Page 142 of Stars
Finally he was in his car. He dropped his keys trying to get them in the ignition, cursed, and tried again. The engine roared. His tires squealed. He floored it out of the White House garage, turning into DC traffic and trying to lose himself in the crush of rush hour.
What time was it in Russia? Fuck, they had eleven time zones. Twelve hours ahead to Moscow, according to his fat-fingered internet search as he crawled down New York Avenue.
At the next red light, he dialed and closed his eyes.
“Hello?”
Horns blared around him. The world spun, a kaleidoscope of traffic lights and turn signals. “Jack,” he choked out. “It’s Scott.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You have to get them off that station.Now.”
“What’s happening?”
The words caught in his throat. He couldn’t ever take them back if he said them. God damn it. He punched the center of his steering wheel. His horn blared, filling the DC streets. Three other cars started honking alongside him. “President Wall just cleared a strike against the ISS. I walked out of the Situation Room. It’s going to happen soon.”
“What?” Jack shouted. “How?”
“ICBMs. But they’re going to useIndependenceto drag the ISS into a higher orbit to minimize the impact of her destruction on other satellites in low Earth orbit. Some air force general said blowingFreedomwas proof of concept that they could blast something that high up. They’re shooting for the gap between low and medium Earth orbits. That’s what I heard.” He exhaled, fingers curling over his steering wheel. He was shaking. “The whole thing will be done in half an hour, the general said.”
“Fuck,” Jack said. “Scott, thank you. We’ll contact them. We have to get them out.”
“Go. Save them. I know Sasha’s up there, and I can’t just—”
“Thank you,” Jack said again.
“After you save them, give me a call, okay? I think I just fired myself from the Secret Service.”
“We’ll talk soon.”
The line cut. Scott leaned forward, resting his forehead on his steering wheel as DC’s frozen rush hour traffic snarled in gridlock around him, a dozen horns blaring in time with the wailing in his soul.
* * *
ISS
Tumbling in Earth’s Orbit
“Sasha,Mark, do you read me? Come in, Alpha, respond.”
Dan’s voice was faint through the static, like he was speaking through a tin can and frayed twine. Sasha helped Mark shimmy through the torso half of the suit as Mark held gauze beneath his nose.
“This is Sasha,” he said. His breath fogged his helmet, made it hard to see the connections on Mark’s suit. “Mark is almost suited.”
“You have to evacnow. You have to move, and you have to move fast.”
“We need another hour to finish suiting up—”
“You have ten minutes,” Dan said, cutting him off. “Get those suits on and get out the door,now.”
“We can’t—”
“There’s an ICBM inbound for you.” Dan’s voice shook, warbled on the airwaves. “Impact in twelve minutes. You need to get clear of the station before it’s in range.”
Sasha stared at Mark.
Mark’s violent red eyes gazed back at him. Blood filled his sclera, bubbled at the ends of his eyelashes.
