With a sigh, I leave the loading bay and head to the common room, which is probably the saddest place in the station. There are enough tables and benches for about a hundred people, so sitting in here on my own is depressing. It reminds me of all the friends and colleagues I lost. Sometimes I think I can still hear their voices echoing through the empty room, the laughing and shouting that always signalled our meal times. Life on the station was always hectic and difficult, but the three times a day everyone gathered in the common room, we let our guards down and relaxed.
Now, I have no time to relax. The station needs to be kept going. I take some carrots that I harvested yesterday and throw them into the cooking device. A minute later, they're boiled and ready to eat. A bit of salt is all that I add.
Back on Earth, I liked to cook and made elaborate meals for my friends. Today, I couldn't care less. It's all about giving my body what it needs to keep functioning. Taste isn't important. Although I have to admit that the carrots have turned out nicely, they're sweeter than the last batch.
I've reduced the amount of space I use in the greenhouses and only plant enough for ten people. Everything else would be a waste of time and water. We may have found a way to distil water from the frozen ice deep beneath the Martian surface, but it takes a lot of energy to turn it into drinkable water than can be used for plants and humans. I always notice that the water quality has changed when I get a rash after my morning shower. A clear sign the filters need to be calibrated. Luckily that hasn't happened in a few weeks now. I've got enough problems as it is.
Having swallowed my dry carrots, I head to the lab for a quick check up on the experiments I'm running. The scientists on Earth were wrong the first time, undoing a week's worth of work. Now I'm waiting for their new calculations, but I've decided to rerun their method again, checking each step for mistakes. The last time, the final vaccine turned out to be too acidic, so if I can determine at which step of the experiment it became that way, I may be able to shorten the process.
I wish I knew how the virus was transmitted in the first place. When the first of us fell ill, she was put under quarantine, but it was too late. The next day, three others were complaining of the same symptoms. They checked the water and air for contamination and pathogens, but didn't find anything. That doesn't mean there wasn't anything in there, though, just that we couldn't detect it. Maybe it was a virus carried in from the outside, something that had laid dormant for millennia, waiting for the perfect host. That thought makes me shiver. Everyone thought there was no life on Mars, but maybe there was. Not intelligent life, just a virus that did its work very efficiently.
No use thinking of the past. I need to find a way to protect the newcomers from the disease that killed everybody else. Except me. I still don't know how I deserve to live when so many others died. I'm not special, I've never been immune to other illnesses back on Earth. And I did get sick, but I only got minor symptoms and survived.
I check my instruments. The pH is still fine. I scribble down some notes that I can send to the control centre later on and take a wistful look at my bed. Well, it's a mattress on the floor in a corner of the lab. My room is at the other end of the station, so it made sense to relocate while I'm trying to solve this puzzle. But even this simple mattress looks very tempting right now. I've not had a proper sleep in too long.
But now, I can't. I rub my eyes and determinedly turn around, away from my place of rest. There's work to be done.
Week 3
"Hey gorgeous!"
Will is looking as pretty as always. He had to listen to me ramble on for over an hour before exhaustion caught up with me. Now I'm back to check on my men and tell them the good news.
"They sent me new instructions. Some of the diagrams are still transmitting, but later today I'll be able to try making the vaccine once again." I sigh, trying to shove the doubts in my mind into a corner. "I'm sure this time it will work. I figured out why the last batch got too acidic, so that problem has been solved."
I don't tell them about all the other problems facing me. When I skimmed through the instructions earlier, there were a lot of notes in red saying things like "if you do this step wrong, it could be lethal". I might end up killing the men, not saving them. And with nobody here to test the vaccine on, any mistake I make will affect their health. I hate having this responsibility. I'm a geologist, the only responsibility I usually have is for the wellbeing of my rocks. And they're pretty hard to hurt.
I miss my work, spending time outside, exploring the landscape, trying to find out more about the planet's structure and origin. Now all I do is hurry from one task to another. Always chores, no enjoyment. The highlight of my day is coming to the loading bay to talk to the guys. I've come to get to know them pretty well. Will is the quiet listener, Toby is my rock who I can cling to when despair threatens to overwhelm me, Bastian keeps the peace, Han's almost-smirk on his lips makes me laugh, Jordan poses questions that challenge me and Jim... well, he's the mystery I'm trying to figure out.
Together, we make quite a good team. I do all the work and they support me in it. With their help, I'm sure I'm going to get this vaccine working.
Reassured, I leave them to it, going back to the lab in the hope that all the instructions have been transmitted by now. The data connection with Earth has been getting slower and less reliable with every week since the Drowning began. Add to that the time delay, it makes for some very boring conversations. We avoid sending images because of the limited bandwidth, but in this case, the scientists thought the diagrams are necessary for me to fulfil my task. That probably means it's going to be very complicated. I wish I could avoid this and go back to my rocks, but life has changed and I have to deal with it. And if I want to have some company on this Station, I better get this thing working.
Luckily, everything's downloaded. The graphics don't look as complicated as I'd expected. Thank the bleeding Mars sands for that. And just like the last approach, it starts with me taking some of my own blood. All my tools are already on the table and all I need to do before playing vampire is load some code I was sent into one of the lab's processors. That will tell the machine to filter out the blood serum which contains my antibodies and antigens. I need those before I can continue to the next step.
I put a tourniquet around my left upper arm and cringe as I go about the task. I don't like needles, but whenever my stomach threatens to complain, I think of the six men in the loading bay who depend on me. I can't let them down.
Once my blood has disappeared into the maw of the processor, I read through the next few instructions. They involve a lot of different tools and machines that I have to feed code to. It looks like the Earth scientists don't trust me to do anything manually, so now they rely on the machines, even if that takes longer. Somehow it feels a little insulting for them to change their approach this much, but it also looks a lot more professional than me working with test tubes.
The timer on the processor tells me it's going to take at least two hours. Time to check the sanitation pipes, that's overdue.
I STARTED MAKING THE new vaccine four days ago. Now it's ready. Well, it's supposed to be. I don't know if it'll work, not have any effect or harm them. Kill them, even. I hold a single syringe in my hands, filled with the clear liquid that could save my men. I'm going to try it on one of them, but I can't decide. I've not slept because of it for two days. I'm holding their lives in my hand. I should give it to the strongest one, but they've all been selected for their exceptional good health. They wouldn't be on Mars if they were weak.
I walk up and down the row of cryogenic tanks. I've got six lives in my hand. If I mess this up, they may never wake up again. They'll die thinking they're on the way to Mars to start a new life of adventure and discovery. I laugh. It's definitely been an adventure, if you count all your Station mates dying and leaving you alone.
Six men. Six lives. Six possible deaths. Maybe I should draw a name from a metaphorical hat. That way I can blame Lady L
uck. But I know I'd still hate myself even if I didn't decide who to give the vaccination to.
I rub my eyes, exhausted from working and not sleeping enough. I need to do this now, while I still have the strength to make a new batch of vaccine, should this one not work. I can't do many more weeks like that. I've lost weight and I'm in a permanent state of exhaustion. Sometimes I see things out of the corner of my eyes and am not sure if they're real or not. And I know that talking to sleeping men is not a sign of a healthy mind either.
Maybe I should decide based on their jobs. A calculated decision. Who is needed the least? Can we survive without a cook? Certainly, I've lived off bland food for months now. How about the three scientists? Is their research relevant? Will anybody on Earth die because they didn't complete their projects? Who knows. I don't know enough about how important their research is. Then there's Bastian, the mechanic. A lot of things on the station are malfunctioning so his skills would come in handy. And Han, the doctor - definitely needed.
I approach Toby's pod, now looking more and more like a coffin to me. He looks so peaceful as he lies there sleeping, not knowing what I'm about to do. Luckily, he’s strong. I hope his immune system can handle the substance I’m about to inject.
I enter a code on the touchpad, one that ground control said would open the lifepods but not wake them up. I have to be fast, though. I only have a minute to inject him with the vaccine before I have to close the pod. And even so, there's a risk of contamination. I remember I have a mouth mask hanging around my neck, and pull it over my face. I must look scary and am glad that they are all sleeping.
I press ENTER and with a whizz of air, the pod opens. Toby looks even prettier up close. If muscles are your thing – they certainly are mine. I run a gloved finger over his arm, enjoying the feel of another human being’s skin. I've not touched anybody in so long. I've not been touched either. What I would give for a hug.
I shake my head and clear my thoughts. I need to be quick. No dawdling. Trying not to think about it, I ram the syringe into his arm, releasing the vaccine. It might be poison, it might be salvation. I'm going to know soon, I hope.
Stepping back, I watch as the lid of the pod closes and Toby disappears again. I may just have killed a man.
I put away the now empty syringe and take a second one, filled with the antidote the scientists came up with after lots of begging on my side. For some reason, they never thought of making one. But at least now I have something that could counteract the vaccine should it turn out to be dangerous.
I watch Toby cautiously. His vitals are steady, no change there. His face is just as calm as always. I wonder if he can feel pain in the comatose state he's in just now. Probably not.
Suddenly, his heart rate peaks, and so does mine as the thin green line changes its rhythm. Something's wrong. His heart beat is getting faster and is turning irregular. Damn. Should I wait and see if it gets better or give him the antidote, ruining the chance of him being inoculated and therefore able to live on this Station?
With shaking hands, I touch the glass separating me from Toby. One of my men. That's when I see a black stain on his skin, spreading out from where the needle pierced his skin. It's spreading quickly, already as large as the palm of my hand. I watch in shock as it grows, moving down his arm. Fuck.
I dash to the end of the pod and enter the emergency code that opens the lid. Quick, Louise, be quick. I curse as the computer takes an eternity to verify the code. It's supposed to be an emergency code, why isn't it opening?
The blackness has almost reached Toby's wrist. I ready the antidote, ready to plunge the syringe into his arm as soon as the pod opens. When it finally does with a hissing noise, my heart is beating almost faster than his. Adrenaline is coursing through me as I inject him with the clear liquid, hoping that it'll work. Please, don't let me become a murderer.
I slam the lid shut and watch for any change. His entire arm is now black, including his fingers, but it seems to have stopped spreading further. His skin looks dry and brittle where it has turned black, almost as if it's been burned. I'm close to crying as I see what I've done to him.
I stare at the monitor, begging for the numbers and lines to return back to normal. His heart rate is continuing to be high. It's becoming more regular though, but that's only a small relief.
I switch between looking at the screen and his arm for the next hour until his vitals finally stabilise. Exhausted, I sink to the ground, letting my tears fall freely. It’s all been for nothing, and I may just have destroyed Toby's life.
Week 4
Control>>We want you to try again.
Louise>>Is it safe this time?
Control>>You know the answer to that.
Louise>>I can't let this happen again. I almost killed him.
Control>>Would you rather they die in their lifepods?
Louise>>Yes, it's painless. The virus isn't. Trust me, if you'd have heard the screams, you'd not want to put them through this.
Control>>You won't survive on your own. You need them just as much as they need you right now. Focus. Have some trust in us. We've done our best to make this safe.
Louise>>Like you did last time?
Control>>We know what went wrong and we've fixed that. It's been recalculated from scratch. It should work.
Louise>>'Should' isn't good enough.
Week 5
"Hey guys! They want me to try again, can you believe it?" I plop down onto the floor between the two middle pods containing Toby and Will. I've spent a lot of time here recently, watching for any sign of change in Toby's condition, but if you ignore his blackened arm, he seems back to normal. His heartbeat is strong and regular, just like that of the others. I don't want to hurt him again. Or the others. I want them to stay like they are now, alive, listening to my rants, being the quiet company I've become used to. I like them alive. And with no guarantee that they will stay that way, I don't want to risk it. But time is running out. They only have two weeks left until the lifepods' energy will run out. They will wake up and will have to breathe the air of the Station. The air that might still contain the virus.
There's no way around it, I need to do it. But maybe I should wait another week... no, if it doesn't work, there may not be enough time left to make a new batch. I shudder at the thought. I can't afford this to be another failure. Toby has already lost an arm, and it's only due to the antidote that he survived.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I never cursed as much while there were still other settlers living here. Now that I'm alone, my filter has gone. Not that anyone could hear it and complain.
I lean against Will's pod, my cheek warm against the metal. It's vibrating gently, a soft humming that signals that life is still in there. In two weeks' time, that humming will stop. By then, my men need to be ready for the Martian experience.
I chuckle humourlessly. I imagined Mars to be less deadly. And it was okay, for the first years, until that virus came. It's hard to remember now, but I did have some good times here. I set a new marathon record when I first came here, taking advantage of the lesser gravity. Of course, it didn't count on Earth, but it was fun to do nonetheless, beating all those athletes back home.
And the parties we used to have... I sigh at the memory. Dancing, having fun, drinking the home brew we technically weren't allowed to make. But who could stop us, ground control? They didn't have a clue about half the stuff going on here. And until the Drowning happened, I'd have said that they also didn't know about the hardships we faced... now, they probably know. Their people are dying, just like mine did.
"What the fuck is this world coming to?" I ask the guys but they don't reply. They never do.
OVER THE PAST FEW DAYS, the lab has become my second home. Again. In between, I'd moved back into my old room, not wanting to be reminded of my failure, but now the mattress is back in its old spot in the corner. It's not being used a lot, not since I discovered that I could reprogramme our coffee machine to increase the caffein
e per cup. To a lot. I definitely won't tell ground control about that. And the palpitations I feel from time to time... who cares. My men are depending on me, all six of them.
They tell me how grateful they are, how they appreciate me working day and night. It makes me like them even more. Soon, I'll be able to take them into my arms. I'll hug them and tell them how much they mean to me. Maybe we'll even kiss... a girl can dream.
The machine in front of me has spat out the latest vaccine. This is supposed to be the one. All I've had to do is feed it my blood and other substances I found around the lab. The scientists sound confident this time, but it's hard to tell the truth from a lie if you only see lines of text on a screen.
They could just be stalling for time. They have bigger problems down on Earth than a few settlers on Mars. Maybe they want us all to die so they can focus on the real problems.
No, those are bad thoughts. I need to believe that there's hope. Otherwise I'll give up and so will the guys. I tell them every day that I believe in them, believe in us. That soon we'll be all together, happily living as a family.
Up here, there are no conventions. If I want to live with six men, who's to say that's wrong. And they don't have any problem with it, I'm sure. They've not said it in as many words, but they look like they're open to such a relationship.
I smile as I imagine our first kiss. All of us together, our bodies entwined, our tongues dancing, our breaths ragged. Their hands on my skin. I shiver with excitement. Soon. This time it has to work.
Reinvigorated, I take the vaccine and a syringe and make my way into the loading bay. Maybe I should put the pods somewhere else, somewhere more welcoming. When they wake up, they might want to see something that looks like home. The loading bay is all metal and functional, not beautiful at all. It's built for purpose, and usually new arrivals don't spend much time in here before being ushered into the main part of the station. There are not even windows in here through which they could see the beautiful barren Mars landscape outside. It's a harsh land, but it does have its own sparse beauty. The sunsets are spectacular when the red dust is lit up by orange light. After the sun has set, a gentle twilight glow usually stays for a sol or two, making the transition from day to night more gentle than on Earth.
Alone_A sci-fi reverse harem Page 2