“Protocol for what?”

“An EVA. A spacewalk.” He looked at Profitt. “I think someone’s aboard that orbiter.” Profitt turned to face Gordon Obie. “Who’s aboard? Who did you send up?” Gordon could see there was no longer any point in holding back the truth. He said, in quiet defeat, “It’s Jack McCallum. Emma Watson’s husband.

“So it’s a rescue mission,” said Profitt. “How was it supposed to work? He goes EVA, and then what?”

“The SAFER jet pack. The Orlan-M suit he’s wearing is equipped with one. He uses it to propel himself from Apogee II to the station. Enters via the ISS airlock.”

“And he retrieves his wife and brings her home.”

“No. That wasn’t the plan. Look, he understands—we all understand—why she can’t come home. The reason Jack went up was to deliver the Ranavirus.”

“And if the virus doesn’t work?”

“That’s the gamble.”

“He’s exposing himself to ISS. We’d never let him come home.”

“He wasn’t planning to come home! The orbiter was going to return without him.” Gordon paused, his gaze fixed on Profitt’s.

“It’s a one-way trip, and Jack knows it. He accepted the conditions. It’s his wife dying up there! He won’t—he can’t—let her die alone.”

Stunned, Profitt fell silent. He looked at the flight console, monitors streaming with data. As the seconds ticked by, he of his own wife, Amy, dying in Bethesda Hospital. Remembered his frantic sprint through the Denver airport to catch the next flight home to her, and remembered his despair as he’d arrived breathless at the gate to see the plane pulling away. He thought of the desperation that must be driving McCallum, the anguish of being so heartbreakingly close to his goal, only to see it drift out of reach. And he thought, This will bring no harm to anyone here on earth. To anyone but McCallum. He has made his choice, with full knowledge of the consequences. What right do I have to stop him?

He said, to the Space Command flight controller, “Return control of the console to Apogee. Let them resume their mission.”

“Sir?”

“I said, let the orbiter continue its approach.” There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the Apogee controllers scrambled back into their seats.

“Mr. Obie,” said Profitt, turning to look at Gordon. “You do understand that we’ll be monitoring every move McCallum makes. I am not your enemy. But I’m charged with protecting the greater good, and I’ll do what’s necessary. If I see any indication you to bring either of those people home, I will order Apogee II destroyed.”

Gordon Obie nodded. “It’s what I’d expect you to do.”

“Then we both know where we stand.” Profitt took a deep breath and turned to face the row of consoles. “Now. Go ahead and get that man to his wife.” Jack hung poised at the edge of eternity.

No amount of EVA training in the WET-F pool could have prepared him for this visceral punch of fear, for the paralysis that seized him as he stared into the emptiness of space. He had swung open the hatch leading into the open payload bay, and his first view, through the bay’s gaping clamshell doors, was of the earth, a dizzying drop below. He could not see ISS, she was floating above him, out of view. To reach her, he would have to swim down past those payload doors and circle around to the opposite side of Apogee II. But first, he had to force himself to ignore every instinct that now screaming at him to retreat back into the air lock.

“Emma,” he said, and the sound of her name was like a murmured prayer.

He took a breath and prepared to release his grip on the hatchway, to surrender himself to the heavens.

“Apogee II, this is Capcom Houston. Apogee—Jack—please respond.” The transmission over his comm unit caught Jack by surprise.

He had not expected any contact from the ground. The fact Houston was openly hailing him by name meant all secrecy had been shattered.

“Apogee, we urgently request you respond.” He remained silent, uncertain if he should confirm his presence in orbit.

“Jack, we have been advised that the White House will not interfere with your mission. Provided you understand one essential fact, This is a one-way trip.” Capcom paused and then said quietly, “If you board ISS, you can’t leave it again. You can’t come home.

“This is Apogee II,” Jack finally answered. “Message received and understood.”

“And you still plan to proceed? Think about it.”

“What the hell do you think I came up here for? The fucking view?”

“Uh, we roger that. But before you proceed, you should be aware of this. We lost contact with ISS about six hours ago.”

“What do you mean, ‘lost contact’?”

“Emma is no longer responding.”

Six hours, he thought. What has happened in the last six hours? The launch had been two days ago. It had taken that long for Apogee II to catch up with ISS and complete the rendezvous maneuvers. In all that time, he’d been cut off from all communication, from any knowledge of what was happening aboard the station.

“You may already be too late. You might want to reconsider—”

“What does biotelemetry show?” he cut in. “What’s her rhythm?”

“She’s not hooked up. She chose to disconnect her leads.”

“Then you don’t know. You can’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Just before she went silent, she sent you a final E-mail.” Capcom added gently, “Jack, she was saying good-bye.” No. At once he released his grip on the hatchway and pushed out of the air lock, diving headfirst into the open payload bay.

No.

He grabbed a handhold and scrambled up over the clamshell door, to the other side of Apogee II. Suddenly the space station was there, looming above him, so big and sprawling he was momentarily stunned by the wonder of it. Then, in panic, he thought, Where is the air lock? I don’t see the air lock! There were so many modules, so many solar arrays, fanned out across an area as large football fields. He could not orient himself. He was lost, overwhelmed by the dizzying spread.

Then he spotted the dark-green Soyuz capsule jutting out. He was underneath the Russian end of the station. Instantly snapped into place.

His gaze shot to the American end, and he identified the U.S. hab. At the upper end of the hab was Node 1, which led to the air lock.

He knew where he was going.

Here came the leap of faith. With only his SAFER jet pack to propel him, he would be crossing empty space without tethers, without anything to anchor him. He activated the jet pack, pushed off from Apogee, and launched himself toward ISS. It was his first EVA, and he was clumsy and inexperienced, unable to judge how quickly he was closing in on his goal. He slammed into the hab hull with such force he almost caromed off, and barely managed to grab onto a handhold.

Hurry. She is dying.

Sick with dread, he clambered up the length of the hab, his breaths coming hard and fast.

“Houston,” he panted. “I need Surgeon—have him standing by—”

“Roger that.”

“Almost—I’m almost to Node One—”

“Jack, this is Surgeon.” It was Todd Cutler’s voice, speaking with quiet urgency. “You’ve been out of the loop for two days. You need to know a few things. Emma’s last dose of HCG was fifty-five hours ag,. since then, her labs have deteriorated. Amylase and sky-high. Last transmission, she was complaining of headaches and visual loss. That was six hours ago. We don’t know her current condition.”

“I’m at the air-lock hatch!”

“Station control software has been switched to EVA mode. You’re a go for repress.” Jack swung open the hatch and pulled himself into the crew lock. As he twisted around to close the external hatch, he caught glimpse of Apogee II. She was already moving away. His only lifeboat was going home without him. He’d passed the point of no return.

He closed and sealed the hatch. “Pressure-equalization valve open,” he said. “Beginning repress.”