I steel myself, take a deep breath, and look inside.

Jet-black.

My breathing becomes unsteady. I fish a flashlight out of my pocket and shine it from behind. No light gets through at all. My heart sinks.

I sidestep over to the Threeworld Taumoeba experiment. I take a look at the slide in there and see the same thing. Completely black.

Taumoeba can’t survive Venus or Threeworld’s environment. Or, at the very least, they aren’t eating. The pit of my stomach feels like it’s going to melt.

So close! We were so close! We have the answer right here! Taumoeba! A natural predator to the thing that’s ruining our worlds! And it’s hearty too. It can survive and thrive in my fuel tanks, obviously. But not in Venus or Threeworld’s air. Why the heck not?!

“What you see, question?” Rocky asks.

“Failure,” I say. “Both experiments. The Taumoeba are all dead.”

I hear Rocky punch the wall. “Anger!”

“All this work! All of it for nothing. Nothing!” I slam my fist to the table. “I gave up so much for this! I sacrificed so much!”

I hear Rocky’s carapace clunk to the ground in his bulb. A sign of deep depression.

We’re both quiet for a time; Rocky slumped in his bulb and me with my face buried in my hands.

Finally, I hear a scrape. It’s Rocky pulling his carapace off the floor. “We work more,” he says. “We no give up. We work hard. We are brave.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I’m not the right guy for this job. I’m a last-second replacement because the actually qualified people blew up. But I’m here. I may not have all the answers, but I’m here. I must have volunteered, believing at the time that it was a suicide mission. Doesn’t help Earth, but it’s something.

Stratt’s trailer was twice the size of mine. Privileges of rank, I suppose. Though to be fair, she needed the space. She sat at a large table covered in papers. I could see at least six different languages in four different alphabets on the paperwork before her, but she didn’t seem to have a problem with any of them.

A Russian soldier stood in one corner of the room. Not exactly at attention, but not relaxed either. There was a chair next to him, but he’d apparently elected to stand.

“Hello, Dr. Grace,” Stratt said without looking up. She pointed to the soldier. “That’s Private Meknikov. Even though we know the explosion was an accident, the Russians aren’t taking any chances.”

I looked to the soldier. “So he’s here to make sure imaginary terrorists don’t kill you?”

“Something like that.” She looked up. “So. It’s five o’clock. Have you made your decision? Are you going to be the Hail Mary’s science specialist?”

I sat opposite her. I couldn’t meet her gaze. “No.”

She scowled at me. “I see.”

“It’s… you know… the kids. I should stay here for the kids.” I squirmed in my seat. “Even if the Hail Mary finds the answer, we’re going to have almost thirty years of misery.”