“… emergency bulkheads engaged, sealing off the rest of the station but trapping four researchers in the lab, who are now presumed dead. The rupture occurred near a docking port on that module, but no vessel was attached at the time …”
Jamie spotted Maria and Paul. She put a hand on his shoulder, whispered something into his ear, then turned and strode quickly out the door.
He took a step to follow her, when a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. Instinctively, he grabbed a chair.
“Are you all right?” someone asked.
Jamie nodded. His light-headedness disappeared as suddenly as it had come. But Maria was gone.
Jamie didn’t see Maria again for almost a week following the Banting accident.
The cause of the tragedy was found within days. As a matter of procedure, the UNSDA investigation team reviewed the maintenance records of the station. They discovered that seven years earlier, an automated cargo vessel had collided with the laboratory module during a botched docking, cracking the end cone pressure bulkhead but not breaching it. ADC had dispatched a repair team to patch the bulkhead, but they took a tragic shortcut. The crew had spliced on the reinforcing section with only a single row of rivets instead of double, compromising its long-term structural integrity. Seven years of thermal contraction and expansion from orbital sunrises and sunsets every forty-five minutes had taken their toll. The bulkhead simply blew out.
The accident itself was bad enough, but news of the company’s complicity in the tragedy further eroded morale at Maryniak. Jamie noticed people were eating less, leaving more on their plates for him to clean up.
He finally saw Maria seven days after the accident. She was sitting at a table in the mess hall after the Shift Three dinner slot, sipping a coffee, alone.
“May I join you?”
“Jamie!” She gestured at the empty chair. “Please.”
“I haven’t seen much of you lately,” he said. “You’ve been eating in your quarters?”
She nodded, and sipped her coffee again.
Jamie thought for a moment “I know just the thing to go with that.” A moment later, he returned to the table, his right hand hidden behind his back.
“What’s that?”
Jamie whipped out a raspberry muffin, and with a flourish placed it on a napkin in front of Maria.
She bit her lip.
Jamie sat down, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Rick Chang was one of the guys killed on Banting Station last week.”
“A friend?” Jamie asked.
“My ex-husband.”
There was a moment of awkward silence. “I’m sorry,” Jamie said at last.
“I hadn’t as much as gotten a message from him in over five years. Didn’t even know he was on Banting until the news reports came in.”
The lights dimmed momentarily before flickering back on. Jamie waited for Maria to continue.
“We met at a summer job in the university medical biophysics department. On my birthday, he came to my desk with this huge raspberry muffin he’d bought at the coffee shop in the bookstore. He took out a napkin and put it down, much as you just did, except he’d stuck a candle in it.”
“Sounds like he was a sweet guy,” Jamie said.
“He was a jerk.”
Jamie’s eyes widened.
“He could be sweet, sometimes. But overall, he was a really selfish person. He’d do things for me, but he’d only go so far until it started encroaching on what he wanted, and then it stopped. One day, he came home and told me he’d accepted a job with Honeywell-Dettwiler in Darmstadt. He never even told me he’d been applying for other jobs! Rick expected me to follow him, just like that. It was all about him. So he went to Germany, I did not, and that was that.”
Maria looked up at Jamie. “It seems we have something in common, don’t we?”
Jamie started to reach over the table toward her free hand—but stopped. He felt a runny dampness in his nose. A red blotch appeared on the table.
“What the—” Jamie put a hand to his nose.
“Are you all right?” Maria grabbed some napkins and handed them to Jamie.
He nodded.
“I’ve gotten some complaints about nosebleeds lately. Maybe we should ask environmental control to increase the atmospheric humidity,” Maria said.
“Dat wud be a gud idee-uh.”
“So there’s three golfers, a priest, a chef, and an engineer. They’re at this course, but it’s very frustrating because the guys in front of them are really slow and won’t let them play through. So back at the clubhouse, they ask the owner who these jerks were. The owner says, ‘Oh, please try to be tolerant of them. You see, they’re firefighters who put out a blaze here at the clubhouse last year. Sadly, they damaged their eyes saving the building and they’re now legally blind. So, in gratitude we let them play here for free.’ The priest says, ‘That’s terrible! I’ll go back to my church and pray for them.’ The chef says, ‘What a heroic bunch of guys! If they come to my restaurant, they can eat for free.’ Finally, the engineer says, ‘Why can’t they play at night?’”
Billy started laughing hysterically.
“That’s a good one,” said Suhana Aziz, a mass driver technician.
Jamie was seated to her left. “I’ve heard that joke before, except it was a doctor instead of a chef.”
“Well, I thought I’d make a slight variation in honor of present company.” Billy gave Jamie a pat on the shoulder. “Listen, you probably don’t hear this much, but I just want you to know that I think you’re doing a great job.”
Jamie was surprised. “That means a lot to me, Billy.”
“I’m also glad the company didn’t cheap out and got us a real cook,” said Suhana.
“Thank you,” Jamie said quietly. He eyed the unfinished plates of baked chicken around the table. “Although, I guess I didn’t do so good today.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that at all!” Billy said. “I just haven’t been very hungry lately.”
The conversation was interrupted by a retching sound. The threesome turned simultaneously in the direction of the noise.
Sarah Schubert, a rover driver, was throwing up.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Paul called out as the pungent odor of vomit filled the room.
Billy and Suhana helped Jamie clean up the mess, amid a string of apologies from Sarah. She had no idea what had happened, but told them she’d had a queasy stomach for days. She promised to make an appointment to see Maria at the earliest opportunity.
Jamie went to the sink to wring out the mop. He was rolling up his sleeves, when he suddenly stopped and brought his arms to eye level.
“What the hell?”
The insides of his forearms were dotted with blisters.
“Do they itch?”
Jamie shook his head.
“Okay, if you don’t mind, I need another blood sample.”
As Jamie pressed the cotton against his arm, Maria gave him a small tube. “This cortisone should ease the blistering.”
“Do you know what caused them?”
“No,” she admitted, securing the cotton with a bandage. “How do you feel overall? Anything unusual you’ve noticed?”
Jamie thought for a moment. “Sometimes nosebleeds, like when I was with you in the mess hall a few nights ago. I’ve also been getting these sudden dizzy spells. Just for a moment, then it goes away.”
“What about your appetite?”
“I don’t think I’ve been eating as much as I usually do.” He paused. “Actually, I’ve noticed people seem to be eating less in general.”
“People all over the base have been coming to me with similar symptoms. Billy’s got blisters like you. Others have been complaining about nosebleeds, loss of appetite, nausea, and vomiting. Even I’ve felt light-headed sometimes.”
“What would cause these symptoms?” Jamie asked.
Maria exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling for several seconds before replying.
“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but … the symptoms appear to be consistent with low-level radiation sickness.”
A knot formed in Jamie’s stomach. “Who else knows?”
“Crenshaw, Montreal … and now, you.”
Jamie’s voice was trembling. “Wh-what do we do? Do we … are we all going to get cancer or something?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. According to the monitors, we weren’t exposed to a dangerous dose.”
“What if they’re wrong?” Jamie exclaimed. “After what happened on Banting, how do we know … what if the company didn’t build the shelters to spec?”
“Both Sarah and I show normal white blood cell counts. That’s the weird part. If it’s radiation sickness, particularly sickness advanced enough that we’re seeing vomiting and nausea, we should also have reduced white blood cells.”
Jamie calmed down, a little. “So what else could it be? Food poisoning?”
“You tell me.”
Jamie thought for a moment. “It’s not likely. The refrigeration systems in both the kitchen and the logistics module are fine. Almost everything I make is well-cooked, especially since we lost the greenhouse. Also, we eat a wide variety of foods, so it can’t be any one item.”
“That’s what I thought.”
An uneasy silence fell between them.
“If it is radiation sickness, or even it isn’t, you’ve got to tell people,” Jamie said at last.
“We can’t say anything until we know for sure,” Maria said. “We’d cause a panic.”
Jamie spotted the table with Billy Lu and Suhana Aziz.
“May I join you?”
Suhana looked up. “The chef graces us with his presence.”
“Have a seat,” Billy said.
Suhana poked her fork halfheartedly into her spaghetti.
“Something wrong?” Jamie asked.
“We almost had an accident in the field today,” she said.
“What happened?”
“Freddie Wilson was out doing an induction coil change-out on the mass driver. The IVA guy, Grant McPherson, was supposed to have applied inhibits to the power bus before Freddie even went out, to give enough time for the capacitors to discharge. Except, he didn’t Caught his mistake at the last minute, thank goodness. I could hear him screaming on the loops, ‘Don’t touch the coil, Freddie! Don’t touch the coil!”‘ Suhana shook her head. “It was damn close.”
“I know Grant,” Billy said. “That’s not like him at all. He’s one of the most careful guys I know.”
“He said he was feeling tired, a little dizzy,” Suhana said. “Just lost his concentration for a moment.”
Jamie looked at the unfinished plates of spaghetti. “How do you guys feel?”
“I don’t seem to have much of an appetite. But your cooking’s great, as usual,” Billy added quickly.
“Sometimes, I feel like I want to throw up,” Suhana said, “and I haven’t been eating much either.”
“Have you guys talked to—”
Jamie was interrupted by three short beeps, indicating the monitor was about to come on. Seconds later, Crenshaw’s image appeared on the screen.
“This is a general announcement for all personnel. Staff are to report to Dr. Clarkson immediately for medical evaluations. Individual appointments have been scheduled and will be downlinked to your organizers within the hour. Every attempt has been made to accommodate shift requirements, but should you be unable to make your appointment, please reschedule with Dr. Clarkson at the earliest opportunity.”
The mess hall erupted with noise even before the screen went dark.
“Something’s wrong, and they’re not telling us!” Jamie could hear Paul shouting over the commotion. “That solar storm did something to us!”
Jamie entered the infirmary, a tray of freshly baked cookies in one hand, a pot of coffee in the other.
“Chocolate chip?” Maria was impressed. “You got another waiver for the oven?”
Jamie nodded. “Crew morale.”
“Where the hell did you get the chocolate?”
“Base facility food manager’s discretionary logistical supply,” Jamie said as he put the coffee and cookies on her desk. “In other words, my own personal hoard. For special occasions only.”
“What’s the occasion?” Maria asked before taking a bite.
“Our last week alive.”
Maria almost choked on her cookie. “That’s not funny!”
“Maybe I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Jamie, I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but I do know a few things. One thing is, we are not going to die … at least, not this week.” She stared at Jamie. “Did you hear me?”
Jamie nodded slowly. “What else do you know?”
Maria grabbed another cookie from the tray. “I know you make great cookies, Mr. Squires.”
Jamie did not sleep well. Over the past few days, he started having thoughts that somebody was tampering with the food. Twice he woke in a cold sweat, the second time going so far as to get dressed and run out to check the kitchen. When he returned to bed, his dreams were of Paul … and Maria.
He woke up feeling nauseated. Much like a hangover, except that he hadn’t been drinking. He wished that he had, because it would at least have made waking up like this worthwhile. The shower made him feel better, but his gums were tender when he brushed his teeth, and when he finished his toothbrush was pink.
Jamie stepped out of his quarters and headed for the mess hall. The corridor was practically empty at this hour. Such was the call of duty, to prepare breakfast for the Shift One crew.
He turned a corner—and was suddenly grabbed from behind and thrown against the bulkhead.
“Paul!”
The big man tightened his grip, pressing hard against Jamie’s chest. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn well! People are sick all over base. Nobody’s saying anything. But you …” Paul jabbed a finger into Jamie’s chest. “I know you’ve been talking to Maria. We’re all sick from the solar storm, right?”
Paul tightened his grip when Jamie did not answer. “Joe McKay barfed in his suit last shift. Pretty gross, huh? He’s lucky we’re on the Moon. If he’d been in free space, he could’ve suffocated.” He brought his face right up against Jamie’s. “So, what is happening to us?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie repeated. “I’m sorry about Joe, but I really don’t know. I haven’t been feeling so hot myself. Why don’t you ask Maria or Crenshaw?”
“Oh, I’ll definitely be talking to Maria,” Paul said. “But I thought I’d ask you first.”
“Yeah, well I’m just the stupid cook, remember?” Jamie decided he’d had enough. “You’ve been on my case since I got here! You’re just jealous because Maria doesn’t—”
Paul raised his fist. “What the hell do you know about Maria, kitchen boy?”
“Paul!”
Jamie turned his eyes and saw Suhana Aziz.
“Leave him alone.”
“He knows something!”
Suhana said calmly, “I know that I kicked your ass in aikido last year, and you can be damn sure I can do it again, right here, right now.”
With a growl, Paul let go of Jamie. He glared at him for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked away.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine!” Jamie stormed down the corridor without thanking his rescuer. Marching right past the mess hall, he headed for the Beta sector habitation modules. He quickly found the room he was looking for, and pressed the door buzzer.
“Who is it?”
“Jamie!”
“Give me a minute.”
Maria opened the door. It was clear he had woken her.
“No offense, but this had better be important.” She looked him over, and her tone quickly changed. “Good grief, Jamie, you’re trembling. What happened?”
“You have to say something.” Jamie’s breathing was heavy. “You and Crenshaw, you guys have to say something.”
“We can’t make a public announcement until we know exactly what’s going on. We’d cause a panic.”
“There’s a panic now!” Jamie snapped. “What the hell was Crenshaw thinking, making a public announcement for medical tests without saying why? People are scared. I’m scared, Paul’s scared, we’re all scared.” He stared at Maria, his eyes pleading. “If there’s anything for people to be afraid of, at least let it be on the basis of facts, even partial facts, not rumors and hearsay.”
Maria nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Crenshaw and Montreal about this.”
It was an angry and frightened crowd that packed the mess hall to capacity. Those who couldn’t make it in person were watching through the monitors.
Crenshaw had to shout to be heard, calling for quiet three times before she could speak. “You’ve all received the briefing material through your consoles and organizers, but I’ve called this meeting to personally answer any questions you might have on the current …” she hesitated, “… situation, at Maryniak.”
Jamie squeezed his way between people to put trays of sandwiches on the tables.
“Why won’t the company come clean?” Predictably, the first to speak was Paul. “We’re all sick from the solar storm!”
“That’s not true,” Crenshaw said. “The total dose inside the shelters was within safe limits.”
What if the dosimeters were faulty?” asked Suhana.
“The TLDs are ancient technology, but they’re reliable,” Billy said. “I’d have preferred solid-state dosimeters throughout the base—not just in the shelters—but the company prefers to use the cheaper TLDs for the modules. In any case, I have no reason to think the readings are wrong.”
“I don’t believe anything you people are telling me!” Paul shouted. “How do we know the shelters were buried deep enough? How do we know there was enough shielding?”
“The storm shelters meet all applicable UNSDA standards,” Crenshaw said.
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