Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

  “You’re lucky you get an IV,” Valkerie said around a bite of stew. “Wanna trade?”

  Bob didn’t say a word. He was quite the gentleman now that he was unconscious.

  “I know, but to be honest I wouldn’t mind a little sodium pentothal right now myself.”

  Bob ignored her.

  “Selfish toad!” Valkerie forced down the last bite of stew and tossed the empty container into the corner. She was so thirsty she could spit. Of course she was too thirsty to spit, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying. She had to go downstairs soon. There was a radiation sterilizer in the lab. It would only sterilize a few ounces at a time, but it would be enough to get by on. Why was she putting it off? There was nothing down there. That was a fact. She was going to have to go sooner or later. Might as well make it sooner, while she was still capable of semirational thought.

  “Okay, Bob. Hold down the fort. I’m going downstairs to borrow a cup of water from our ghost.” Valkerie untied the cargo net and moved down the corridor with an unlit flashlight in one hand and the welding torch in the other.

  The stairwell was lit by a dim emergency light—not enough light to read by, but almost blinding to Valkerie’s sensitive eyes. She waited at the lower hatch for her eyes to adjust again to the darkness. There was an emergency light downstairs too, but it was on the side opposite the hatch.

  Valkerie listened carefully before kicking off for the lab. So far so good. She flashed her light inside the small room. Everything seemed to be okay. A flashlight hung in the air by the bioreactor—her dead flashlight from her last visit to the lab.

  “Okay, here goes.” Valkerie took a plastic sample tube from a bin near the door and moved toward the bioreactor. She dispensed some water into the vial and held it to her nose. Still rotten mushrooms. She searched the lab with her flashlight. Surely she wasn’t imagining ... no, there it was. The sterilizer was mounted in a rack of instruments that lined the far wall.

  Valkerie turned on the power and inserted the sample tube. Ten seconds should be more than enough. She started the sterilizer and counted down the seconds on her watch. Time!

  Valkerie waited a couple of minutes before removing the vial. That should do it. She cracked the vial and sniffed. Rotten mushrooms.

  Of course, it was still going to smell bad. Killing the bacteria wouldn’t kill the smell. She waited a few minutes and added a drop of hydrogen peroxide to the vial, holding it up to the light. The sample bubbled away. Impossible.

  Valkerie dispensed a new sample and put it in the sterilizer for a full five minutes—enough to carbonize a steak. She took the sample out and tested it again. The bacteria were still alive. So much for NASA’s twenty-year warranty.

  Valkerie felt sick to her stomach. What if the sterilizer wasn’t broken? What if the ship was infected with a form of bacteria that was massively resistant to radiation? What if?

  She took another water sample, but this time from one of the bacteria rings in the bioreactor. She checked the sample under the microscope. Good healthy bacteria—the kind that were supposed to be there. She popped the sample into the sterilizer. Ten seconds for the first test, and if that didn’t work, she’d ramp it to sixty. She took out the sample and added a drop of peroxide. No bubbles. The bacteria were dead.

  Valkerie examined the sample under the microscope. Yes, dead. She couldn’t believe it. If the sterilizer worked, then that meant ... radiation-resistant bacteria? How? Why? Could they have survived a trip through space? It was too incredible.

  Valkerie turned off the microscope and headed for the upper deck in a daze. Life on other planets? The implications were huge. She thought she had been prepared for this. Wasn’t this what Mars exploration was all about? She had reviewed the evidence, had thought it possible, had even hoped, but now that it was staring her in the face ... why was she so disturbed by the idea?

  Valkerie entered Bob’s room and tied the cargo net across the door. “Hey, Bob. You’re not going to believe this.” She felt for Bob’s hand in the dark and squeezed it tight. “I think we may have picked up a hitchhiker.”

  Bob maintained a thoughtful silence.

  “I know … It’s blowing my mind too. Alien life-forms. Little green men …”

  A long pause. Bob’s silence was starting to take on a sarcastic tone.

  “Where’d you get an idea like that? I never said I was a young-earther. Genesis is full of figurative language—it’s completely compatible with an evolutionary process.”

  More silence.

  “Okay … Point taken. We can’t rule out a literal translation either, but alien life … The implications are so … huge.” She squeezed Bob’s hand tighter, wondering what her news would do to the faith of the people in her home church. Would they think she was lying? She felt sick—like she was going to throw up. Was it her nerves or—

  “Oh no!” Valkerie slung Bob’s hand away from her. The rash on Kennedy’s hand. What if he’d been infected? Could that explain his erratic behavior?

  Valkerie jumped up and fumbled with the cargo net. A knot slipped and she squirmed out through the upper corner of the doorway.

  She was at Kennedy’s side in an instant. Good, he still had a pulse. She checked his fingers. The rash was gone, but that didn’t mean anything. She rushed back to get her medical kit and started an examination.

  “Why didn’t I do this before?” She took a throat and nose culture and examined his ears. So far so good. At least nothing was visible.

  Valkerie spread open Kennedy’s eyelids and peered into his left eye with the scope.

  An awful lot of floaties, but otherwise normal.

  She looked into the right eye and almost dropped the scope.

  The inside of his eye was laced with a ghostly pattern. The retina was detached and fully degenerated. Kennedy was almost certainly blind—at least in that eye.

  Valkerie took a deep breath. Was it the bacteria? Why would it stop at one eye? Was the other eye next?

  She hurried to the medical station and searched for the Ceftriaxone. If the bacterium was extraterrestrial in origin, then there was no reason on earth why it would be resistant. Of course, there was no earthly reason why it should respond to Ceftriaxone either. What if its membranes were completely different? She grabbed up two more antibiotics and started searching the bin for a 10-cc syringe. Where were they? She only needed one ... A vague fear settled into her gut like a lead weight. The blueberries. She’d ingested a ton of the bacteria. What if she—

  A bright red flare streaked across her eyes. What was that? Was it coming from inside or out? She closed her eyes and waited. Another flash. She wasn’t imagining it. This time it tracked with her right eye.

  She grabbed four syringes from the bin. At this point the size didn’t matter. Both of her eyes were sparkling like the night sky on the Fourth of July.

  Chapter Thirty

  Friday, May 2, Year Three, 10:30 A.M.

  Nate

  “ARES 10, THIS IS HOUSTON, come in,” Josh said. A sweaty sheen covered his forehead.

  Nate felt a lump of lead in his gut. “Keep trying,” he said. Come on, Valkerie—answer! Maybe she was asleep. It wasn’t the normal hailing time. They were supposed to talk every forty-eight hours, and she wasn’t due to check in for another twenty-three and a half.

  But this was an emergency. A solar flare had blown off from the surface of the sun a few hours ago. They’d detected it right away, when the gamma radiation from the sun shot way up. That wouldn’t be a problem for the astronauts—the dose was too low. The problem would come in a few minutes, when a hailstorm of protons moving at a few percent of light-speed hit the ship. The prompt radiation dose from that could give the crew a serious case of radiation sickness in hours if they didn’t take shelter. Why wasn’t Valkerie responding?

  “Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.”

  Nate began pacing. “Is it possible she turned off the receiver on the emergency channel?”

  Josh shook
his head. “Valkerie’s too smart for that. Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.”

  Nothing.

  Josh’s phone rang. The flight director picked it up, then handed it to Nate. “For you.”

  “Mr. Harrington,” Carol said, “I have a caller, a Sarah McLean Laval who wants to talk to you. She won’t leave a message on your voice mail, and she won’t leave a number.”

  “I’ll take it.” Nate hauled the phone as far away from everyone else as he could. “And Carol, in the future, I want you to transfer her to me, right away, no questions asked, is that understood?”

  “Right, Mr. Harrington. Sorry, she’s not on your list.” The line beeped.

  “Hello, Mrs. Laval?” Nate sat on the floor, leaned his back against the flight surgeon’s desk, and turned to the right to face the wall.

  A slight pause. “Um, hello? Mr. Harrington?”

  “Yes, this is he. You can call me Nate. That’s what ... Bobby calls me.”

  A long pause followed. “Sarah? Are you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I heard some noise. Are you alone?”

  “Sort of.” Two dozen engineers don’t count, do they?

  “Did you get the e-mail I sent you last night?”

  “Yes, I did, and thanks for that, Sarah. I checked with the registrar at Berkeley, and she confirmed that information you gave me. I’m satisfied that you are Bobby’s Sarah McLean. I’m sure you understand why I needed to be cautious.”

  “What was the message Bobby had for me?”

  Nate lowered his voice. “‘Tell Sarah that I forgive her.’”

  A gasp. “Oh my!”

  Nate wondered if she was going to start bawling again. That was all he needed.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harrington. That’s such a precious gift.”

  “I, um, understand.” Nate didn’t have a clue what she was talking about.

  “I always loved Bobby, you know. In a way, I still do.”

  “He’s a great guy,” Nate said. “Everybody here thinks the world of him.”

  “Is he going to be okay?”

  “We’re hoping so.” Oh yeah, she had sounded pretty religious last time. “He’s in our prayers, Mrs. Laval.”

  “Mine too,” she said. “I haven’t stopped praying for Bobby and his friends since I heard that horrible news.”

  Nate wondered if he should ask for more information. On the one hand, his curiosity was killing him. On the other hand, did he have a need to know? This was something private, wasn’t it?

  “Do you think ...” Sarah’s voice broke. “Mr. Harrington, do you think he’s really forgiven me? What I did was so awful, I just ...”

  I’m not a psychiatrist. What do I say?

  There followed the sound of quiet weeping.

  Nate just listened. What else was he going to do? He couldn’t exactly order her to get control of herself. Even the Mars Mission Director had some limits to his power.

  Sarah sniffled loudly. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m a silly fool.”

  Well, yes. Nate cleared his throat. “No, not at all. I understand.”

  “Could you give Bobby a message for me?”

  “Not right away,” Nate admitted. “Bob’s in a drug-induced coma right now to conserve oxygen. But we’ll be bringing him out in a couple weeks, and I’ll be happy to give him your message in person if you want. Whatever you say. If you’d like, we could even patch you through on a private line.”

  “Oh no, I don’t think I could face talking to him in person,” Sarah said. “But you just tell him this, will you?”

  Nate pulled his cell phone close and launched a recorder app. “I’m ready.”

  “Tell him I’m so, so sorry. And that I love him, and I’ve been praying for him.”

  Nate waited till he was sure she had finished, then clicked off the recording. “I’ll pass that along to him.”

  Another long pause.

  “Mr. Harrington? There’s something else you need to know.”

  Nate waited. “Yes?”

  “I think I need to send you another e-mail.”

  “That’s fine. You’ve got my address.”

  “I’ll send it right away.” Sarah hung up.

  Nate stood slowly. His back was in a knot after sitting twisted on the floor. He put the phone back on the Capcom desk. “Any luck, Josh?”

  Josh shook his head, then spoke into the mike. “Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.”

  “Can I borrow your computer?” Nate pointed at Josh’s machine. “I need to check my e-mail.”

  Josh nodded and stood up. “Ares 10, this is Houston, come in.”

  Nate pulled up Josh’s e-mail app and sourced it to his own account. He had twenty messages unread. A new one appeared when he clicked on the Refresh icon.

  From sarahlaval@spidernet.com. The subject line said, My Picture. Nate turned to Josh. “E-mail from Sarah McLean Laval. Want to look?”

  Josh nodded.

  Nate double-clicked on the message.

  A window popped up with a JPEG image of a woman with frizzy blond hair.

  Josh emitted a low whistle. “Amazing!”

  Nate stared. Sarah McLean looked an awful lot like Valkerie. Not quite twins, but they could have been sisters.

  “Ares 10, this is Houston. Come in.”

  * * *

  Friday, May 2, Year Three, 10:45 A.M.

  Valkerie

  Red lights exploded inside Valkerie’s head. She stabbed the syringe into her thigh and pumped her leg full of a cocktail of every antibiotic they had.

  She scrambled for Bob’s room and fought with the net across the door. It was flimsy, but without anything to push against, she couldn’t tear it down.

  “Bob!” Valkerie pulled herself up the net and squirmed through the gap in the corner. “Okay, buddy. Maybe you’re not infected, but I’m taking no chances.” She flipped on all three of her flashlights and left them hovering in the air above her patient.

  That was odd. She didn’t notice the flashes as much in the light. Maybe they were going away. Valkerie turned off the lights and the flashes returned. That was strange. If the source was physical, why didn’t she notice it in the light?

  “Calm down, Valkerie. Think,” she panted. “Something’s wrong here—you don’t want to misdiagnose!” Valkerie fumbled for a flashlight and turned it on. It was radiation. Solar flares. It had to be. All that training and she had missed it. They had to get to the stairwell. The double walls that surrounded the stairwell were filled with water—a shelter against solar storms.

  Valkerie tore at Bob’s tie-downs, but her fingers were too shaky. She swung the light desperately around the room and her eyes settled on the torch. She dove for it and turned it on. No time for niceties. She burned through the cords that attached Bob’s SRU to the cot.

  The smell of burnt plastic filled the air.

  “Come on, Bob. Let’s go!” Valkerie burned through the net at the door and dragged Bob into the corridor. The IV bag and pump trailed behind him like a knotted kite string.

  Valkerie rounded the corridor and shoved Bob down the hatch into the stairwell. “Stay there! I’ve got to get the others.” Seconds later, she reached Lex’s room with the torch and cut Lex from her cot. Lex was in no condition to be moved, but she couldn’t be left out in the storm. If the flashes in Valkerie’s eyes were any indication, they’d absorb a fatal prompt dose in a few hours. How much time had she already wasted?

  Valkerie maneuvered Lex through the corridor and pushed her into the stairwell. She pushed off from the wall and rebounded down the circular corridor. A kick and a thrust brought her to Kennedy’s bed.

  The straps parted at the heat of the flame. A cloud of smoke cloaked the sides of the bag. Smoke didn’t rise in zero-g.

  She started to fan it with her free hand, but the bag burst into yellow flame. “Kennedy!” She beat at the flame with her hands, but it wasn’t helping.

  Valkerie threw herself on the fire, smothering it with her out
stretched body. Her stomach burned, but she pressed her body even closer, until she was sure the fire was out. What had she been thinking? A flame used up oxygen at an incredible rate.

  Valkerie dragged Kennedy into the stairwell and shut the hatch behind her. Bob and Lex floated in the tube like zombies. Arms extended out at the shoulder. Mouths gaping open. She switched off her light and shut her eyes. There were still a few red streaks here, but definitely not as many.

  Valkerie let herself drift to the lower level of the stairwell and pulled the hatch shut. A rectangular hole was cut into the metal door, but it probably didn’t matter. Valkerie moved the others into the upper section of the stairwell and looped her arm around one of the folded-up stairs. Radiation from the flares might take a couple years off their lives, but if the stuffiness of the air was any indication, none of them would live long enough to notice any difference.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Friday, May 2, Year Three, 4:30 P.M.

  Valkerie

  VALKERIE LAY STILL, FLOATING IN a glimmering sea of foil packets and shadow. Her breath came in gasps. Come on, Valkerie. You’ve got to think. Think! What else can you do? What? Valkerie drifted into a wall and tensed.

  Okay, calm down. Breathe slowly. In ... out ... in ... out ... She was missing something. What? The solar storm was over, but without NASA to warn them of new flares, they were safer where they were. Besides, there was a light in the stairwell, and she had already brought in enough hydrated food to last her through docking. If only they could live that long.

  Okay, I’ve given them their antibiotics. Their checkups, their IVs, the pumps, the flashlight batteries ... Valkerie raced through her checklists. What else? There had to be something. Did she need more water? She checked the stoppered flask that floated by her side. It had taken forever, but she had managed to run three liters of the contaminated water through a tiny one-micron Millipore filter. She was fine for now.