“And would this Astrophage be at maximum energy density? Would it all be ready to reproduce?”

“So you want… I guess you’d call it ‘enriched’ Astrophage?”

“Yes,” he said. “That’s a perfect word for it. We want Astrophage that is holding as much energy as it can.”

“Uh… I guess that could be arranged,” I said. “First, breed up the number of Astrophage you want, then expose them to lots of heat energy but don’t let them see any carbon dioxide spectral lines. They’ll collect energy and just sort of sit there waiting until they can see somewhere to get CO⁠₂.”

“What if we needed two million kilograms of enriched Astrophage?” said the diplomat.

“It’s doubling every eight days,” I said. “Two million kilos would be another four doublings or so. So, one month longer.”

A woman leaned forward on the table, her fingers steepled. “We might just have a chance.” She had an American accent.

“An outside chance,” said Voigt.

“There is hope,” said the Japanese translator—presumably speaking for Dr. Matsuka.

“We need to talk amongst ourselves,” said Stratt. “Go get some rest. The sailor outside will show you to a bunk.”

“But I want to know about Project Hail Mary!”

“Oh, you will. Believe me.”

I slept for fourteen hours.

Aircraft carriers are awesome in many ways, but they aren’t five-star hotels. The Chinese had given me a clean, comfy cot in an officer’s bunkroom. I had no complaints. I could have slept on the flight deck I was so tired.

I felt something weird on my forehead when I woke up. I reached up and it was a Post-it note. Someone put a Post-it on my head while I slept. I pulled it off and read it:

Clean clothes and toiletries in the duffel under your bunk. Show this note to any sailor when you’ve cleaned up: 请带我去甲板7的官员会议室

—Stratt

“She is such a pain in my butt…” I mumbled.

I stumbled out of my cot. A few officers gave me passing glances but otherwise ignored me. I found the duffel and, as promised, there were clothes and dental-hygiene stuff and soap. I glanced around the bunkroom and saw through a doorway into a locker room.

I used the bathroom (or “head” I guess, because I was on a ship). Then I took a shower with three other guys. I dried off and put on the jumpsuit onesie Stratt had left me. It was bright yellow, had Chinese writing along the back, and a big red stripe down the left leg of the pants. My guess was to make sure everyone knew I was a foreign civilian and not allowed in certain places.

I flagged down a passing sailor and showed him the note. He nodded and gestured for me to follow. He led me through a maze of twisty little passages, all alike, until we arrived back at the room I’d been in the previous day.

I stepped in to see Stratt and some of her… teammates? A subset of the previous day’s gang. Just Minister Voigt, the Chinese scientist—I think her name was Xi—and a guy in a Russian military uniform. The Russian had been there the previous day but hadn’t said anything. They all looked deep in concentration and the table was littered with paper. They mumbled to one another here and there. I didn’t know the exact relationships going on, but Stratt was definitely at the head of the table.