Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(41)

Chapter 27





Emma





James was right: the two weeks that follow are the toughest of my life. Training for the ISS was a cake walk compared to the construction of the Janus fleet. I sleep, eat, exercise, and work.

The crew is constantly stressed out, constantly arguing with each other about the best way to do things. I realize now that the lack of friction before was mostly because everyone was in their own sphere, only occasionally coming into contact, and not at close range. We’re colliding now. Making demands of each other—on tight deadlines.

James is the most stressed. Much of the burden of coordination has fallen to him. Though Min is technically flying, James is making most of the calls, setting the deadlines and telling us what needs to get done. There was a time for debate about what to do. We had it, and now we’re all focused on executing as fast as we can. I, along with the rest of the crew, have begun to think of him as the mission commander.

But lately, a rift has developed between us. A week ago, he took some blood samples and gave me an injection to help with my bone density. He upped my exercise regimen to three hours a day, but I’ve been doing only half that. I need to work. We have to get these drones finished. He’s not happy about my cutting corners on my exercise regime. It’s as if we’re an old married couple, bickering silently about something we know neither of us is going to compromise about.

I’m soldering a circuit board when he floats into the lab and grabs the table.

“We need to talk.”

In my experience, those four words never herald the opening of a pleasant conversation. A wisp of smoke drifts up from the board and hangs between us, like the aftermath of a shot that was just fired.

“Okay.”

“Look, Emma, your bone density is critical. You’ve got to exercise more.”

“We need to finish the drones.”

“And we will.”

“We’re already on the verge of missing the launch date.”

James shakes his head, frustrated. “It’s an artificial deadline. We can push it back.”

“How much? A day? A week?”

“If needed.”

“And what if a day is the difference between a million people living or dying on Earth?”

“What if it’s not?”

“In space, every second matters. Of all the people on this ship, I know that the best. This is life and death, and I’m less worried about mine.”

“You should be. If you injure yourself, it hurts all of us.”

“I feel fine.”

“You’re not. Do you trust my medical opinion?”

“I do. Do you respect my decision to do what I think is right for the mission and the people back home?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“It doesn’t need to be. James, this is the best shot we have. I’m going to work my tail off until those drones launch. Okay?”

He exhales. “You are so stubborn.”

“Says the man who won’t compromise.”

We stare at each other. I’m angry. I know he is too. I haven’t known him long, but I’ve gotten to know him pretty well.

Harry sticks his head in the hatchway. His eyebrows shoot up. There are drone pieces floating all over the lab: wires, housings, capacitors—as if a bomb had gone off, and the aftermath of the explosion is hanging in the air. The tension feels about like that. He reads it instantly.

“Hey… James… could I… get your help with something?”





Every time I float over to the gym and there’s someone using it, they instantly dismount the bike or drop the resistance bands and announce that they’re done. They’re usually not sweaty.

James has talked to them. It’s now a ship-wide conspiracy to make me exercise. It doesn’t work. I exercise less as the deadline approaches. We all do. And sleep less. It’s degrading our productivity, but sleep is elusive. All I think about is finishing.

We miss the deadline. By forty-two hours. But the launch of the Janus fleet is a feat of engineering and teamwork that we’re all indescribably proud of. There’s an electricity in the air on launch day. Everyone is sleep-deprived and stressed, but we’re all giddy as we gather in the bubble and strap in and stare at the wide screen that shows the launch tube. The launcher uses the same principles as the rail gun. Grigory studies his tablet to monitor the reactor, making sure it’s compensating for the launch recoil.

The ship buzzes as the engines build up electricity, and then, Boom! The first drone fires out, so small and fast we can barely see it, like a BB out of a kid’s gun. Another buzzing, another boom, and the second drone is away. And so it goes, one after another until the ship falls silent.

All eyes turn to Harry, who’s studying his own tablet. He looks up and grins. “First comm-patch is in: all stats are nominal. We’ve got a successful launch.”

The cheers in the confined space are deafening. High-fives, a few fist bumps, James turns to me and nods, and I simply reach out and hug him, as if our fight had been flushed out the launch tube with the drones. He holds me longer than I expect, and I don’t let go.

“Now what?” Charlotte asks.

Without releasing me, James says, “Now, ladies and gents, we celebrate.”