Considering that the end of the world might be nigh, Dev was in a good mood the following early morning. Never one to sleep well on a plane, he’d managed to sideline both the excitement and the tension he was feeling long enough to grab a couple of hours of actual rest on the comparatively short flight to Houston. In fact, everyone on the team (he had by now come to think of it as a team) had succeeded in grabbing at least a modicum of shuteye, perhaps because they were all experienced travelers. It stood them in good stead as they were led to a pair of waiting black SUVs.

A major tourist destination, the Johnson Space Center was surrounded by every manner of accommodation from cheap motels to five-star resorts. Hoping to be ensconced in one of the latter, Dev was as surprised as any of them when the vehicles that had picked them up at Ellington Field instead drove straight to the Center. Turning off Ellington, they followed Fourth Street south until it dead-ended near JSC Building 7. At just after 4:00 am, the area was deserted. Doubtless the absurdity of the hour had been deliberately chosen to mask their arrival as much as possible.

Gripping the handle of her carry-on bag, Pavesi came over to him. “You’re the NASA guy. Where are we?”

More than a little disoriented himself, he finally pointed westward. “The Kraft Mission Control Center is over there, across the park.”

Her frown was visible in the isolated light that scarcely illuminated nearby structures. “‘Park?’”

“Yes. There are trees and trails, fountains and ponds. It’s a place for employees to relax, have something to eat and, hopefully, brainstorm.” His lips tightened as he surveyed their surroundings. He had some idea why they might be dropped off here before daybreak, but not why there would be no one to meet them.

Behind them, the pair of SUVs came to life. Their drivers and escorts offered neither explanation nor words of encouragement as they made the U-turn that would take them back up Fourth Street.

As soon as they were out of sight, a single figure appeared from within the nearest building. She was walking fast as she came toward them, in little mincing steps like a constipated ballet dancer.

“I’m Ariana Townsend. I’ll be your host and intermediary while you’re here.” Her attention went immediately to Dev. “Dr. Devali Mukherjee?”

He extended a hand. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We haven’t.” She grinned meaningfully. “You know the Center. Impossible to know everyone. Especially if you operate in different orbits.”

While acknowledging the hoary pun, he did not comment on it. “I’m in public relations and congressional advocacy.”

“I know. I’m with Services.”

“What kind of services?” Katou-Zimmer asked.

“Right now, making you comfortable. You still have some time to sleep before this afternoon.”

“What’s this afternoon?” Reed inquired.