by John Olson
“Copy that, Valkerie. Commence bleeding oxygen from Lex’s EVA suit and bring Bob out of his catnap. He’s been sleeping on the job long enough. It’s about time he started earning his paycheck. Your next check-in will be in three hours at 6:00 A.M. Please confirm. Over.”
Valkerie responded with a thankful confirmation and shut down communications. “Yes!” She dove down the stairwell and pulled Lex’s unused EVA suit from the locker. A minute later, the Hab’s thinning atmosphere was being replenished with a high-pitched hiss.
Valkerie hurried up to the command center. Bob lay sleeping serenely on the wall. He was a lot thinner and a little scruffy, but he looked pretty good with a beard. The zero-g-induced edema of his face and neck had gone down, and his now prominent cheekbones gave him an angular, rugged appearance. He looked better than he had on Earth—if that was possible. Zero-g seemed to agree with him.
Valkerie switched off the IV pump and carefully removed the needle from Bob’s arm. His forearm was bruised and swollen. He had been on an IV for an awfully long time.
“It’s okay. It’s all over now,” she crooned as she rubbed life back into his arms and legs. “Don’t worry, I’m right here.” Carefully she extracted the tube she’d inserted to protect Bob’s airways from excess stomach acid. Just because he was in a coma didn’t mean that his stomach stopped producing acid. She wiped his mouth with a towel and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Considering what he had been through, he was in amazingly good shape. She brought a hand to her face. She knew that she didn’t look nearly as good. She hadn’t seen a mirror in weeks. Much less a hairbrush.
“I’ll be right back.” Valkerie pushed off for her cabin and rummaged through her clothes. Where was it—the shirt she was saving for the postlanding press conference? Bob would be asleep for hours. She’d have plenty of time for a shower.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Friday, May 16, Year Three, 3:30 A.M.
Bob
BOB FLOATED IN A VAST and peaceful sea, barely aware. Warmth bathed him, soothing his heart, caressing his face. Waves of ... something lapped at his mind, forming a lazy puddle of good feeling. Bob let himself drift in it.
Time passed. Slowly, awareness built into a conscious thought.
I am loved.
He drowsed in it, unable to move.
Who am I? Where am I? Why am I here? Each question formed slowly, nibbled at his consciousness, and then dispersed like fog in the warmth of the sun.
The sun warmed him. Love. Peace. Contentment.
All the world was fuzzy, the past an indistinct blob, the future a shadow, the present an endless sea of peace.
He heard a voice. Until now, he hadn’t remembered that there was anything in this universe besides himself. The voice was soft and clear and quiet.
“Come on, Bob. Wake up, please… We’re running out of time.”
The feeling of warmth intensified. Something in Bob reached out to it. More of that peace.
Two human arms wrapped around Bob and hugged him tightly.
Sarah? The name sprang to Bob’s mind from some nameless void. He could not remember having learned the name, and yet he knew it.
Warmth flooded through him. He wanted it to last forever.
“Okay, Bob, I need to go take care of the others. I’ll be back in a little bit.” Something soft brushed his cheek.
The warmth left him. He would have shivered, but his body could not. He lay there, desolate, alone, dying. Alone for a vast age, while the universe spun. Somewhere, far away, tiny indistinct voices crackled and popped. Bob strained to understand them. Frustrated, he gave up.
Where am I? Why am I here? Is this purgatory?
He heard motion near him again. “It’s okay. It’s all over now.” Sarah’s voice. No, not Sarah. Valkerie. Now he remembered.
Warm, strong hands began rubbing his arms, his legs. Sweet Valkerie. He’d treated her so badly, so ...
“Don’t worry, I’m right here.” Her voice made him feel ... warm inside. So comfortable. So good. Then her hands lifted.
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
Bob wanted to open his eyes, to call after her to come back, but his eyes were frozen shut, his lips still locked. The chemical. Valkerie had made it—had saved his life, saved all of their lives. And he had treated her like a criminal.
And yet ... she had forgiven him. He knew it. Could feel it. He was alive, awake from the dead. And with that knowledge came joy, bubbling up inside his guts, filling his whole heart, warming the cold places in his soul.
Thank you …
“I’m back.”
Bob’s eyelids flickered open—just a hair—enough to see the shadowy outline of a face hovering above his. With all his concentration, he strained to open his eyes further. Slowly, a millimeter at a time, they came open. Valkerie was studying him.
“I’m back,” she said again. “Are you ... ?” She suddenly looked embarrassed, then pulled away from him. “I’m sorry, Bob. I didn’t realize you’d be coming out so soon. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I’m not scared. He tried to say the words, but his mouth wouldn’t work. Valkerie, I’m not afraid of you anymore.
“Can you talk?” Concern etched her eyes. “I guess you can’t yet. Blink your eyes if you’re awake.”
He blinked—sort of. It took forever, but he blinked.
“Okay, good, the drug’s wearing off.” She sounded businesslike now, not warm and kind like she had a little earlier. But she looked ... good. Fresh. Clean. Like she’d just stepped out of an April shower and was ready to break out into May flowers. Or something.
“Just rest a little.” Valkerie patted his forehead. “You’ve been out of it for a long time. We’re going to dock with the ERV real soon now, and I need you to help me with it. Lex is never going to pilot again, and Kennedy ... well, he’s got a big problem in one of his eyes. It looks like it’s blind. So I need you, okay?”
Bob felt panic surging through his chest. Me, dock the ship? I’m about as strong as a jellyfish.
“I’ll fill you in on the news while you wake up all the way,” Valkerie said. “It’s been a bit over five weeks since I put you and Kennedy out. NASA’s doing everything they can for us, but they’re a long way off. We went through a solar flare storm, and I didn’t get the warning in time, but I started seeing these little flashes in my eyes like they told us in training—so I brought you guys into the storm shelter. We all got some prompt radiation, but only a few rems. Like living in Denver for a few years, I guess.
“Anyway, Nate found your friend Sarah McLean, and she has a message for you when you’re feeling a little stronger. Am I talking too much? Sorry, but I got used to just jabbering on while you guys were out. It gets kind of lonely when the nearest person awake is fifty million miles away.”
Bob yawned. It surprised him that he could.
“Oh, I’m sorry, was I boring you?” She smiled.
“No,” Bob whispered. He wanted to say that he’d never be bored listening to her again. Wanted to tell her ... a lot of things. But not right now, when a single word was a struggle.
“Okay, I’m going to need your help in docking,” Valkerie said. She grabbed one of his hands and started massaging it. Bob didn’t protest. He knew the massage wasn’t going to do any good. He could no more fly this ship than a rabbit could hop the English Channel.
But let her work on him if she wanted to.
It was ... nice.
* * *
Friday, May 16, Year Three, 12:45 P.M.
Valkerie
“Houston, this is Valkerie. The radar is on, and we are pinging and watching for the ERV. Over.” Valkerie switched off the microphone and sat panting for several minutes in the command chair. She reached out to take Bob’s hand. She had floated his cot up beside the command station. He knew the ship better than anyone. Even if he couldn’t move, he could still answer her questions—and without a nine-minute time delay.
“Okay, try
squeezing again,” she said.
Bob applied a gentle pressure, but it quickly faded to nothing. The effort left him gulping for air. Their oxygen was running out fast. She wondered if she had done the right thing to wake him.
“That’s a lot ... better.” She smiled reassuringly and squeezed his hand back.
“Okay, Ares 10, this is Josh. By the time you hear this, the ERV will be about ninety kilometers out. We have been applying a series of burns to slow it down, relative to you. By now, it should be coming in easy at about 200 meters per second. Transferring control to you. Let the computer bring it in. Be aware that the ERV is very low on fuel, so you may need to do a small burn with the Hab to match velocities. Your computer knows how to do that, so just sit back and enjoy the ride. You should be docking in about fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that, Josh.” Valkerie studied the display. The interface was identical to the one she’d practiced with on the simulator. “Computed range is eighty kilometers—still no sign of the ERV on radar.” She turned to Bob. “When do you think we’ll pick it up?”
“I’m not sure,” Bob said. “Ideally, the range of that radar is tens of kilometers. Assuming it’s properly boresighted, the ERV should be coming into our radar cone in a couple—” His mouth fell open. “Whoa!”
Valkerie spun to look at the display. A blip appeared on the screen—way closer than she’d expected. The range estimate on the display suddenly switched from seventy kilometers to twenty. “What’s going on?”
“It’s coming in too fast!” Bob hissed. “Switch the ERV to manual and give it a good burn.”
Valkerie’s hands flew over the controls. The ERV didn’t respond.
“It’s out of fuel!” Bob said. “They shaved the rendezvous too close.”
“I’ll try to slow it down some with its RCS jets and make up the difference with our engines.” Valkerie fired up the Hab’s engines. “Hang on, Bob.”
A crash against the far wall told her Bob hadn’t found a handhold.
“Keep going, Valkerie. Don’t worry about me.”
“It’s going too fast!” She fired the Hab thrusters again—a long, steady burn.
“Watch your fuel!” Bob shouted from the wall.
“I think I see it on camera. It’s coming this way fast!”
“Okay, match its velocity, but don’t let the fuel level go below the red line on the display. Understand?”
Valkerie fired the main thrusters. She could hear Bob rolling across the wall, but she didn’t take her eyes off the white blip on the screen. It was still too fast!
“Valkerie! Understand? Don’t go below the red line!”
She checked the fuel indicator. No, no, no! “Bob! The fuel’s already below the red line, what do I do?”
“Stop!” Bob’s shout came from the back wall. “That’s our reserve for orbital capture at Mars.”
Valkerie released the thrusters. “But if we don’t rendezvous, we’re going to run out of oxygen. We have to try.”
“No!” Bob shouted. “Don’t burn another ounce.”
“Ares 10. This is Houston! The ERV is out of fuel. Repeat, the ERV is out of fuel. If you can see the ERV on your radar, you’ll have to try to match velocities manually, but watch your fuel. You must not go below the red line.”
Valkerie sat frozen, watching as the blip on the radar screen passed by, only twenty meters away, but going far too fast. The range numbers kept changing on the display. One kilometer away. Two. Three.
She had burned too much fuel. And the ERV was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Friday, May 16, Year Three, 1:00 P.M.
Nate
NATE STARED AT THE RADAR display on the giant TV screen, mesmerized. So close. Around him, reporters were going nuts.
“Mr. Harrington, Mr. Harrington!”
A huge hole seemed to have opened in Nate’s gut. Dully, he turned to face the wolves.
“Mr. Harrington, what does it mean?” shouted a reporter.
Nate pulled the mike in close. “It means ...” He stopped and choked, unable to get the words out. Control yourself.
“It means ... they’re going to die.” He shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing more we can do. We cut it too close and ran out of fuel on the ERV. We missed the rendezvous. There’s no partial credit.”
He turned and walked quickly off stage, wiping at his eyes, just in case there might be a tear or some other sign that he was still a human being.
There was none.
* * *
Friday, May 16, Year Three, 1:00 P.M.
Bob
Bob simply couldn’t believe it. So close. So far. You couldn’t just jam the two ships together at a relative velocity of 100 meters per second. It had to be inches per second.
“I’m sorry, Bob.” Valkerie’s voice betrayed her agony. “I did my best.” A high-pitched whistle sounded close to Bob’s head. The last of the oxygen from Lex’s EVA suit.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Bob said. “The ERV ran out of fuel. We couldn’t spare any more of ours. As it is, I don’t see how we’ll be able to circularize our orbit when we capture into Mars. The Hab is a lot bigger than that itty-bitty capsule we’d use for Earth—”
“The Earth-landing capsule on the ERV!” A stunned look flashed across Valkerie’s face. “It has an engine, doesn’t it?”
Bob saw it right away. “Yes! You have control of the ERV. Release that capsule and bring it back to us.” He pushed himself off from the wall and floated back to the console.
“Found it!” Valkerie said. “It’s deploying ... now.”
“Bring it in slow,” Bob said. “That thing doesn’t have much fuel.”
“It’s time we don’t have,” she said. Her eyes seemed to bore holes in the monitor. “Come on—hurry!”
“Hey, Valkerie?” Bob paused to catch his breath. “Relax, okay? You’re going to do fine.”
Valkerie nodded tightly. Sweat stood out on her forehead. Suddenly, she twisted her head to look at him. “How many weeks of life support are on that thing?”
“About seventy-two hours.”
She looked deflated. “That’s not nearly enough. What’s the point?”
“It has a methane/LOX engine.” Bob squeezed his eyes shut. He was starting to get dizzy. “Hundreds of pounds of liquid oxygen. We can cannibalize it if you don’t burn it all up now.”
“But how do we get it?”
“You’ll do a spacewalk—and cut out the tank.”
Valkerie shook her head. “That’s crazy! It can’t work.”
“It has to.” Bob gulped at the thin air. His chest was on fire. “If it doesn’t ... we die.”
* * *
Friday, May 16, Year Three, 1:30 P.M.
Valkerie
Valkerie twisted her glove onto the sleeve of her EVA suit until it locked. She had to pause to catch her breath. The oxygen level was too low. Bob wasn’t going to make it if she didn’t hurry. “Are you sure we can do this?”
Bob floated next to her like a ghost. He nodded grimly. He was so weak he could hardly move, and she was leaving him in control of the ship?
“If you need more oxygen, just bleed it from Kennedy’s EVA suit, okay, Bob?”
“I can’t. We bled both his and mine down to an hour of oxygen. That bought us all the time we can spare. Get moving.”
Valkerie set the bubble helmet over her head and clamped it in place.
Bob adjusted the oxygen-flow control on her chest panel and donned a headset. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here—every step of the way.”
Valkerie took a few deep gulps of pure oxygen. It felt so good to breathe. She felt almost guilty.
“Got your instructions?” The sound of Bob’s shallow breathing filled Valkerie’s helmet.
Valkerie checked to make sure she could read the instructions through the clear plastic sheath on her sleeve. “Check.”
“Flashlights, torch, cutter, and crowbar.”
“Check, check, check, check.”
“Okay, good luck. I’ll be ... praying for you.”
Valkerie swung around to search Bob’s expression. Was he making fun of her?
Bob shrugged noncommittally and nodded in the direction of the airlock.
Valkerie clambered into the chamber and sealed the hatch. She hit the evacuation control and readied her tether line while she waited for the chamber to evacuate. What was taking so long? Was the pump working? It was taking forever.
The needle gauge settled to zero. Valkerie spun open the external hatch. Space opened up all around her. Black as midnight. Bright and startlingly clear. She fell forward, teetering on the brink of a vast bottomless pit. Valkerie grabbed at the hatch and clung to the locking wheel, while fiery points of light spun around her. Slowly her head began to clear.
“I’m a little agoraphobic, but I’m out. Didn’t realize how much living in our little closet would affect me.”
“Do you see it?”
Valkerie clamped her tether to a trail bar and pulled herself hand over hand along the exterior of the ship.
“I see it! Halfway around the ship from the hatch.” Valkerie shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun. The back of the tiny Apollo-style capsule blazed like a torch, while the front was lost in shadow. “Are you sure it’s only five meters? It seems a lot farther.”
“I’ve got it on the CamBot. Looks like five meters to me.”
Valkerie attached a second tether to the rail. “It’s too far away. I’ll never make it.”
“Want me to bring it in closer?”
Valkerie hesitated. If turbulence from the RCS jets damaged their solar panel ... “No. That’s okay. I’m fine.”