Ackerman, Mansfield thought right away. But how the hell did he get the letter before me?

"Who's that from?" Mansfield asked, playing dumb.

"Take a look for yourself," Marshall said, handing over the letter.

Mansfield took the single sheet of paper out of the envelope. Before even reading the words, he looked down at the name on the bottom: Josh Clement.

Ackerman, you sneaky son of a...

"Who could have sent this?" Mansfield asked. "Who could possibly know this name?"

"We both know who it's from," the President said, not buying into Mansfield's poor attempt at gullibility. "I've already discussed this situation with James Armour and he agrees with me. We've decided to let Ackerman back. We are approaching difficult times and having a fourth voice in our planning will benefit us all."

"But Mr. President-" Mansfield tried to argue. Before he could finish his thought, Marshall interrupted him.

"I know what you're going to say, Peter," Marshall said. "I know you are opposed to the idea but the decision is already made. And it's final."

Mansfield worked with the President long enough to know that when Marshall said a decision was final, there was no changing his mind. Thankfully for Peter's sake, these 'final' decisions were few and far between. But he knew it would be worthless to continue the argument.

"You're right, Mr. President. I am opposed to this idea. But I would never stand in the way of a Presidential order."

"Good," Marshall said, almost surprised that his Chief of Staff gave up so easily. "I want no tension or anger from you toward Ackerman. He is a fragile man so I want you to treat him accordingly. And to show him that you harbor no bad feelings, you will be the one to go to his cabin and inform him of my decision." Mansfield looked shocked at this request but Marshall continued to talk before he could object. "You can have a few days to get used to the idea, but then you will go. Of course, Secret Service agents will accompany you for protection but since your meeting with Earl at the benefit was so non-threatening, I see no reason why he'll be a threat this time."

Mansfield turned a light shade of red. He was usually quick on his feet but the President's knowledge of Earl's appearance at the Aston benefit was nothing short of incredible. For a few seconds, Peter stood with his mouth open, trying to think of an excuse for not telling Marshall. He came up with nothing.

"How did you find out? Nobody knew he was there," he said honestly.

"There isn't much I don't know, Peter," Marshall said, a knowing grin across his face. "I've actually had this letter for awhile now."

That was all the President was willing to say about his source of the information. Mansfield was in no position to push the subject further.

"I'll leave you now so I can get my hiking boots ready for a trip to the cabin," Mansfield said. "Besides, I feel the sudden need to crawl under a rock for a few hours anyway."

He turned to walk out of the room when the President stopped him.

"You had a letter, too?"

"Oh, yeah," Mansfield said. He approached the President's desk, dropped the letter in front of him and left the Oval Office.

President Marshall read the letter from Emily Peterson three times. After his third time reading it, Marshall's intercom beeped.

"Mr. President, your limousine is ready for your lunch with Senator Andreano," Mae said. Marshall looked back down at the letter.

"Please call Arthur's office and reschedule. Tell him I'm sorry for canceling at the last minute but something important has come up."

"Yes, sir."

Marshall walked to the corner of the large office, where a computer was set up on a small desk. The President wasn't completely illiterate when it came to computers; he could at least write e-mails and browse the Internet. That knowledge usually served his computer needs, including now.

He addressed an e-mail to James Armour. Marshall had been guaranteed that hackers could never compromise this computer but he always heard stories about secure computers being hacked when they were totally secure. Because of this, the President kept his e-mail free of specific information concerning the comet secret. Instead, he typed the letter from Emily mostly verbatim, only leaving out a few of the depressing details of the young girl's sad story. Without mentioning Neil by name, Marshall informed Armour that it was time to get an update to 'their boy' and give him some correspondence with his daughter. The 'Inner Circle' could at least give Neil a reminder why he decided to accept this challenging mission in the first place.

"Armour to probe, Armour to probe," James Armour spoke into the transmitter. He sat alone in the mission control room, communicating with Neil Peterson's deep-space probe for the first time in nearly a year. It was also the first time he'd seen readings from the ship. He was concerned to find the level of CO2 a bit higher than it should be. Can't worry about that now. Just have to hope everything holds up the way we planned. After waiting a few minutes to give time to reach the cockpit, Armour continued his message.

"Everything on our end of the mission is proceeding as expected. I hope everything is going well for you aboard the probe." Armour paused for a moment, wishing he had given more thought how to broach a difficult subject. "I know your health is probably not in the best condition right now but I have something that will provide a boost to your mental health. I got a letter from Emily that was addressed to the President. I'm not sure if hearing words written from your daughter will be a good thing for you or if it will only be a distraction but you deserve to know what your child is thinking."

Armour conveniently left out the part about President Marshall ordering him to read the letter. While Armour agreed that the doomed astronaut deserved to hear from Emily, his doubts about the letter being a distraction to Neil were true. During his years as an astronaut and as Chief of NASA, one thing Armour learned was that the loss of focus during missions was the worst thing for an astronaut "Dear Mr. President, My name is Emily Peterson."

After reading the letter, Armour wished Peterson luck before severing the connection with the probe.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

July 10, 2013-1 year, 4 months, 15 days until Interception...

Neil Peterson sat on the edge of his bed, his legs strapped down so he wouldn't float away. Extreme fatigue plagued him constantly now. It took all of his will not to lie down and go to sleep forever. Moments before, he went into his food storage area, amazed to see the ever-reducing supply of food he was given for the mission. It had not seemed like long ago when the large storage area was filled to maximum capacity.

His weak hands struggled to rip open a package of dried fruit. When the plastic finally opened and he took his first bites, Neil wondered if this kind of food came with an expiration date. Not that it mattered to him. He was in no position to turn down food of any kind, spoiled or not. Besides, Neil's taste buds had lost all ability to judge the difference between tasty and disgusting.

Why am I doing this to myself? Everyone on Earth has to die at some point anyway. And who's to say that all of humankind will be wiped out anyway? I'm sure some people will survive the comet strike.

"Yeah, like the way a few of the dinosaurs survived," he said out loud, looking over to the picture of his smiling daughter. For months, Neil had put that picture of Emily away, too pained to stare at his daughter's beautiful face, too ashamed that he had abandoned her. But recently, as his body and mind both deteriorated at a frightening pace, Neil needed inspiration to keep going, even if that inspiration brought tears to his eyes every time.

Once he finished eating, Neil unstrapped his legs and floated out of his room, needing to forget his past and focus on something less depressing.

"No, don't think about that," he said to himself when he floated into the probe's largest room, which was completely clean and free of the paper cloud. "Think about Emily, think about saving the world, think about anything but that."

But Neil's eyes and thoughts inevitably wandered to the nuclear bomb.

Just do it one more time. You haven't done it for awhile now. You need a little excitement in your life.

"No way," he said to himself. "The bomb almost went off last time. And what if I forget the code? I'm the only chance Earth's got."

That silenced his mind for the moment. Neil had to keep his mind active. He opened a storage bin in the corner of the room and watched as multiple stacks of paper floated upward. He grabbed the first stack rubber-banded together and closed the drawer before the rest escaped.

War and Peace? Are you actually going to force yourself to read that again?

Every single page was in perfect numerical order, a feat that had taken Neil a painfully long time to accomplish. He carefully removed the thick rubberband and held the pages of the book tightly so none would float away. After reading only a few sentences, his mind took over again. Neil found his eyes drifting away from the page and over to the bomb.

"Dammit," he growled at his weakness. Neil threw the stack of pages up, not bothering to watch the neatly piled book explode into the familiar cloud.

Neil turned on the power to the control panel and watched the numeric keypad display a green zero outside of the bomb's glass covering.

"Okay, you idiot. If you have to do this, at least do an easy one," he told himself.

Idiot? You'll be thanking me soon enough for doing this. Without some entertainment, you might as well give up on life already.

Neil's fingers instinctively typed numbers into the keypad, choosing the one code he was certain he had memorized. After typing in the correct ten digits and double-checking the accuracy of the number, Neil pushed the ENTER key.

He looked through the glass and saw the timer on the nuke flash on, displaying 10:00...9:59. During those first few seconds that the timer counted back, Neil felt like a junkie getting his fix. He could almost feel blood rushing through his arms and brain and chest. The air he breathed felt more satisfying than any he'd breathed in a long time, since he almost blew the nuke last time. Neil knew how stupid it was to risk something going wrong but he couldn't stop himself. Setting the timer was the only thing that made him feel alive, the only thing that truly made him happy.

Until he heard the one thing even better.

Not fifteen seconds into the ten-minute countdown, a welcomed sound disrupted the infinite silence of space.

"Armour to probe, Armour to probe," James Armour's tiny voice said from the cockpit. The sound of the man's voice was more wonderful than any music or any voice Neil ever heard in his life. It was even better than the ticking of the bomb's timer.

Hurry up. Get to the communications equipment so you can hear what Armour has to say.

"I know, I know. I'm turning off the timer so I can fully concentrate on him," Neil told himself. He knew that Armour delayed his speech for at least a minute after first hailing the probe.

Come on, you don't have time for that. Just let the timer run, it'll still be here when you get back.

Neil ignored his inner voice and typed in the deactivation code. He only pressed the first number when the control panel next to the glass-encased bomb suddenly shut off. Every single one of the glowing buttons turned off simultaneously, including the green numbers of the numeric keypad. Neil was confused about how the system could just shut off but small hissing noises and the faint smell of smoke told him what had happened. Panic should have filled his mind but problem-solving was a trait that Neil handled with calm composure. Astronaut-training had taught him the importance of that.

He moved closer to the control panel, sniffing at the acrid smell of smoke. When he pinpointed the area where the smell originated, Neil tried to pull off the aluminum paneling, which was held in place by four small screws. He glanced up at the timer on the nuke. 9:28...9:27...

"Okay, think," he said to himself, trying to concentrate on dealing with one problem at a time. "The cockpit. There should be tools in there."

He floated to the cockpit and ripped open one of the drawers that contained a small set of tools. He rifled through them, quickly finding a screwdriver.

"Everything on our end of the mission is proceeding as expected. I hope everything is going well for you aboard the probe," Armour said over the radio. Neil wanted nothing more than to listen to the transmission but he had no idea how long it would last. Stopping the bomb was a bit more important than hearing that everything on Earth was running so smoothly.

Everything up here ain't so great right about now.

"That's because you couldn't leave the damn bomb alone."

When Neil returned to the nuke's control panel and unscrewed the aluminum panel, a faint puff of smoke escaped. Once the smoke cleared, Neil immediately saw the source of the problem. The innards of the control panel consisted of an array of different colored wires, all of which were packed tightly into one area. Among this group of wires, Neil saw that a long blue one, which disappeared into the back of the panel and likely connected into the nuclear bomb itself, had frayed.

Neil completely disregarded the chance of electrocution; no time to worry about anything as he grabbed both pieces of the severed wire. He gently pulled the two wires toward one another but found them too short, a few centimeters from reconnecting. Careful not to yank too tightly and completely rip them out, Neil pulled them a bit harder, until they barely touched. When the frayed ends made contact, the green lights on the control panel flickered, but did not stay lit. He pulled the wires even tighter, hoping for enough slack to twist the ends back together, but found they would not budge any more.

Neil realized the only way to fix the control panel was to find another wire that would connect the two frayed ends. He considered ripping out another one of the countless wires in the panel, but he did not want to risk compromising the rest of the system. There was only one solution: Neil needed to find another system on board the ship where he could pilfer a wire.

The whole time Neil fiddled with the open panel, he heard the voice of James Armour coming over the radio, although he could not pay attention enough to make out the NASSA Chief's exact words. Armour's voice paused momentarily, but then he spoke a word that stuck out from the others, a word that transformed the muddled noise into a voice that Neil could hear perfectly clear. That word was daughter.

"-daughter that was addressed to the President. I'm not sure if hearing the words written from Emily will be a good thing for you or if it will be a distraction but you deserve to know what your child is thinking."

Neil could not believe what he was hearing. Actual communication from my daughter? He quickly glanced at the timer on the bomb, seeing it continue to tick, 7:15...7:14... For a moment, the bomb and the fate of the entire world took a backseat to what his daughter had to say. He floated into the cockpit just as Armour began the letter.

"Dear Mr. President, My name is Emily Peterson. I believe you know my father, Neil. He left me a few years ago to go on a secret mission for you, a mission that must be very important. You see, I love my father very much, and I miss him very much and all I want is to see him again. But I know that if my daddy had to leave me, it must be for something very important. All I want to do is ask you to end his secret mission so he can come back to me."

Tears of guilt formed in Neil's eyes, as his heart broke a little more with every word Armour read. As if hearing those words was not bad enough, Neil knew precious seconds were passing by and he was nowhere closer to figuring out how to stop the timer on the nuke. While he was staring at the communications system, a thought suddenly struck him. Neil figured this was the only system on the probe he could damage without hindering the success of the mission.

"I just want to interrupt here for a second," Armour's voice said over the radio. I don't have time for your damn interruptions, Neil thought. "I'm not sure how much specific information you told your daughter about the mission but we're glad you apparently didn't say too much. She's still a young girl and-"

Neil could care less about anything Armour had to say right now unless he was reading Emily's letter. He took time during this interruption to float back into the main room, where he retrieved the screwdriver and checked the timer. 5:01...5:00...4:59...

"I know it's selfish of me to ask my daddy to stop his mission," Armour said, continuing to read the letter. "And I know that if I asked you to stop his mission, you may not be able to. That leaves me with only one thing to ask."

While listening to his daughter's letter, Neil quickly unscrewed the tiny box that housed the radio equipment, finding a plethora of wires that appeared similar to the ones in the nuke's control panel. He could only hope that the blue wire here would work with the other one.

Neil grabbed hold of this blue wire, ready to rip it out. He knew he should do it right away; if this wire didn't work, he would have to come up with another plan. He only had a few minutes before detonation but Neil could not bear to sever the only connection he would ever have with his Emily.

"Please, just tell my dad that I love him and I miss him and I hope that if he is doing something really important, that he does a good job and helps people or does whatever it is he's supposed to be doing.

"That's all. She signed her name, but that was the end of the letter. I thought you would appreciate-"

Neil yanked the wires out of the radio and the sound of Armour's voice, the last voice Neil would ever hear, silenced. He rushed back toward the control panel, taking a quick glance at the timer. 3:10...3:09...3:08...

This better work. All Emily wants is for you to succeed. If you fail, you'll be destroying Earth, humankind and your daughter's last wish from you...

"I know, I know," Neil said. "Just shut up and let me do this already."

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and relax the tension from his shaking hands. Neil then tore off a small piece of the blue covering from each end of the wire. He licked each end before twisting them around the two separate frayed wires. A few sparks shot out from the newly fastened wire but the lights on the control panel immediately flicked back on.

"That was for you, Emily," Neil said, glancing at the timer and seeing there was still three minutes left on the timer. "And no more messing with the nuke, not until I reach the comet."

Neil typed the code in the numeric keypad and pressed ENTER, relieved that he would again avert another self-produced crisis. When the timer continued counting backward, Neil could not believe his eyes. Assuming he'd messed up typing, he pushed the ten numbers again but the timer continued to count backward.

2:46...2:45...2:44...

Something was definitely wrong. He examined the nuke's control panel, turning it off and on several times to make sure it worked properly. The only thing to do was check the nuke-code booklet. He retrieved another small bundle of pages stacked and rubber-banded together. As he quickly skimmed through the first few pages, he was reminded of a section in the booklet he'd read only a few times. He threw the rest of the pages into the 'War and Peace' cloud, holding only the last few pages. The heading on these pages read: 'RESET CODES.'

Neil read the single paragraph above a set of numbers: 'In case the system or control panel unexpectedly loses total power, use these codes to reset the system. From there, program the desired code as needed.'

Neil typed in the ten-digit code, carefully pressing each number so he would not have to retype them.

30...29...28...

After he typed in the code to reset the system, a beeping noise from the control panel sounded five times. Whether this was a good sign or bad, Neil did not know. He didn't have time to sit around and figure out. Once the keypad was set back to zero, he quickly typed in the deactivation code and pressed ENTER.

10...9...8...

I typed it wrong, I had to have. Please God, make me have typed in the wrong deactivation code.

Neil's fingers flew over the keypad again, as he barely felt the buttons beneath his fingertips. With the last number typed in, his finger paused for a brief second over the ENTER button, just long enough for Neil to have one final thought.

Emily.

At the same exact moment he pressed ENTER, Neil allowed himself to glance over at the timer.