by John Olson
“You remember we did a thorough investigation of the crew’s schedule during the month of August two years ago?”
“Right.” Nate swallowed. “So what’s the problem?”
Crystal paused. “There was a break-in to a NASA computer back then that was never explained. An access from a university in Japan—a very quick in-and-outer.”
“Keep talking.” Don’t tell me this. I don’t want to know.
“We noticed a pattern and took a wild guess—and we got lucky. We’ve been able to show that Bob initiated that access through a cutout account. Furthermore, he had the combination to Josh Bennett’s lab.”
“I knew that.”
“We believe he’s engaged in a systematic pattern of violation of NASA rules.”
“Me too—lately. Everything I’ve done since we launched has gone against NASA rules. So sue my socks off. What’s the problem?”
“We believe Bob may consider himself outside the law.”
Nate sighed. “He is a little beyond the reach of the county sheriff right now. What’s your point?”
“The life-support team wanted to get the numbers exact on their little simulations, so they got some of the medical people to reanalyze all the oxygen-uptake requirements for the crew.”
“Bully for them,” Nate said. “Hold one second, will you?” He covered the phone. “Josh, any word from Ares 10?”
Josh shook his head. “Still hailing them.”
“Okay, I’m back, Crystal. So what’s the word?”
“The word is this. Bob’s basal metabolic rate is a bit higher than one would expect for a person of his body weight. Your people ran the new numbers on him, and he comes up way short.”
“Short? Meaning what?”
“Meaning the crew wouldn’t survive if he were the person remaining conscious.”
“Yeah? No big deal, right? Valkerie’s doing the honors. Bob’s going to be in a coma.”
“He is unless he decides to take the law into his own hands one more time,” Crystal said. “You make sure you talk to him and let him know it would kill them all, okay, honey?”
“He’s not gonna do that,” Nate growled. “Honey.”
“Just make sure, okay?”
“Right.” Nate slapped the phone down.
“Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.” Josh looked frustrated.
“Josh, when you get our boys and girls on the line, just pass one little extra fact along.” Nate filled him in on the details.
“Don’t worry,” Josh said. “Bob’s smarter than to try something like that.” He keyed his mike again. “Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.”
* * *
Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 11:30 A.M.
Bob
“Shouldn’t we answer that?” Valkerie said. “They’ve been hailing us for the last twenty minutes.” She gave one final look at Kennedy, then moved toward the door.
Bob blocked her. “They can wait. I want to talk to you first.” Anything to stall for time.
“You want to talk?” She stared at him as if him talking was the last thing she expected. “Okay, fine by me. Go ahead.”
Now what? If only he weren’t such a coward. He had had plenty of opportunities to give her the injection, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to do it. He hesitated for a long moment, then blurted the first thing that came into his mind. “Give me something to go on. Anything. Convince me you’re not the bomber.” Good grief, this isn’t making sense.
“How?” She studied him intently. “How can I possibly convince you? You’ve never given me a single good reason for suspecting me.”
Maybe it was just his imagination, but Valkerie seemed to have relaxed a little, now that Kennedy was out for the count. Bob tried to think, but his brain had gone into neutral. What was he going to say? He couldn’t tell her why he suspected her. She’d just deny it. Besides, it would hurt her. He stared at her, feeling stupid. Was that the real reason? He was afraid it would mess things up between them? If he really believed she was the bomber, why did he care so much about her feelings? It was crazy.
“Bob, I know I’ve offended you in a lot of ways, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I think it would have been better if I hadn’t accepted this mission. I just came barging in, wrecking a great team, never quite fitting in. And the reason I did it was to gratify my own stupid ambition.” She wiped at her eyes.
Ambition? Valkerie?
“I’ve never felt like I was good enough, ever since I was a little girl. I think I’ve been trying to prove myself to my daddy, and maybe Mom too, I don’t know. But it’s never enough. The M.D. wasn’t enough. The Ph.D. wasn’t enough. And then, when Dr. Perez came along and offered me Mars, I jumped right in without thinking about why I wanted to go.”
She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but I can’t prove anything. Life doesn’t work that way. It’s not like math or physics. There’s always going to be uncertainty. Proofs aren’t an option.”
“Go on.” Bob felt a huge lump in his throat.
“I don’t know what to say. I was out of control. It was all a big ugly ego trip. All I thought about was the headlines. Valkerie Jansen, first woman on Mars. Valkerie Jansen, first to discover evidence of life on Mars. I was so blind. I never even considered the alternative. Valkerie Jansen, first astronaut to die in interplanetary space. I just realized—”
She closed her eyes tight. Bob could see little tears forming at the corners.
“Ares 10, this is Houston, come in. We have an urgent message for you. Ares 10, come in.”
Bob closed the door to shut out the distraction. “You just realized what?”
“That it’s not worth it. I didn’t bomb the ship, but that doesn’t mean I’m not blameless. If it weren’t for my ambition, I wouldn’t have been here. You wouldn’t have been so suspicious of me, and you could have spent more time dealing with the ship. And Kennedy too. So I’m sorry, Bob. Can you forgive me?”
Tears had pooled now in her eyes. She seemed to shrink in on herself, trembling all over as she floated limply in the air.
Bob reached out and draped her in wooden arms. His brain was running at a thousand miles an hour, and he didn’t have any idea what to say, so he just patted her stupidly on the back. “It’s okay, Valkerie. It’s okay.”
Her body shook with silent grief for a couple of minutes.
Bob felt like a complete idiot.
Finally, she pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Thanks, I think I’ve been needing a hug for a long time. I feel better now. I just wish you did too.”
Bob sighed and pressed his hand against the syringe in his pocket. How could he do this? To act as judge, jury and executioner without even giving her a chance to defend herself? Watching her expression carefully, he whispered the name that had been dominating his thoughts for over a year. “Sidney Nichols.”
Valkerie recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “I’d forgotten I’d told you about him. Sidney was a bad influence, but I can’t blame my freshman year on him. I was the one who made the bad decisions. I would have gone crazy with the partying thing whether I’d met him or not.”
“I know what happened to him,” Bob said.
Valkerie stared at him blankly. “Yeah? Me too. Six months after we broke up, he and his PETA friends barricaded themselves in that lab and …” She covered her eyes and took several deep breaths.
For a minute, Bob couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Nichols was PETA? He wasn’t a pro-life born-again?”
Valkerie sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “Whatever gave you that idea? Sidney was as agnostic as they come. But he was passionate about life. About all life. I think that’s why I was drawn to him. He really, totally believed in something. And I’d never … well, not since I was about ten years old … totally and completely believed in anything.”
Bob’s head felt like it was spinning. Sidney Nichols wasn’t a born-again? He gap
ed at her in silence.
“Bob, are you okay? You look like you’re going to throw up or something.”
“Or something.” His voice came out in a rasp.
She came closer and studied him closely. “So why the concern over Sidney? Why would animal rights activists want to plant a bomb on this ship?”
He shook his head fiercely. “Never mind. It was a complete misunderstanding.”
“So are you ready to trust me now?” Her voice was soft and uncertain, like she didn’t expect a positive answer.
He didn’t want to nod his head, but her eyes beat against his resolve with the force of a hurricane. Bob looked away, but he couldn’t escape her presence. He had to think with his head, not his heart. She could be lying. Playing the game three moves ahead. There was only one way to be certain. He had to administer the drug to her and stay awake himself.
But deep in his heart, he knew she was right. He’d never had a reason to distrust Valkerie. The only real evidence was a few words she’d said once about Sidney Nichols. Words she had volunteered. Words he’d misunderstood. The evidence he had against Valkerie now was exactly zero. He had no more against her than he had against Kennedy or Lex or Josh or Nate.
Unless she was a world-class liar.
“Let’s go.” He swished the door open and pulled himself out and around the corner into his room.
You’re a fool, Kaggo! You’re letting her sweet-talk you.
Bob floated into his SRU and Velcroed himself in.
Kaggo, you’re a moron.
Valkerie floated into the room. “Okay, you saw the drill with Kennedy. I’m going to poke your arm with a little IV needle and then put the sodium pentothal in the bag.”
Bob held out his arm and closed his eyes. He hated needles. Now he was going to be living out of one for the next five or six weeks. He felt the sting of the needle. Valkerie taped it in place. A dull throb settled into his arm. Even that would be gone in a few minutes.
Valkerie smiled encouragement. “Anything else before I put the drug in the IV bag? Did you want to say anything, or ... ?”
Bob narrowed his eyes and studied her. He didn’t have any reason to distrust her anymore, but he didn’t have any reason to trust her, either. Or NASA, for that matter. If they couldn’t make the rendezvous happen five and a half weeks from now, he’d come out of his coma with just a few hours left to live. Or he wouldn’t come out at all.
The problem was, he still had some unfinished business. Not with Valkerie. He’d never even really started business with her, and now he probably never would.
But if he was about to go down for good, if this was the end, then he did have one thing left to do. It wouldn’t be easy, but if Valkerie could show her weak side, then he could too. He couldn’t possibly do it with Kennedy up and about, but now …
“Yeah, I want to say something.” His throat felt cracked and dry.
“Yes?”
“There’s a woman named Sarah,” Bob said. “Sarah McLean. Tell her ... I forgive her.”
Valkerie’s eyes widened. “Sure, Bob, I’ll do that. Anything else?”
Bob shook his head and looked up at her.
She seemed disappointed. “Okay ...” She pulled out a syringe with the drug and injected it into the IV bag. “Pleasant dreams ... Kaggo.”
Bob closed his eyes and felt his whole world shake. Never in all the world had he expected to forgive Sarah. Never. Now he had. And it was sweet. Soft. Gentle.
He heard Valkerie humming quietly to herself. It was a tune he hadn’t heard in a long time, and he couldn’t quite place it. His brain felt murky, sluggish. From very far away, he thought he could hear his mother’s voice singing.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I ...”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Tuesday, April 8, Year Three, 12:30 P.M.
Valkerie
SILENCE. COMPLETE AND ABSOLUTE. VALKERIE watched Bob’s still form, searching for even the slightest indication of life. Nothing. She palpated his carotid to assure herself that he was still alive, that blood was still reaching his brain. Now check his respiration one more time ... perfect.
“He’s fine.” Her whispered words broke the silence like a shout. “This is stupid. Everything is fine. There’s nothing to worry about.” Nothing to worry about but being alone. For thirty-eight days. Twenty or thirty million miles away from the closest conscious human being, hurtling through space in a tiny ship that was slowly running out of oxygen.
She took Bob’s hand in hers. It was a strong hand. Warm, callused—a smidge of grease painted gray arcs across the tips of his nails.
“Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.” Josh’s voice broke in over comm.
Valkerie flung open the door and dove from the room. She grabbed the mike. “Josh, this is Valkerie. Come in.” She held her breath and then let it out again. The time delay. She might as well report. “Josh, I’ve just put my last patient under. Repeat. Lex, Kennedy, and Bob are all sleeping soundly. All vitals look good.”
“Ares 10, this is Houston, please come in. We have urgent information concerning Bob’s metabolism.”
Valkerie’s heart sank. There was a problem with his metabolism? She knew she should have checked in with Houston first. “Josh, this is Valkerie. Please, what’s your information? Should I continue administering the drug?” Valkerie waited, drumming her fingers on the console.
“Valkerie, that’s great news! Glad to hear it. How are you holding up?”
Great news? How am I holding up? “Josh, what is your new information on Bob’s metabolism? Repeat. What is your information? Is Bob in any danger?”
A long pause. “That’s affirmative, Valkerie. Continue administering the drug. We have no relevant information. Over.”
“Affirmative? Bob’s in danger and you want me to do nothing?” Valkerie shouted into the microphone. “What do you mean you don’t have any information? You just said you had important information concerning Bob’s metabolism.” Valkerie pounded on the console. What was going on down there? She waited impatiently.
“That’s a negative, Valkerie. As far as we know Bob is not in any danger. Repeat. Bob is not in danger at this time.”
“At this time? Will somebody just tell me what’s going on? I’m not a baby. If something’s wrong, I want to know it!” The minutes ticked by.
“Valkerie, this is Josh. Don’t talk, just listen. Our communications have gotten out of sync. Remember that there’s a two-minute delay each way between messages. Please wait four minutes for us to reply or you may confuse a response to an old transmission with a response to a later transmission. Understand? Please acknowledge with the phrase ‘Roger, Houston. Acknowledge the transmission delays.’ Over.”
Valkerie blushed. “Roger, Houston. Acknowledge the transmission delays. Sorry, I remember the protocol—just got excited when I thought Bob was in danger. Standing by for a full update.” One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. She counted down twice the time delay. Maybe the protocols weren’t so stupid after all.
“Everything is fine, Valkerie. Bob’s metabolism data indicated that he wouldn’t have had enough oxygen if you decided to let him stay awake, but of course that data is irrelevant, since Bob is sleeping soundly. Repeat. There is no problem with Bob. The only thing you need to worry about is shutting down the last of the ship’s remaining systems. We’ve figured out how to turn off ninety-five percent of the emergency lighting and are sending you an e-mail with instructions. It also has instructions for shutting down and powering up comm. You should power up the radios every forty-eight hours to check in with us.” The message continued after a short pause. “I guess that’s it. Good luck, Valkerie. I—we’re all—praying for you. Please end transmission with a confirmation. Over.”
Valkerie took a deep breath. This was it. “Okay, Houston. Bob wouldn’t have had enough oxygen if he had stayed awake. You’ve e-mailed instruction
s for taking down comm and turning off most of the emergency lights. And I’ll check in with you every forty-eight hours for updates. Thank you—for everything. Don’t forget about us up here. Over ...” Valkerie wracked her brain for something else to say, but nothing came. “ ... and out.”
Valkerie pulled off the headphones and moved to her computer. So much for her last conversation. Cold, impersonal computer-speak. Don’t forget about us? What kind of a good-bye was that?
She clicked on the e-mail message and started to read it. The first instruction was to print out the full message and power down the computer. Only the systems controller would continue to run. Great. She wouldn’t even have access to a computer. All those electronic books, all those DVDs—for nothing. She’d have no books, no movies, no experiments, no conversation, nothing to do but lie on her bunk and try not to breathe.
Valkerie printed out the instructions and powered down the computer. Next came the communication systems—her last link with Earth. She tried to think of an excuse to contact Houston. Anything. She couldn’t let it end on a cold, impersonal report. If she just had one more message ...
Valkerie grabbed the mike again. “Houston, this is Valkerie. I’m just about to switch off the communications system, but I promised Bob I’d send back a message. He asked me to tell a woman named Sarah McLean that he forgives her. It was his last request as he was going under. Please try to locate her. I promised him you would. And please could you send one last message to my father? Please tell him that I love him—and I’m sorry. He’ll know what I mean. And—well, I guess that’s all. I love you all. Thanks for your prayers. Over.” Valkerie counted down the long transmission delay. Surely they were still listening. They had to be.
“Valkerie, this is Houston.” Jake Hunter’s voice broke through the static. “We’ll make sure Sarah McLean and your father get the messages—and um, we love you too. Over and out.”
Valkerie wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Well, that was that. She flipped off the communication power switches and moved to the bus that controlled the emergency lights.