by John Olson
* * *
Tuesday, August 28, Year One, 1:30 P.M.
Bob
Bob walked into Building 1 and punched the elevator button. This had to be some kind of a record, going to see Nate twice in two days. After the run-in yesterday morning, Nate wasn’t going to be thrilled to see him today. But the morons over at AresCorp had been giving him the runaround all day. The Inertial Measurement Unit was glitching on the test stand, and nobody wanted to take responsibility. AresCorp wasn’t even admitting there was a problem. Time to bring in the sledgehammer. Nate was good at dealing with contractors who tried to weasel out of their obligations.
Carol looked up when Bob came steaming in. “Dr. Kaganovski! Mr. Harrington’s busy at the moment, but—”
“I’ll wait.” Bob sat down.
Carol leaned forward. “Did you see that FBI woman who came by yesterday morning? Wasn’t she a trip? Don’t tell anyone, but I think she and Mr. Harrington are an item. She comes to see him every day.”
Bob stood up and began pacing.
“If you want, I can call you when Mr. Harrington is available.”
“Who’s talking to Nate?”
“Officially, nobody’s in there.”
Bob stopped. “What do you mean, nobody’s in there?”
“That’s what Mr. Harrington said. Officially, nobody’s seeing him, and he’s not here either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
The door to Nate’s office opened. Josh Bennett lurched out.
Bob straightened up. “Josh! You won’t believe what AresCorp is trying to pull on us this time.”
Josh nodded to him stiffly. “Later, okay?” He staggered out into the hallway.
Bob stared after him. “Josh ... ?”
“Dr. Kaganovski? Mr. Harrington’s free now, if you want to see him.”
Bob reluctantly turned and went into Nate’s office.
“Um ... hello, Bob.” Nate sat hunched over his desk, his chin cupped in both hands, elbows on his desk. He looked as deflated as one of those helium balloons, the day after the party.
Bob sat down. “Everything all right? I just saw Josh on the way out and—”
“You wanted to see me?”
Bob took ten minutes to explain the AresCorp problem. Nate listened but said little.
“I’m fed up with AresCorp,” Bob finished. “They need to get their act together now, or this flight is not going to happen.”
Nate nodded vacantly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Bob felt his jaw drop. That was it? Just one little monotone sentence? No flying tirade, no blazing bazookas, no thunder and lightning?
Nate hauled out his phone and checked something. He swore. “Lex is in California again.”
Bob shrugged. “She’s been doing a lot of proficiency training lately.” Pilots never thought they had enough training.
“She won’t be back till tonight.” Nate turned to his computer and banged away at the keyboard for thirty seconds. “I’m sending out an e-mail now to notify you and the rest of the crew that we’ll have an All-Hands Meeting tomorrow at 9:00 A.M.”
An All-Hands Meeting? That usually meant something major. Bob shifted in his chair. “Um ... what’s on the agenda?”
Nate stood up. “You’ll find out at the meeting. See you then.”
Bob stood too. A queasy feeling shimmied inside his gut. Something was wrong in NASAville. Really, really, really wrong. So wrong, it made the problems with AresCorp look like kitty litter.
And it didn’t look like something a flight engineer could fix.
Chapter Seven
Tuesday, August 28, Year One, 5:00 P.M.
Valkerie
VALKERIE TOOK TWO MORE STEPS and leaned on her arm pole to rest. The EVA suit weighed a ton. She scanned the boulder-strewn horizon. The gold-coated visor of her helmet painted the rocky landscape with an amber tint, giving it an artificial feel. Still, it was good to be outside and away from her phone. She was sick to death of Harrington calling her with a new schedule.
He seemed to be getting better, though—ever since the Bruce protocol test. Valkerie had been able to spend the whole morning on the sims at SES. This afternoon, she was getting to help test the new EVA suits—with three of the current ASCANs. Maybe he was going to relent and let her join the class after all. Maybe she’d done better on the endurance test than she thought.
Well, might as well bang on some more rocks. Valkerie collapsed onto her knees, and swung the small pick at a stony outcropping. The handle turned clumsily in her hand. So much for NASA’s new and improved gloves. It took serious effort to close her hands against the air pressure that filled them. Her fingers were already sore. She tried to imagine Bob and Josh working on Mars in these suits for one and a half years. They were crazy.
Valkerie tried to stand up, but the PLSS pack on her back threw her off balance. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, then collapsed with a grunt. Might as well rest for a minute. That was an important activity too. Even with one-third the gravity of Earth, Bob would have to rest on Mars. Probably a lot more than he’d use a pickax.
Something tapped on her shoulder. Valkerie fought her way up to her knees. Cowboy boots, blue jeans, a white shirt. Josh Bennett knelt next to her. His eyes squinted against the afternoon sun, giving him a wild, desperate appearance.
He reached out and flipped the clasps that secured her helmet. The helmet lifted off with a swoosh. The coastal humidity crashed in on her face and filled her lungs.
“What are you doing out here?” Valkerie asked.
“I heard you were on the suit test, so I came out looking for you.” Josh seemed agitated. Nervous.
“For me? Why? Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything’s fine. I just ...” Josh’s eyes swept the desert terrain. “The other ASCANs are already done. Could I, uh, give you a ride home?”
“Sure, I guess.” Valkerie answered tentatively. She didn’t know Josh that well, but she could see that something was bothering him.
He helped Valkerie to her feet, and the two of them walked slowly back to the truck. Josh seemed preoccupied. He had said “other ASCANs.” Did he know something she didn’t?
The suit technicians helped her out of her suit, and she ducked into the trailer to change out of her Liquid-Cooled Garment. When she stepped back into the sunlight, Josh was kicking impatiently at a pile of rocks and sand. The three ASCANs were already in the van.
Josh directed Valkerie to a silver pickup truck. “I already talked to the trainers. They said it’s fine for me to take you home.”
Valkerie climbed into the truck. “Is everything okay?”
“Sure.” Josh started the engine and sped across the gravelly desert road. He started to speak three times, but each time he shook his head and lapsed back into uneasy silence.
“I don’t envy you having to spend so much time in those suits. They’re incredibly heavy.”
“They’ll feel a lot lighter on Mars. They ...”
Valkerie waited.
“You’re a biochemist. Do you think we’ll find life on Mars?” Josh stared across the seat, his eyes intense.
“I doubt it. If there’s liquid water on Mars, it’s got to be deep underground.”
“But what about ALH-84001—the Mars meteorite they found in Antarctica? The one with the microfossils?”
“Seems like a pretty big stretch to me. The PAHs, carbonate globules, and magnetite crystals were intriguing, but the so-called microfossils ... Twenty nanometers is just too narrow. They couldn’t possibly have been living cells.”
Josh nodded thoughtfully. “But what do you hope is true? Do you hope we find evidence of life on Mars?”
“Hope? Well, it would be exciting to be sure, but I’m a scientist. I try really hard to be objective. I hope you guys find the truth—whatever it turns out to be.”
Josh drove in heavy silence. Valkerie watched him from across the seat. Conflicting emotions rippled across his
face. She could see a question forming but had no idea what it could be. After what seemed forever, they pulled into the NASA entrance. He pulled the truck to a stop in the parking lot and jogged around to open her door.
Valkerie waited uneasily. “Thanks for the ride. It was really nice of you to pick me up.”
Josh shrugged. “I uh ... I was wondering. Would you like to go out to dinner with me—tonight?”
Valkerie almost fell over. This was the big question? “Sure, that would be great.” She couldn’t believe it. Josh didn’t seem the type to agonize over a date. He was so ... cocky.
Josh flashed her a big smile and walked around the car to the driver’s door. “Is seven okay?”
“Seven is ... oh no! I forgot. I’m doing three hours of observation at Mission Control tonight. Can we make it tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow night? Um, sure. How about seven-thirty?”
“Seven-thirty sounds fine.” Valkerie paused. Bob Kaganovski was walking toward the parking lot. His face wore a terrible scowl.
“Okay, see you at seven-thirty.” Josh climbed into the truck and raced off.
Valkerie stood fidgeting in the parking lot, waiting for Bob. A guilty pang stabbed through her conscience. “Hi, Bob.”
Bob didn’t even look at her. “He’s dating someone, you know.”
“What?” Valkerie stepped backward.
“Just thought you might like to know.” Bob kept walking. “She’s a bacteriologist too—on a research trip in Antarctica. They’ve been together for over a year.”
* * *
Wednesday, August 29, Year One, 7:00 A.M.
Bob
“Morning, Shane.” Bob tossed his briefcase onto the X-ray scanner belt and walked through the metal detector.
A young blond woman rifled through his briefcase. “Dr. Kaganovski, please look into this eyepiece with your right eye.” She pointed to a device on the table.
Bob peered in. “I don’t see anything.”
She keyed in something on a computer. “Okay, you’re in the system now.”
“They’ve finally decided I really work here?”
“It’s a new biometrics security system, sir. You’ll find a retinal scanner like this one at all entry points.”
Great. A new way to prevent actual work from getting done. Bob headed for the Hab bay. He peered into the new retinal scanner at the door. The lock clicked. He pushed open the door.
Now what?
A dozen security dweebs holding clipboards milled around the Hab. None of them were smiling.
Bob strode up to the group. “What’s going on?”
One of them turned around. Daniel Collins. Head of Security at JSC. “Mornin’, Dr. Kaganovski. We’re just adding a few extra security cameras. Nothing special.”
Nothing special? Bob counted five new videocams ringing the exterior of the Hab.
A workman walked in through the open airlock with another. Lex came out, looking a little dazed. What was she doing in at work at 7:00 A.M.? Normally, it took two miracles and an earthquake to get her in before ten.
She caught his eye. “Hey, Kaggo, what’s going on here? I’m gone for two days and the KGB takes over. And what are you doing in so early?”
“Hate to break it to you, Miss Night Owl, but this is when I always get in.”
“They’ve got ten cameras in the interior,” Lex said. “There’s even one in the head. Can you believe that?”
“When the paranoids take over, they don’t mess around,” Bob said. “So what brings you in so early? This is 5:00 A.M., California time.”
“Just felt like it.” Lex scratched her nose.
Since when did Lex just feel like getting up early? Something strange was going on. “Where’s Josh?”
“How should I know?” Hostility slashed across Lex’s face.
Bob didn’t know what he’d said wrong, but it wasn’t worth pursuing. He might as well try to get some work done before the All-Hands Meeting. He had a six-point universal docking port prototype on the test stand, and it was fritzing again. He’d pretty much decided yesterday that the cables were shot.
He went out of the lab and down the hall to the supply room. A couple of workmen were installing something when he arrived. Bob spotted the supply room manager. “Morning, Hank. I need about six feet of coaxial cable.”
“I’ll get it.” Hank disappeared into the guts of the room.
Bob turned to watch the workmen. Whoa! They were installing a retinal scanner here too.
Hank returned with the cable.
Bob filled out a standard requisition form and signed it. “So what’s with all the eyeball scanners? This is really going to mess up JSC.”
Hank shrugged. “As far as I know, it’s only our building.”
One of the workmen looked up. “Nope. ESTL too.”
Bob raised his eyebrows. Energy Systems Test Lab? It made sense to tighten security over there, with all the explosives. But why the Ares program?
Two hours later, he had the docking port put back together with a fresh set of cables. Good. Now he could play some. He heard a step behind him. Smelled a woman’s perfume. Bob reached for his wrench. “Yeah, Lex?”
“Come on, Kaggo, we’ve got that All-Hands Meeting over in Building 4.”
Bob straightened his back. “Any idea what’s going to hit the fan this time?”
“I’m guessing it’s another budget cut. The subcommittee probably thinks it could save some money if we hitchhiked the first hundred million miles.” An edge of bitterness ran through Lex’s voice. “Or maybe they just decided kill the program and put us out of our misery.”
Bob followed her. “They can’t do that. We’ve already bought the hardware. Quitting now would throw all that away—for nothing. It’s crazy.”
“Politics isn’t about logic.”
Bob felt his heart shudder. Great. Just great. He’d been doing eighty-hour weeks for six years now—for what? So some lame-brained politico could blow it all sky-high? He trudged beside Lex, wondering how things could get any worse.
Five minutes later, they walked into a small room. Josh sat at the head of the table. Kennedy sat beside him, looking glum. And Nate ...
Wait a second, where’s Nate?
Nate was the Mission Director. If there was bad news, he ought to be here to deliver it himself. Unless ...
Bob sagged into a chair. A scene from the movie Apollo 13 flashed into his mind. Three astronauts, sitting together in a room. Just the crew. Ken Mattingly was getting axed from the flight. And Commander Jim Lovell had that sick look on his face that Josh wore right now.
Lex shut the door and dropped into the fourth chair.
A pregnant pause followed.
Josh cleared his throat. “Bad news, people. There’s going to be a small change in personnel for Ares—”
“They can’t do this, Josh!” Kennedy slammed his fist on the table and shot a look of sympathy down toward Bob. “We’re a team. We’re going to stand together and tell them all to jump off a—”
“That’s right!” Lex jumped out of her chair and began pacing. “Suck it up, Josh! Go in there and tell them we’re not going to fly without our crew. Our whole crew.”
Bob leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. He’d seen it coming, and still it hit him like a cannonball in the gut. Six years of training, down the tubes. Just like that. Wham, bam, sorry, Sam, you’re out of the plan.
“Listen up, people,” Josh said in his Air Force voice, the one he used when Congress-critters and NASA mucky-mucks came around. “The decision is made, and it’s my decision. It’s final.”
Bob tasted bile in the back of his throat.
“You don’t have the right!” Lex jabbed her finger at Josh. “In seventeen months, we’re taking a three-hundred-million-mile cruise, and we want the best on our team. And we are the best. Hampster’s the best pilot in the navy. I’m the best geoscientist on the planet. And Kaggo’s the best mechanic in the known universe. It’s our
lives on the line. Don’t give us that rot about you-have-the-right-to-decide.”
Bob massaged his aching temples. Denial. Wasn’t that the first stage of grief? They could scream all they wanted. They’d get through that pretty soon. Then they’d start bargaining. Then they’d ... whatever the other stages were. Finally, acceptance. Face it, pals. You’re going to Mars without me. Deal with it. Josh already has. No wonder he looked so sick yesterday afternoon in Nate’s office.
“People, you can make this easy, or you can make it hard, but—”
“No buts!” Lex walked around behind Bob and put her hands on his shoulders. “You bump one of us, and we all drop! Have you got that?”
“That’s right,” Kennedy said, but his heart didn’t sound in it. “Right, Bob?”
“Um, you guys ...” Bob shook his head. “I appreciate the gesture, but the mission is more important than any one of us.” He opened his eyes and stood up. “Josh, if it’s better for the mission that I not go, then I’ll step down. Just say the word.”
Josh’s eyes widened in surprise. “Kaggo, have a seat. Lex. Hampster.” Josh leaned forward, squared his shoulders, and looked them each in the eye. “It is my duty to inform you that I am resigning as Mission Commander of the Ares 10. I’ll be working this mission as prime Capcom here on the ground.”
Lex slumped forward onto the table.
Kennedy’s shoulders sagged.
Bob felt his whole universe lurch, sway, and break free from its foundations. Josh? Off the mission? Absurd! He was the glue that held this team together.
Without Josh Bennett, how on earth was this mission going to fly?
Chapter Eight
Wednesday, August 29, Year One, 3:00 P.M.
Nate
NATE CRUSHED A SHEET OF paper into a ball and threw it in the wastebasket. He’d lost. Perez had won. Time to try to salvage this mission.
A soft knock at the door interrupted. “Come on in!” Nate shouted.