Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(52)

And then there’s James. He simply listens, then untethers himself from the table in the bubble and says, “We need to find out what happened to the comm drone. We can’t do anything until then.”

He just leaves. No discussion, no debate.

Harry and I find him head-down over a tablet in the lab. Stewing. Pinching his lower lip.

“What was that?” I ask.

“What?”

“In the bubble. The—I don’t know—lack of discussion.”

“We don’t have time for it.”

He hands me a tablet. It’s schematics for a new type of drone. It’s ultra-small and very, very fast. This will require a whole lot of the stored reactor energy. The fleet is called Helios, and it consists of three of these mini drones, one of which has the capability to launch ultra-small comm bricks back to Earth to report any findings. These mini comm bricks are about the size of three quarters stacked together and have most of the capabilities of the larger comm bricks, including wireless transmission.

“We need to send scout drones to the sun. Along the artifact vector. They’ll do a high-speed survey. Video recording only. Silent running. And send their findings directly to Earth.”

“I agree,” Harry says quietly.

Whatever is going on, Harry knows what it is too. Or maybe James told him what he’s thinking. And not me. The idea infuriates me. But I know James well enough to know that he doesn’t want to talk right now. He wants to get this done. Quickly.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”





I’ve never worked so hard, or so fast, in my life. Thirteen hours after James showed me the specs for the Helios drones, they’re firing out of the ship. The rail gun is over its max output. The ship jostles like an earthquake as it blasts the tiny drones toward the sun.

What does James expect to find there? Why is he so afraid all of a sudden?





We gather in the bubble when the Fornax pulls alongside us, every face on both ships floating in the round porthole windows. There’s no noticeable damage to our sister ship, no blast marks or punctures in the modules, but I can tell that it’s smaller than the Pax, and it doesn’t match the schematics in the mission briefing. The arms branching out are shorter.

We entertained several ideas for transferring the drone stock, including docking the ships. We finally settled on a tether. The cargo containers will be latched to the cord and carried over, like a clothesline in space. The tether will also contain a cable—a direct data link. We’re still running dark—no emissions—but as long as we’re flying side by side, we can maintain a hard link and swap as much data as we want—like video and the readings from the observation drones.

Most importantly, we can videoconference and actually talk to one another.

We use the robotic arms to attach the tether to the Pax, then offload the supplies.

Since I have the most experience with similar operations, I operate the arms. I enjoy it actually, and it gives me something to do while the crew of the Pax videoconferences with the crew of the Fornax. After the warm welcomes, they quickly discuss the data and what they’ve learned. James leads the meeting, but for some reason, they delay any decisions. On the whole, it’s a jovial meeting. A reunion. James has told me that the two crews only met each other once, but there’s a bond there, no doubt forged by this intense shared experience.

When I first came aboard the Pax, I felt like an outsider. A party crasher on the most important endeavor in human history. But James and the rest of the crew treated me as an equal, welcomed me, and integrated me into every aspect of life on this vessel: the work, the meetings, even the unpleasant arguments. I became one of the family. But now, for whatever reason, I feel like the newly adopted child at a family reunion, meeting the relatives for the first time. Everyone already seems to have such a history and close connection. I’m relegated to the kitchen, doing the work while the others chat.

And in truth, I’m not even supposed to be here.

When I finish offloading the last crate from the tether into the open module, I retract the arm and remain at the control station just outside the bubble, unsure what to do. Should I go to the bubble and introduce myself? I can hear them. They’re discussing the recovery of the compromised drone. James is talking around it. Buying time. For what?

He startles me when he appears in my module.

“Hey.”

I hold a hand to my chest. “Hey.”

“You all right?”

“You just scared me.”

“Any issues?”

“No.”

He looks at the video screen showing the module holding the drone supply crates.

“Looks like all of them.”

“Yeah. I got them.”

“Well… what’re you doing now?”

“I was… I don’t know. Wasn’t sure.”

He gently grasps my upper arm. “I am. Come on. There’s some folks who want to meet you.”

In the bubble, I tether to the table and look at the smiling faces of the Fornax crew.

James motions to me. “Fornax, this is Commander Emma Matthews, sole survivor of the ISS catastrophe and, on this mission, the sole reason we’ve been able to launch so many drones so quickly. She’s been building circles around Harry and me.”