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“Yes ma’am,” Mark answered. She could hear his smile, even through the static interfering with their signal. A solar flare from a few days before was still playing havoc with their systems. “I’ll have Sasha doing everything soon.It will just be kicking back and piña coladas for me.”

“Roger that,” she said, chuckling. “Sasha, you are go to undock.”

“Roger, Alpha.” Sasha’s thick accent poured over the line. “Docking collar depressurized.” Oxygen from the airlock began pumping out and circulating back into the station until the airlock was at negative pressure.

The docking clamps connecting the ISS to theFreedomcapsule released, three heavythunksechoing through the station as the mechanical arms rotated away. A few stray molecules of oxygen wisped out of the airlock, turning to mist betweenFreedomand the ISS.

The ISS docking arm gently pushedFreedomaway, three thick springs moving her inch by inch.

“Docking clamps released,” Sasha said. “Freedomis in free drift.”

Seconds passed, counting up on the timer in the corner of Phillipa’s display. They were moving so fast they circled Earth every hour and a half, and it still took nine seconds forFreedomto float eighteen inches away from the ISS.

“Switching to RCS,” Mark called. “Sasha, you’re go for RCS burn down the R-bar.”

On boardFreedom, Sasha would be in command of the stick—unusual, but Mark had always taken a hands-on approach to mentoring his favorites—and would takeFreedomdown the R-bar on a reverse course out from their docking vector, angling downward untilFreedomwas five thousand feet below the station: a mile apart and in a whole new orbit.

Phillipa watchedFreedommove, reading out the feet, first in increments of five, then ten, then one hundred. “Freedom, you’re in the clear,” she called. “Good luck, and we’ll see you back home for dinner.”

Joey grinned as Phillipa switched channels and contacted Michaela. “Independence, how are we doing?”

“Systems checks came out all green, Alpha. We’re good to go.”

“Excellent. You two ready to transfer your passenger to the station?”

“Are we ever.” Michaela’s voice floated down from the open airlock over theUnitymodule.

“I can’t believe you two spent the night onIndependencewith a corpse,” Joey called, floating backward until he was staring up the docking collar intoIndependence. “You could have tacked up your sleep sacks in the Japanese lab.”

“It’s just a corpse, Espinoza. A forty-year-old frozen corpse.” Michaela arched a delicate brow Joey’s way. Her blonde hair was slicked back, a tight bun holding every strand in place.

Phillipa gently pushed Joey out of the way. Michaela had a double doctorate in biology and environmental sciences, and a Soviet Popsicle wouldn’t even be a blip on her radar screen. “Let’s bring him down. NASA wants us to take a first look.”

“Where do you want him?” Michaela asked.

“Columbus.” All of their medical and diagnostic equipment was in theColumbuslab, the European lab. “We’ll take some ultrasounds for Houston and see what tissue samples we can get. Then he’s back in his suit untilFreedomheads home.”

Michaela did a swimmer’s turn in theIndependenceairlock and pushed off, heading forIndependence’s cargo hold. “Sounds good to me.”

Michaela reappeared with Jim, pushing the Soviet corpse down the airlock and maneuvering him throughUnityandDestinyand intoHarmony, and then hung a right intoColumbus. They kept the corpse floating between them, as if he was moving on a tide, his arms and legs limp inside his suit.

Joey had made himself scarce, volunteering to take over the daily duties inDestiny. A hundred experiments a day needed checking, calibrating, observing, and note-taking. Even amid Soviet satellites going rogue and emergency missions, the ISS’s work still needed tending.

Rafael had offered to assist Michaela inColumbus. He’d already assembled the station’s backboard and fixed it to the bulkhead like a makeshift examination table near the medical section of theColumbusmodule. He patted the backboard with a smile as Michaela and Jim guided the corpse in, Phillipa on their heels.

“Houston, we’re beginning the preliminary examination now,” Phillipa radioed.

“Roger, Alpha,” CAPCOM responded. “Surgeon is on the line.”

“Let’s see what happened to our mystery spaceman,” Rafael said, offering gloves and masks to Michaela, Phillipa, and Jim. Jim declined, staying near the connection toHarmony. His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn’t slept well.

The cosmonaut’s suit had warmed up after spending a night insideIndependence'scargo hold. No longer in deep freeze, it was pliable, moveable. Rafael shared a long look with Michaela. “Subject’s remains have warmed,” Michaela said. She pointed the laser thermometer at the corpse. “Temperature is… negative two degrees Celsius.”

“Significant warming,” Rafael murmured. “More than I would have expected.”

“There’s some distension in the abdomen.” Michaela palpated the Sokol suit, pressing over the chest and belly. “He was frozen solid yesterday.”

“Soviet suits were designed to hold heat for as long as possible. They had to be able to survive if they came down in the tundra or over the Arctic,” Dr. Worrell said over the radio. “It makes sense that he’s warmed up since you brought him on boardIndependence, but that’s quite a lot of warming.Can you confirm that temperature again?”