The two buildings created a sort of natural windblock, protecting him from the worst of the chilly winter morning. Should have packed a winter coat, he joked to himself. Earth's gravity made him feel like an elephant in a man's body, and he could barely move, pinned to the cold pavement. His breathing steady, his consciousness began to wane. Exhausted, his eyes flickered closed, and he was weightless once more.

Houston Space Center

0815

Coffee, I definitely need some coffee, thought the research associate on his way to Building 2. He rounded the corner and noticed the man laying in the shadows created by the breezeway between the two buildings. A vagrant? He gripped his phone and began dialing security. He didn't see any weapons, but this was still a secured area, and it was highly unusual.

"Yes, there's a guy passed out here by Building 2. He's not dressed for the weather, you should send someone out to get him. No, I think he's probably just-wait, I think he's a NASA employee."

Security having been summoned, he knelt next to the crumpled figure, studying the dark blue, NASA-issue sweatshirt. It was ragged and threadbare; the seams were grey with dirt, and the unwashed smell was strong enough to make his eyes water in the chill morning air.

"Hey, buddy. You okay?" He prodded the figure gently; no response. He grasped the man's shoulder and attempted to roll him onto his back. The man's shoulder felt odd-loose and disjointed, almost. He placed his hand on the man's ribcage, gratified to feel it moving steadily up and down. The man's face was startling; sharp, jutting cheekbones, ashy complexion, an unkept blond beard, and eye sockets that appeared distinctly sunken, with dark circles beneath.

In the distance, he could hear the reassuring whine of the campus ambulance siren.

The dark blue sweatshirt caught his attention once more-the insignia was faded and filthy, but he thought he could barely make out the words. No, that couldn't be right. Ares 3?

A grey-uniformed security officer approached, talking into his receiver. He straightened and stood up, adrenaline coursing through him. He shook his head. Impossible. But the idea had taken hold, and he couldn't help comparing his mental image of the lost astronaut to the prone figure lying in front of him. He blinked and stumbled as he stepped back, shaking his head again.

This was definitely way over and above his pay grade.