“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.

Half the screen still showed the interior of Bangalore mission control, with most of the consoles deserted. There was a cluster of operators, all in white shirts, around what Harley took to be the lead director’s station.

A heavyset, white-haired man in glasses sat at that console, obviously speaking to someone, likely Taj and his surviving crew, perhaps.

“One minute,” the TV news voice said. “Oh my!”

The sky brightened. The camera tilted up, revealing what looked to Harley like a needle of fire from the sky. Just a trail on your retina—

The shot from Bangalore mission control stopped.

The wider, distant image had bloomed white—brightness overwhelming its processor.

“Bangalore is dark,” Travis Buell said, unnecessarily.

But then the hilltop image returned . . . to Harley’s relief, it didn’t show a molten crater a kilometer across, just a plume of smoke where the antenna farm—and Bangalore mission control—used to be.

“Is that a mushroom cloud?” a controller said, voice quavering.

“Yes, but not nuke-sized,” Harley said. “Any release of heat and energy will create a cloud like that. Don’t assume it’s a nuke!”

“Which gets to my question,” Weldon said. “What was that thing?” He turned to Harley. “A meteorite would have done a lot more damage, right?”

“Much more.”

“So what’s the deal? It’s kind of important to all of us.”

“Did you notice how long that terminal phase was?”

“What do you mean?”

“I think it was slowing.”

“All I saw was a streak of light,” Weldon said, waving a hand and offering those nearby a chance to contradict him. “It looked just like a warhead reentering over Kwaj.” Weldon had done a tour on Kwajalein Atoll as an Army officer, pre-NASA. It was where American nuclear missiles were aimed during tests.

“I’ve seen those, too,” Harley said. “And this was different.”