Tess Gerritsen: Gravity

"Apogee is testing a new reusable launch vehicle. They sent it up at oh-seven-ten yesterday morning. They informed the FAA as required, but didn't let us know until after the fact. This billed as an orbital trial of their new RLV. A launch into low orbit, a flyby past ISS, and then reentry. We've been tracking for a day and a half now, and based on its most recent on-orbit burns, it seems possible they'll approach the station closer than they told us."

"How close will they get?"

"It depends on their next burn maneuvers."

"Close enough for an actual rendezvous? A docking?"

"That's not possible with this particular vehicle. We have all the specs on their orbiter. It's just a prototype, with no orbital system. The best it can do is a flyby and a wave."

"A wave?" Profitt suddenly sat up in bed. "Are you telling me this RLV is manned?"

"No, sir. That was just a figure of speech. Apogee says the vehicle is unmanned. There are animals aboard, including a spider monkey, but no pilot. And we've picked up no voice communication between ground and vehicle." A spider monkey, thought Profitt. Its presence aboard the spacecraft meant they could not rule out the possibility of a human pilot. The craft's environmental monitors, the carbon dioxide levels, would not distinguish between animal or human life. He uneasy about the lack of information. He was even more uneasy about the timing of the launch. j L "I'm not certain there's any cause for alarm," said Gregorian.

"But you did ask to be notified of any orbital approaches."

"Tell me more about Apogee," Profitt cut in.

Gregorian gave a dismissive snort. "A minor player. Twelvemen engineering firm out in Nevada. They haven't had a lot of luck. A year and a half ago, they blew up their first prototype twenty seconds into launch, and all their early investors vanished. I'm surprised they're still hanging in there. Their booster's based on Russian technology. The orbiter's a simple, bare-bones system a parachute reentry. Payload capacity's only three hundred kilos, plus a pilot."

"I'll fly out to Nevada at once. We need to get a better handle on this."

"Sir, we can monitor every move this vehicle makes. Right now, we have no reason to take action. They're just a small firm, to impress some new investors. If the orbiter presents any real concern, we can have our ground-based interceptors standing by to bring that bird down." General Gregorian was probably right. The fact that some hotshot ground jockeys decided to launch a monkey into space did not constitute a national emergency. He had to move very carefully on this. The death of Luther Ames had unleashed a national uproar of protest. This was not the time to shoot down another spacecraft-one built by a private American firm, no less.

But so much about this Apogee launch disturbed him. The timing.

The rendezvous maneuvers. The fact they could neither confirm nor rule out a human presence.

What else could it be but a rescue mission?

He said, "I'm leaving for Nevada."

Forty-five minutes later, Profitt was in his car and pulling out the driveway. The night was clear, the stars like bright blue velvet. There were perhaps one hundred billion galaxies in universe, and each galaxy contained a hundred billion stars. How many of those stars had planets, and how many planets had life?

Panspermia, the theory that life exists and is distributed throughout the universe, was no longer merely speculation. The belief that there was life only on this pale blue dot, in this insignificant system, now seemed as absurd as the ancients' naive belief that sun and the stars revolved around the earth. The only strict requirements for life were the presence of carbon-based compounds some form of water. Both were in abundance throughout the universe. Which meant that life, however primitive, could be abundant as well, and that interstellar dust might be seeded with bacteria or spores. From such primitive creatures did all other spring.

And what happened if such lifeforms, arriving as bits of cosmic dust, seeded a planet where life already existed?

This was Jared Profitt's nightmare.

Once, he had thought the stars beautiful. Once he had viewed the universe with awe and wonder. Now, when he looked at the night sky, he saw infinite menace. He saw biological Armageddon.

Their conqueror, descending from the heavens.

It was time to die.

Emma's hands were shaking, and the pounding in her head was so severe she had to grit her teeth just to keep herself from passing out. The last morphine shot had barely taken the edge off the pain, and she was so dazed by the narcotic she could barely focus on the computer screen. On the keyboard beneath her fingers. She paused to still the trembling of her hands. Then she began to type. Personal E-mail to, Jack McCallumIf I could have one wish. it would be to hear your voice again. I don't know where you are, or why I can't speak to you. I only know that this thing inside me is about to claim victory. Even as I write this, I can feel it gaining ground. I can feel my strength retreating. I have fought it as long as I can. I'm tired now. I'm ready to sleep.While I can type these words, this is what I most want to say. I love you. I have never stopped loving you. They say that no one who stands poised at the doorway to eternity steps through it with a lie on his lips. They say that deathbed confessions are always to be believed. And this is mine.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could not type any more.

She signed off and pressed "send." In the medical kit, she found the supply of Valium. There were two tablets left. She swallowed them both with a gulp of water. edges of her vision were starting to black out. Her legs felt numb, as though they were not part of her body at all, but the limbs of stranger.

There was not much time left.

She did not have the strength to don an EVA suit. And what did it matter now where she died? The station was already diseased.

Her corpse would be just one more item to clean up.

She made her last passage into the dark side of the station.

The cupola was where she wanted to spend her final waking moments.

Floating in darkness, gazing down at the beauty of the earth. From the windows, she could see the blue-gray arc of the Caspian Sea. Clouds swirling over Kazakhstan and snow in the Himalayas. Down there are billions of people going about their lives, thought. And here am I, a dying speck in the heavens.

"Emma?" It was Todd Cutler, speaking gently over her comm unit. "How are you doing?"

"Not ... feeling so good," she murmured. "Pain. vision's starting to fade. I took the last Valium."

"You have to hang in there, Emma. Listen to me. Don't give up. Not yet."

"I've already lost the battle, Todd."

"No, you haven't! You have to have faith -- "

"In miracles?" She gave a soft laugh. "The real miracle is that am up here at all. That I'm seeing the earth from a place so few people have ever been ... " She touched the window of the and felt the warmth of the sun through the glass. "I only wish I could speak to Jack."

"We're trying to make that happen."

"Where is he? Why can't you reach him?"

"He's working like crazy to get you home. You have to believe that."

She blinked away tears. I do.

"Is there anything we can do for you?" said Todd. "Any one else you want to speak to?"

"No." She sighed. "Only Jack." There was a silence.

"I think -- I think what I want most now -- "

"Yes?" said Todd.

"I'd like to go to sleep. That's all. Just go to sleep." He cleared his throat. "Of course. You get some rest. I'll be here if you need me." He closed with a soft, "Good night, ISS. Good night, Houston, she thought. And she took off her headset and let it float away into the gloom.

The convoy of black sedans braked to a stop in front of Apogee Engineering, tires churning up a massive cloud of dust. Jared Profitt stepped out of the lead car and gazed up at the building. looked like an airplane hangar, windowless and bleakly industrial, its rooftop studded with satellite equipment.