But he had to get out—somebody else could come back for Yuri. He’d find some way to explain it all later, but for now he had to escape. He grabbed hold of a handle on the wall and pushed off the bulkhead, trying to fly past the presence up ahead. He made it through into the core module. But something cold as space reached out and stopped him directly in front of the small window that looked down on the planet.
He looked outside, saw the planet of his birth. “Africa.”
Rackham moved his head left and right. “Not my fault.”
The view changed, faster than any orbital mechanics would allow.
“China.”
“Nothing I can do.”
Again, the world spun.
“The west coast of America. There’s San Francisco.”
“Someday they’ll find a cure.”
“Los Angeles.”
“They can get out. They just need help.”
“I don’t know.”
“No.”
“Russia. Ah, now—Russia! Free! We defeated the Evil Empire. We defeated the Communist menace.”
“But they’re free.”
“I read about that. Terrible, unthinkable. Like committing murder.”
“Yes. No. No, wait—that’s not what I meant.”
“No. The space program provides jobs. And don’t forget the spinoffs—advanced plastics and pharmaceuticals and… and…”
“Yes, and—”
“No, important stuff. Medical equipment. And all kinds of new electronic devices.”
“Yes. Yes. Exactly.”
“No. No, dammit, I won’t.”
“Yuri was a cosmonaut—a Russian. Maybe—maybe Russia shouldn’t be spending all this money on space. But I’m an American. My country is rich.”
Rackham felt his gloved fists clenching. He ground his teeth. “Damn you!”
He closed his eyes, tried to think. Any price, he’d said—and now it was time to pay. For the good of everyone, he said—but the road was always paved with good intentions.
Starvation. Enslavement. Poverty. War.
He couldn’t go back to
He slipped into the control station just below the entrance portal that led from the docking adapter. He looked at the cameras fore and aft, the bulky white gloves covering them like beckoning hands. An ending, yes—and with the coffin closed. He scanned the controls, consulted the onboard computer, made his preparations. He couldn’t see the entity, couldn’t see its grin— but he knew they both were there.
“—in the hell, Paul?” McGovern’s voice, as Rackham turned his suit radio back on. “Why are you firing the ACS jets?”
“It—it must be a malfunction,” Rackham said, his finger still firmly on the red activation switch.
“Then get out of there. Get out before the delta-V gets too high. We can still pick you up if you get out now.”
“I can’t get out,” said Rackham. “The-—the way to the EVA airlock is blocked.”
“Then get into the
“I—I don’t know how to fly a
“We’ll get Kaliningrad to talk you through the separation sequence.”
“No—no, that won’t work.”
“Sure it will. We can bring the
“Goodbye, Charlie.”