Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(97)

Is there a mother ship or harvester out there? Is it altering our drones to hide itself? Or is it a design flaw in the drones themselves?





We’re finally close enough to the Pax to form a daisy chain of comm drones. It reminds me of the same maneuver we performed with the Fornax—the ship we lost out here. I can’t help but wonder if that’s the fate of the Pax too. Or Sparta One. But as quickly as the thought appears in my mind, I dismiss it. James has a plan. He always has a plan.

We gather on the bridge and watch the seconds tick down to the establishment of the real-time link with the Pax.

00:00:04



00:00:03



00:00:02



00:00:01



LINK ESTABLISHED





James types furiously on his tablet, but a message from the Pax appears before he can send it.

PAX: Marco





James smiles. I can’t help but let out a laugh. Has to be Harry on the other end.

SPARTA_1: Polo! We read you, Pax. Status?





PAX: Nominal





James glances at me. We’re thinking the same thing: this is not going to be easy—getting the truth out of them. They have probably guessed our mission out here. They don’t want to get in the way.

SPARTA_1: Harry, I need a real status update. We can’t go on with our mission and just leave you guys out here. I know you’re running low on provisions. How have you made the food last this long?





PAX: The ship took a fair amount of damage from the explosion at Beta. Grigory repaired the engine. We lost some reactor fuel. We searched the wreckage of the Fornax and used the arm to recover its provisions and some fuel.





SPARTA_1: Smart. What else? Engine status? Environmental?





PAX: We’ve got some issues over here. Nothing we can’t deal with. Since the artifact, we’ve focused on monitoring the Midway fleet, giving it new instructions and refueling the drones.





SPARTA_1: So that’s how the Midway drones traveled so far. We were surprised at the range of the survey. You’ve been refueling them?





PAX: Yep. They’ve run up a monster tab.





SPARTA_1: Stand by, Pax.





James untethers from the table and floats over in front of the screen, facing the entire crew of Sparta One, who are strapped into their stations.

“The crew of the Pax sacrificed their own lives to send Emma and me home. They did that for all of you, for their families, and for the billions of strangers on Earth they came out here to try to save. Like all of us, they felt their lives were less important than this mission. We are not going to leave them out here. We are going to help them. Before we talk about exactly how we’re going to do that, I want to hear from anyone who isn’t in favor of saving these brave souls.”

James has presented the argument cleverly. I really think his time on the Pax gave him a much deeper understanding of people and, especially, group dynamics.

The group studies their tablets and the table and their hands, no one really engaging.

Finally, Heinrich speaks.

“I am for it, obviously. The question for me is very simple: What is the price? How do we help them? I am in favor so long as it does not compromise or materially interfere with our primary mission.” He motions to the screen. “It is also apparent to me that your former crewmates would agree with that. They want us to continue with our mission.”

Around the bridge, the other crewmembers nod.

“James, what do you see as our options?” I ask. I want the rest of the crew to know that James and I haven’t discussed the plan, that it is being made right now, as a crew.

“We have a few options. Some carry more cost for us, some more risk.”

“We could bring them here,” I say. “We could dock.”

The bridge falls silent.

Heinrich doesn’t make eye contact with me as he speaks. “That I count as an extremely risky option.”

“I agree,” James says. “The success rate is too low to pursue and bringing them here isn’t ideal. It would double the requirements on our rations and space. Sparta One would be crowded. As talented as the Pax crew is, adding them would mean there would be people in the way on this ship. We can’t afford that.”

Terrance, our British ship’s doctor, holds up a hand. “The other issue, in my mind, is that they could be injured. We’ve only seen one picture of them. They look okay, but they could be hiding injuries left over from the encounter with Beta. Not to mention that being in space for this long is not good for the body.” He cuts a quick glance to me. Don’t I know it.

“What I mean,” Terrance says, “is that these people likely need medical treatment—as soon as possible.”

“Are you saying,” Heinrich says, annoyed, “that you are in favor of bringing them here for medical treatment? Or that they shouldn’t be brought here because their medical needs will further drain our resources and focus?”

Terrence swings his head side to side like tossing a ball from hand to hand, measuring the weight. “I’m not sure.”