Heaven's Shadow Page 22

  “It has to be!” Tea said. “It’s not the same at all! Megan and Camilla’s bodies weren’t here!”

  “Right and right,” Zack said. “But it’s logical that there might be some commonality between these revivals.” He indicated the discarded suit. “I mean, look at the evidence.”

  Taj wiggled an index finger, reminding Zack of a college professor. “I think this entire world consists of molecular machines or whatever you want to call them. Everything that enters this environment is nothing but fuel or materials to be reassembled, if needed. Everything that you see can become anything its designers want.”

  Tea allowed herself to join in the speculation. “Even the ice and snow on the surface . . .” She looked alarmed. “Have we ingested anything?”

  “Food and water have come from our supplies,” Zack said, not liking the obvious conclusion—that they were all infected. “But we have been breathing the air for over a dozen hours.”

  “Shit.”

  Tea started to walk away. Zack followed, gently taking her arm. “Hey, hey, hey, stick with me. I’m sorry . . . you know me, always happy to take an unpleasant idea and play with it. We don’t know anything yet. Even if we are somehow contaminated, we don’t know if it’s bad.”

  “Yes,” Taj said, “look at it this way: It might mean we can never die.”

  “Good to know,” Zack said, “given the grim options we face at the moment.”

  Tea stared at the two men. “Assholes.”

  Ten minutes later they were back at the rover.

  Given the increasingly uncertain circumstances—and trying not to imagine a revived Patrick “Pogo” Downey shambling around Keanu—Zack sensed that now was the time, as his colleagues in mission control liked to say, to lean forward. To lay out a plan and execute it.

  “Okay, everyone, gather round.”

  Within moments he had them all in a group. Lucas and Camilla, Natalia, Tea, and Taj.

  Megan.

  “My best guess is that in four hours we’ll be back in complete contact with Houston”—he bowed to acknowledge Taj and Brahma’s back channel—“and we are likely to receive orders to return to Venture. Since we obviously aren’t equipped for real exploration or life support, that will be the plan.

  “But we aren’t leaving anyone behind,” he said, realizing that some part of his brain had been working the problem and had made a decision. “Venture has room for an adult passenger, so Megan goes with Tea and me with no strain.” Pending further data, he was not going to factor this potential ghost Pogo Downey into the equation.

  “I’m happy to take Camilla, too, but given that both vehicles were designed to lift off the Moon, there’s ample margin in propellant for Brahma to launch with fifty extra kilos, too. Consumables like oxygen and water might be an issue, but again, both spacecraft are configured for a crew of four and minimum ten days.”

  He looked to Taj for confirmation. “We may have more,” the vyomanaut said.

  “Right now we’re on day five. If we lift off later today, we’re home on day eight, nine latest. We all may have to, ah, breathe slower, but we should be able to make it.” He wasn’t entirely joking about that; one of the strategies developed for shortfalls in oxygen supplies was to drug one or more crew members, effectively cutting the rate of oxygen consumption in half.

  “First step,” Zack said, turning to point. “I give you rover Buzz. Pressurized, capable of traversing several hundred meters with three passengers in a shirtsleeve environment.” He pointed to Megan. “You will be the driver.”

  Megan smiled faintly. “I see a problem,” Natalia said, looking to Lucas and Taj, as if to say, You idiots, why do I have to say this! “Fine, Megan and Camilla drive to bottom of Vesuvius Vent. But, five astronauts, five EVA suits. How do our three passengers get from the rover to the spacecraft?”

  The mind under stress was a wonderful tool. Zack was pleased that Natalia asked this, because he hadn’t solved that problem . . . until just now. “We do what they planned to do with a damaged shuttle in orbit. You fly up to it and send one EVA astronaut over carrying two extra suits. He goes inside, helps the crew members into them, and tows them to safety.

  “So, we park the rover inside the membrane, meaning we have a pressurized environment outside it. Taj and Lucas go back to Brahma, then Lucas takes Taj’s empty suit, brings it to the membrane, puts Camilla in it and carries her back to Brahma. Repeat for Megan to Venture.”

  “It will take time,” Natalia said. “Just getting back to the vehicles, up the vent—!”

  “That’s why we need to get started.”

  To Zack’s surprise—the gesture was as familiar as it was unexpected—Megan raised her hand. “I have a better plan.”

  The group of eight had not been noisy, not in any way Zack noticed. But he did notice the sudden silence. “First we need to visit the Temple.”

  “We already did,” Tea said quickly.

  Megan refused to look at her. “You never got inside, though.” She stood and took Camilla by the hand. “We can.” Camilla nodded.

  Zack glanced at Taj, Lucas, Natalia, Tea, each one responding with surprise or a headshake. “You know that?” he said to Megan. “That you can get in?”

  “I wish I could be more specific. But, yes. We can, we should . . . it’s vital.”

  “I need more than that,” Zack said quietly.

  Taj suddenly put a hand to his right ear, where he wore an earpiece. He simply stepped away.

  Megan was slowly shaking her head from side to side, eyes closed, as if searching for a lost memory. Then she looked directly into Zack’s eyes. “I can’t give you more. All I can tell you, darling, is that all your life you wanted to solve mysteries. It’s the one thing that drives you, more than love or money or family. Here you have the biggest one in human history, and it only costs you an hour of time, maybe two.”

  “I’m risking the lives of seven other people.”

  “Thank you for including us, but we won’t leave unless we go to the Temple first.” Zack watched as Lucas translated Megan’s words for Camilla, who nodded enthusiastically.

  Zeiss camera-communicator under his arm, Taj returned, sparing Zack the agony of telling Megan that he would have to leave her . . . “We have a problem,” he said. “It seems that Pogo is alive and he has contacted Venture.”

  Tea, Lucas, and Natalia asked different questions with what sounded like one voice. “Where is he?” “How’d he get through the membrane?” “What did he say?”

  Taj motioned Zack and the others to follow him behind the rover. “You need to see this.”

  All five EVA suits had been stored here, three Brahma and two Venture , leaning against the side of the rover like a row of worn-out football players.

  Now there were four. Zack could do the math. “One of the suits is gone. Mine.”

  Taj nodded. “And Downey is obviously wearing a suit that has a radio operating on Venture frequencies. And he is at the floor of Vesuvius Vent.”

  Lucas said, “Now what do we do?”

  Zack tried not to war-game it. You’re a smart guy. A decision like this is like shooting an important basket—think too much and you’ll fuck it up. The loss of his suit didn’t affect the plan in any major way. “Two teams,” he said. “Taj and Tea, back to Brahma and Venture, catch up with Pogo and prepare for the suit transfer. Use Yvonne’s and Dennis’s when you come back.

  “The rest of us are taking the rover to the Temple. We will be at the membrane in two hours, answers or not.”

  He didn’t wait for a response or a demurral and avoided looking into either Megan’s or Tea’s eyes. “Go!”

  Now he had a plan. Of course, there was that old saying: No battle plan survives contact with the enemy. Well, hell.

  Were the Architects enemies? One way to find out.

  Thank you for agreeing to participate in supporting the Destiny-7 mission. Your signature on this document indicates your acceptance of the security requirements
in Tab A. . . .

  COVER NOTE TO HOME TEAM MEMO, FORWARDED IN ITS ENTIRETY TO SKY NEWS BY WADE WILLIAMS, AUGUST 23, 2019

  “Sit down and shut the fuck up.”

  Harley had brought Rachel to the Home Team room for the replay of her conversation with Megan. It had taken a while to get the dozen participants together—several had gone elsewhere to nap or eat.

  By the time Williams, Creel, Valdez, and Matulka had been corralled, Harley had lost patience and ordered Sasha Blaine to start the playback.

  Which allowed Harley to speak sharply to Wade Williams when he was the last stray to bumble in, making the additional mistake of wondering aloud what was going on.

  There was an audible intake of breath around the table at Harley’s words, as if he had risen from his wheelchair and slugged the elderly writer-scientist. For perhaps the first time in his seventy-odd years, Williams chose not to speak and searched for a place at the table. But he was so noisy about it that Harley was forced to say, “All right, Sasha. Hit pause.”

  As, on the screen, Megan Stewart looked out at the group from inside Keanu, Harley addressed Williams. “If you can’t figure out what we’re doing anymore, Dr. Williams, I suggest you ask Mr. Creel to fill you in, quietly. I understand he’s familiar with the task.

  “You were all eager to sign up for this job. Based on the performance of the majority, I’m guessing you were only thinking how neat it would look on your résumés. It obviously wasn’t because you understood the hard work involved. Yes, you may not be eating good, regular meals. Yes, you may be awake for two days straight. And yes, you may have to listen to someone in authority speaking sharply to you.”

  Rachel had giggled. And in the darkness, Sasha Blaine had given Harley a thumbs-up. “I’m not going to apologize for it. We’re doing important work, and the process is likely to be painful. Remember, however, that although Houston may not be a garden spot, it’s a damn sight better than being in Venture, or running around inside Keanu.

  “So here’s what I need, and what I’m going to have: complete cooperation, and zero bitching. Anyone who doesn’t feel he or she can commit to those two rules, there’s the door. Anyone who stays is expected to comply.”

  The room was silent until Williams raised his hand. “May I speak?”

  “Briefly.”

  “I won’t argue your, ah, self-evident points. I would just note that creative work and genuine insights do not occur on schedule or demand.”

  “Noted,” Harley said, “and I’m completely aware of that. I’m only trying to create an environment in which creative work can be accomplished in an optimum manner . . . a flash of genius is no use to us if it doesn’t support the mission.

  “Which is,” he said, feeling the need for a reminder, “to complete the reconnaissance of Keanu and return both crews safely to Earth—”

  The door opened again, and this time Harley’s anger was genuine rather than strategic. “Goddamn it, how many times do I have to—”

  He stopped when he saw that the new arrivals were White House adviser Bynum and Director Jones. Weldon was with them, looking indecently fresh. There were also a couple of the usual trailing horse-holders.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” Jones said, and immediately stood aside. “Mr. Bynum has some important new information for us.” Jones looked as exhausted and grim as Harley had ever seen him.

  Bynum cleared his throat. He did not ask for lights, meaning that his face stayed in darkness, and his words seemed to originate with an invisible speaker.

  Perhaps that was the idea.

  “Obviously this business of seeing humans allegedly being reborn on Keanu represents a . . . paradigm shift.” Harley wondered who had come up with that painfully neutral term. Obviously it was a less emotional choice than mind-fuck. “I’ve just gotten off the phone with the president—”

  “What about the pope?” someone said, to more laughter than was justified. In the dark room, Harley couldn’t identify the speaker.

  “The president,” Bynum said, clearing his throat again, “has officially classed the entities on Keanu as hostile.”

  That pronouncement triggered a wider reaction, typified by one loud, surprisingly female voice, “That’s fucked up.” Sasha Blaine! Harley was starting to like this young woman.

  Harley chose to let the uproar continue for a few extra seconds before saying, “People, remember the rules.”

  He addressed Bynum but caught Weldon’s eye. “Mr. Bynum, what exactly does this mean?”

  “That none of the entities will be allowed to leave Keanu’s interior, much less enter either the Venture or Brahma vehicles.”

  “Which means this isn’t just our president, but the leaders of the Coalition nations.”

  Jones finally spoke up. “They judged the, uh, Revenants to be hostile from the very beginning.”

  Bynum persisted. “This decision also means that returning crews will be quarantined. Preparations are being made for secure containment of the Venture interior, for example. Meanwhile, regarding current mission operations, a recall is being sent to the crew as soon as full radio contact is restored—and deadly force is authorized.”

  “You mean kill them?” This time it was Lily Valdez who spoke.

  But it was Rachel Stewart who stood up, clearly visible in the light from the screen, and a surprising vision to Bynum, Jones, and Weldon. “How can you say that? That’s my mother up there!”

  Bynum sputtered, unable to deal with a question from an unexpected source. Gabriel Jones said, tiredly, “We’re not going to attack these things. We just want our people back, safe and sound. But, Rachel, honey, there’s no way that creature is actually your mother. . . .”

  “She knows things only my mother would know!”

  Harley reached for the girl and gently pulled her close. “It’s okay,” he told her. “We’re going to make the best of this.”

  “What this decision means,” Bynum said, “is that whatever actions you recommend, treat the Keanu situation as a public health threat. Minimize contact. Resist it. Disengage.” He moved slightly, allowing Harley to see his face . . . Bynum seemed to have aged a decade overnight.

  Jones waved Bynum and the others to the door, but Weldon lagged behind. “Harls, a moment.”

  Harley didn’t want to leave Rachel, who was shaking with rage. All he could do was hand her off to Sasha.

  Outside, in the hallway, as Bynum, Jones, and the others kept a polite distance, Harley launched the first salvo. “Didn’t you guys just tell me I was in charge of this?”

  “Not quite,” Weldon said. “You are the head of the committee, meaning that you are the one we turn to for answers. What this order does is shape your guidance to the Home Team. In other words, don’t waste time trying to unscrew the inscrutable. Concentrate on safety and security.”

  “What a lot of fucking bullshit.”

  “You want out?”

  “I don’t quit in the middle of a job.” He knew Weldon wouldn’t have allowed that in any case. “But I want you to know, since none of your other little friends seems to get this, that the smart way to play this is to assume those people up there are who they say they are.”

  “Those people. These Revenants?”

  “Call them whatever you want, Shane. They are living, breathing proof that the universe is a shitload weirder than we know, and there are creatures out there who can operate its machinery better than we can. Which should be no fucking surprise, really. So why do you want to poke them with a stick? It’s only going to backfire.”

  Weldon closed his eyes. Harley knew the man didn’t disagree. But Weldon’s greatest professional strength happened also to be his biggest personal weakness: He did whatever those above him asked, and usually better than they could have imagined. “What do you want me to do, Harls? This is the White House and the Pentagon at work.”

  “Remember one of those little sayings you mentioned when I was an ASCAN?” Weldon, as a senior flight director, ha
d been on the panel that interviewed Harley when he first applied to become an astronaut candidate. “‘ We’re looking for people who understand the importance of making decisions they can’t take back.’” Harley pointed down the hall, at the group waiting impatiently for Weldon.

  “I’m going back to wrangle the geniuses, and I’ll keep your guidance in mind. But when you get back to mission control, don’t let them make a decision we can’t take back.”

  Although communication between Bangalore and Korolev mission control centers and the Brahma spacecraft is temporarily unavailable, all signs indicate that the mission is proceeding as planned. It is believed that Brahma crew member Natalia Yorkina, citizen of Russia, was the first to enter the Keanu interior and has performed the bulk of the scientific survey.

  ITAR-TASS REPORT, 23 AUGUST 2019

  “I’m going out,” Dennis said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “You heard the message.” The cosmonaut was already in motion, heading toward the Venture airlock and his EVA suit.

  Yvonne couldn’t have stopped him. Even in low gravity, the pain and swelling in her leg made movement difficult. “Dennis, the man is dead!”

  “It’s better for all of us that he is met—out there.” He tapped the nearest bulkhead. “Not in here.”

  Yvonne had spent a terrifying half hour. The only thing she could compare it to was being flung across the surface of Keanu yesterday—frightening as that had been, it had lasted only a few minutes.

  Her life on Keanu had now become a long nightmare from which there was no awakening. . . .

  It had begun with a radio call, “Venture, Venture, come in.” At first Yvonne had been happy, believing she was back in direct contact with Zack and Tea.

  But the moment she answered—“This is Venture. Hey, welcome back!”—she heard a voice that gave her chills.

  “This is Downey and I need assistance.”

  She had looked at Dennis at that moment. The Russian cosmonaut’s eyes, normally sleepy-looking even in midday, went wide with alarm. He had torn the headset off her, silencing the exchange. “Don’t answer!”