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“The CIA has a biowea—?” I began. “Never mind. I want to do more work on this.”
She shook her head. “You’ve done your part. We thought it was anhydrous life. Turns out it wasn’t. You proved that. And since no alien exploded out of your chest, we can consider the guinea-pig phase over too. So you’re done.”
“No, I’m not done. There’s a lot more to learn.”
“Of course there is,” she said. “And I have thirty labs all eagerly waiting to get started on it.”
I stepped forward. “Leave some Astrophage here. Let me work it some more.”
She stepped forward as well. “No.”
“Why not?!”
“According to your notes, there were one hundred and seventy-four living Astrophage cells in the sample. And you killed one yesterday, so we’re down to a hundred and seventy-three.”
She pointed to her tablet. “Each of these labs—huge, national labs—will get five or six cells each. That’s it. We’re down to that level of scarcity. Those cells are the one hundred and seventy-three most important things on Earth right now. Our analysis of them will determine if humanity survives.”
She paused and spoke a little more softly. “I get it. You spent your whole life trying to prove that life doesn’t require water. Then, unbelievably, you get some actual extraterrestrial life and it turns out to need water. That’s rough. Shake it off and get back to your life. I’ve got it from here.”
“I’m still a microbiologist who spent his career working up theoretical models for alien life. I’m a useful resource with a skill set almost no one else has.”
“Dr. Grace, I don’t have the luxury of leaving samples here just to stroke your bruised ego.”
“Ego?! This isn’t about myego! It’s about mychildren!”
“You don’t have children.”
“Yes, I do! Dozens of them. They come to my class every day. And they’re all going to end up in aMad Maxnightmare world if we don’t solve this problem. Yeah, I was wrong about the water. I don’t care about that. I care about those kids. Sogive me some gosh-darned Astrophage!”
She stepped back and pursed her lips. She looked to the side, thinking it over. Then she turned back to me. “Three. You can have three Astrophage.”
I unclenched my muscles. “Okay.” I breathed a little. I didn’t realize how tense I’d been. “Okay. Three. I can work with that.”
She typed on her tablet. “I’ll keep this lab open. It’s all yours. Come back in a few hours and my guys will be gone.”
I was already halfway into a containment suit. “I’m getting back to work now. Tell your guys to stay out of my way.”
She glared at me but didn’t say anything further.
—
I have to do this for my kids.
I mean…they’re notmykids. But they’re my kids.
I look at the screens arrayed before me. I need to think about this.
My memory is spotty. Seems reliable enough, but incomplete. Instead of waiting for an epiphany where I remember everything, what can I work out right now?
Earth is in trouble. The sun is infected with Astrophage. I’m in a spaceship in another solar system. This ship wasn’t easy to build and it had an international crew. We’re talking about an interstellar mission—something that should be impossible with our technology. Okay, so humanity put a lot of time and effort into this mission, and Astrophage was the missing link that enabled it.
There’s only one explanation: There’s a solution to the Astrophage problem here. Or a potential solution. Something promising enough to dedicate a huge amount of resources.
I scour the screens for more info. Mostly they seem to be the kinds of things you’d expect on a spaceship. Life support, navigation, that sort of thing. One screen is labeled “Beetles.” The next screen over says—
Wait, beetles?
Okay, I don’t know if it has anything to do with anything, but I need to find out if there are a bunch of beetles on this ship. That’s the sort of thing a guy needs to know.
