Marcus craned his neck. Tiny Earth, its features indistinct, remained achingly beautiful. “We did well, Katya.”
“If only to clean up after more than our share of foolish mistakes. But yes.”
What more was there to say? What more was there to do? Nothing. As Marcus pivoted to return to their igloo, a fast-moving spark rose over the horizon. And with digits on his visor still indicating a public channel, his radio chimed! An incoming hail!
“… One, do you copy?” The voice, a woman’s, spoke English, but with a heavy Chinese accent. “This is Rescue Two. Repeat, Rescue One, do you copy? This is—”
“Copy that, Rescue Two,” Marcus interrupted. “This is the Rescue One crew. Three of us, anyway. It’s good to hear a new voice.”
“And we to hear yours. Are you interested in a ride home?”
“You better believe it,” Ekatrina said, grinning as Marcus—as best he could wearing a hard-shell suit—gave her a clanking bear hug.
“Copy that, Rescue One. However, your rock has a nasty tumble to it. Docking will not be straightforward. We must give some thought to how best to take you off.” The channel briefly went silent. “Are you all mobile?”
“Yun is injured, but we’ll do what we have to do.”
“Copy that. We see a wrecked vessel and an inflated igloo. Where are you?”
“The igloo,” Marcus said.
“Copy.” The channel went silent again. “We will be back in touch soon.”
* * *
They returned to the shelter to update Yun.
Marcus popped his helmet, leaving the radio on but remaining in his hard-shell suit. “I’m hoping it’s not worth the effort to take off my gear and put it on again.”
“How did this happen?” Ekatrina asked. “I do not complain, but neither do I understand. Would they have come all this way on the remote chance of finding someone here alive?”
“Perhaps not so remote,” Marcus said. “Do you remember my ‘message in a bottle?’ ”
“Yes. I took that as one of your jokes, that you had thrown a rock. It would not have been the first time.”
“Nor even the tenth time, but this wasn’t a rock. I threw a wadded-up datasheet.” With nothing but its inherent elasticity and a compressed Slinky inside to unwad it. “At about sixty miles, a hundred kilometers, per hour. Well above escape velocity.”
“With a message,” Yun said.
“With a message,” Marcus agreed. “And a transmitter, as low-power as it is, that drifted away from the Hammer and its interference.
“Have I ever mentioned that Valerie is a radio astronomer?”
Yun laughed—and winced. “On occasion. But you chose not to mention this effort?”
No. Because even to Marcus it had seemed a harebrained, desperation move. Deep in what-do-I-have-to-lose territory. “Surprise.”
* * *
Rescue Two was a large vessel. It reminded Marcus, more than anything, of an Apollo command capsule, although well over twice that size, with lander descent and takeoff stages still attached. Also, with a big Chinese flag on its side.
In the end, the rescue ship hadn’t docked. Instead, it hovered. In hard-shell suits, with gas pistols to aim and brake themselves, they jumped to meet it. Marcus had Ilya’s body in tow. Katya and Yun leapt hand in hand.
A handsome Chinese man in counterpressure suit and fishbowl helmet, silver-haired, beaming, met them near an open airlock. He floated, tethered to the ship, gesturing to them to board ahead of him.
The airlock opened onto a passenger deck with six empty acceleration couches. “Wait downstairs for now,” the pilot called from the bridge level. Marcus recognized her voice from the radio. “Tell me when everyone is aboard and settled.”
Flying in formation with the tumbling asteroid? That had to demand all her attention. “Copy that,” Marcus said.
But at last, everyone was settled. The ship withdrew to a comfortable three kilometers or so from the Hammer. The pilot floated down from the command deck. She was solid, long-limbed, with a cockiness that reminded Marcus of no one as much as Katya. Before their ordeal of the past several months, anyway.
Yun waved off immediate medical attention. There were introductions. The pilot was Li Min. Their taciturn greeter, a flight surgeon, was Chen Wei. Congratulations all around. Ilya’s body respectfully stowed. Vacuum gear shed. Snack packets and drink bulbs distributed.
“How was a ship even available to retrieve us so far out here?” Ekatrina asked. “What is this ship, anyway?”
“A prototype for an eventual trip to, and landing on, Mars,” Min said. “We had been preparing the launcher, command module, and lander for a test flight with a lunar landing. Then, we were searching for a way somehow to repurpose the vehicle, to deliver a big bomb to the Hammer for a final push. Then, due to something you must have accomplished, we were no longer needed for that. We were reconfiguring again for our original mission when Arecibo heard Marcus’s distress call. And then, it would seem, someone decided we owed you a favor.”
“Or,” Yun said, “owed Father a favor.”
Because Yun’s father was a member of the Central Committee. If Party politics was what it took to preempt a Mars mission, Marcus was fine with it. “It’s just the two of you aboard?”
“Either way, it is my honor.” Min brushed long, black bangs from her forehead. “Even at aphelion, the Hammer is moving quite fast. Fewer crew means less mass. Also, we did not know how many people would be returning with us.”
“One more question,” Marcus said. “When do we get down?”
“As soon as possible,” Wei said. “Yun, I will do what I can for you, but that arm needs to be tended to in a hospital.”
“Of course,” Marcus said. “But when? In how many days?”
Min smiled. “In about a week. Do not worry. You will have time to shop for Christmas.”
“It isn’t Christmas that concerns me.” The date which did matter was etched in Marcus’s memory. “My wife and I are expecting. Her due date is the day after Christmas.
“I promised Valerie I’d be with her in the delivery room. And thanks to you, I will.”
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