Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

The door opened and Steven Perez walked in. Valkerie Jansen followed him. Perez looked neither triumphant nor apologetic. Exhaustion lay like a mask over Valkerie’s face. Both sat down.

  Perez cleared his throat. “Valkerie, we have some good news for you. We’ve decided to invite you to join our current class of astronaut candidates. Congratulations. You blew our ASCAN tests into orbit.”

  She didn’t show much emotion. “That’s ... great. Sorry if I don’t jump up and down, but I’m a little tired right now.”

  Perez raised an eyebrow toward Nate. Your turn.

  Nate fidgeted in his chair. “There’s been a reason for all this, Dr. Jansen.” Actually, a lot of reasons, but you don’t need to know all of them. “We’re also going to offer you an unusual opportunity, and we needed to make sure you were up to the challenge.”

  Valkerie sat up straighter. “Opportunity?”

  Nate handed her an official letter, signed by himself and Perez. “Seventeen months from now, the Ares 10 will be lifting off for Mars. We’d like you aboard as Mission Specialist.”

  Valkerie dropped the letter and gaped at Nate.

  Perez rescued the letter and handed it back to her. “Valkerie, it’s only fair to tell you that a mission to Mars will be somewhat risky—on a par with the Apollo missions, or possibly even more dangerous. The crew will be on its own for two and a half years, with no outside help available in an emergency. Your personality traits are exceptional for dealing with what we call five-sigma days.”

  Nate felt his jaw tightening. The odds of a five-sigma day were one in three million. He and Perez had gone round and round on this thing and—

  “But I don’t get it,” Valkerie said. “A fifth crew member—plus food, oxygen, water, and all that—adds a lot of weight, doesn’t it? You can’t redesign a mission this late in the game.”

  Nate drummed his fingers on the desk. “We’ve made a slight reconfiguration in the crew.” Right. We threw the best man off the team. We are such geniuses.

  “Reconfiguration?”

  “Let me explain,” Perez said. “A team is more than the sum of its parts. Before I joined NASA, I did a lot of work in human factors studies for the Navy. Submarines, in particular. What we’ve found in restricted environments is that the ability of a crew to deal with a crisis depends on the particular personality mix of crew and commander.”

  Nate gritted his teeth while Perez went on and on about his psychometric analyses, his crisis-adaptability predictors, his psycho-whatsamahoodle teamwork index. You handed out the tests, took the numbers, crunched them through your computer, and out came the index of the team. The computer didn’t care how good each crew member was individually. It wanted to know how good the team was—as a team. The computer gave the current team an index of 3.2 out of a possible 4.0. Good, but not outstanding. Unless the whole thing is a crock.

  Then Perez’s computer had run the same predictor with every possible combination of pilot, mission specialist, ASCAN, and starry-eyed nutcake who’d ever applied to NASA.

  “And with you on the team, Valkerie, we came up with an index of 3.98,” Perez said. “That’s the best we’ve seen by a very significant margin. The team will be about seven standard deviations above the mean.”

  “But ... if I join, who’s not going to be on the team?” Valkerie asked.

  Nate picked up a ball-point pen and began clicking it. In and out. In and out. “We showed the data to Josh Bennett, along with the transcripts of some interviews by our psychologists. In the end, we let Josh make the decision. We feel it was the right one.”

  Valkerie sat forward on her chair. “So ... who’s not going? Bob? Did you kick Bob off the team? I don’t think I could accept that. He’s not the easiest person to get along with, but he’s vital to the success of—”

  “Kaggo’s in,” Nate said. “He’s the most important man on the team. If anything breaks on the Starship Enterprise, Scotty has to fix it. Kaggo is our Scotty. That, in fact, was critical to our thinking.” Our shrinks’ thinking, anyway. “We found that one team member dramatically reduced Kaggo’s critical thinking skills.”

  “Alexis Ohta?” Valkerie said. “She doesn’t get along with Bob?”

  “Lex is in.” Nate put the pen back on the desk. “She’s an expert geophysicist and an ace pilot. She’s a little aloof and was the least affected by any of the others from a personality perspective.” Wonderful. I’m starting to sound like Perez.

  Valkerie leaned back in her chair. “Kennedy Hampton?”

  Nate scratched his neck. I wish. Of the four, the shrinks liked the Hampster most. Which was probably why Nate liked him least. He was too much the rich frat boy who had everything handed to him on a silver starship. Perfectly balanced? Nobody was perfectly balanced. It wasn’t normal. “Kennedy’s the best seat-of-the pants pilot we’ve got, and a pretty good mechanic,” Nate said. I hate to admit it, but he is. “Kennedy will be the new commander.”

  “You mean ... ?” Valkerie’s eyes filled with horror.

  Nate looked at his watch. “As of this morning, Josh Bennett has resigned as Mission Commander of the Ares 10.” Josh Bennett—the best astronaut, leader, and all-around good guy you ever met—that Josh Bennett is off the team. Because of a teamwork index in a lame-brained computer program.

  Perez sighed. “Josh is a terrific individual, but we found that his strong leadership personality tended to subsume the critical thinking skills of the rest of the crew. They’d follow him into a fire-ant-infested black hole if he led them. That’s not what you want your crew doing in blind faith. I’m sorry, but we had to take Captain Kirk off the team. Josh made this decision himself.”

  “Congratulations, Valkerie.” Nate stood and extended his hand. “We were looking for someone who could think outside the box, but we also needed someone who was physically and mentally tough. You’ve proven yourself on all counts. Welcome to the Ares 10 team.”

  Valkerie shook her head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not at all sure I can accept.”

  Nate felt a shot of liquid oxygen shiver through his veins. She had to join the team. Because there was another issue so politically incorrect he couldn’t ever say it out loud to her. The current crew was three men and one woman. The people at NBS had been quacking for two months about how amazing it would be to have a team that looked “more like America.”

  Which was bogus. What they really wanted was the biggest, baddest reality show you ever saw, with a boatload of danger and packed to the gills with romance. What they wanted was two on two. And the two girls had better be knockouts.

  Nate had been fighting this idiocy for weeks, but now with the latest budget cuts from the morons in Congress, the network money was the only way to make the mission fly.

  A pregnant silence filled the room while Nate and Perez waited for Valkerie to say something.

  “Not sure you can ... ?” Perez looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm.

  “I don’t want to be the reason Josh gets bumped off the team.”

  “Josh’s resignation doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Perez pulled his chair closer to Valkerie. “Josh is off the team no matter what you decide.”

  “Uh huh ...” Valkerie nodded somberly.

  “We very much want you on the team,” Perez said. “We believe you’ll be critical to its success.”

  She fidgeted in her seat. “When do I need to let you know my decision?”

  Nate leaned forward. “As soon as possible, of course. We’d like to schedule a press conference for tomorrow to announce your acceptance. Or Friday at the latest.”

  “And you’re just assuming I’ll accept it?” She looked incredulous. “After the way you’ve treated me these past two weeks?”

  Perez stood and put a hand on Valkerie’s shoulder. “Let me point out one thing that might sway you, Valkerie.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m listening.”

  “We don’t have any other candidates we co
nsider suitable,” Perez said. “And without Susan Dillard the Ares 10 backup team can’t even be considered. If you don’t join the team, we’re going to miss this launch opportunity.”

  Valkerie’s face stiffened. “But you could ... try again in two years. Couldn’t you?”

  Perez shook his head. “We talked to Senator Axton on Monday. If we don’t make it to Mars on this launch opportunity, we won’t get a second chance. He’s got the votes to shut us down.”

  Nate turned to look out the window. And if we get shut down now, we’re never going to Mars. Not in my lifetime. Maybe not in yours either, Cupcake.

  * * *

  Wednesday, August 29, Year One, 3:30 P.M.

  Valkerie

  Valkerie wandered out of Harrington’s office in a daze. Mars! What could she say to them? Of course she couldn’t go. It was too sudden. Too cruel. She couldn’t take Josh’s place. The press would eat her alive. Josh would hate her.

  His mood yesterday suddenly made sense. He already knew. That’s why he was acting so strange. And all that time she thought he was agonizing over asking her out. He must have been dying inside. But why ask her out? Was he really interested in her? Or was he hoping to talk her into stepping down?

  Valkerie hurried out of the elevator and past the security guard to the glass sliding doors. Her leather flats clacked across the old brick floors, echoing sharply off the marble walls. She ran across the mall toward Building 29. Maybe she could catch Josh before he went home. She couldn’t make any decisions without talking to him first.

  Valkerie waited impatiently at the security check and hurried down the hall to Josh’s lab. She was probably the last person on earth that he’d want to see, but he had asked her out. At least she could try to explain. It wasn’t her fault.

  Valkerie listened at his door. Nothing. Maybe he had left the Center. Who would blame him if he left and never came back?

  She fidgeted in her pack for her keys. Maybe she should call it a day. The last thing Josh needed was—

  The door opened and Josh appeared, leaning against the doorjamb. “Hi, Valkerie.”

  “Um, I could come back if this is a bad time ...”

  “No. Please ... come in.” Josh’s arms hung heavily at his sides, but his eyes were soft ... almost inviting.

  “Really, I know this is a bad time. I’m sure I’m the last person you want to see right now. I can come back later.”

  “No! I mean, you’re not ... the last person I wanted to see.” Josh stood back and motioned her inside.

  Valkerie followed him into the tiny lab. Amazing. The room was chock full of equipment. All the latest. Some of it still in the packaging. “Wow. This is all yours? How many research assistants do you have?”

  Josh shook his head. “Just a dishwasher.”

  Valkerie circled the room. “Quite a setup. I don’t even know what some of this stuff is.”

  “That makes two of us.” A smile lit his face. “Nate thought all he had to do was throw equipment at me and I’d magically become a research scientist.”

  “That’s an engineer for you.”

  Josh laughed. “It’s the NASA way—at least it was until Perez got here.”

  Valkerie turned to search his face. He didn’t seem bitter—he was even smiling.

  “Josh, I came here to tell you ... I didn’t know anything about—what happened today. If I’d known, I’d ...” Valkerie set her purse on the bench and slid onto one of the lab stools. “Look, I’m not going to accept the position. I think what they’ve done to you is wrong. It’s not fair and I’m—”

  “Steven Perez is right, you know.” Josh’s voice was surprisingly soft.

  Valkerie studied his expression. He looked light-years away.

  “You are a much better fit for this mission than I am.”

  “But I don’t know the first thing about flying—”

  “This mission doesn’t need another pilot. The ship’s got four redundant flight computers that can each steer the ship better than the best flyboy ever born. What the mission needs is someone who can find something spectacular out there. Something worth going back for.”

  “But what if I can’t find anything? What if there’s nothing to find?”

  “You’ve found life before—in some pretty harsh environments. Thermospira aquaticus, Thermophilus sulfataria, Thermis rhodacans, Thermophilus edwardi ... If you can’t find life on Mars, I doubt anybody else could find it either.”

  Valkerie slid off the stool and moved toward a bench at the far end of the room. “You’ve read my papers?”

  “I’ve read your test results too. Psych, med, flight, stress, training. Very impressive.”

  Valkerie could feel the heat creeping into her face. She turned away from Josh and started flipping some of the parafilmed Petri dishes that littered a bench.

  Footsteps tapped behind her. She caught her breath.

  “Steven told me about your adventure in Alaska. Did you really breathe the air from your jeep tires?” Josh’s voice was low. She could almost feel his breath on her neck.

  Valkerie’s heart pounded at her throat. What was wrong with her? What was she thinking? She flipped over a Petri dish and started counting the plaques. Sixteen colonies of bacteria, dark against the amber medium. “The volcano erupted a cloud of SO2 gas. I couldn’t breathe.”

  “We’re lucky you made it out alive.”

  We? Valkerie reached for a freshly tooled stainless steel cylinder. She could feel her pulse throb against its comforting weight as she hefted it in her hand.

  “You’re an amazing woman.” Josh reached around her and gently took the cylinder from her hand, letting his fingers linger several seconds around hers. “You’ll make an amazing astronaut.”

  Valkerie turned slowly, backing away from his penetrating gaze. He reached a hand around her shoulder and walked her away from the bench.

  “So are you ready to go out? We could break early today. There’s something I want to show you. It will take a little while to get there, but I think you’ll find it worth the trip.”

  Valkerie looked into his eyes. The eyes of the man whose career she had just ruined. Seas of crystal blue. Not even a speck of reproach. She smiled and nodded her head ever so slightly as he guided her through the door.

  * * *

  Wednesday, August 29, Year One, 8:00 P.M.

  Bob

  Bob watched his computer monitor as the test of the Inertial Measurement Unit continued. The IMU combined gyro measurements and accelerometer data to estimate attitude and velocity. And it was glitching again.

  He slammed his open palm on the table. That guy from AresCorp had lied to him. Either that, or he was grossly incompetent. Which was odd, because Lex said he was some kind of a hotshot engineer. She’d known the guy since grad school.

  Bob checked his watch and decided to take a hike over to Josh’s lab. Only 8:00 P.M. Maybe Josh would still be in there, playing with his chemistry set. Bob needed to vent a little. And Josh had an awful lot of explaining to do. This late at night, they could talk freely without worrying about the walls having ears.

  It didn’t make sense. Josh Bennett was Chuck Yeager, John Glenn, and Neil Armstrong. Nate and Perez were throwing that away? Why? Over some stupid teamwork index?

  Buzz Aldrin missed being the first man to walk on the moon just because the door opened the wrong way. Jim Lovell missed out on the moon altogether because of one fried switch. Now Josh Bennett was going to lose Mars because of a teamwork index—a figment of some academic’s imagination.

  Who was going to replace Josh?

  Nobody was saying, but Bob’s money was on Valkerie. She was perfect for the mission. A medical doctor. A Ph.D. biochemist. Cool under pressure. Fit. Intelligent. Attractive. She was so ... perfect. Except for one little worry.

  Valkerie was a born-again. A nice person. A smart person. But somebody with an axe to grind. Sure, she used all the right words about the Tree of Life and convergent evolution and all that,
but … Bob’s experience was that people like her had an agenda to their science.

  That was unacceptable. The whole point of this mission was to look for evidence of life on Mars, either past or present. If she found something, she had to be able to set aside her bias. If she couldn’t do that, then she didn’t belong on the mission.

  Had Nate and Perez thought about that? Bob had been wondering that all day. Yeah, probably they’d thought about it. Probably they’d even talked to her about it. Probably.

  But you didn’t run a mission based on “probably.” When in doubt, you asked questions, and you didn’t stop until you had answers. Valkerie was innocent until proven guilty, of course. Bob was going to give her the benefit of the doubt. But he wanted some answers eventually. Like Reagan used to say, “Trust but verify.”

  When Bob got to Josh’s lab, he found it locked. He pounded on the door. “Hey, Josh! Open up! I need to talk to you.”

  No answer. Maybe he had gone to the bathroom, or whatever. Bob punched in Josh’s security password on the keypad and opened the door. “Josh!”

  Still nothing. He left the door ajar and walked in farther, scanning for signs of intelligent life. There was plenty of the other kind, sitting in those Petri dishes.

  A purse? On Josh’s workbench?

  Bob opened it up, found a wallet, and flicked it open. Valkerie’s photo stared up at him. Unbelievable. She even looked good on her driver’s license. Fresh. Clean. Talk about your girl next door.

  Bob snapped it shut, reached for the purse and ... it fell, spilling its contents all over the floor. Clumsy fool! He knelt down and began scooping stuff into it.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing in here?”

  Bob dropped the purse and spun around.

  A night watchman shined a fat flashlight in his eyes. He wore a security badge, a gun, and a radio, and looked like the kind who enjoyed pushing his authority around. Bob had never seen the guy before.

  “I work here. I’m Bob Kaganovski, one of the astronauts.”