“From the very beginning, Gordon, there was one thing I couldn’t figure out, Why was amphibian DNA on that genome? How did Chimera get frog genes? Roman thinks it was an accident. A mistake that happened in Koenig’s lab.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t think it was an accident at all. I think Koenig put those there. As a fail-safe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Maybe she was thinking ahead, to the possible dangers. To what could happen if this new life-form changed while in microgravity. If Chimera ever got out of control, she wanted a way to it. A back door through its defenses. And this is it.”

“A frog virus.”

“It will work, Gordon. It has to work. I’ll bet my life on it.”

A whorl of dust spun between them, kicking up sand and stray scraps of paper. Gordon turned and gazed across the tarmac at the T-38 they had flown from Houston. And he sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

August 22

Casper Mulholland was gobbling down his third package of Turns, and his stomach still felt like a bubbling cauldron of acid. In the distance, Apogee II glinted like a bullet casing planted point up the desert sand. She was not a particularly impressive sight, especially to this audience.

Most of them had heard the earth-shaking roar of a NASA launch, had been awed by the majesty of the shuttle’s giant columns of fire streaking into the sky. Apogee was nothing like the shuttle. She was more like a child’s toy rocket, and Casper could see disappointment in the eyes of the dozen or so visitors as they climbed the newly erected viewing stand and gazed across the bleak desert terrain, toward the launchpad. Every one wanted big. Every one was in love with size and power. The small, the elegantly simple, did not interest them.

Another van pulled up at the site, and a fresh group of visitors began piling out, hands lifting at once to shield their eyes from the morning sun.

He recognized Mark Lucas and Hashemi Rashad, the two businessmen who had visited Apogee over three weeks ago. He saw the same disappointment play across their faces as they squinted toward the launchpad.

“This is as close to the pad as we can get?” said Lucas.

“I’m afraid so,” said Casper. “It’s for your own safety. We’re dealing with explosive propellants out there.”

“But I thought we were going to get an in-depth look at your launch operations.”

“You’ll have full access to our ground-control facility—our equivalent of Houston’s Mission Control. As soon as she’s off the pad, we’ll drive over to the building and show you how we guide her into low earth orbit. That’s the real test of our system, Mr. Lucas. Any engineering grad can launch a rocket. But getting one safely into orbit, and then guiding her to a flyby of the station, is a far more complicated matter. That’s why we moved up this demonstration four days—to hit just the right launch window for ISS. To show you our system is already rendezvous-capable. Apogee II is just the kind of bird NASA’s looking to buy.”

“You’re not actually going to dock, are you?” said Rashad. “I heard the station is in quarantine.”

“No, we’re not going to dock. Apogee II’s just a prototype. She can’t physically hook up with ISS because she doesn’t have an orbital docking system. But we’ll fly her close enough to the ISS to demonstrate we can do it. You know, just the fact we’re able to change our launch schedule on short notice is a selling point. When it comes to spaceflight, flexibility is key. Unexpected things pop up. My partner’s recent accident, for example. Even though Mr. Obie’s laid up in bed with a broken pelvis, you’ll notice we didn’t cancel the launch. We’ll control the entire mission from ground. Gentlemen, that’s flexibility.”

“I can understand why you might delay a launch,” said Lucas. “Say, for bad weather. By why did you have to move it up four days? Some of our partners weren’t able to make it here in time.”

Casper could feel the last Turns tablet bubble away in a fresh spurt of stomach acid. “It’s simple, really.” He paused to take handkerchief and wipe the sweat from his forehead. “It has to do with that launch window I mentioned. The space station’s orbit is an inclination of fifty-one point six degrees. If you look at a of its orbital path on a map, it makes a sine wave varying between fifty-one point six degrees north and fifty-one point six degrees south. And since the earth rotates, the station passes over a place on the map with each orbit. Also, the earth isn’t entirely spherical, which adds another complication. When that orbital passes over your launch site, that’s the most efficient time to lift off. Adding up all those factors, we came up with various launch options. Then there’s the question of daytime versus nighttime launches. Allowable launch angles. The most current weather forecasts…” Their eyes had begun to glaze over. He’d already lost them.

“Anyway,” Casper finished with a profound sense of relief, “today at seven-ten A.M. turns out to be the best choice. That makes perfect sense to you, right?”

Lucas seemed to give himself a shake, like a startled dog coming out of a nap. “Yes. Of course.”

“I’d still like to get closer,” said Mr. Rashad on a wistful note.

He gazed at the rocket, a snub-nosed blip on the horizon. “From this far away, she’s not much to look at, is she? So small.” Casper smiled, even as he felt his own stomach digest itself in nervous acid. “Well, you know what they say, Mr. Rashad. It’s not the size that matters. It’s what you do with it.” This is the last option, thought Jack as a bead of perspiration dripped down his temple and soaked into the lining of his flight helmet. He tried to calm his racing pulse, but his heart was like a frantic animal trying to batter its way out of his chest. For so many years, this was the moment he had dreamed of, strapped into the flight seat, helmet closed, oxygen flowing. The countdown ticking toward zero. In those dreams, fear had not been part of the equation, excitement. Anticipation. He had not expected to be terrified.

“You are at T minus five minutes. The time to back out is now.” It was Gordon Obie’s voice over the hardline comm. At every step of the way, Gordon had offered Jack chances to change his mind.

During the flight from White Sands to Nevada. In the early morning hours, as Jack suited up in the Apogee Engineering hangar. And finally, on the drive across the pitch-black desert to the launchpad.

This was Jack’s last opportunity.

“We can stop the countdown now,” said Gordon. “Nix the whole mission.”

“I’m still a go.”

“Then this will be our last voice contact. There can’t be any communication from you. No downlink to the ground, no contact with ISS, or everything’s blown. The instant we hear your voice, we’ll abort the whole mission and bring you back.” still can, was what he didn’t add.

“I roger that.” There was a silence. “You don’t have to do this. No one expects you to.”

“Let’s get on with it. Just light the damn candle, okay?” Gordon’s answering sigh came through loud and clear. “Okay. You’re a go. We’re at T minus three minutes and counting.”

“Thank you, Gordie. For everything.”

“Good luck and Godspeed, Jack McCallum.” The hard link was severed. And that may be the last voice I’ll ever hear, thought Jack. From this point on, the only uplink from Apogee ground control would be command data streaming into the onboard guidance and nav computers. The vehicle was flying itself, Jack was nothing than the dumb monkey in the pilot’s seat.

He closed his eyes and focused on the beating of his own heart.

It had slowed. He now felt strangely calm and prepared for the inevitable, whatever that might be. He heard the whirs and clicks the onboard systems preparing for the leap. He imagined the cloudless sky, its atmosphere dense as water, like a sea of air which he must surface to reach the cold, clear vacuum of space.