My body is so weak I shake as I try to sit up. “Wait, you mean… up here?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why not on the ground?”

“We… won’t be back on the ground for a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“In this case, a while is roughly ten months. Give or take.”

I break into a laugh. He has to be kidding. But his expression is blank, his face a mask of concentration.

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

I glance around the capsule. We won’t last more than a few weeks up here. Then I remember the other capsules, the rockets depositing them into orbit like tin cans floating in space.

“What’s the plan?”

“Commander, we’re very short on time.”

“Please. The short version. And call me Emma.”

He nods. “Okay, Emma. I’m a member of a team that’s been sent to survey the artifact.”

My eyebrows knit together, and he reads my confusion.

“The vessel the probe found—the image you sent back to Earth before the ISS was destroyed.”

“The other capsules that were launched. They’re going to assemble.”

“That’s right. Into two ships. The Pax and Fornax.”

“You’re not here for me.”

“You’re not the primary objective, but rescuing you is very much part of the mission I signed up for.”

“They gave you a choice?”

He pauses. “Yes.”

“And you said yes.”

“I did. I said I’d do whatever I could to bring you home. Fowler, everyone down there at mission control—they care very much about you. They went to great lengths to make this happen in a very short amount of time.”

I’m overcome with emotion. Gratitude. Humility. I feel so lucky. I can feel the tears welling in my eyes, but I blink them away and inhale sharply, hoping he can’t tell.

“Okay. What next?”

“In the next ten minutes, the Guiana Space Centre is going to launch the last capsule.”

“And then?”

“Then we wait and see if the artifact reacts the way it did to the ISS.”

“You mean, we see if it tries to destroy us.”

“Yes. Or simply throws us away from Earth’s orbit and tosses some debris at us. Either way, whatever capsules remain will assemble after that. It’s going to be hectic. We need to be ready.”

“That’s why you want to do the exam now.”

“I need to see if you have any existing trauma that needs to be treated. It’s going to be very busy after the ships assemble.”

My mind is racing, trying to process this. I was due to come home from the ISS in a month. Another ten months in space? My bone density can’t take it. Assuming we even get back.