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“It missed us.”
“We weren’t the target,” Mark breathed. He touched his fingers to the glass. “Goodbye, Sarah.” His breath hitched—
A burst of light turned the black of space as bright as day.
* * *
37
Ministry of Defense
Moscow, Russia
“I cannot allow you entry.”
Sergey stared down his minister of defense. “General, I am your president—”
“Access is restricted to essential personnel.” General Yaluyevsky and three other generals physically barred Sergey’s way to the operations center in the Ministry of Defense.
“There is no one more essential than the president!”
“You are distracted, Mr. President. Your focus has not been on the nation. We have to make decisions for the best of Russia,” General Yaluyevsky growled. “You are also compromised. Can we trust you to make the best decisions, while you are being extorted by this man who occupies Yamantau? No, we will take matters from here, for security reasons. We will inform you of our operations in the appropriate time. If you will excuse us, there are important matters we need to attend to.” He nodded once to Sergey and turned on his heel. Guards moved in after him, blocking the door.
At Sergey’s side, Yuri stepped forward, his massive frame somehow growing larger as he spread his shoulders and fisted his hands. He glared at the soldier in front of him. The soldier swallowed.
Shame washed over Sergey, the burn of it a scorch like the sun. Denied entry to his own nation’s Ministry of Defense, spurned by his own generals. None of the soldiers would look him in the eye.
Was he the president or was he a man? Could he not be both?
Not when it’s Sasha.Not when every choice led to his nightmares, to debris falling from the sky, pieces of a broken capsule—a broken station—coming apart in the atmosphere. Fire in the stars and the taste of ash on his tongue mixing with the salt of his tears. He’d woken up to those nightmares for two years and had pushed them away.
Could he give the order? Could he do it, order the destruction of the ISS or any escape craft from the station as President Wall had? An official declaration of intent had come across the Washington-Moscow hotline: the United States would not allow anything or anyone from the ISS or exposed to the virus on the Soviet satellite to reenter Earth’s atmosphere.
They’d proved they were serious, too. A blast as bright as a second sun had drenched the sky, turning dusk to high noon, hours before. The Americans had shot down their own capsule after Zeytsev tried to force it back to Earth.
Who had been in the capsule? Who was piloting?
Sergey had watched the halo of the spreading nuclear blast, rings like Saturn making ripples across the sky, and felt his heart atomize.
Would he even know if Sasha died? Would he ever know the time, the moment, the cause? Communications with the ISS were blacked out, even the satellite relay they’d used once before only picking up static and the squeal of empty transmissions.
Was there no one left to answer?
No, Sasha was alive. He was still alive because he had to be. There was no other option, none at all.
He would believe in Sasha, in Sasha’s life, until he saw the black debris of his nightmares rain down on him from above, until he saw those streaks of fire burning the sky, and until those hateful stars had delivered Sasha’s ashes into his hands. Until the sky collapsed and his world turned over and the only thing left was the taste of bitter regret and the ghost of Sasha’s lips on his own.
His generals were the ones with Sasha’s life—or death—in their hands. They were supposedly planning the operation to retake Yamantau Mountain and kill Zeytsev. Sergey had already demanded to know a dozen times now what was taking so long, why hadn’t a Spetsnaz team been deployed the moment Zeytsev first uttered a breath over the radio.
After being ignored a dozen times, Sergey had taken himself to the Ministry of Defense for answers.
And now he’d been ignored again—more than that, rebuffed.
Damn the generals—and damn this country, this capricious, fitful nation that spat in his face again. How many times would he endure her fickle affectations? He’d given everything of his life, every moment of his fifty-two years, until the night he’d first laid eyes on Sasha andeverythinghad changed. Was this how he was rewarded? Tossed aside at the first hint of his own humanity?
He’d given everything. Was it wrong to crave something for himself? Just one slice of happiness, one person who brightened his days, who shone like the diamond-studded sky? The irreplaceable jewel of his soul, the cornerstone of his heart.I choose you, he’d said in the middle of the Arctic.I choose you over Russia, Sashunya.
Let the generals keep their secrets. He was done hiding his.
