Thirty days.
The countdown has started, North America shivers under the shadow of a massive alien spacecraft, and humanity is hurtling toward an unknown future that lurks at the end of the timer. Somewhere, somehow, the heroes are making their plan...
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INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION, 11:45PM, AUGUST 30
"I'm going to kill him," I seethed, focusing on my anger to distract myself from the anxiety bubbling underneath. Through the window of the International Space Station, the alien spaceship loomed over the East Coast of North America, sending a shiver through my core. Refusing to acknowledge the panic gnawing at my heart, I averted my eyes.
Focus on the task. Suppress the fear. This is no different from the simulations.
That was my futile mantra. How could any simulation have prepared me for the end of the world?
"Reboost in five minutes." The commander's voice rang through the intercom. The crew was all hands on deck, scrambling to fix our trajectory after another jolt from that nightmare of a ship below had thrown us off course again. "All necessary personnel to stations immediately."
All but me and the insufferable, egotistical prick I was stuck babysitting. Being paired with him was already a nightmare, and he had the audacity not to show up, leaving me alone to align the solar arrays and secure our energy supplies.
Fury propelled me down the narrow corridor. I had no control over what was happening outside of the metal walls of the station, but I sure as hell could set that spoiled tourist straight.
The airlock hissed open as I floated into the communication cabin and there he was, hunched over the controls. If only the world could see him now—the media painted him as this invincible, glamorous figure, but his dishevelled appearance was a far cry from the magazine covers.
"Houston, do you copy? This is the ISS, please respond," he repeated into the transmitter, practically begging, desperation edging into his tone.
We were in the middle of a critical situation, just like Earth was, and here he was, consumed by obsession, ignoring our precarious situation.
"What the hell are you doing, Madison?" I halted near him, my blood boiling. "You had one job: help with the integrity checks. Do you have any idea how badly our power efficiency could have been screwed up if I hadn't managed to do it on my own?"
Of course, he didn't. He was not an astronaut—he was a damn billionaire who had bought his way into space, while so many deserving astronauts had been left behind.
"Damn it, wasn't it bad enough your carelessness nearly took out the coolant system before, now this?"
"I need to know what's happening down there." He mumbled, still glued to the controls...ignoring me.
That did it. My last shred of patience vanished. He was stubborn, self-centred; a man used to wielding his wealth like a weapon. Yet, here it meant nothing.
He didn't belong here.
"You think pushing those buttons again and again will get you somewhere?" I snapped, though beneath it lay a shiver of dread I refused to acknowledge. "The system's been down for weeks, and we have more immediate problems, like figuring out how to limit the effect of that ship next time we pass over it."
