Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

  “Keep talking.”

  “Third, our problems started the day Valkerie arrived. She’s got opportunity, motive ... It doesn’t take an expert to see that she’s paranoid. She took a dislike to me early on, and she’s been challenging my authority ever since launch. The only reason I’m voting for her is to force a tie and give the tie breaker to Nate. Nate will vote for me—you know he will. I’d vote for you, but you breathe too much oxygen, big guy.”

  And you’re paranoid too. So am I, probably. Lex isn’t, but she’s out for the count. The guy we need on board right now is Josh, and that just isn’t possible.

  “That’s all I have to say.” Kennedy pushed himself back through the door. “I know you’ll make the right choice.”

  Right, but you don’t trust me enough to vote for me, you gutless little Nazi.

  “Okay, Valkerie, go on in there and make your points,” Kennedy said. A minute later, Valkerie came floating in. She just looked helplessly at Bob.

  “The clock’s ticking,” he said.

  She looked up at Bob with big watery doe eyes.

  For crying out loud, just what I need.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a whisper. “I’m acting like an idiot. Bob, I’m afraid of Kennedy, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t believe he put that bomb out there. But I didn’t do it either, and I know you didn’t.”

  “So who did?” Bob asked. “It didn’t just grow there by itself.” He managed a laugh. “Maybe it evolved from a long succession of smaller bombs, each more complex than the last—”

  “Bob, please. Could you just lay off?” She smeared her eyes with her sleeves. “This may all be an amusing little academic exercise to you, but I have to live with my faith ... and my doubts ... every day. Don’t think I don’t struggle with it. If you think I’m burying my head in the sand, you’re dead wrong! I understand the way the world works. Only too well. You know what I’m worried about right now? I’m afraid that Kennedy is going to ... I’m afraid that he might take advantage ... Bob, he scares me to death.”

  “Look, Kennedy’s not going to ... you know. Do anything wrong.”

  Valkerie covered her face again. “Kennedy’s got a bad streak, and I don’t trust him. But I do trust you—enough to take the chance that you’ll use up all the oxygen while we’re asleep. Have you thought about what that means? It means I’d rather run the risk of dying than leave him loose around me.”

  So you’d die for your principles. You and Sidney Nichols both. Which is just what I’ve been saying. You’ve got the terrorist mentality.

  Valkerie uncovered her face. She looked tired, defeated. “That’s all I have to say. I don’t ... know anything else to tell you, but if you had half a heart, you’d pick me.”

  The problem is that I have a whole brain. Bob shook his head. “Just give me a few minutes to think about this.” He felt strangely dizzy.

  So. Valkerie was human after all. She had doubts. And fears.

  And she trusted him. Which was bizarre, because he had treated her like dirt. Now he had to decide. His heart told him one thing, his head another. Valkerie looked so sweet and innocent on the surface. But she was the only one of the six who had a motive. The only plausible answer to this riddle was that she was a fanatic, someone who put her religion above her common sense.

  So why was her religion failing her now? Valkerie wasn’t acting like a single-minded killer. She was acting scared, lonely, confused.

  Just like me.

  So it came down to this choice. Play it safe with Kennedy, who was clearly halfway around the bend—or trust Valkerie, who was either perfectly trustworthy or all the way around the bend and banging on heaven’s gate. Of course, voting for Kennedy would force a tie, and Nate might decide to ... no, a vote for Kennedy was a vote for Kennedy—if Josh had finished his research assignment.

  Kennedy pushed off from the CommConsole and floated toward the door. “Any more questions for me?”

  Bob made his decision. “All right, all right, we’re finished.” He grabbed the doorframe and propelled himself to the conference table.

  The other two followed him.

  “Ready to vote?” Kennedy asked.

  Bob grabbed his sheet of paper. He heard Valkerie suck in her breath and hold it.

  Do it now. Bob picked up his pen and wrote down his vote in large block letters.

  KENNEDY.

  Because when all the money was on the table, it was always better to play it safe. Bob’s heart had betrayed him before, but his head had never let him down.

  * * *

  Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 1:15 A.M.

  Nate

  Nate was dozing on his cot in the war room when the door burst open. It was Josh Bennett.

  “They’ve voted,” Josh said. “And they’re deadlocked.”

  “Already?” Nate rubbed his eyes and fumbled for his watch. “I thought they still had another step in the synthesis.”

  “They decided to vote now. And they’re stalemated but good. You have the tie breaker.”

  Nate swore. “How am I supposed to decide if they can’t?”

  “Well, don’t look at me. I’m Capcom. I’ve got to be the advocate—for all of them.”

  “Just let me go through the options with you, okay?” Nate stood up and began pacing to get the blood moving. “First off, I think Bob’s out because of his higher oxygen requirements. Better to be safe than sorry—know what I mean?”

  “Good point,” Josh said.

  “Secondly, I’m concerned by the reports I’m getting on Valkerie’s mental state.”

  “Those reports have to be taken with a grain of salt,” Josh said. “Neither Kennedy nor Bob is an unbiased observer.”

  “Yes, but they are observers, and I’m not,” Nate said. “And furthermore, they’re in agreement. That tells me something. Third, there’s the fact that Kennedy is the better pilot.”

  “Statistically irrelevant,” Josh said. “That is the wrong criterion to be making a—”

  The phone rang. Nate lifted the receiver and dropped it on the hook.

  “Shouldn’t you take that call?” Josh asked.

  “If it’s important, they can bother me some other time,” Nate said. “I don’t need the distraction.”

  “Do you think Valkerie put that bomb up there?” Josh asked.

  Nate scratched his head. “Who’s to say?” He kept pacing. “Do you?”

  A brief pause. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  The phone rang again. Josh shrugged helplessly and grabbed it. “Bennett.” He listened, then nodded. “Yeah, I’m talking to him now.”

  Nate waved his hands and shook his head. “I’m not here.”

  Josh handed him the phone. “It’s Agent Yamaguchi. They’ve traced that blueprint e-mail.”

  Nate’s heart began pounding. He grabbed the phone. “Crystal? What’s the word?”

  “We’ve found the smoking gun,” Crystal said. “Definite proof.”

  “It’s Bob, right?”

  “We did a trace of the exact time the e-mail was sent,” Crystal said. “Then we tried to pinpoint the locations of the three suspects during that time.”

  “I don’t care how you worked it all out,” Nate said. “Just give me the answer. I’ve got a big decision to make. Is it Bob?”

  “It’s Kennedy Hampton,” Crystal said. “Beyond all doubt.”

  Nate dropped the phone and sat down weakly on the cot. “Josh ... the Hampster sent that e-mail.”

  “Kennedy?” Josh stepped closer to Nate. “You’re telling me Kennedy broke into my machine and sent an e-mail in my name?”

  Nate nodded. “Yamaguchi says they’ve got absolute proof.”

  Josh slammed his open palm on the table. “That filthy little Machiavelli! I can guess why he did it too.”

  “Josh—”

  “He was trying to frame me, wasn’t he?” Josh paced back and forth in the small room, his face red with fury. “And it worked! He
found a way to bump me off so he could be commander!”

  “Josh, there were a lot of other reasons—”

  “Oh sure!” Josh turned and stabbed a finger at Nate. “Sure, there were other reasons. But if you poke around behind those so-called reasons, I bet you’ll find that little weasel’s paw prints.”

  “Josh, I’m sure you’ve got a point.” Nate stood up and rubbed his bleary eyes. “But right now, we’ve got a crew to deal with. It’s obvious we can’t let Kennedy take care of the others. But here’s my question. Do we tell Bob and Valkerie about this?”

  “They have a right to know,” Josh said. “There’s a chance Kennedy could be dangerous, but if you want my opinion, he’d be twice as dangerous if he knew we’ve blown his cover.”

  “Right.” Nate reached for the doorknob. “Okay, let’s go. If Kennedy’s not there, I’ll tell Bob and Valkerie. Otherwise, I’ll ... try to act normal.”

  “Break a leg.”

  * * *

  Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 1:45 A.M.

  Bob

  “Ares 10, this is Houston. Mission Director Nate Harrington speaking. Sound off, crew. I want to hear each of you speaking. Over.”

  “This is Kennedy Hampton, sir.”

  “Kaggo present and speaking.”

  Valkerie hesitated. “This is Valkerie. As for Lex, she’s still unconscious, but she seems to be stable.”

  “Over,” Bob said, because Valkerie had forgotten.

  The minutes ticked by as they waited for the radio signal to travel to a pale blue dot millions of miles away.

  “Ares 10, this is Nate. With me are Steven Perez and Josh Bennett. We have discussed the situation and we are in agreement. Let me emphasize that this is a unanimous decision based on compelling reasons.”

  “That’s correct, this is unanimous.” The voice of Steven Perez crackled in the speaker.

  “Ditto for me,” said Josh. “We’re a hundred percent in agreement.”

  “Get on with it,” Kennedy muttered under his breath.

  “Let me also emphasize that our decision is final,” Nate said. “This is a direct order from your Mission Director.”

  Bob was dying inside. You’d better say Kennedy, you crazy fools.

  “We direct that Valkerie Jansen shall remain conscious and care for you, Kennedy, and you, Bob, while you submit to a chemically induced coma until your rendezvous with the ERV. Please acknowledge. Over.”

  Bob’s mouth dropped open. No. How could they foul up like this? Had Josh forgotten to research Sidney Nichols?

  Kennedy scowled, hesitated. Then he said, “Houston, this is CDR Kennedy Hampton acknowledging that order. Valkerie Jansen to remain conscious.”

  “MS1 acknowledges,” Valkerie said.

  Kennedy pointed the mike at Bob.

  “Um ... Josh? Did you get a chance to run down that piece of information I asked for? Over.” Bob looked at the table to avoid Kennedy’s and Valkerie’s questioning looks. Should he bring up Sidney Nichols now? Would they think it was a ploy? Four minutes passed.

  “Affirmative, Bob.” Josh’s voice sounded enthusiastic. “I can say with 100 percent confidence that you have nothing to worry about from that quarter. I guarantee it. Over.”

  “Um ... thanks, Josh,” Bob mumbled into the microphone. “Over.”

  Except that it wasn’t over. Bob folded his arms across his chest. An order was an order. You had to obey the order.

  Unless it was a matter of life and death.

  Well, fine. He would cooperate. He would help Valkerie administer the drug to Kennedy. And then ...

  Bob felt for the little bulge in his pocket. When Kennedy was out, he’d give Valkerie a little surprise. And why should that bother her? She had voted for him, hadn’t she?

  She was going to get her wish.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 11:00 A.M.

  Valkerie

  “THANKS FOR TRUSTING ME, KENNEDY. I won’t let you down.” Valkerie set the flow rate on the zero-gravity IV pump to deliver an initial bolus of 150 mg sodium pentothal per minute. “You saw how easy it was with Lex. Nothing to it.”

  Kennedy lay still inside his SRU. His left arm was strapped to the side of his bunk—rotated palm upward to expose the IV tube that fed into a taped, bulging vein. His brow was furrowed, and his eyes were almost hidden in the tight folds of a pain-filled grimace.

  Valkerie didn’t know what else to say. Her supply of civility was at an end. The drug would have to calm him down. He wouldn’t believe anything she said anyway.

  Valkerie injected the drug into the IV bag and shook the solution vigorously. The solution flowed slowly into her patient’s vein. In less than a minute, the drug started to take effect, gradually soothing the worry lines from Kennedy’s face. After ten minutes Valkerie set the pump for a delivery rate of 500 mg/hr. In two hours she could slow it down to 25 mg/hr and add the Raplon. She checked his vitals. Perfect. He looked better than she had seen him in weeks. At least time would pass quickly for him. She doubted the same would be true for her.

  Valkerie readied a syringe for the next dose. If her calculations were right, she had just enough drug to last. She frowned and checked the vial again. Hadn’t they synthesized a lot more sodium pentothal than that? Apparently not. She and Bob had measured it three times and got the same result each time. Almost two cc’s less than she had originally calculated. Well, that’s what she got for working on too little sleep.

  Valkerie marked the syringe carefully and put it in her kit. Spread out over several days, the dose of Raplon was fine, but taken all at once it could kill a man.

  “Is he going to wake up from that?”

  Valkerie turned to face Bob. He was floating nonchalantly in the doorway with his hand stabbed into one of his pockets.

  “You’re supposed to be getting ready. This is your last chance in a long time for a shower.”

  “That’s okay. I just wanted to see how the Hampster was doing.”

  “Worried that I was going to plant a bomb in his IV? You can check it if you want. As you can see, he’s perfectly content.”

  Bob moved toward the bunk. “I don’t know if I’d say content, but he looks a lot better. After what we’ve been through, I don’t know if five weeks of sleep is going to be enough.”

  Valkerie laughed but stopped abruptly when she caught the look in Bob’s eye. He seemed nervous. Poor guy. He was probably terrified.

  “It’s okay. I’m going to take good care of you. I promise.” Valkerie tried to think. What could she say that would make things easier for him?

  “You know ... when I was a little girl, I used to be afraid of the dark.”

  “So want me to stay awake instead?”

  “Actually I was afraid of being home at night. I told my friends my house was haunted. I’d invite myself over to my best friend’s house every chance I got and begged her mother to let me spend the night. Sometimes, I’d climb out the window before dark and sleep in the garage. One time I even snuck out with a sleeping bag and spent the night in the woods.”

  Valkerie looked up at Bob, expecting him to ask a question, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. Sweat beaded up on his forehead. He looked like he was in pain.

  “The thing is, I wasn’t really afraid of my house. That’s just what I told everyone. I was afraid of my mother. My father traveled a lot for his business, and when he was gone my mom would start drinking. I didn’t know it at the time, but she had been an alcoholic for years—ever since my brother died.”

  Bob’s eyes searched the room restlessly. Was he bored or just too nervous to look her in the eye?

  “Um ... she never hurt me. She wasn’t even particularly mean. But it was like she was another person. And that person scared me to death. I thought she hated me—that she blamed me for my brother’s death. He died when he was four. I wasn’t even born yet, but I still felt like it was somehow my fault. Like she would have been happier with him in
stead of me.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Bob sounded miserable—almost angry.

  “I don’t know. It’s just that sometimes what we think we’re afraid of—”

  “So how much, uh, what’d you call it, Raplon? How much Raplon did you give him?” Bob grabbed a ceiling strap and thrust his hand into his pocket. His veins stood out all over his arms. It would certainly be easy to get the IV needle in him.

  “None so far. I’ll inject two cc’s in about two hours—right before I intubate.” Valkerie tried to get back to her story. “You know my mother—”

  “Two cc’s. And for someone smaller, you’d have to adjust the dosage, right?”

  Valkerie frowned. Why was he so eager to change the subject? What was he trying so hard to avoid? “Actually the dosage isn’t that critical at the concentration it’s delivered in.”

  “Good.” Bob moved in closer. He looked as if he was mad at her.

  Valkerie turned away. He was trying to change the subject, but this time she wouldn’t let herself get sidetracked. She had a point to make. “You know, Bob. Sometimes what we think we’re afraid of is very different from what we’re actually afraid of.”

  * * *

  Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 11:15 A.M.

  Nate

  Nate paced behind Josh. Right now, twenty-four million miles away, Valkerie was putting Kennedy down for a long winter’s nap. Bob would be next. Nate clenched his fists. This had better be the right decision.

  The phone at the Capcom station rang. Nate grabbed it. “Harrington.”

  “Nate, it’s Crystal.” Her voice sounded tight, controlled.

  “You okay?” he said. “You sound a little upset.”

  “Who’s going down first?” she asked. “Kennedy or Bob?”

  “Kennedy volunteered. Bob and Valkerie are putting him out right now, and then Bob goes next. What’s up?”