Death in Pod Eighteen

by John Stevenson

most of all of back on the surface. The fact that it was a murder mystery never occurred to him.

  Kyle French was a perfectionist. Not in the sense of being pedantic, and requiring every last detail to be absolutely complete, but in the way a scientist cannot accept an anomaly.

  He had been asked to come up with an explanation why all the suits tested had been found to have a lethal problem with the air recycling. His task had been easier than he thought as he quickly came to believe that the problem lay with the modular compressed air tanks that were inserted into the suits at the start of each outside activity. In practice a suit could lay unused for months at a time, so a system had been developed where a supply of fresh breathable air could be clipped into the life support backpack much as a new battery was placed into a device; it was here that the problem lay. Somehow: incredibly, the fresh air supply had become poisoned with the extra carbon dioxide.

  Even more worrying was that if the tanks were contaminated then the entire air supply could be as well. It was a frightening thought that he confided to Emma, the hastily promoted medical officer.

  “But I don’t see how the mix could be wrong?” She muttered deep in thought.

  “I have a theory, if I'm right it could mean the scrubbers are not being properly cleaned?”

  “If that’s the case, then we are all continually breathing an increasing amount, even here?”

  “That’s the conclusion I came to, but the effect is more pronounced in the suits as the scrubbers are degraded far more quickly, and the build up would be far more rapid?”

  “Be that or not I’ll recommend everything on the station are fully cleaned after every use.” Emma stared at him. “If there is a problem sooner or later we will all be living in a poisonous gas… What about the sensors; they are supposed to be independent of the air system. Why haven’t they picked anything up?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Well, yes, that is a problem with my theory. It could be I’m completely wrong. Maybe the main scrubbers will be perfectly functional?”

  “I certainly hope your wrong, but we have to get the system completely checked.”

  Kyle smiled; pleased to hear her verify his own thoughts.

  A while later Kyle was explaining it differently to Andrew.

  “And where do you think the problem is?”

  “Its hard to say. At first I was convinced it was in the air scrubbers, but they have been checked them and appear to be working. It may be in the compressors, or in the mixture controls?”

  “They are being checked?”

  “Yes, but it could even be something as simple as a power fluctuation?”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “The composition of the air mix is controlled by a mechanical feed. If a sensor tells it more dioxide is needed the pump goes up…”

  “How’s that going to be affected by the power supply?” said Andrew impatiently.

  “It’s a simple motor, give it more power, it runs faster.”

  “I can’t believe something like that could happen, surely there’s a governor of some sort?”

  “I’m not an engineer,” Kyle was feeling exasperated. “Something is happening somewhere, and at this moment we don’t know what.”

  “All right. Do whatever needs to be done quickly; and do it right; I want this kind of problem behind us. Were going to have to rely on the air supply for a long time and any potential problem with the power supply could put the station in jeopardy, even if it doesn’t poison us all.” Andrew thought for a moment. “Do you know where the power for that equipment comes from?”

  “Er… I. I think it originates in the induction pod?”

  “That’s right,” Andrew said in a knowing tone. “I think before anything else you should check the work that our cadet was doing before he electrocuted himself?”

  Matt was in another world: well actually back on his own. In the dim light his mind was carried along by the scrolling words projected onto his closed eyelid, making the pictures and events appearing in his imagination seem to come from his own mind rather than a text.

  It seemed that the rocking of the Orient express carriage was so real that for an instant it shook him back to reality. Though what did tear him out of the semi slumber was the urgent repeating scream of a klaxon horn, and the room’s lights suddenly switching on in the red brightness of the emergency lights. For an instant his body tensed for action and then he remembered the drill. According to station rules he should get to the refuge, but Andrew had relieved him of duty; somebody else was running the evacuation practice. A feeling of rebellion came over him and he forced himself to lay back. He was supposedly under the influence of sedatives; he would use the excuse if there were consequences.

  But the noise didn’t stop, and his communications console had indicator lights lit up all over it, including one for an urgent personal audio call. He reached over and brushed his finger onto the message button.

  “All command staff to emergency stations,” said the urgent but calm voice. “Personal re-breathers mandatory. Fire in Pod eighteen. Potential danger from smoke and fumes. Personal re-breathers mandatory. All command staff to emergency stations.”

  The recorded message began to repeat as Mathew at last began to act and grabbed for the few bits of uniform he had shed. He switched the communication to speak. “Engineer reporting to command module.” Then left the communicator repeating as he raced out of his quarters.

  As the badly burned technician slammed the airlock between pods eighteen and nineteen shut, he carried news that the entire of pod eighteen: the electrical induction area; was in a shambles. Wires and equipment were strewn everywhere, fires burned out of control in several places, and the room had quickly filled with acrid smoke. He said he had been one of four: and one of the three charred bodies left on the metal grating floor, was Kyle French

  When Andrew arrived the man was sat beside a bulkhead being tendered by several crew, including a nurse, Beth.

  She stood up to face Andrew. “He’s badly burned. He needs to go to the infirmary as soon as possible.”

  Two others were helping the man to his feet as she spoke

  “He said there were at least three others in there. They’re dead. If you want to ask him anything else you can talk to him when we have him stabilized and under medication.”

  Andrew returned to the command module where Matt had taken over the command.

  “Status?” he said abruptly, as if to quieten anything Matt had to say.

  “Power is off line all over the place. Emergency power kicked in and is holding fully operational. I’ve declared a pre-evacuation because there is smoke from through to fifteen. All life systems in pods seventeen to eleven are reduced to minimal, but seem to be fully functioning?”

  “Any reliable damage reports?”

  “Sensors indicate that there is significant damage in pod eighteen, and that the passage between it and seventeen is no longer secure. There may also be a hull breach in eighteen, but we have no visual confirmation yet.”

  “What do you mean by secure?”

  “Indications are that some; possibly all anchor points between eighteen and seventeen have opened.”

  It was Andrews worst nightmare. “We’re breaking up?”

  “I don’t know?”

  “Then we need to… Injuries?”

  “Three unconfirmed dead in eighteen. Reports still coming in from elsewhere of minor injuries.”

  “What’s the prognosis?”

  “Priority is to stabilize the situation in eighteen and secure the anchor points. Beyond that life support is holding. Crew wise we have been broken in two, by quick head count there are twenty-five this side and the rest beyond eighteen.

  “Access is still available the long way around?”

  “Those that can are returning that way. Clive’s leading a team to meet them. Everything is closed down, but he’ll be able to move through safely.”

  “Right then we’ll continue to eva
cuate that way.” Andrew sighed. “It seems you have everything as under control as we can have it?”

  “One thing concerns me, I can’t get confirmation that all the crew are making their way back. Communications from pod nineteen through to twenty-one are down, and the survivors we can contact can’t confirm if the pods were empty or not?”

  “Then we need somebody to get a reliable head count as soon as possible?”

  “I’ve sent requests to all area heads, and the rescue team to tell us who they’ve got?”

  It was a tense twenty minutes before the rescue team gave them the number, and it was five short.

  Matthew looked at Andrew seriously. “They are trapped: the hatch into twenty-one isn’t working. There’s no communication: we don’t know if they are alive or not, but that area has little medical support if they need it, There is water, subsistence food and they probably have minimum life support.” He deliberately looked into Andrews’s eyes. “But we don’t know for how long; there’s an air reticulation leak somewhere in the damaged area. Sensors indicate that if it’s not corrected: they could be out of breathable air within three hours.”

  Andrew nodded. “Then the rescue team will have to return and force a way through.”

  “Yes…” Matthew said slowly, “But we don’t know why the hatch won’t open… It could be quicker to try going through eighteen?”

  Andrew looked at him doubtfully. “Through eighteen, is that feasible?”

  “The area has been voided so the fires will be out. There’s likely