Behind Zeds, Yahvi could see a pool of some kind—Sentries had dozens of words for water or aquatic environments in their own language, but fell back on “sea” for everything from bathtub to ocean when using English—as well as a large mat that was probably intended as a bed, and a table on which several large bowls rested. They seemed to be half-filled with some kind of bubbling stew.
“How are the schemes progressing?” Zeds said, a sentence that caused Rachel to wince and Pav to laugh a little too loudly. “Our planned recovery is going quite well, thanks to my father and his team.”
Yahvi wanted to laugh, too. What was the big deal? Zeds was fluent in English! So what if he occasionally used the wrong word!
Sometimes her parents acted crazy.
After that odd exchange, little was said. Rachel and Pav seemed relieved when Xavier arrived. “Sanjay,” he said, in his typically abrupt manner.
“What about him?” Pav said. Yahvi knew that Rachel was not a fan of Xavier’s and avoided speaking to him whenever possible.
“Still alive, out of surgery, critical condition.”
“How did you find out?”
“Kaushal.” Xavier smiled with tiny teeth that Yahvi found creepy. “I had to encourage him a little, to share.”
As they left Zeds, hoping to see Sanjay, Yahvi turned to Rachel. “What was the big deal with what Zeds was saying? You guys act like he was making trouble!”
Rachel grabbed Yahvi’s arm so firmly it hurt. “We discussed this, Yahvi. We have to operate as if we are being watched and listened to everywhere!”
Yahvi jerked her arm away. “I know that! So what? We don’t have anything to hide! We just want to get Sanjay well and get out of here, right?”
She glanced at her father—he was usually her supporter in daughter-mother disputes. But not this time; Pav Radhakrishnan was making a supreme effort to discuss something with Xavier.
The argument lasted only a moment; all their best arguments did. Yahvi simply glared, partly out of shame, partly because she had nothing she could say.
Rachel, as always, played the magnanimous victor. “I’m sorry. It’s unfair to put this pressure on you. Try to relax.” She smiled. “And I’ll try, too.”
So things were okay, but only for a moment. Yes, Yahvi was on Earth. Big deal. She missed her friends. She missed being around anyone her own age.
She wanted out of this stupid hospital.
ACTION REPORT
INS Mysore, 13 April 2040
At approximately 0024 hours IST while on station lat 7°7"5' N, long 78°0"2' E, launch of an unidentified anti-aircraft missile observed from location 11 km WSW.
Launcher appeared to be a submarine, likely U.S. in origin, operating outside territorial waters.
Target was Object 2040-A, as designated by ISTRAC, which was descending from infinite altitude (orbital reentry velocity and trajectory) en route toward Bangalore.
The warhead detonated and Object 2040-A appeared to sustain damage, but insufficient to cause loss of control.
No communication was attempted. The submarine evaded surveillance and its current location is unknown.
LT. CDR. ASHOK SINGH, DIRECTOR OF OPERATIONS
RACHEL
Rachel’s long-awaited contact with Keanu began with a sharp pain in her head, a throbbing that began above her right eye and spread across her ear and down her neck. It was so sharp and debilitating that it distorted the vision in her right eye and forced her to lean against the nearest wall.
The only good thing about the timing was that she was alone, on her way back from a “tour” of the Adventure crew’s “living quarters” inside the Yelahanka base hospital. Pav had let her handle this issue—“I can sleep on a floor, you remember”—and so he had gone with his father to see about the growing list of other problems the new arrivals faced.
Yahvi had lingered in the conference room to play with her new Beta toy, to Rachel’s relief. Xavier had decided to check on Zeds.
Somewhere within the pain was a voice: “Keanu calling, in the blind. Rachel, can you hear me? Pav, anyone? Keanu calling. . . .”
“I’m Rachel,” she said, trying not to speak aloud. The implant system worked best when the user subvocalized, using facial, dental, and throat muscles to do everything but say the words. Tests had shown that Rachel could make words clear even if the pronunciation varied, so she tried to keep her messages brief and therefore clearer.
It was as if she heard a rustle of leaves in her head, which surprised her until she realized it had to be applause or cheers from Keanu “mission control,” which she knew to be a makeshift collection of chairs and screens on the third floor of the Temple. She had recognized Harley Drake’s voice—that of the confident pilot-astronaut she had known most of her life—but wondered who else was with him. Sasha Blaine, surely. But she could think of no one else, and it bothered her—a sign that she was far away from her home.
“You made it,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, but felt she had to add quickly, “Sanjay is hurt.”
“Say again?”
She groaned. The pain was constant, and worse yet, now she seemed to be smelling burned rubber. Since there was no rubber burning in the empty hospital hallway, she had to conclude it was her brain on fire—or her olfactory nerve.
As succinctly as she could, she told Harley about the missile attack and the crash landing, Sanjay’s injuries and current status. “What does this mean for your, ah, mission plan?” Bless him, Harley could not be anything but an astronaut. Mission over everything, even human relationships. She imagined Sasha Blaine shooting Harley a look of annoyance.
“We can’t go anywhere until we know more,” Rachel said, breaking the message into chunks of two and three words. “We’re only on day one, so we haven’t been delayed.”
“I don’t need to remind you about the need for urgency,” Harley said.
“You do not,” she said.
“Apologies,” he said. “It’s tough being so far from the action. Glad you made it. What’s it like being home?”
Rachel understood Harley’s reason for asking the question—it was likely the one thing everyone with him wanted to know, beyond the simple fact of the crew’s safety. But she didn’t want to have this discussion right now. She felt terrible, and she felt exposed . . . as if the wrong word could ruin everything. “We haven’t been outside much,” she said. “Confined to a hospital since landing.”
For a moment, the pain went away. Then it was back, as Harley said, “Losing the link. Glad to know you made it. Looking forward to more updates when you have them. Everyone here says, ‘Good work!’”
Then, mercifully, it was over.
Rachel blinked, then ran her hand through her hair, rubbing the right side of her head. It felt as though she had a fever.
She wondered if Pav and Xavier had had a link, and if they had been similarly affected.
God, what if this happened to Sanjay? What if the transmitter in his head had been discovered or removed by the Indian doctors?
The technology wasn’t new—one of the space communications specialists among the HBs knew about similar implants from 2019, and Zhao, to the extent that he shared anything, seemed to know a lot about their design and uses. And surely the Indian welcoming committee would expect Adventure’s travelers to have some means of staying in touch with Keanu.
This was not a setback—yet. But it reminded Rachel of the risks she and her family had accepted, and the stakes.
It was Melani Remilla who showed Rachel the living quarters. “We set aside four rooms in this wing,” the ISRO director said. “All on the same floor, all relatively private.”