THE STAIRS CREAKED as James descended. The crates were heavy, and he was panting by the time he reached the cool, damp cellar. He placed the first crate on the work island and began unpacking it. It held food and water
—enough for a few days—which was how long he thought the task would take.
In truth, he was unsure whether the process would even work. He had never attempted it. But three days later, his efforts had borne fruit.
He sat on a stool, performing one last inspection of his work. It was as good as it was going to get. Still, he was nervous as he spoke the commands.
“Wake up. Bring yourself online, identify, and voice-transmit status.” Oscar opened his eyes.
“My name is Oscar. Backup restore completed successfully.” “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Going to NASA headquarters. Being backed up before the Spartan launch.” Oscar turned to James. “What happened, sir?”
“You saved us, Oscar. And we won. Welcome back.”
 |
WHEN JAMES ENTERED Lawrence Fowler’s office at NASA headquarters, he instantly knew something was wrong.
“What is it?”
“The analysis of the computer core from Sparta One is complete.”
“And?”
“The communication array did transmit a message.”
“A comm patch to the attack drones? Trying to cancel their strike?” “No.” Fowler looked away. “It was a conventional broadcast.”
“Destination?”
“Out of the system. It’s encrypted. We’ll probably never know what it was, but one thing is certain: it was directed at someone far, far away.”
“The grid.” “Probably.”
“They’ll come for us again. The harvester said they would. And that the next harvester would be more powerful.”
Fowler stood and walked around his desk. “Maybe. But that’s a problem for another day. Right now, we’re safe and warm. And we ought to enjoy it while it lasts.”
 |
THE HOUSE WAS FULL. Emma liked it that way.
Since returning to the three-bedroom habitat that she had shared with James and Oscar on the surface, she’d spent every waking hour decorating it. James had insisted that they bring the exercise equipment back. He wouldn’t budge on that point, and she had learned when to give in to his demands.
He had spent most of his time at NASA, working on a plan he called Solar Shield. He had left for only a week to, in his words, “see an old friend.” He was back now, but he had returned home from a meeting at NASA in a funk, as if a dark cloud was hovering over him.
He seemed more cheerful now, in the company of their family and friends. Abby and Alex were there, as were Jack and Sarah. Madison and David had come over with Jake and Adeline. The crew of the Pax were all in attendance too. Harry Andrews was manning the grill in the back yard, telling jokes and stories from their time on the Pax. Emma had heard all the stories a couple of times now, and they seemed to get a little more outlandish each time. In a few years, no doubt, the tale would be so large it would be more like a Star Wars sequel.
The sun was shining, and the snow was completely gone now. There was talk of people returning to North America and Europe and China. The world seemed new again. Anything seemed possible.
She was in the kitchen, prepping the salad, when James leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right back. It’s a surprise.”
Abby, sitting at the kitchen table, raised her eyebrows.
Emma shrugged. “Knowing James, a surprise can literally, literally
mean anything.”
Still, her jaw dropped when James reentered the house with Oscar following close behind.
The entire room fell silent. Emma realized that the crew of the Pax had never met Oscar. And she now knew what Oscar might represent to Alex.
Abby turned her gaze to her husband, who was holding a beer, frozen, paused in mid-sentence.
Alex glanced from James to Oscar, then he walked over to the two and held out his hand.
“Welcome home, Oscar. James told me what you did. Good job. I’m glad you were there.”
 |
WHEN EVERYONE HAD LEFT, James insisted on cleaning the house himself so Emma could rest. Oscar joined him.
When they were done, James entered the bedroom he shared with Emma, who was reading a novel on a tablet.
He plopped down on the bed and began pulling off his shoes. “Any good?”
“Just got to the good part.”
After a pause, she added, “I was really happy about what Alex said to Oscar.”
“Me too. We’re going to need a lot more like him.”
She sat up and set the tablet aside. “What do you mean?” He looked back, seeming to remember she was there.
“Oh, nothing. Just saying, there’s a lot of work to do.”
She nodded, still feeling as though there was more to his words.
She was almost finished with the book when a wave of nausea swept over her. It was worse than anything she’d ever felt in space. It seemed to emanate from deep inside her and grip her entire body.
She stumbled on shaking legs to the bathroom, and just had enough time to close the door before the contents of her stomach emptied in the toilet.
James was up and at the door in seconds. “You okay?”
She tried to clear the wretched contents from her mouth. “Yeah,” she said between breaths, “I’m fine.”
“You think it was some food? Burgers were undercooked?” “No. The food was fine. I think.”
“The salad?”
“James, I’m fine.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
She stayed by the toilet until she felt well enough to stand again. Then she reached into the drawer of her vanity and took out the home health analyzer. She touched it to her fingertip, and it extracted a drop of blood.
She sat on the toilet, staring at the display as it ran a series of tests.
When the results popped onto the screen, she scrolled by the blood chemistry and routine tests down to the infectious diseases panel, which read:
No pathogens detected.
She flipped back to the routine health checks. Cholesterol and white count were normal.
Her eyes grew wide when she read the last line:
Pregnant: Yes
