Page 38 of Project Hail Mary

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The next twelve hours were…unique.

Steve the army guy drove me to a high school football field where a U.S. Marine Corps helicopter had already landed. Without words, they hustled me into the chopper and up we went into the sky. I tried not to look down.

The chopper took me to Travis Air Force Base, about 60 miles north of the city. Did the marines often land at air force bases? I don’t know much about the military, but that seemed odd. It also seemed a bit extreme to send in the marines just to keep me from driving through a couple of hours of traffic, but okay.

There was a jeep waiting for me on the tarmac where the helicopter landed, with an air force guy standing next to it. He introduced himself, I swear he did, but I don’t remember his name.

He drove me across the tarmac to a waiting jet. No, not a passenger jet. And not a Learjet or anything like that. This was a fighter jet. I don’t know what kind. Like I said, I don’t know military stuff.

My guide hustled me up a ladder and into the seat behind the pilot. He gave me a pill and a little paper cup of water. “Take this.”

“What is it?”

“It’ll keep you from puking all over our nice, clean cockpit.”

“Okay.”

I swallowed the pill.

“And it’ll help you sleep.”

“What?”

Away he went, and the ground crew pulled away the ladder. The pilot didn’t say a word to me. Ten minutes later, we took off like a bat out of hell. I’d never felt acceleration like that in my life. The pill did its job. Idefinitelywould have puked.

“Where are we going?” I asked through the headset.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not allowed to speak to you.”

“This is going to be a boring trip, then.”

“They usually are,” he said.

I don’t know exactly when I fell asleep but it was within minutes of taking off. Thirty-six hours of mad science plus whatever was in that pill put me right into dreamland regardless of the ridiculous jet-engine noise surrounding me.

I awoke in darkness to a jolt. We’d landed.

“Welcome to Hawaii, sir,” said the pilot.

“Hawaii? Why am I in Hawaii?”

“I wasn’t given that information.”

The jet taxied onto some side runway or whatever and a ground crew brought a ladder. I hadn’t gotten halfway down the ladder yet when I heard “Dr. Grace? This way, please!”

It was a man in a U.S. Navy uniform.

“Where the hell am I?!” I demanded.

“Naval Station Pearl Harbor,” said the officer. “But not for long. Please follow me.”

“Sure. Why not?”

They put me inanotherjet withanothernon-talkative pilot. The only difference was that this time it was a navy jet instead of an air force jet.

We flew for alongtime. I lost track of the hours. Keeping track was meaningless anyway. I didn’t know how long we’d be in the air. Finally, I kid you not, we landed on an honest-to-God aircraft carrier.