The largest figure in the cabin was Lucas’s commander, Taj, who had submerged his intense dislike of American arrogance in order to bring most of his crew home safely. Taj would be publicly acclaimed in India; Shiva only knew what kinds of criticism he would face in private, both for the extraordinary losses of spacecraft and Chertok, and for allowing Zack Stewart to make so many vital, and possibly flawed, decisions. Ultimately, though, Taj would be promoted . . . he would go back to the Indian Air Force to command a fighter wing, or he might stay on as a leader in ISRO.
No, all of the others would be happy to reach Earth. Only Lucas Munaretto felt that he had left something undone.
Camilla, of course. He had never been that close to Isobel and her family . . . Camilla’s birth had occurred when Lucas was away training for his space station mission.
He never knew the girl, not really. Was that why he had been so useless to her in her second life? He had held her, yes, comforted her, fine, given her voice with the others, great, told her her mother loved her, all good. But that was all. He had not learned what she saw, what she felt. He had made no move to bring her back, had stood by helpless as she was taken.
And yet he did not know whether she was still alive, or as she had been before. What was he going to tell Sepal?
Then there was Zack Stewart . . . abandoned on an alien world, left to die.
No, the only failure was the World’s Greatest Astronaut. He should have stayed.
He knew he would carry that guilt all his days.
It is not more surprising to be born twice than once; everything in nature is resurrection.
VOLTAIRE
Zack woke with Camilla curled into a crouch and facing him. He had had terrible dreams of being chased, and then being shaken, like sleeping through a thunderstorm.
The light streaming into the rear of the Temple looked different . . . brighter somehow.
Leaving Camilla to her sleep, Zack walked outside.
No wonder he had dreamed of a storm. The environment had obviously gone through a radical change in the past few hours, from the vaguely Amazonian jungle to what could now pass for North American forest.
There was no more rain, no wind blowing. The glowworms were back in the sky, a network of bright yellow-white light.
But something was happening in the chamber. Zack could hear . . . voices?
He ran around to the front of the Temple. Coming toward him was a ragged stream of people! He had never been good with crowds and numbers, but there were hundreds of them. Many appeared to be from India; the men were all wearing that subcontinent’s uniform of white shirt and trousers, the women and children in colorful garb.
There were also several dozen who could only be from America. All looked stunned and disoriented . . . “Hey!” he shouted, no doubt terrifying those at the head of the column.
He made it worse by running directly at them. Those in front parted to let him pass. “Hello! I’m Zack Stewart! Do any of you speak English? Where are you from? Say something!”
There was a moment of confused silence. Then an Indian male in his late fifties stepped forward, pushing his glasses back on his nose. “Yes, hello, Commander Stewart. I am Vikram Nayar, and I worked at Bangalore mission control. Am I to understand that we are now inside Keanu?”
“Yes! You are! But how did you get here? How did so many of you get here . . . ?” He remembered Megan’s stories of the Architects and a “recruitment,” but hadn’t expected it to happen at all, much less this soon.
Any possible answer was lost in the growing clamor, as those slightly farther away began repeating Zack’s words, in several languages, and others shouted more questions.
“Hey, everybody, coming through!”
A handsome if incredibly disheveled man in a lopsided wheelchair was being pushed through the crowd by a man wearing NASA badges. “Harley Drake,” Zack said.
“Zachary Stewart, I presume?” He looked at Zack and, with some effort, held out his hand. “Nice place you’ve got here.”
“It’s a little underfurnished.” It was a relief to just banter with Harley, but only for a moment. “Okay, what the hell happened?”
“The short version is, Keanu decided to scoop up some human talent. We were like fish in a goldfish bowl for the past twenty hours . . .”
“Just floating—?”
Then Zack saw another familiar face.... Rachel. “Daddy?”
His daughter leaped from the crowd into his arms. “Oh my God,” she said. “I knew it, I knew you’d be here! That’s why I went to the site! No one believed me, but—”
Zack tried to shush her, with no success . . . and no sense of failure. He was happy just to hold her.
But then Rachel said, “Where’s Mom?”
All Zack could do was shake his head.
“She’s gone, isn’t she?”
Zack could still find no words.
Rachel took a big breath, one that usually presaged a breakdown. But this was an older, stronger girl. “I knew it. I knew she wouldn’t last. . . .” Then her resolve failed, and she became a sobbing child again.
Who could blame her?
Harley gently separated them. “We’ve all got a lot to catch up on, but I’m guessing food, water, and shelter are the first priority.”
“Not to mention figuring out just why the hell we were brought here.” The voice belonged to Shane Weldon, who raised his hand. “Hey, Zack.”
Well, if Harley had wound up here along with flight controllers from Bangalore, why not Weldon? “Welcome, everybody!” Zack said. He directed them to the Temple, and the “orchard” beyond. There were several minutes’ worth of discussion about scouting parties, rationing, water.
While part of his mind worked with relative efficiency on these matters, Zack tried to process his new reality. He would never see Earth again. He had found and lost Megan, likely forever. He would spend his remaining days, months, years, engaged in a brutal quest for simple survival. No more television, good food, sports, cars, science, medicine.
Only what Keanu offered, what the Architects had arranged.
It was like being dead without actually dying.
Finally he was able to turn to Harley, saying, “I just hope someone here speaks Portuguese.”
“I have no idea what that means, but I’m sure you’ll explain it.” Harley turned to a tall, red-haired young woman while Zack took Rachel’s hand, all of them watching the crowd march on the Temple.
They’re like new souls entering heaven, Zack thought. Or at least its shadow.
We think we’re beyond the orbit of Jupiter, but no one knows for sure. There’s been no communication with Houston or Earth of any kind for the past six months.
We’re just beginning to explore Keanu. This place is big and strange.
I miss my friends.
RACHEL STEWART TEXT, TYPED INTO A SLATE THAT ONE OF THE
CHILDREN FROM BANGALORE CARRIED. MESSAGE RETRIEVED FROM
ENHANCED CASSINI SPACE PROBE DATA.
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Marina Black, Dan Aloni, Matthew Snyder,
Simon Lipskar, Glynis Lynn, Izzy Hyams, Nellie Stevens.
D.S.G.
Thanks as well to Cynthia Cassutt, Andre Bormanis,
Greg Bear, and Ginjer Buchanan.
M.C.
Don’t miss the next book by
David S. Goyer and Michael Cassutt
HEAVEN’S WAR
Available in July 2012 from Ace Books!