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  “We need information,” Xu said. “The T’ien Lung has been dormant for some time, and many of the schematics on how to operate it have been lost. Your national space agency has some of the data we need in order to intercept the asteroid successfully.”

  “You’re talking about how much thrust and weight is required to make the impactor effective, correct?” Alex asked.

  “That’s right,” said Xu.

  “No problem,” Alex said. “We can transmit that to you immediately.”

  “Excellent,” Xu said. “I will contact our people at the launch facility and tell them to have the rocket ready to take off within a matter of hours.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Xu,” said Sara.

  “It is my pleasure, Dr. Kent,” he said. “Hopefully, this will work to all our mutual benefits.”

  “Sure,” said Alex. “We avoid destruction, you get filthy rich. I can live with that.”

  Xu gave another thin smile. “So can I,” he said, and cut the transmission. Without another word, save for a dissatisfied grunt, the president did the same.

  “Well, that went as well as can be expected,” said Alex. “Now we’ve got to get this plan in motion.”

  “Absolutely,” Sara agreed. “Let’s get in touch with the team on the asteroid. With any luck, we can get them off that thing before the impactor hits.”

  “What’s it called?” asked Caitlin.

  “A kinetic impactor,” said Sara. “Basically, a huge battering ram that will crash into the asteroid and kick it square in the teeth and away from Earth.”

  “And us along with it,” Caitlin mused. “Not an appealing option.”

  “That’s why I recommend you take off as soon as you can,” said Sara.

  “All well and good,” said Caitlin, “except we’ve still got a cracked heat shield and an engine that won’t turn over.”

  “Dammit,” said Sara.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Caitlin replied. “Any other ideas?”

  “Look, there’s still a chance you can get off of the asteroid even after it’s been deflected,” Sara said. “Based on our calculations down here, your ship should be far enough away from the impact point and will protect you from flying debris. So, when the time comes, all you’ve got to do is just sit tight and hold on to something.”

  “That’s terrible advice,” said Caitlin.

  “I’m sorry,” Sara said. “That’s all I’ve got to give right now.”

  “That seems to be the norm these days,” Caitlin said. “But thanks for trying. I’ll round up the crew and let them know what to expect.”

  “Great,” said Sara. “And while you’re at it, can you let me know what to expect as well? Because right now, I have no clue.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  After hours of preparation, the T’ien Lung stood on the pad at the Yutu Launch Center, ready for its date with the Thresher. A squat, Mylar-encased craft with a single engine and eight tanks of fuel, the T’ien Lung was all about function over form, carrying no moving parts, solar panels, or anything that could slow its velocity. Atop the craft was an octagonal battering ram made of pure copper. The entire craft was designed for one purpose—to gather as much speed as physically possible and deliver a powerful-enough blow to any near-Earth object to send it permanently out of the way.

  “T’ien Lung launch in T minus ten seconds,” announced the flight director from Yutu Mission Control.

  Back on Earth at the PDCO, Sara, Alex, and their team all watched the video feed from the Moon.

  “If this doesn’t work . . . ,” Alex said.

  “It’s going to work,” said Sara. “It has to, or we’re all royally screwed.”

  “Three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  Silently, the T’ien Lung lifted off from the Moon’s surface, prepared to embark on the most important mission it would likely ever undertake.

  On the surface of the asteroid, Shaw had opted to venture outside to see if he could spot the impactor heading toward them. He had assured Caitlin that he would go back inside the lander before the ship made contact, feeling a little like a kid promising his mother he wouldn’t play on the train tracks.

  “What do you see out there?” Caitlin asked.

  “Nothing yet,” answered Shaw, scanning the stars. The heads-up display in their suits also had the ability to switch to telescopic vision, allowing them to see far distances without having to resort to binoculars. Responding to electrical impulses sent from the gloves’ fingertips, the display could zoom in and out with an opening or closing of Shaw’s fingers. He looked around, trying to get his bearings. A long time had passed since he’d had to rely on celestial navigation to orient himself, but he was glad he’d paid attention as a kid, both in science class and to his grandfather, who would quiz him mercilessly during their annual camping trips to Cedar River in the Adirondacks.

  Finally, after several minutes, he zeroed in on an object moving in the star field above him. It was a small pinpoint of light, like a satellite viewed from Earth.

  “I’ve got it!” said Shaw. “Coming in at about twenty degrees north.”

  “We’re tracking it too,” said Sara into Shaw’s headset. “I’d get back to the lander before impact.”

  “OK,” said Shaw. “Just a little longer.”

  Sara, Alex, and the team watched intently as the T’ien Lung raced toward the Thresher, powered by its single engine. In Washington, Catalina, and China, the scene was a similar one. No one spoke or moved. All eyes were fixed on the screen, waiting to see what would happen when the rocket made contact with the asteroid.

  “Impact in thirty seconds,” the flight director announced from the Moon.

  “Roger that,” said Vincent Whittemore, his NASA counterpart, who was also monitoring the rocket’s trajectory from Houston.

  “Shaw, get out of there!” said Caitlin. “When that thing hits, it’s going to bounce you right off the surface!”

  “I don’t know, Boss,” he said. “Something’s wrong.”

  “Impact in twenty seconds,” the Chinese flight director warned through Shaw’s headset.

  “Roger twenty seconds,” echoed Whittemore.

  “Shaw!” said Sara. “Caitlin’s right. Move now before it’s too late.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Shaw said.

  “Impact in fifteen seconds.”

  “Copy that, fifteen seconds . . .”

  “Shaw!” said Caitlin. “Now!”

  “Ten seconds . . . nine . . .”

  “He’s not going to make it,” said Sara.

  “Eight . . . seven . . .”

  “Come on, Shaw,” said Caitlin.

  “Six . . . five . . . four . . .”

  “Three . . . two . . . one . . .”

  On the surface of the Thresher, Shaw stood placidly and watched as the T’ien Lung sailed overhead, missing the asteroid conservatively by hundreds of miles.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “Can somebody tell me what just happened?” asked Sara. “Seriously! What the hell just happened?”

  “I don’t know,” said Alex. “But I’m going to find out right now.”

  As he left the room, Sara radioed Shaw.

  “You OK up there?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, Dr. Kent,” he said. “I’m doing all right. Heading back to the lander now. Wish I could say we were a little better off than we were before, but I guess you already know that by now.”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid I do,” she said. “Mind telling me what you saw that no one else managed to pick up on?”

  “The rocket was off course,” Shaw said. “Coming in at a completely wrong angle. I couldn’t tell at first, but the closer the impactor got, I could see from the surface that it was going to miss us. I don’t know who was doing the calculations up there, but someone goofed big time.”

  “Looks that way,” Sara said, feeling sick to her stomach. She could only imagine what the president was saying right about now. “Listen, we’re going t
o try and put the pieces together down here, and we’ll get back to you when we’ve got something more to report, OK?”

  “Yep,” said Shaw. “We’re going to regroup ourselves up here.”

  “Talk to you all in a bit, then,” said Sara, and cut the line. As she did, Alex walked into the room. He looked absolutely green.

  “What?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t even want to tell you,” he said. “Seriously, it’s that bad.”

  “I’m going to find out sooner or later,” she said. “It may as well be from you.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Let’s take a walk.”

  Sara followed him as they left the CIC area and went back into her office. Alex closed the door as she took a seat behind her desk.

  “As you know,” he said, “we sent the Chinese the data for how much thrust the T’ien Lung needed in order to reach the Thresher and knock it off course, right?”

  “Yes,” Sara said. She said the word slowly, trying to draw it out almost as a means of delaying Alex’s response.

  “We sent them a number for how many pounds of thrust,” Alex explained. “They entered the same number . . . in newtons.”

  Sara closed her eyes. She felt her neck muscles loosen, and her head fell forward into her hands almost involuntarily. While the US still measured booster thrust in pounds, China was on the metric system and measured everything in kilograms and newtons. The ratio of a pound-force of thrust to a newton was over a factor of four, meaning the amount of thrust they had programmed into the rocket’s navigation system was catastrophically off base.

  “Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “How the hell does something like that even happen? Please tell me! What do they have, kids doing the calculations over there?”

  “It’s not unheard of,” Alex said. “The screwup, I mean, not kids doing the calculations. It happened once before, back in the late twentieth century. The Mars Climate Orbiter disintegrated in the Martian atmosphere because of a mix-up of English and metric units.”

  “The Mars Climate Orbiter was a Martian weather satellite,” Sara said. “This was a rocket whose goal was to save Earth from destruction. Kind of apples and oranges, don’t you think?”

  “I guess when you put it that way . . .”

  “Look, we’ve got a major mess to clean up,” said Sara. “Not only in terms of figuring out what we’re going to do about the asteroid, but also politically. The president, the Chinese government, Tai Shan Enterprises, they’re all going to want answers.”

  “I agree,” Alex said. “Why don’t I go to the White House? I’ve been yelled at by the president before, so I can deal with it. You and the team can stay here and see if we can come up with a Hail Mary play that will get us out of this.”

  “All right,” said Sara. “Let’s get to work.”

  As Alex turned to leave, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the screen.

  “I’ve got to get to the White House,” he said, looking pale.

  “I know,” said Sara. “That’s what you just—”

  “No,” he said. “I mean right now.”

  “What is it?” Sara asked.

  He walked over to her. “I think you should head back inside and try and reach the team on the asteroid,” he said. “They’re going to need to hear some friendly voices right now.”

  He turned his phone to Sara so she could read the message he’d just received. On the phone, a text from a FEMA colleague was glowing insistently.

  The news is out.

  As Alex headed to the White House to deal with the fallout from the breaking story, Sara hurried back from her office to the CIC. She walked through the halls in a sort of dreamlike fog, unable to fully process that the story they’d been sitting on for days was now public knowledge. For a time, she had felt as though they were in a kind of protective cocoon and all they had to focus on was Caitlin, her team, and what was happening on the asteroid. Now, however, they had to contend with input and opinions from an angry and confused world.

  Throughout the PDCO offices, every channel was now turned to the news, where announcers and anchors were chattering away in stentorian tones about the approaching end of humanity. Asteroid 1222 Thresher was spotted by an amateur astronomer in the Ruby Valley near Bozeman, Montana. He’d had his telescope pointed at the right part of the sky at the right time, wielding enough intelligence to know exactly what he was looking at, and more importantly, what it meant for Earth. A few well-placed e-mails later and the story was splashed all over every news outlet on the planet. Details were still sketchy, and Sara doubted they knew all the particulars, specifically that there were currently four miners (three, she corrected herself, feeling an icy pinch in her stomach as she did) riding atop the asteroid.

  She entered the CIC to a burst of voices asking different variations of the same question. She held up her hands to quiet them all.

  “I don’t know any more than any of you do,” she said. “That’s the plain truth. Right now, I’m going to try and raise the team up there. We need to fill them in on what’s going on. After that . . . I don’t know what I’m going to do. But for now, nothing changes. OK? We keep working the problem and trying to knock this thing out of our way.”

  Colleagues muttered assent and went back to work as Sara got on the mic to try to raise Caitlin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Did you see me, Mommy?”

  “Of course I saw you,” Caitlin says.

  They are walking home from school, Emily’s hand folded neatly with her mother’s. The Sun has almost set, casting the world in a hazy golden hue. The trees that haven’t surrendered their leaves are a riot of orange and red, while the ones that have stretch their bare arms to the dusky blue sky, as though they are pleading for the return of spring. Around their feet, dead leaves spin, caught in the grip of the fall wind. But the wind isn’t cold. It’s brisk, invigorating. The world may be preparing for its long winter sleep, but for now, it still looks, feels, and smells vibrantly alive.

  “Did you think I was good?”

  “Are you kidding?” says Caitlin. “You were terrific!”

  “But I was just a tree,” says Emily. Then her eyes tilt downward. “Patty Grayson got to be a Pilgrim, and she’s a whole month younger than me!”

  Catlin lets go of Emily’s hand and draws her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, squeezing her in close and kissing the top of her head.

  “Let me tell you something, baby girl,” she says. “This is true for school plays and for life itself. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Pilgrim or a tree. It only matters what you do with what you’re given. If you’re a Pilgrim, great. But if you’re a tree, then you just be the best tree you can.”

  Emily appears pleased at this notion, confident that she has done her best and made her mother proud. She draws in closer, and the two hurry home against the November chill.

  “Caitlin?”

  Sara’s voice, distant and wreathed in static, shook Caitlin out of the near-trance she wavered in and of following the double disasters of losing Diaz and the failure of the T’ien Lung. She had never been one to lose hope, but in the wake of recent events, Caitlin found hope slowly beginning to ebb. The only thing that was keeping her going at all was the thought of Emily. Every time she remembered Diaz’s terrified face receding into the void, she replaced that image with one of Emily to try to keep going. Vee and Shaw had headed back out to the asteroid’s surface, trying to see if they could salvage anything from the sail. Caitlin wanted to go out and help them, but found that the energy had left her body.

  She couldn’t figure out why the loss of Diaz was hitting her so hard. She’d lost people under her command before, but nothing had hurt quite like this, at least not for some time. The suddenness, the stupidity of it, the feeling that they shouldn’t have even been here in the first place, those were all familiar emotions to any combat veteran. But somehow losing Diaz cut even deeper. Almost from the moment she’d met him, sh
e’d recognized Freddy Diaz as a kid who was in search of a role model, always looking for someone to guide him, to steer him out of trouble and back onto the right path. And for the past year, Caitlin found that she was happy to take on the role. She had seen the potential in him, the talent and intelligence he brought to the table. So, in a way, she felt like losing Diaz was akin to losing a child. And somehow that loss made her feel even farther away from Emily.

  Standing up and exhaling, Caitlin decided that, rather than sitting there feeling sorry for both herself and Diaz, she would instead do what she always did when she needed to distract her mind: tinker. She had to get the pyro circuit on the guillotine working again or they’d be permanent residents on the Thresher.

  Removing one of the control panels that covered the umbilical severance system, Caitlin examined its inner workings and made a distressing discovery. Even if they’d made a perfect landing under completely stress-free circumstances, they’d probably be facing the same situation. The system was impossibly old, its wires stripped and corroded. If they attempted to take off, chances were there wouldn’t be enough power to fire the charges and activate the guillotine.

  Caitlin knew that in order to get the system to work, she would have to try to transfer power from other systems in order to ramp up the voltage on the guillotine. Unfortunately, she didn’t know enough about these old landers to know for certain which system she was drawing from. She sighed. A long afternoon was on the horizon.

  “Caitlin?” Sara’s voice came suddenly again. “Are you there?”

  Despite not wanting to talk to anyone, Caitlin knew she had to find the strength to answer. Her hands shaking, she swiped the display from Mute over to Talk.

  “Yeah,” Caitlin said, although the words came out in a choke. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “How are you feeling?” asked Sara.

  “Feeling like I just watched one of my crew die in front of me,” said Caitlin. “And that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.”