So he gave mission control his short version. “Bottom line, I’m stymied.”
“Wait one,” the capcom said. The persistent and by now infuriating lag made that statement unnecessary.
Then Harley Drake came on the line. “Yo, Zack . . . I’m patched in. Rachel is with me, by the way.”
“Say hello for me.”
“She’s listening. But since time is short, we want to get you this idea: Home Team thinks the markers are not only antennae of some sort, scooping up data . . . but might also serve as locks for the doors.”
“I kinda figured that out for myself. The locked part, anyway.”
More lag time. Zack realized he was hungry and out of breath. Neither one was a good sign.
“We’re going to feed you a signal that we want you to play into the nearest marker. Our hope is it will start the unlocking process.”
For the first time in days, Zack got furious. “When did we start making decisions based on hope?”
Now the lag stretched. Zack was immediately sorry—the whole mission plan had vanished soon after the landing on Keanu. He was in a bad way, risking his life on an alien environment . . . but at least he had the advantage of making his own decisions and living with the direct consequences.
The team in mission control felt just as responsible but operated in the dark. It was certain to drive them crazy. “Hey, guys, belay that last remark,” he said.
Naturally Harley talked over him. “—Ignoring that, because I know you’d want it that way. We all want the same thing, Zack, which, right now, is for you to get through that door. So stand by for this signal. We will play it, you will hear it just as you’re hearing my voice . . . ideally the marker will pick it up.”
“What does it say?” He owed himself that much information.
“It won’t be open sesame, it will repeat what the original markers transmitted . . . with one significant change.”
“I hope that change doesn’t say, ‘Shoot this guy.’”
He waited. Then he heard Harley say, “Well, my friend, that’s a chance you’ll just have to take. It will take about a minute to boot this up. In the meantime, let’s talk about step two. You get out of the Temple and return to the surface.”
Zack noted that Harley didn’t mention with Megan. Or what the plan would be if the unlock signal failed. “Tell me straight, Harls: Do I really have a chance to make it to Destiny?”
Zack waited, knowing that no matter what Harley said, Zack’s fate was controlled by the state of his EVA suit, still lying at the former campsite. Would it still hold pressure? Did he have enough oxygen in his tanks to get back to the surface?
“We don’t have to worry about launch windows. Once we set Destiny down, we only need to get the crew off the surface. Obviously time is everyone’s enemy here. Tea could drive the rover back to the floor of the vent and pick you up.”
Zack knew immediately that that wouldn’t happen. “Come on, Harls. An EVA by Tea and rover is going to take hours and put four lives further at risk.” Optimistic projects were nice, but what he needed now was cold-eyed realism. “Have you talked to her about this?”
More lag. Then, “Not yet.”
Zack wondered about that—he was afraid Tea was actually able to hear this conversation. But, since he was using a Brahma channel routed in some cockamamie way to Houston, maybe not.
“Okay, we’re ready. The next voice you hear won’t be a voice . . . we may go LOS right after this, but we will be listening and hoping. Hang in there, buddy.”
Zack waited. Keanu itself was still vibrating . . . it reminded Zack of some gigantic beast shuddering in a troubled sleep.
Then the tones began. The sound was a mash-up, what might result from a mixture of whale song, old Internet dial-up, and clicks. It was eerie enough to make Zack feel more uncomfortable—quite a trick, given his circumstances.
He could only wait. And wonder what he would do if it failed. Give up? Try the damaged EVA suit? Say good-bye to any chance of seeing Megan or the others again?
He realized that at least three minutes had passed. No further word from Harley . . . no apparent unlocking signal.
“Hey, Harls . . . Zack transmitting in the clear for Rachel. If you’re wondering why your father is doing what he’s doing . . . it’s because I’ve spent my life trying to find answers to big questions, like, ‘What are those lights in the night sky?’ It was why I became an astronomer and why I wanted to be an astronaut.
“So here I am, one of the first humans ever to see and experience life beyond Earth. I can’t just walk away from it. The worst thing would be to try to come home now, and die on the way.
“And I really can’t leave your mom.
“Just so you know, if the tones don’t work . . . I’m going to break a window. If I can find a window.”
Still no word from Houston. And no response from the Temple. It was if the last ten minutes had not happened. He was right back where he started.
In that case, before looking for this non-existent and, if existent, difficult-to-reach window . . . at least try the door.
He pushed. Well, that was in the lower part of the center. How about in the right corner?
Pushed again. Nothing. No sign of movement at all.
Then the opposite corner, another push.
Fuck it! Nothing!
He stood back, hands on hips, tears of rage brimming in his eyes.
And the goddamn bottom of the Temple door rose up like his father’s garage—
Adding to the present state of crisis at Bangalore center—where there has been no contact with Brahma for several hours—Mr. V. Nayar of ISRO announced just moments ago that a pair of objects ejected by Keanu are on a trajectory that might result in impact on Earth. The nature of the objects is entirely unknown. There is no immediate danger; however, residents of the Bangalore area, including all of Karnataka District, are advised to take shelter immediately.
NEWS FLASH, TIMES OF INDIA , 24 AUGUST 2019
“Bangalore is in the batter’s box.”
“Shouldn’t that be the strike zone?”
“Don’t get cute. We’re next.”
“How is my attitude going to change anything? If we all die, you can still go to heaven no matter what I do.”
After loss of signal with Zack Stewart, Harley had returned to mission control, to hold Rachel’s hand, if nothing else. (She had heard the air-to-ground exchange between Houston and her father. There had not been pictures.)
She had said, “Will you stop worrying about me?” Which only made Harley worry more.
But there was no additional word from Keanu . . . Tea, Taj, and the others on the surface were still waiting for Destiny.
Everyone went on hold because Bangalore was in the kill zone.
Someone had punched up a news feed—Sky TV out of England—that showed the flat landscape and multicolored structures of Bangalore’s southern suburbs in the early light of dawn. “What time is it there?” Harley asked.
“Six A.M. tomorrow,” Rachel said. She was making good use of her presence here, listening and learning. For whatever ultimate good that might do her.
“Have they said where mission control is?” Harley knew the Indian center was in the suburbs but had no idea how close it was to the camera, which seemed to be on a hill overlooking the city. The glass and silver towers of Bangalore’s financial core lay in the foreground.
“It’s where that dome is.” Actually, there was a collection of radomes—plastic bubbles providing protection for radar dishes—on the lower left of the screen, what appeared to be some kilometers distant.
“Too bad they can’t get closer,” Harley said.
“I wouldn’t,” she said.