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“He saved my life.” Sasha frowned. “And so did Kilaqqi.”

“Who?”

“Myaminmi. My father.”

“That’s not the Russian for father—”

“He’s not Russian. He’s Evenki. He’s a Siberian shaman.”

Mark blinked, once, twice, and then a third time. They floated inZvezda, arms locked together, knees touching, heads pulled in close like they were sharing their deepest secrets.

“He took me on a vision quest to find my soul. We traveled to the land of the dead.”This is the land where all things die. Where everything ends.“And then we went to the highest heaven.”

“Uhh...”

“How is hehere?”

Death is familiar to you.

“I’m not sure,” Mark said. “What else do you know about him? Maybe this is a family member?”

A wail tore through the module, fracturing their quiet spin, the fragile moment of shared pain and secrets. Crimson lights danced over their faces, exploding out of the caution and warning panels at each airlock. “Medical emergency!” Rafael’s voice broke over the radio loop, through every speaker on the ISS. “I need help inUnity, now!”

Mark and Sasha took off, somersaulting and pushing offZvezda’s bulkheads and launching through theZaryatunnel toUnity. Through the stack, they saw Rafael in the center ofUnity, reaching up and tugging something out ofIndependence’s hatch.

Tugging a body.

Jim.

They burst intoUnityone after the other, Mark rushing to Rafael’s side and helping to pull Jim down. Michaela followed, her eyes wide and red, her face pale. She was fixated on Jim, unusually silent and frozen as she watched Rafael work down Jim’s unmoving body.

Rafael lifted Jim’s eyelids. Both eyes were rolled back, the irises out of sight. The visible portions of Jim’s eyes were a vicious ruby, arterial bloodred. “Subjunctival hemorrhage.” Rafael said. “Michaela, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “We were sleeping. He said he had a headache, but he was tired. He thought he’d sleep it off. I woke up and he was seizing right next to me.” She trailed off, still staring at Jim.

“How long ago did the seizure stop?”

“A minute, maybe less.”

“He’s postictal. Did you time it? How long was he actively seizing?”

“I don’t know.”

Rafael kept examining Jim, a rapid assessment as Mark held Jim’s unconscious body steady. “He’s burning up. Pulse is rapid and thready. B-P elevated.” Sasha hung back by the bulkhead, out of the way and waiting for orders. AcrossUnity, Phillipa, Sarah, and Joey arrived from theTranquilitymodule, their new sleeping quarters.

As Rafael ran his hands over Jim’s chest and down his sides, Jim thrashed, both arms flailing with his hands clenched into fists. One caught Rafael in the mouth. He flew back, cursing. Mark ducked, pushing away from Jim and retreating to the bulkhead.

Jim’s back arched. He cried out, a plaintive, weak, and wounded sound. His arms and legs began to jerk in rhythmic spasms as a foul odor filled the module.

“He’s seizing!” Rafael shouted. “Houston, I need a surgeon on the line, now!”

“Alpha, this is Dr. Nguyen,” a voice came over the radio from Mission Control. “What is your situation?”

Rafael floated behind Jim, timing his seizure. “Jim’s seizing, Houston. Second grand mal seizure within five minutes. This one is pushing forty seconds.” He rattled off Jim’s vitals as he hovered nearby, keeping him away from the bulkheads. As he pushed Jim gently away from a laptop, Jim snarled. His hands rose to his face.

A wet sound filled the air, like a butcher slicing through meat. Jim continued to growl, a feral animal’s noise, and a shower of red droplets twirled away from his face as he spun in the center ofUnity.

“Fuck!” Rafael shouted, diving through the blood. He grabbed Jim’s hands, ripping them away from where he’d clawed at his face and tried to gouge out his eyes. One eyelid was torn, a piece of flesh hanging off his exposed and bloodred eyeball. The other eye leaked corneal fluid and blood, the orb punctured and loose inside his ruined orbit. “He’s tried to enucleate himself!”