"Vance runs a tight ship. I'm perfectly comfortable with this launch."

"What about on the station? This could stretch your stay to six months in orbit."

"I can deal with it."

"But it wasn't planned. It's been thrown together at the last minute."

"What are you saying I should do, Jack? Wimp out?"

"I don't know!" He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't know." They stood in silence for a moment, neither one of them quite sure what to say, yet neither one ready to end the conversation.

Seven years of marriage, she thought, and this is what it's come to.

Two people who can't stay together, yet can't walk away from each other.

And now there's no time left to work things out between us.

A new page came over the address system, "Dr. McCallum stat to ER." Jack looked at her, his expression torn. "Emma -- "

"Go, Jack," she urged him. "They need you." He gave a groan of frustration and took off at a run for the ER. And she turned and walked the other way.

Aboard ISS From the observation windows of the Node 1 cupola, Dr. William Haning could see clouds swirling over the Atlantic Ocean two hundred twenty miles below. He touched the glass, his fingers skimming the barrier that protected him from the vacuum of space.

It was one more obstacle that separated him from home. From his wife. He watched the earth turn beneath him, saw the Atlantic Ocean slip away as North Africa and then the Indian Ocean slowly spun by, the darkness of night approaching. Though his body was weightless and floating, the burden of grief seemed to squeeze down on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.

At that moment, in a Houston hospital, his wife was fighting for her life, and he could do nothing to help her. For the next two weeks he would be trapped here, able to gaze down at the very city where Debbie might be dying, yet unable to reach her, touch her.