Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(64)

“Or worsen the war already occurring.”

“True.”

“There’s another reason not to send it.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Leverage.”

“Leverage for what?”

“Our safety. The data is what we have that they want. Once they have it, they could have no more use for us.”

Emma looks away. This is outside her comfort zone—the double-dealing and distrust. I like that about her. She’s a genuine person. Honest. Too good—too pure for the world I fear we’re returning to.

When we make eye contact again, I make my voice even. “There’s another reason for silence. The artifacts could be listening. Maybe that’s why we’re still alive. They want to know what we know. And it could be why neither the Atlantic Union nor Pac Alliance has shot us down.”

“You want to say no to the Pac Alliance request?”

“That might force their hand—or cause the artifacts to destroy us.”

“So…”

“We buy time.”

I activate the radio. “Copy that, Pac Alliance. It’s going to take us some time to get our data suitable for broadcast. We’ll be in touch.”

Emma bunches her eyebrows. “You lie a lot better over the radio.”

“Lying is easier when you don’t know the person.”





There are no further transmissions from Nakamura. I consider that telling.

The next transmission comes two hours later, from a familiar voice, one I’m relieved to hear.

“James? It’s Lawrence Fowler. Please respond if you read me.”

His voice is like a drink of water to a man who’s been walking through the desert for a year. I bolt toward it, like a beacon of hope, a sign of an oasis on the horizon.

I tap the transmit button quickly and speak with enthusiasm.

“We read you, Fowler. It’s great to hear your voice.”

“Likewise, James. Listen, we need to make plans. It’s important that we recover you. There’ve been… changes here.”

“Copy that.”

“We’ve made preparations. Landing coordinates are as follows: the location where you and I first met. Take latitude and add to the degrees the fourth number found on page five of the mission briefing. To the longitude, add to the degrees the seventh number found on the fifteenth page of the mission briefing. Please verify receipt. Do not repeat actual coordinates.”

I open the digital version of the mission briefing, memorize the numbers, then open a map with GPS. Edgefield Federal Prison lies at 33.76 degrees latitude, -81.92 degrees longitude. I add the numbers from the mission briefing. The location surprises me. It’s nowhere near the US. It’s in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Tunisia. I really, really, hope I added that correctly.

“We copy, Fowler.”

“Please cease all communications. We’ll be waiting, James.”

Nakamura responds immediately.

“James and Emma, we overheard the broadcast from the AU. We certainly appreciate their efforts in providing a safe landing, but be advised, we have already made preparations and feel your safety would be greatly enhanced by a landing here at our site. We have far more resources and a safer environment here. Please respond and acknowledge that you’re proceeding to our site.”

Emma leans her head back and exhales. I’m starting to get stressed too.

I activate the radio.

“We copy, Pac Alliance. As you can see, our vessel is a makeshift escape pod created from the Pax. Thrust capacity is severely degraded. We’ll know more about our landing approach soon and will be in touch. We’re also still porting the data for transmission. This is taking a lot of time.”

“Understood, James. If you give us alternative landing coordinates, I assure you that we can secure them and recover you. Your safety and the completion of your mission is our priority.”

Emma deactivates the radio. “Completion of our mission?”

“The data. They want the data.”

“Fowler never asked.”

“He’s smarter than that. And he wants us back. If anyone on the ground cares about us, it’s him. He’s the one who asked me to rescue you. I trust him.”

“So do I.”

“Tunisia it is.”

“What now?”

“Now, we rest. And try not to get shot out of the sky before we get home.”





Chapter 35





Emma





We’ve prepared the ship for landing. Every single item has been stowed. We’ve calculated the vector to reach the target landing zone. Fuel isn’t a problem. The real problem is whether the ship will be in one piece when we land.

And whether we’ll survive.

James betrays no emotion. But I know he must be worried. I am.

The Pac Alliance has continued to contact us. James has refused to respond. He feels that’s better.

We are hours away from landing, and we decide to spend those hours together. We don’t play cards. We don’t watch a movie. We turn on some old music, classic rock hits from the 1960s and 70s, and lie together in the middle the ship, looking up at the stars. It’s a perfect moment. I fear it may be the last perfect moment I ever experience.