The Andromeda Evolution. Michael Crichton
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GORDON, US Army, Sergeant First Class (AGE: 28)
Wildfire Clearance (PRELIMINARY) ***
Designated: Field Medic, 004 ***
Location: Fort Benning, Georgia *** Travel Duration: ~14H ***
Specialization: Ranger elite light infantry; battalion senior medic ***
Misc: Trauma surgeon ***
SOPHIE KLINE, PHD (AGE: 32)
Wildfire Clearance (NASA) ***
Designated: Remote Scientist, 005 ***
Location: International Space Station *** Travel Duration: N/A ***
Specialization: Nanorobotics, nanobiology, microgravity research ***
Misc: AS-1, AS-2 EXPERT ***
*** END DOSSIER ***
Stern paused at the inclusion of Major Peng Wu, a Chinese national who normally would have been excluded as a security concern. Then he shook his head, cracking a wry smile. The ALDA algorithm was relentlessly logical yet had often proven itself capable of nonintuitive decision-making. Given the situation with Heavenly Palace, it was a stroke of genius to bring in a Chinese military candidate who had been waiting, preapproved, in the Wildfire candidate pool.
Peng Wu was not just any taikonaut—she had actually participated in the first manned voyage to the Tiangong-1 space station. Stern knew she wouldn’t divulge any Chinese military secrets—they’d already tried discerning that—but her knowledge of what had happened up there could still save lives.
At this point, General Stern’s only duty was to give a verbal confirmation. However, a final exchange took place in the seconds before the go order was passed on—both upward to the president of the United States and down to the enlisted men and women immediately dispatched to execute first steps.
The following is a partial transcript of the last-minute exchange between General Stern and one of his most trusted officers:
< … >
0–10 GEN
Strike the last field candidate. I have a replacement.
S-OP-001
Zack Gordon? Are you sure, General?
0–10 GEN
Send Stone.
S-OP-001
I’m sorry, sir?
0–10 GEN
James Stone. Out of Palo Alto. You’ll find him on the standby list.
S-OP-001
[short pause] Sir, do you mean the son of Dr. Jeremy Stone? From the first Andromeda incident? This guy hasn’t got the clearance. His prep work is also out of date. I believe he was always a tangential candidate, too special-purpose.
0–10 GEN
I know. Send him anyway.
S-OP-001
There will be a delay while we wait for his security clearance.
0–10 GEN
Understood. Scramble my personal C-40 transport and go get him. That’ll help mitigate the delay.
S-OP-001
[long pause] You were close friends with Dr. Jeremy Stone, weren’t you?
0–10 GEN
Your point?
S-OP-001
I’m just afraid … you should consider the optics on this.
0–10 GEN
Listen, son. It’s not your career on the line. I’m invoking directive 7–12, citing top-secret situational knowledge that must remain opaque. My voice is my clearance, and I am General Rand L. Stern.
S-OP-001
Acknowledged, sir. Dossier approved and … the mission is live.
[typing sounds]
S-OP-001
Enlisted liaisons are being dispatched now to retrieve our field team. You are advised to report to local command and control to assume overwatch duties. Good luck, sir.
0–10 GEN
Roger that. And thank you.
S-OP-001
Sir?
[brief pause]
S-OP-001
Sir. If you don’t mind my asking. Off the record …
0–10 GEN
Nothing is off the record. You know that.
S-OP-001
Well then, on the record, but between us.
0–10 GEN
All right. Shoot.
S-OP-001
Why James Stone?
[long pause]
0–10 GEN
It’s just a hunch. Nothing more.
[end transmission]
Conservative estimates from the DC-based Nova America think tank conclude that Stern’s hunch likely saved three to four billion lives.
Emergency Debris Avoidance Maneuver
TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY-EIGHT MILES ABOVE EARTH, Dr. Sophie Kline floated quietly in a nimbus of her own long blond hair. It was just after 6:00 a.m. Greenwich Mean Time—the official time zone of the International Space Station, as a compromise to accommodate Mission Control in both Houston and Moscow—but her blue-gray eyes were wide open and alert. This early, both of her fellow astronauts were still in sleep cycle, and the observation cupola was shuttered, empty, and dark—the only sound a faint whirring from the Tranquility module ventilation systems.
It was Kline’s favorite time of day.
She punched a glowing button, and the hull began to whine as the exterior cupola shutters rose. The gentle glow of Earth’s surface lit the interior of the module, and Kline enjoyed the usual thrill in her stomach. She loved the feeling of being alone and suspended, looking down on the planet from on high. It gave her a sense of utter superiority, as if everything below were a part of her own creation.
This small daily ritual (confessed in a personal flight journal salvaged after the incident) might seem arrogant, but it was simply a dream of freedom.
As it was, Kline was floating in the windowed cupola with her paralyzed legs bound tightly together with Velcro straps to keep them out of the way. It was only in these quiet moments of weightlessness that she could almost forget the searing cramps and spasms that writhed through her devastated muscles.
Sophie Kline had not been able to walk since she was six years old, so she had chosen to fly. She was tall, despite her disability, and as she focused on the cupola window, her striking eyebrows and gaunt cheeks lent her a predatory appearance, softened only by a smattering of freckles across her nose and forehead.
Her path to the stars was so unlikely as to almost satisfy Borel’s fallacy. When Kline fell and broke her right arm at the age of four, her parents assumed she was simply clumsy