“Oh, thank God.” The relief in Wells’s voice was palpable, even across the millions of miles. “Any chance I can get a landing trajectory from you guys?” She laughed, the sound faint and staticky. “I’d like to come home now.”
Something was wrong, something in the shaky tone of Wells’s laugh, in the way she said “I” instead of “we.”
“Colonel Wells, this is Cal Morganson. I don’t think we’ve ever met, but I work with Aaron Llewellyn. Who’s with you up there? Status on the rest of the crew?”
“It’s just me. They’re… they’re not here.”
Before keying the mic again, Morganson glanced at Kenny. “Are you recording this?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cal turned back to the mic, leaning into it as if he could get closer to her that way, could reach through space and pull the answers out of her. “What happened, Catherine? How long have you been alone?”
There was a long pause before she answered, long enough that Cal wondered if they’d lost contact. “Almost six years. I think.”
I think? What the hell were they dealing with here? “We lost your life-support signals about six years ago.” He drew a breath and said, “Colonel Wells… you and your crew have been presumed dead for those six years. Are you telling me the other five are dead?”
“I don’t know. I… I think so. It’s just me. No one else is on board.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” This might be Cal’s only chance to get unfiltered, raw answers. The more time Wells spent talking to other people, the more her story might shift and change. Right now, her relief to be talking to anyone would be the only thought on her mind.
“I don’t remember.” Her voice turned plaintive. “When can I talk to Aimee and David? I want to talk to my daughter.”
Kenny shut off the mic. “Sir, she’s been isolated for six years. We don’t know what her mental state is. She sounds unstable.”
“I know the effects of long-term isolation, Mr. Turner.” He didn’t bother to keep the chill out of his voice as he turned to Kenny. “By now, Wells has probably experienced hallucinations and breaks with reality.”
“Then why ask her anything?”
“Whatever she tells me right now might not be real, but it won’t be untrue. Don’t you think it’s odd that she doesn’t remember anything?”
“Are you saying you think she’s lying?”
Cal loved the astronauts he worked with like family, but he wasn’t blind to their faults—they were family he understood all too well. “I’m saying, Mr. Turner, I want to get as much information as I can, as quickly as I can.” He turned the mic back on. “We’ll have someone contact your family, Colonel Wells. I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to hear the news. In the meantime, can you tell me what you do remember?” To Kenny, he said, “Let me know when command contacts her family.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cal watched the radar displaying the ship’s continued path home. What happened to you out there? And how do we keep it from happening again? Catherine—unstable or not—had those answers, he knew she did. He just had to dig until he found them.
Aimee Wells jogged down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. Her dad was at the stove and Maggie sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, reading something on her tablet.
“Morning, Aims,” her dad said. “How do you want your eggs?”
She wrinkled her nose. “On someone else’s plate. I’ll just grab some cereal. Morning, Maggie,” she said as she went to grab a bowl.
Aimee was glad when Maggie and her dad finally stopped pretending that Maggie wasn’t basically living with them. She’d been about to tell them to stop when they finally sat her down and told her what she already knew, that they loved each other and were talking about getting married someday. Maggie was great, and she made Dad happy. They’d been practically a family for years now anyway. Maggie wound up helping Aimee with her homework more than her dad did, especially when Aimee got into advanced math. Her dad had a natural, instinctive understanding of calculus—which meant he had no idea how to help Aimee understand it. Thankfully, Maggie had struggled with it a little more, so she knew how to help.
“Morning,” Maggie said, looking up with a distracted smile. “Sorry, getting ready for an early meeting.”
“Who is it this time?” Aimee poured some granola into her bowl then mixed in some cornflakes. It was one of the many things she’d picked up from her mom. Memory was weird. Aimee could remember her mom’s habit of mixing cereals with crystal clarity, but she couldn’t remember the last words her mom said to her, or how her laugh had sounded. It had taken her a long time to stop feeling guilty about that. She smiled at Maggie. “Eccentric billionaire who wants to be buried in space, or rogue start-up that says they can colonize Mars?”
“Neither, thankfully.” Maggie and Aimee’s dad both worked for NASA just as her mom had, David as an engineer, Maggie as a consultant.
“That’s—” Before David could finish his statement, the house phone rang. “—not a cell phone,” he finished, and got up to answer it. “Hello? Yes, speaking.” He paused. “Director Lindholm, I—”
Aimee and Maggie exchanged glances. Paul Lindholm was the director of NASA. Why would he be calling their house before eight in the morning?
“What’s going on?” David asked. He met Aimee’s eyes as the voice continued on the other end. “I—” The color drained out of her dad’s face. “Are you sure? How is that—?” He leaned heavily against the counter behind him. “Yes. That’s… that’s wonderful.” It didn’t sound wonderful, whatever it was. “No, I’m just surprised. After all this time… yes. Thank you. Thank you so much. We’ll come down there this morning.”
He hung up the phone and looked at Maggie and Aimee, reaching out for both of them.
“Dad? What’s wrong?”
“That was… Aims… I don’t know how to say this…” His gaze moved to take in Maggie as well. “Sagittarius came through the wormhole last night. Catherine… your mom’s alive, Aimee. Your mom’s alive.”
Maggie’s face went pale. David hesitated for a second, then broke into a smile and pulled them both in for a hug.
Aimee didn’t understand what he was saying at first. Losing her mom had been the worst time of her life, but it was over. It had been years. How could she— The full meaning of her dad’s words hit Aimee, and she grabbed him tight. “Mom’s coming home?”
“She’s coming home.”
1
ALMOST HOME.
That was the thought that kept going through Catherine’s mind as she showered and dressed for her last day in isolation. The room was small, ten by ten, with a twin bed, a desk, and a pocket-size bathroom. Once she’d made contact with Houston, the ship had felt more confining than ever, and the three months it had taken her to reach Earth interminable. She hadn’t thought anything could be more frustrating, but these past three weeks in isolation had almost been worse. She was so close to her real life, to the outside world, yet she was still trapped. Knowing it was just feet beyond her reach made the wait all the more maddening.
But one more briefing, and then she’d be able to see Aimee and David for real, without layers of heavy glass between them. She could finally hold them both.
Now she knew: nine years. Nine years had passed since the launch, and Aimee was nearly eighteen, almost all grown up and looking so much like Catherine’s mother, Nora, that Catherine had choked up on seeing her. Nora was still alive, now in hospice care near Catherine’s sister in Chicago. A decade after Nora’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, that was still better than Catherine had hoped to find.