by Sean Clark
“You know, that’s very generous of you…” Cecil’s awkward praise is met with silence in return.
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The atmosphere in the hangar is heavy with the smell of dirt and oil, the same as usual. The bulky, low set transport vehicle sits by the door, being loaded with crates that Cecil recognizes from the ship. The bloated tires are stained red from the many trips around the surface. The suspension shrinks and expands, as a forklift loads more of the boxes into the back.
The smooth fabric of the jumpsuit rests limply in a ball in Cecil’s hands. “Are you ready?” Galen prods him out of his daze.
“Just as I get comfortable going around in coveralls everywhere, we have to go out there.” Cecil complains playfully, masking his hesitation.
“You don’t sound excited.” Galen stares at him blankly.
“Secundus is… a strange place for me.” Cecil sighs.
“That’s where you had your accident, right?” Galen’s eyes squint at him intently, waiting for an answer.
“Yes, but it’s beyond that. It’s just not a good place.”
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that but… we have a duty to do. Forget about all that stuff and just focus on our task. It’ll do you good.” Galen urges him, waving his hand dismissively, including an eye roll. “Remember, they need all the help we can give them, so I can’t have you dicking around. Besides, you won’t even have time to think about that shit.”
Cecil looks away, uneager to respond. Turning his back towards Galen, he begins to zip off the coveralls to slip into the jumpsuit. Cecil peeks over to make sure Galen was doing the same.
The engine of the transport vehicle roars to life. With his suit on, Cecil grabs the helmet in his hands and walks the rumbling machine. Cecil jumps in first, ascending the few ladder rungs. Leaning out, he offers Galen a hand to get up. Galen tosses his own helmet inside and climbs up the back himself.
The seats inside had been folded up to accommodate the aluminum crate carrying the supplies. The packaging numbers on it match the time frame they had left Earth. Squeezing past the load, Cecil pushes down the open seat behind the passenger seat up front. The frame creaks as the driver’s door is swung open, following with the suspension shook shifting as somebody climbs in.
Cecil is able to buckle himself in before hearing a voice. “Hey.” The deep voice calls out. Cecil looks up to the front. In the reflection of the windshield, Cecil catches sight a dark-skinned reflection staring back at him.
“Markus?” Cecil leans forward between the front seats.
“Good to see you back. I’m sorry I didn’t say hi before. I was… surprised.” Markus fiddles with controls on the dash.
“No…, I understand.” Cecil puts his head down. He notices Galen eyeballing him from the seat across. “How are you, Mark?”
“After that incident with the pool, I was in the medical bay for a while healing up. Cracked ribs aren’t fun.”
“Cracked ribbed, huh? What happened?” Galen speaks up.
“Just a fluke accident. It was supposed to be a simple diving operation, to inspect the pool before we drained it. Something went wrong with the pressure system in the suit, and I ended up with some cracked ribs. Good thing Cecil was there to pull me out.” Markus explains jokingly.
“What are you, stupid?” Galen criticizes him. “You went diving without a partner? Do you have sufficient certifications for that? I bet you used one of these suits, too.”
“What the hell are you saying?” Cecil glares back at Galen.
“No, no.” Markus protests. Outside flashes a warning light, signaling the airlock door opening. Markus allows the vehicle to drift forward between the first set. The siren sounds. “It was a mistake to do that by myself.” He continues. “Cassius had my ass after that. Even Agrippa came in and give me a piece of his mind.”
“That’s just like him.” Cecil interjects.
“I’ve been suspended from my normal duties, so I’ve been doing odd jobs like this.” Markus hits the gas, creeping out of the exterior door of the airlock. Through the windshield, Cecil can see the red Martian landscape stretching out as far as he can see.
“How does Secundus look now, Markus?” Cecil asks. In the reflection, he can see Markus’s face twist up, trying to come up with a response.
“It’s definitely more pleasant… lit well and properly finished. However, it’s still just an eerie place. Especially now with the quarantine ward down there. I don’t want to be within one hundred feet of there. I feel sorry for the people who are stationed there permanently now.”
“There must be people down there running the systems, then.” Cecil asks. The vehicle rocks back and forth over the uneven ground.
“Yeah, the geothermal stuff or whatever. Hey you.” Markus calls out to Galen. “You know this guy basically assembled a turbine blind and with his bare hands three days after waking up from a coma.”
Cecil exchanges glances with Galen. “It’s nothing like that.” Cecil shakes his head.
“Well, maybe not.” Markus yields. “But this guy was never one to accept praise in the first place, either.”
The atmosphere in the vehicle goes silent. The body creaks and the suspension whines as it creeps up the slope and over the rough landscape. Cecil watches intently out the front window. A large white spire with a bright light atop creeps up in the distance.
“We’re here.” Markus announces.
Chapter 33
Cecil steps carefully into the lift, peering through the grates of the side panels. The rock of the shaft leading downwards has a slight earthy smell. Light drifts up from down below.
“I’ll grab the pallet jack here to unload the crates. I’ll have to just drop them off here though, they expect me back.” Markus explains, sliding the lift door down as Galen follows Cecil inside. Leaning in close to the grate, the dark man whispers to Cecil. “I know this place has been nothing but awful to you, but I beg you to keep your head. If not for your own sanity… but for everyone that needs your help down there.”
“I’ll be fine.” Cecil affirms, nodding his head. Before Markus can speak again, Cecil hits the button to allow the lift to descend.
The lift is slow and steady. Cecil releases his breath that he had been unconsciously holding. The air becomes slowly colder as the machinery brings them deeper into the planet. Cecil breaths with a slight wavering breath. The air feels musty and humid. He notices Galen flaring his nostrils, eyes squinted as if he were concentrating.
Lights strobe outside the elevator compartment as the ride continues. Finally touching down, the locking door mechanism clicks, allowing Cecil to slide it open once again. More bright lights wash over the platform. Cecil blinks as his eyes adjust.
The room is rocky and uneven, but looks as if it had been sprayed down with a plaster substance on the walls, giving them a white shine. Cecil steps out of the lift. Looking side to side, he examines the plain looking chamber.
“So… this was originally a cave of some sort?” Galen says, following him out.
“A lava tube. There’s some live volcanic activity nearby. That shaft…” Cecil explains, pointing up at the hole in which the lift lied, “…was naturally formed however. That’s most likely how Qaseem ended up down here…” Cecil stops.
Turning around to face the lift, Cecil examines the way it was placed on the side of the room. Behind it is a pit of darkness, a gaping hole in the ground. From each side of the lift structure a railing had been constructed around it in a circle. Cecil approaches the railing to peer over into the maw.
A faint wispy sound can be heard, air blowing across the orifice. Galen joins him at the edge, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look. “So… this is it?”
“It doesn’t seem like much now.” Cecil sighs. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker. Cecil closes his eyes for a brief moment. Footsteps start to echo in the distance before Cecil can get a thought in. The sound comes closer.
“Heyo, I heard t
he lift. Welcome.” A familiar voice comes through the darkness. Opening his eyes, Cecil scans the branching pathways extending from the large circular room. A short, red faced man appears, wearing dirty looking coveralls. “Cecil. Oh, wow.” The man exclaims, in awe as he comes within view.
“Martin?”
“Indeed. I heard… well, never mind. I suppose you’ve heard your fill. You must be the medical officer too-”
“Galen.” Cecil’s partner nods at him, looking down at Martin’s extended hand. Galen hesitates before returning the handshake.
“Cecil, you wouldn’t believe what we’ve been up to down here.” Martin says emphatically. Turning around, he starts walking away, motioned for them to follow. “We received a second turbine about 8 months ago, and we promptly installed it. It’s now providing the power for Secundus plus seventy-five percent of the power for the main station. Can you imagine that? The original turbine that you helped us with is running dreamily too, of course.”
Galen clears his throat loudly. “Excuse me.” Martin changes the subject. “Let’s get you two to the quarantine zone. As much as I don’t like them being down here… it’s the best option we have. I’m just worried that my guys down here might get infected as well.” Martin picks up his pace.
Cecil’s steps bounce along the floor grate that is suspended between the girders that had been laid out evenly below. A weird feeling washes over Cecil. Closing his eyes, he reaches out to the wall, feeling the rough stone under his fingers. His footsteps carry him along, eyes still closed.
He counts slowly in his head. Fifty nine... sixty… sixty one. Cecil opens his eyes. The others had moved slightly in front of him, waiting in front of a door. “This is it.” Martin crosses his arms, distancing himself from the entrance.
“Isn’t this… the old crew quarters while we were still putting this place together?” Cecil asks.
“That’s right.” Martin responds. “I’m surprised you remember this place so well, considering the… circumstances of your last stay here. Anyways, I can’t stand this place. I’ll leave you guys to it. Tulia is in there anyways, trying to do what she can.”
Martin waves, walking off. Cecil stares at the makeshift tarp door, trying to catch a glimpse through the dirty clear plastic. Galen gives him a sideways glance before pushing the material to the side, poking his head through. The interior is a mess of medical supplies, empty crates, and a dash of protective equipment, leading to another tarp dividing off the rest of the room. A tired looking woman sits up from a ratty desk chair, partially covered in darkness.
“About time.” The woman grumbles, standing up. She is tall and spindly, with long wispy hair partially held back in a bun. A surgical mask hangs under her chin. She smiles a slightly crooked-toothed smile, with twinkling eyes, opposite big dark bags. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck here?”
Cecil recognizes the voice. The woman looks back and forth between him and Galen. Cecil shifted a few steps forward and put out his hand for a shake. “I’m Cecil, and this is Galen. I hope we can help…”
She sighs deeply, snapping the bright green nitrile glove off her hand. “Tulia. Cheers. You’ll have to forgive me, this is just exhausting here.” She groans, shaking Cecil’s hand, eyes drifting away.
“How many people are here at the moment?” Galen asks, looking past her and back at the rest of the room. “Are you the only one attending to the patients?”
“No, no. There are two others, but they aren’t on shift right now. We have been overlapping shifts for about four hours each, and at that time we administer treatments, get them changed or washed, whatever they need. Otherwise when we’re here alone, we just tend to whatever needs arise. In total, there’s sixteen people infected or showing signs.” Tulia explains.
“I understand you also help monitor seismic activity down here. You’re under Agrippa.” Cecil asks, looking her up and down.
“Yeah, that’s the other half of my job. For now, though, I’m stuck with this. What did you say your name was?” She asks, blinking quickly at Cecil.
“It’s Cecil. We’ve met before.” He confirms.
Tulia studies his face, stepping uncomfortably close. “I see.” She mumbles. “Anyways, with you both here we can focus on getting some of these guys better and out there. Grab some protective equipment.” She turns around, and grabbing at a box of gloves. “You’ve been trained how to deal with this right?”
“I’m a doctor, yes.” Galen nods.
“I’m not… but I want to help any way I can.” Cecil announces. Tulia turns around for a split second to give him a strange look.
“At least tell me you have more supplies of antibiotics?”
“Of course. They’re right up the lift.” Galen explains, rolling his eyes.
“Good. Some of the men have progressed well into the infection. They can be… well, a little bit out of it.” Tulia says, pulling up her surgical mask, and tossing two their way. “Some others are just starting to exhibit symptoms, mostly flu-like. They need constant fluids through IV.” Tulia motions to them to come close.
“Some of these guys have been in here for weeks.” She whispers. “They’ve been just stuck here suffering, the big bags of disease that they are. We can’t offer all of them antibiotics, because we would have run out before completing a regiment.” Tulia puts her head down. “All we’ve been able to do is battle the symptoms.”
“Have you considered giving some of them a hydrocortisone injection to battle the inflammation of the brainstem the bacteria cause?” Galen poses.
“Yes, I’ve discussed it with the lead doctor over at the station.” Tulia nods. “It’s unpredictable, possibly worsening the infection in other parts of the body. So far, it has remained a last resort. I haven’t ruled it out though, mind you.”
“Do you not realize that some of these men may be on their last breaths anyways?” Galen rebutts.
“How about we go in there and you can decide for yourself?” Tulia glares at Galen. “For the moment, I would assume your decision has more weight than mine.”
Galen back down slightly, nodding. “Fine, let’s go.”
Tulia quickly turns on her heel. Pushing aside a heavy plastic partition, the smell hits Cecil; a stomach churning, acidic, musty smell. He quickly pulls up his mask, seeing Galen do the same. Tulia moves to a big sink installed against the wall and uses a foot pedal to turn on the water. Steam rises from the stream as she washes her hands underneath. Stepping aside, Galen follows suit as if he were programmed to. Cecil does the same as they dry their hands and put gloves on.
Shaking out his hands, Cecil looks out at the cots stacked against the walls. Stands holding bags of IV fluids rest against every wall. In the dim light, Cecil can see the figures of men laying on the cots, some turning and moaning.
“Cecil, do you remember how to change a saline bag for an IV? This bed here looks like it needs a new one.” Galen points to him. Cecil’s heart jumps.
“Yeah… I’ll get to that.” Cecil whispers, looking around to see if anyone was looking at him.
“Looks like this is where the extras ere.” Galen calls him, grabbing a plastic sack out of a box. Confidently, he grabs the tubing draping from the empty bag hanging beside the bed. Galen nodded his head at Cecil while grabbing the tube clamp. “Like this.”
Tugging the tubing out of the bag, he hands the free end for Cecil to hold. Tossing the empty bag, Galen takes the fresh one from Cecil and places it on the hook. Cecil holds the tube daintily, following its path down to the patient, where it is connected to the catheter in the man’s arm.
“Gimme.” Galen says, annoyed. Cecil jumps, tugging the cord accidentally.
“Ouch!” The man groans half consciously. Galen grabs the length of tubing away from him impatiently, while Cecil can feel his hands trembling. He averts his gaze as Galen hooks up the tube to the bag of saline and undid the clamp.
Turning to Cecil, Galen grabs him up by his still shaking wrist. “Get it
together, come on.” Galen whines.
“I… I’m sorry.” Cecil stutters. He grasps his fists tightly, trying to stop the trembling. His hot breath inside of the masks feels as if it is stifling him. He pulls it down, attempting to take a deep breath. The musky air immediately causes to him to gag. Holding his mouth, Cecil shuffles back out past the partition.
Sitting outside the room, Cecil is able to breath better. Goose bumps rise over his skin, and he wraps himself with his arms, shoving his knees up to his chest. Galen exits the room shortly after.
Cecil turns up to him, eyes low. “I can’t do this. You’ll have to get someone who is less jumpy; Atreo or one of the nurses maybe. Me… I can’t handle something to this extent.” He admits.
“Atreo isn’t going anywhere for the moment.” Galen grumbles. “He hurt his back while trying to help us out of the cryo pods. I didn’t even see it myself until he told me himself. He did a good job of hiding it while we were still on the ship with him. For now, getting him in a space suit so he can get into the station would be a challenge.”
“Shit.” Cecil sighs.
“Don’t feel bad for him. You need to be feeling bad for all those people in there, who have been suffering severe bacterial infections. You need to pick yourself up right now, or they’re going to keep on suffering, and it's going to be because of you.” Galen accuses him loudly.
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up.” Cecil’s voice shakes. “I know what they’re going through. I went through the same exact thing. I was infected as well. I underwent the psychological effects. I heard voices down here, telling me that everything would be alright, comforting me when nobody else would. Now that I know that the voice isn’t real, it seems like truly nobody was on my side since the beginning.”
“He’s right you know.” Tulia had been standing beside them listening before finally speaking up. “Not about being alone… but about being infected. I remember you now… you came in with Agrippa. You were always trying to hide in his shadow.” Tulia crouches down in front of Cecil and continues to speak. “I would assume that undergoing the freezing process again for your trip back to Earth killed the bacteria, correct?”