by Jeff Carlson
Their race against the clock affected every conversation, every meal and every minute of downtime. Because she was sitting while everyone else rushed, Vonnie had a unique perspective. She watched as they wolfed down their food or took packets to their stations or their beds, eating on the run, snacking before they slept, leaving crumbs or trays in different places.
Four days ago, Harmeet said, while Vonnie was in her coma, Peter had reminded his people that they were guests. He told them to keep NASA's modules clean -- and Jan had countermanded him. "I don't care if there's goop in B Wing," Jan said, specifying the ready room coupled to the men's barracks. "We're a results-first operation. Your team is motivated. Love it. Eat on the toilet if you want."
That sounded like a free pass, but Peter had repeated his order. "Don't be disgusting," he said.
"I'm not the one pawing through meals in the ready room," Dawson answered with a nod at Ben. "They found Pepsi all over the floor," Tony said.
"Et tu, Brute?" Ben sneered at him. The ESA hadn't brought soda, but American sponsors had loaded a full pallet into NASA's supplies. Ben had developed a taste for the red-white-and-blue drink, slurping caffeine and sugar.
Others preferred bulbs of coffee or tea, and Jan hadn't been shy about making amphetamines available not only to her crew but to the ESA or the FNEE.
Jan didn't need stimulants herself. She was too energetic. She seemed to work, work, work and sleep and work, work, work with grace. Some of the others, including Ben, tried not to rest at all. If they stopped, they would need to confront their horror. In the short run, driving themselves to the limit was easier than drowning in their grief, and yet the therapy AIs had a platitude that Vonnie had taken to heart.
You can't escape yourself.
When they first met, she'd thought Ben was a junkie whose thirst for stimulants didn't match his chunky frame. Speed freaks were usually skinny.
His speed was mental. Growing up, he'd probably found solace in his own head after striking out with girls and sports. He was too short, too brilliant, too caustic -- and while Vonnie had been unconscious, Harmeet said he'd slept only twice in seven days by sneaking more pills than anyone should have allowed.
He was strung out. After meals, he threw up, then ate again, trying crackers or more Pepsi to fool his stomach.
Jan was annoyed. Peter was irritated. Vonnie saw Ben's personal catastrophe was his way of mourning. Amphetamines increased his speed. Food brought him back down. He liked to go until he crashed.
Enabling him were Matthew Wester, a linguist, and Andrea Popson, a pilot who served in maintenance and data/comm when she wasn't flying. Ben, Wester and Popson were upgrading the behavior and sonar calls of NASA's doppelgängers.
They were an explosive combination. The rumor was Popson had picked up her amphetamine habit flying sorties for the USAF, and Wester was like Ben -- and O'Neal -- a prodigy with iffy social skills.
They immersed themselves in their simulations, quarreling, brainstorming, going all hours.
At 13:30, Ben entered the mess hall with his head bent over a display. Vonnie let him select his food. He took a tray to another table without seeing her. He was gorging on chicken and rice when she sat beside him. His display was loaded with doppelgänger programs.
"Von!" he said. His tone was pleased but he kept eating.
She set her cheek on his shoulder. "We haven't talked since yesterday. You didn't answer my calls."
"Busy. Tired. Wester had a great idea."
"Sleep with me tonight."
That diverted him. His gaze swept over her body. "We can't. You gotta heal."
"I didn't mean sex," she said, although that was precisely what she'd meant. "Ben, you can't keep pushing yourself. If you don't sleep, Berlin will put you on bed rest like me."
"They need us. Twenty-four hours."
Does he mean he'll sleep in twenty-four hours or does he think Berlin wants us to work until we drop? The two of them weren't in sync.
She wanted to ask more about his day, but Ben looked at the four Americans nearby and waved his arms for their attention. As usual, he cherished his role as the class clown. "Who wants to get freaked out?" he asked.
"Try me," Jewel said. Her gaze was speculative. She clearly doubted Vonnie and Ben's relationship.
Bitch.
"Less than ten klicks into the Great Ocean, the hydrostatic pressure will equal the weight of an elephant balanced on a scrap of paper," Ben announced, motoring into a high-speed lecture. "That means our hypothetical scrap of paper is being pressed so hard, it will disintegrate. Poof! It's dust."
"Ben, enough," Vonnie said.
"A person in a scout suit would be okay to about fifteen klicks. Here's the freaky part. If you're not in a scout suit or inside the sub, you'll burst like a grape, although I'm pretty sure the sunfish would be fine. They don't have any bones to break and their respiratory and circulatory systems are evolved for acute pressure changes. So is their blood. So are their organs. They're pliable. Their gills have worked efficiently in every environment we've recorded, even in half-frozen slush, and I'm willing to bet they can collapse their lungs. Whales do that when they dive."
Like Vonnie, Jewel was nonplussed by Ben's enthusiasm for such novel ways to die. Without a word, Jewel frowned and turned back to her friends.
Ben porked down his rice. He stood up. He kissed Vonnie with a greasy mouth. "Gotta get to the lab," he said.
"Stay with me."
"No work, no sub. Everybody's a busy bee." But he stopped and kissed her again. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm telling you, don't join this mission."
She nodded. He left.
Feeling subdued, she returned to barracks. She wanted to nap before dinner, eat as much as she could hold, then sleep for twelve hours and hop out of bed like a new woman.
As she approached the toilet, she heard Meiko and Sky. They were in the showers. Sky chuckled as Meiko said, "We're never gonna win. Jan always gets her man even when he's as uptight as Koebsch."
Peter and Jan?
"She took him to that submodule for an 'inspection,'" Meiko said. "Then they came back and went straight to her quarters. When they came out, she was wearing a new jumpsuit. He was all smiles and he doesn't smile much."
"Now there's an executive meeting!" Sky said.
Vonnie stood where they couldn't see her. More rumors and gossip, she thought. Then she realized she was mad because the story was probably true.
The idea of Peter and Jan in bed was galling. They made an odd couple. Jan was slinky. Peter was solid. They were almost the opposite of Vonnie and Ben, an odd couple themselves given Vonnie's height and Ben's squat shape.
She couldn't get the image from her head. She'd really thought she and Peter and Ben would straighten things out.
Talking too loudly over the shower, Meiko said, "Jan and Hunt, Jan and DeBrun, Jan and Koebsch. I used to think I'd hook up with somebody, but she beats me every time."
Vonnie spoke before she could catch herself. "What?"
Sky said, "Hey, who is that? If you're gonna listen--"
Vonnie walked away even though she had to pee. She couldn't face them. Had they recognized her silhouette? Did they want her to hear? If so, she'd known women like them. No wonder they'd been talking too loudly. They wanted the drama of informing her and badmouthing Jan.
I'll go back to the mess hall, she decided. She felt like a rat on a wheel with nowhere to go. She felt like a sucker. Jan was an extraordinary woman and apparently she was as brazen in her affairs as she was self-assured in her command. Hunt and DeBrun were both younger than Jan, Hunt by a year or two, DeBrun by a full decade. Discarding them would have been an act of dominance not only toward the men in NASA's crew but toward the women as well. By deed and by reputation, Jan had established herself as their queen bee.
How often had Peter spoken with Jan during the past months? Had they made passes at each other?
Peter must have believed Jan would be interested once they
were in the same camp, which was why he'd spurned the only female available to him among the ESA.
All of the clues had been there. Vonnie should have seen what was happening. She couldn't blame him, but it hurt -- and at dinner, she was genuinely upset when Ash sat with David Hunt, talking intently.
Ash brushed her short hair behind one ear, drawing attention to her face and neck.
What about Henri?
Forty minutes later, Ash and Hunt sauntered from the mess hall. Vonnie wanted to yell at them. Did Ash know that Hunt had slept with Jan? Should she care?
Vonnie admitted to herself that she needed to feel warm. She missed Ben in her bed. She set her head in her hands and wondered what was in her colleagues' souls. Freedom and lust, she thought. The men see new women. We see new men. I bet our pheromone levels are off the charts.
Most of the Americans were eating dinner or tapping at their displays. Wester, Popson and Ben were absent. So was Jan. So was Peter. He hadn't called Vonnie and she'd seen Assaf take an armful of rations somewhere, presumably to Jan's private quarters.
Shit.
At the other end of the table, Claudia sat between Ribeiro and Araújo. As a unit, the FNEE were tighter than ever.
In line for food, Vonnie had seen Claudia poke Araújo's ribs when he asked if she wanted an extra helping. Standing on her other side, Ribeiro had gestured in a manner that was almost playful, encouraging her to jab Araújo again.
The two men constantly bracketed her. Claudia never stood or sat on the outside. She was always in the middle.
Weeks ago, after talking with Vonnie, had Claudia given herself to the FNEE squad or was this threesome a new arrangement? Claudia did not sleep in the women's barracks. The Brazilians stayed by themselves in Lander 05.
None of it was Vonnie's business except she needed to know if she could rely on Claudia in a pinch. What if Claudia had submitted because of her military indoctrination? In the ice, would she cooperate with anyone except Ribeiro and Araújo?
I need to talk to Claudia, I need to talk to Ash, I need to talk to Peter, Vonnie thought.
Their new camp contained more people than she'd seen since leaving Earth, yet she felt isolated. She could have chatted with the Americans. She could have talked shop with them. Instead she stirred her food like she was drawing circles in her mind, torturing herself.
Assaf and Hernandez were on KP as the Americans called it: kitchen patrol. At 19:30, they packaged the leftovers. Next they loaded trays and silverware into their big washer.
The FNEE soldiers left. So did the most of the NASA crew.
At 10:10, Vonnie decided she had to sleep, but she let Harmeet coax her into staying for dessert, which was apples.
Snickering, Ben wandered into the mess hall with Andrea Popson. Popson laughed with him. She was a brunette in her twenties with a pretty face. "If I even smell food, I'll barf," Ben said, but he ushered Popson to the buffet with an extravagant wave.
That was too much for Vonnie. Everybody needs to stop being so fucking friendly, she thought, banging her hands on the table as she stood up.
Harmeet had been munching apple slices while she reviewed a training sim. "Von, no," she said.
Vonnie watched Ben comment on the soup, the rice, the veggies. Popson laughed at his dumb jokes. Smoldering, Vonnie lifted her arm when Ben eventually turned with his tray.
"Aha!" Ben surged toward her.
With an insincere, "Uh, hey," Popson detoured to another table.
Ben flopped onto his seat. He set a bulb of Pepsi beside his rice. His gaze darted over his food, but he didn't eat. He opened the Pepsi.
Vonnie hid her fists under the table.
Mildly, Harmeet said, "Ben, it's interesting how well we've bonded with the Americans. I wish we could sit down with the PSSC. We don't need to be faceless enemies."
"Yeah, we do," he said. "Wars are always faceless. Wars are really just one gigantic social inertia colliding with another. History says the twentieth century was the American Century. They won the World Wars and the Cold War and they dominated the global economy -- and our countries were on the right side. We supported the U.S., but now it's the Chinese Millennium. For three generations, their system has accomplished more than ours. They're tougher. They're more ruthless."
"We're all human beings," Harmeet said.
"Yeah, yeah. I know books and movies always show you the bad guys to personalize 'em." He was drawling like an American. "The PSSC doesn't care who we are. The sooner you accept it, the happier you're gonna be."
"Ben!" Vonnie said. Was he dismissive of Harmeet -- and his own feelings -- because he couldn't accept losing Henri?
She'd pondered how he'd had difficulty fitting in throughout his life. Even among the ESA, Ben butted heads with intellects like O'Neal and Dawson; he disliked Ash; he feuded with Peter; and now that Henri was gone, he'd numbed himself in sarcasm and the prickly rush of amphetamines.
We need to tell Peter about Ben's drug use.
She stood up, thinking she should have left sooner. Seeing him like this was too painful. "I'll look for you in the morning," she said, tempting him with a slow kiss behind his ear. "They're going to clear me. I have to sleep. Then I want some private time with you."
His eyes glittered. "Good. I gotta eat."
Harmeet had been watching Popson, who'd devoured her meal. Leaving her tray on the table, Popson strode from the mess hall with her face averted.
"Ben, tell me how we'll reach the ocean ahead of the PSSC," Harmeet said.
The question engrossed him. He didn't see Popson. "Our doppelgängers are ready," he said. "We'll be able to interface with the sunfish again. They can lead us to a chimney, I'm sure of it. They've always known more than they've told us."
Vonnie left with a subtle nod to thank Harmeet.
Poor Ben. Poor me.
Ash did not appear in the women's barracks that night. Had she taken Hunt to Lander 04? Was she okay? Vonnie felt like she should check, but she knew it wasn't her place.
Her nightmares were vivid. She dreamed about black predators in the black ocean. She woke up and went to the toilet, where she washed her face. When she shuffled back to bed, she looked at her friend's empty bunk.
Poor Ash.
She felt like everyone who'd lived through the battle was
dying from hidden wounds.
8.
The next morning, Vonnie's alarm woke her minutes before Troutman arrived at 07:30. He examined her eye. "You're good to go," he said in the hubbub of other women rising for their shifts.
Thrilled, Vonnie dressed. She even had a grin for Sky and Meiko as she brushed her teeth. They pretended they'd kept their scandalous secret about Peter and Jan even though they had obviously wanted to drop their bombshell. As they dabbed on lipstick and Mieko added eyeliner, they cast glances at Vonnie that were more amused than sympathetic.
Sorry, ladies, no drama with Peter today. I'm over him. Ben is my priority now.
Neither man was at breakfast. As far as Vonnie could tell, Peter had been abducted. No doubt he'd say he needed Jan's station for communications with Earth.
Predictably, among those who arrived on time for eggs and oatmeal were the FNEE soldiers.
Vonnie drew Claudia out of line and stood with her near the recycling bins. "Tell me where your head is at," she said. "Are you sleeping with Ribeiro and Araújo?"
"What kind of question is this?" From the blush on her dark cheeks, Claudia was mortified.
"You don't have to explain to me. I--"
"Your people sleep with theirs! Your people eat their drugs! Do not speak to me as if your personnel are above our squad."
"That's not what I meant. My crew is a wreck."
Claudia looked for Ribeiro and Araújo. Both men had stepped out of the food line. Claudia made a small gesture and Araújo relaxed. Ribeiro did not. He glanced at the other astronauts to see who was watching.
"I have one question," Vonnie said. "Are you happy with them?"
>
"Yes. We are a team. It is good. Stop your questions. Why are you interrogating me?"
Interrogating, Vonnie thought. Christ, she's more jittery than I am -- but I understand. The FNEE lost fifteen people and their entire camp. "I'm worried about you."
"Don't worry."
Vonnie said, "I'm leading a group to meet the sunfish. I'd like you to join me -- you and Ash and Mississippi. We need a foursome to convince the matriarchs."
"I go where they go." Claudia meant her men, not the sunfish. Ribeiro was walking closer.
Vonnie kept her expression neutral and greeted him with a nod. "How are you, Colonel?" she asked.
"We are well, thank you," Ribeiro said.
He escorted Claudia into the food line, bracketing her with Araújo. Vonnie was disturbed by their possessiveness. Maybe she's not who I thought she was, Vonnie decided.
Neither Ash nor David Hunt looked up when Vonnie brought her breakfast tray to their table, then joined the two of them. "Good morning," Vonnie said with the same neutrality she'd shown Ribeiro.
"How, uh, how are feeling?" Ash said.
"I'm cleared for duty. I'm great."
"Good," Ash said. She looked at Hunt. So did Vonnie. He occupied himself with his food. Ash cleared her throat. He said, "Yeah. Great. We need you on the sub, Vonderach."
She imagined Ash had been drawn to Hunt because he was tall and prim like Henri, clean-shaven, clean hands. Unlike Henri, Hunt was African-American with jet black eyes and cinnamon skin that offset Ash's freckles and light hair. More than an odd couple, they made a striking pair.
Also like Henri, David Hunt an authority figure -- exactly Ash's type. Hunt was an engineer, but his other designations were in piloting, nav, hab systems and "security." The Americans had three "security" specialists in a crew of sixteen. That sounded like police, although Vonnie supposed it was a euphemism for military training.
Peter entered the mess hall. Tucked under his arm were a display and an archaic stack of printouts. Vonnie hadn't seen paper files in years. The Americans had every luxury: printers, real fruit, large showers, dedicated hab modules for their labs and private rooms for their commanders, which was funny because NASA always complained about their budget when coordinating with the ESA or Japan.