“Oh yeah, because starting anything at a crossroads isn’t ominous at all,” Catherine said.
“I’m not planning to make any deals. Not yet.”
At the crossroads was a gas station, with a store that called itself a trading post. Cal pulled into the gas station. “Well, this is it: the booming metropolis of Rough Rock, Arizona.”
“I expect to see tumbleweeds any second.” Catherine climbed out of the car, her legs complaining at the long ride.
“I’m going to fill up the car, if you want to go in and ask if anyone knows Addy.”
“Sure.” It felt good to walk, like rust falling off her joints in great flakes. The gas station wasn’t much more than a shack that held a shelf of rudimentary auto supplies, a collection of snack foods of dubious age and provenance, and a cooler of sodas in the back. After saying hello to the woman behind the counter, Catherine grabbed a couple of sodas and took them up.
“This,” she said, “and the gas.”
“All right.” The woman was short and squat, with black hair streaked with iron gray in a long braid down her back and wrinkles around her eyes from squinting into the sun.
While they waited for Cal to finish gassing up, Catherine said, “Do you know a woman named Iris Addy? She’s supposed to live around here.”
The woman looked her over with dark olive-brown eyes. “You from the government?”
“What?”
“You and your friend. White people in a rental car, asking after Iris. You ain’t dressed like government, but just the same.”
“No—not really. I mean, that’s not why we’re here. We just want to talk to her.”
The woman humphed, then started ringing up the total after Cal finished. “That’ll be forty-five fifty-one, with the sodas.”
Catherine handed her cash and tried again. “I . . . I think I went through something similar to her. We just want to talk.”
“Yeah, I know who you are now. I saw you on TV.” She handed Catherine her change. “That road out there is Route 59. Follow it up about five miles, you’ll see a bunch of power towers. Turn right there. Iris’s place is about six more miles.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. She ain’t gonna be happy to see you.”
“Still. Thanks.” Catherine took the sodas and left “We’re all set,” she told Cal. “And I got directions.”
“There’s only a few hours of daylight left,” Cal said. “Should we find a place to stay and try in the morning?”
“Let’s not.” She handed him one of the sodas. “I have a feeling the clerk is going to give Iris a heads-up that we’re coming. Be nice if she didn’t have time to run off.”
“All right.”
When they were back on the road, there was no more easy chatter. Catherine’s stomach was tied in knots and she couldn’t stop fidgeting with the soda bottle.
“Hey.” Cal reached over and squeezed her forearm, giving it a shake. “It’s going to be okay. Worst case, she can’t tell us anything, and we got to have a nice drive through God’s country.”
“Yeah,” Catherine said, unconvinced. “Sure.”
The towers the clerk mentioned were easy to spot, and Catherine wiped her damp palms against her jeans as the remaining miles ticked by. A homestead came into view, a gray, weathered cabin and a few outbuildings equally as weathered. A handful of sheep and goats stood around in a pen, and as they pulled up, a dog started barking.
Cal and Catherine got out of the car and had barely taken ten steps to the house when a woman burst through the front door. She wore denim overalls and a plaid shirt, and had wild hair that spilled over her shoulders. She had a shotgun in her hands, and as they watched, she racked it and aimed.
“Now you just get back in that car and turn right around the way you came,” she said.
32
BEFORE CATHERINE COULD react, Cal shoved her behind him and raised both hands. Well, he gets points for gallantry, I suppose . . .
“We’re not here to harass you,” he said.
“I know who sent you,” Addy replied. “I’m not telling you anything. I’ve done all the talking I’m gonna do. Now just go.” She gestured with the shotgun, and Catherine had a moment of relief when she saw her finger wasn’t on the trigger—yet.
“Commander Addy,” Catherine spoke up from behind Cal, and in fact, stepped around him with her hands up as well. “We’re from NASA, but they don’t know we’re here. My name’s Catherine Wells.”
Addy’s brow creased, and she took a closer look at Catherine. “What do you mean, NASA doesn’t know you’re here? You’re their media darling right now, I bet you can’t piss without someone keeping track of it.”
“Well . . . let’s just say they’re not real fond of me at the moment, Commander. I think you and I have some things in common. Can we talk about them?”
“Who’s he?” Addy pointed at Cal.
“Cal Morganson,” he answered. “I work on the Sagittarius program with Catherine.”
“You’re no astronaut,” she said dubiously.
“No ma’am. I’m the flight activities officer for Sagittarius II.”
Addy sniffed. “Why aren’t you at Johnson? Your people are up there right now, aren’t they?”
Cal put on a charming smile. Catherine bet it worked wonders on grandmothers and maiden aunts. “Well, Commander, that’s part of the reason we’re here.”
Commander Addy was older than Catherine by maybe twenty years—it was hard to judge from her face. Her salt-and-pepper hair was ragged and looked as if she cut it herself, and her eyes were the same faded and harsh blue as the desert sky overhead. She was nobody’s grandmother or maiden aunt, and she wasn’t charmed. But she did lower the shotgun. “Catherine Wells, huh? They say it took you six years to get home, that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s a hard thing, being out there alone for so long. People like this one,” Addy indicated Cal, “don’t get that. You do, though. I can see it in your eyes.” She kicked the shell out of the shotgun’s chamber. “Ah, hell. Come on in. But no snooping.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Cal muttered, and Catherine elbowed him as he passed.
The cabin was clearly meant for only one person. There was just one armchair in front of an overstuffed bookcase. On the table next to the chair was a portable radio. Everything was haphazard and looked slightly off-kilter—a lot like Commander Addy. There was nothing decorative, nothing that didn’t look absolutely necessary. The wall by the door contained a rack of guns. The main room’s two windows were heavily shaded, making it gloomy even in the bright late afternoon. A ham radio set was on a desk in one corner, but there was no sign of a computer.
Something about the entire place made Catherine feel uneasy. It reminded her of the Unabomber’s bunker; all that was missing was a manifesto. And Catherine wouldn’t be surprised if there was one of those around somewhere, half-written. Something was wrong here. A deep sense of discomfort was growing inside her, something she couldn’t put her finger on, an itch she couldn’t reach.
“Don’t have many visitors,” Addy said, pulling two chairs out of the kitchen. “Sorry.” She didn’t offer them anything, and they didn’t ask, but sat in the hard kitchen chairs.
“No, this is fine,” Catherine said. “Thank you so much for talking to us.”
Addy humphed, then settled into the armchair with a groan. “Keep your voices down. I did a sweep yesterday, but I can’t guarantee no one’s listening.”
Cal exchanged a look with Catherine. “Thanks for the warning,” he said.
“You don’t believe me. That’s fine. She does.” Addy nodded toward Catherine. “You know what it’s like to be under surveillance, don’t you, Wells?”
Catherine didn’t answer directly, especially since Cal had been the one surveilling her. “What happened to you, Commander? Can you tell me?”
“What do they say about me?” Addy asked. “Had a breakdown, unfit
for duty?”
“That’s . . . yes,” Cal said. “No one talks about the details. No one talks about it at all, officially.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” She looked at Catherine. “Is that what they told you, too? Breakdown brought on by wormhole-induced amnesia?”
“Something like that,” Catherine responded. Her head was starting to buzz, like the power towers they’d passed.
“Did you get it, too?” Addy leaned forward. “The amnesia?”
“I don’t remember anything about our time in the TRAPPIST system,” Catherine admitted. “But my doctor thinks it’s trauma-based. We still don’t know what happened to my crew—”
“I have a few ideas,” Addy said. “How’s Dr. Darzi doing, anyway? She still trying to tell people to move on and stop worrying about the past?”
Catherine flinched as if struck. “Did she tell you that, too?”
“Don’t focus your efforts on trying to remember the past,” Addy said in a singsong voice. “You have to live in the now and get back to your life.”
“That sounds about right.” Catherine smiled in spite of herself.
“And it’s bullshit. They don’t want us to remember.” Addy leaned back in her armchair, trailing her fingers over the worn and faded upholstery on the arm. “It’s easier for them if we don’t. But I do, now. I remember everything.”
Catherine cleared her throat. “Tell me what you remember. Please.”
“I didn’t have a big fancy ship like Sagittarius. It was just me. NASA went old-school for the Persephone missions. One astronaut and a small ship. I had room to move around, a bed, some rudimentary living space.” Commander Addy snorted. “They called me a pilot, but I wasn’t a pilot any more than Ham or Laika were, back in the days before they put people in space. I was just the trained chimp. Almost all of it was automated. I was along for the ride to see if a human could survive the trip.”
“All the logs said everything went according to plan,” Cal said.
The buzzing was getting worse, the rattle of an incandescent light bulb right before it blew out. But there were no electric lights anywhere. Not in the ceiling, not on the tables. In fact, as she looked around, the only thing Catherine saw that used electricity was the ham radio.
Addy was looking at her closely. “I know,” she said, sounding irritable. She wasn’t talking to Catherine or Cal. “I can see it plain as you can.” Then she addressed Catherine. “They aren’t happy, are they? Your friends. The ones you came back with.”
Catherine forced herself not to look at Cal. Friends? “Do you mean . . .” She couldn’t believe she was going to say this out loud. “. . . the aliens?”
“Of course I mean them. Do you have any other friends in your head besides them?” She tapped her temple. “My friends helped me remember everything.” She looked at Catherine shrewdly. “See, I made them my friends, instead of my enemies, and now they’re on my side.”
“You don’t . . . they don’t . . . control you?”
“Not anymore.” Addy sounded smug.
Catherine’s mouth went dry. Speculation with Cal was one thing, but hearing it from Addy . . .
Cal spoke up, resting a calming hand on Catherine’s back. “How did they make contact with you?”
Addy eyed Catherine a moment longer, then said, “Got to ERB Prime, confirmed that it was, in fact, an Einstein-Rosen bridge, and went through. We had probe data that suggested how long the trip would take, and what space looked like on the far end, but nothing concrete.”
“That’s a long time to be alone,” Catherine said quietly.
“Four years, give or take. You were alone for longer.”
“True, but no one planned for me to be alone that long.”
Addy smiled thinly. “I don’t think they expected me to be alone that long. Absolute truth—I don’t think they expected me to come back at all. No one said anything, but I saw their faces when I boarded. They were expecting a one-way trip.” She shrugged. “Besides, I didn’t mind being alone. I never have.” She gestured around her.
“What . . .” Catherine swallowed and fought the urge to reach for Cal’s other hand. “What happened next?”
“I’m not going to lie, coming out of that wormhole was probably the most exciting moment of my life. I was seeing a part of space no one had ever seen before, not with the naked eye.” Addy smiled at the memory. “I only had a few days. I sent out probes, collected data; that was the busiest time of the trip, really. I had something to do besides be a passenger.
“On the second day, after I’d brought the third probe back in, the messages started.”
Catherine sat forward. “What messages?”
“At first they demanded to know what I was doing.” Commander Addy’s eyes went distant, as if she were reliving the moment. “Who I was, where I had come from . . . believe it or not, there actually was a protocol for what I should say. I sent them the information that was on the Voyager Golden Record and waited.”
“I hope NASA updated it a little since 1977,” Cal said. “It’d be embarrassing to send aliens an out-of-date mixtape.”
Catherine gave him a little shake of her head.
“That’s when the demands to surrender started,” Addy went on as if Cal hadn’t spoken, and Catherine drew a quiet breath. That sparked something in her, a distant memory, a chill running down her spine. The buzzing in her head got louder.
“Your friends don’t like me very much,” Addy said. “They don’t want you to remember.”
“Surrender, Catherine Wells, you are ours,” Catherine muttered. Oh God, she could see it. It was in all capital letters in her head, on a screen. On the screen, the comm screen in Sagittarius.
“That’s pretty much what they said, all right.” She sat forward, watching Catherine with new tension in her shoulders. “Told me they’d come in on one of the probes I sent out, and that they were part of me now.”
(kill her kill her now)
The urge was strong and unmistakable, and Catherine reached for Cal’s arm, hand tightening hard enough that he winced. “Catherine?”
Addy stood up. “They’re telling you to kill me, aren’t they? My friends can hear them. They’re mad we won’t do their dirty work anymore.”
“Catherine . . . what’s going on?”
“I-I don’t know.” She could feel that familiar feeling of being shoved back—but it wasn’t working. A part of her mind was roiling with fury.
“Listen to me, girl.” Addy stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with a divine sort of madness. “It’s a hive mind. Only the ones in my head managed to break free of the hive. The ones with you haven’t.”
“How do you know that?” Cal asked, shifting closer to Catherine, ready to get between her and Iris again.
“Telepathy,” she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That’s how they communicate.”
Catherine stood up. She couldn’t sit still anymore. “Shut up!”
(KILL HER NOW)
The guns on the wall seemed to glow in front of her. They were right there. No one could stop her if she took one down.
Catherine clutched at her head. “Make it stop!”
Cal came over and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Hold her still,” Addy said. Before Catherine or Cal could answer, she closed the distance again, and put her hands on Catherine’s temples.
It hurt. The buzzing in her head turned to a scream, two sets of voices seeming to rise and fall in a language she almost understood. There was a sense of invasion, as if a foreign army had come marching into her mind, planning to wreak havoc. When the searing pain started, she staggered and cried out, but Cal and Addy kept her on her feet.
“What are you doing to her?” Cal demanded.
“My friends are setting her free. Now hush.”
Everything went silent. It was a silence like Catherine hadn’t known since Sagittarius. She wanted to ask what Addy had done, but she couldn’t find the words.
They were buried beneath images and sounds flooding through her mind, nearly four years’ worth of missing memories, somehow unlocked.
Everything. Everything was there in her mind. The entire mission. TRAPPIST-1f. Tom.
Oh God, Tom.
Sagittarius I Mission
DAY 1142, FIVE DAYS AFTER THE EVENT
TRAPPIST-1F TWILIGHT LANDING AREA, ON BOARD SAGITTARIUS
Catherine moved around the command module of Sagittarius, getting it ready for takeoff. She’d tried to salvage as much as she could from the wreckage of the Habitat, thinking it might help the team back home figure out exactly what had happened. She knew that Tom was behind it, but she didn’t know how. Or why. She hadn’t seen him since the day he’d left her all the supplies. His quarantine was over, but he hadn’t contacted her again. She’d tried once or twice to find him, halfheartedly, but had no luck.
She suspected he was dead. And deep down, part of her was relieved at that. The idea of leaving without knowing for sure ate at her, but there was nothing she could do. She could search for weeks and not find any trace of him, alive or dead. Longer, if he was alive and hiding from her. All she could do was go home and hope that whoever came back after her learned more than she had.
She looked around the command module. Everything was locked down and ready. She could leave at any time. One last walk-through of the ship. Just to settle her nerves. Theoretically, she knew how to take off on her own, but in practice . . . Even her experience as a test pilot hadn’t fully prepared her for this.
Everything was in place. She was doing one last check of the main cabin, the biggest open space on the ship that served as an all-purpose living, working, and—right now—storage area, looking for any loose items that needed to be stowed when she heard the ominous click-clack of a handgun slide being racked behind her.
Tom stood between her and the ship’s cockpit. He looked like hell. The burns on his face were . . . Catherine swallowed uneasily. Something was growing on them. Glittering and green, like the lichen outside. He was pale and sweaty, and the hand holding the gun had a faint tremor.
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