by John Olson
Valkerie blushed. “Bob, you don’t have to—”
Kennedy nodded. “You’re right, Kaggo. Lex, what do you say? Blink your eyes if you agree.”
Lex blinked rapidly, five or six times.
Valkerie was stammering now. “G-g-guys, let’s not even think about this—”
“You’re overruled, Valkerie,” Bob said. “You deserve it. Take it—please. We ... love you, and we haven’t got anything else we can give you.” Shut up, Kaggo, you’re embarrassing yourself.
Valkerie covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say, ‘Thank you.’”
She was crying now. “Okay.” Sniffles. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Thanks, guys. Thanks, Lex. And Kennedy? I know I said some angry things to you, and I complained about you to Houston. I thought you were paranoid, and I was so scared and ... I’m sorry. You must have been feeling horrible with your eye like that.”
“Forget it,” Kennedy said, his voice gruff. “But let’s backtrack. You were talking about a bacterial infection.”
“I thought that’s what attacked your eye.”
He shook his head. “The eye was gone when we left Earth orbit.”
Bob leaned forward. “Valkerie ... are you telling me we’ve got another problem?”
Her face went pale. “I’d forgotten about it, what with all the panic about getting the new scrubber online. But yes. We’ve got a bacterium infesting our bioreactor—the whole ship, in fact. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s heat-resistant, radiation-resistant, and ...”
Bob raised his eyebrows. “And?”
Valkerie bit her lip. “And it may be an extraterrestrial form of life.”
* * *
Monday, May 19, Year Three, 11:00 A.M.
Nate
Nate clenched his fists and tried to smile for the cameras. Was his life going to be one endless press conference?
“Hank Russell, New York Times.” Russell wore a look of appropriately deep concern.
Filthy hypocrite.
“Mr. Harrington, are we, or are we not, out of the woods yet?”
Nate cleared his throat. “We’ve dodged one bullet, but there may be more. Thanks to quick thinking by Dr. Jansen and Dr. Kaganovski, we were able to salvage LOX from the earth-landing capsule engine. They’ve completed work on a low-energy Sabatier scrubber to remove carbon dioxide from the Hab. We believe that may be enough to bring the crew very close to Mars.”
“Close?” Russell looked as if he was going to start salivating all over the microphone. “How close is close?”
Nate wanted to strangle him. Just kill me and hang me out to rot, why don’t you? “We don’t know. Listen, people, Scout’s honor, swearing on a stack of Bibles, I am giving you every scrap of information I have. The crew is in bad shape. That artificial coma kept them alive, but Commander Hampton and Dr. Kaganovski are in very weak physical condition. Dr. Ohta remains in serious condition, but she is now conscious. So let me lay it all out for you. A lot of things are going to have to go right in order for the crew to land safely on Mars.”
Nate held up his first finger. “For starters, that cannibalized LOX is going to have to last till they get there. We don’t know how much they have, but we do know it’s tight.”
He held up a second finger. “Then, Commander Kennedy needs to land that ship direct from Mars transit—there won’t be time to do a parking orbit. I don’t need to tell you it’s going to be a delicate operation.”
Another finger. “Third, the ship needs to have no further mechanical problems. Dr. Kaganovski just simply cannot do repairs right now. He can barely move.”
The pinkie. “Fourth, the crew will need to get into far better physical condition. Once they land, they’ll have only a few hours of oxygen left—at least, we hope they’ll have that much—and two of them will need to walk to the base station to get the rover.”
Nate raised his thumb. “Fifth ...” He looked down at his notes. What was fifth? Oh yeah, the bacterial invasion. That was the scariest of them all. Valkerie had no idea what that was all about. But if her hypothesis was correct ... the press would go nuts with it.
Nate folded down his thumb and gave a sorry-I-goofed shrug. “Oops, I miscounted. There’s only four.”
I hope. Because if Valkerie’s right ... our boys and girls won’t be coming back—ever.
* * *
Monday, May 19, Year Three, 1:00 P.M.
Valkerie
Valkerie broke off a tiny piece of dehydrated ice-cream sandwich and placed it in Lex’s mouth. Lex managed a weak smile and blinked twice with her eyes. Valkerie grinned back. She felt closer to Lex now than she ever had when Lex could talk and move.
“Okay, those are just the repairs we know about,” Bob said. “There may be more. Ever since the explosion, the computer sensor diagnostics have been a little squirrelly.” He caught Valkerie’s eye. “I’m going to have to rely on Valkerie to do most of the repair work until I’m up on my feet again. She’s going to have a lot on her plate. Repairing the ship. Filtering drinking water. Taking care of an invalid crew. Making sure Kennedy does his exercises ...”
“I was moving around faster than you,” Kennedy growled.
“And don’t forget characterizing the bacteria that’s infecting the ship. I really need to work on that. It’s important,” Valkerie added.
“What about recharging her EVA suit?” Kennedy asked. “She may need to do another spacewalk. Did Houston say anything about that?”
“Houston’s looking into it, but they aren’t making any promises. We may not have the energy and LOX for it. All the more reason for us to get back in shape as fast as possible. My suit and Kennedy’s are the only ones with enough oxygen to get us to the base camp and back—assuming we can land close enough.”
“But I thought we agreed that Valkerie would be first.”
“As I said, Houston’s looking into it,” Bob said. “Right now we have more important things to worry about. We all agree that we can trust each other, right?”
“Definitely.” Valkerie looked around the cabin. Kennedy nodded and Lex blinked her eyes three times.
“Are you sure?” Kennedy looked at Valkerie pointedly.
She nodded. “Positive. I just wish you had told us about your eye earlier. I was interpreting your pain as some kind of psychosis, but now that I understand—”
“Okay, we all agree that we can trust each other,” Bob cut in. “That means that someone or some group of people on the ground planted that bomb.”
“Well, I think we can rule out Josh,” Valkerie said. “Nobody’s fought for us harder than Josh. The whole ERV rendezvous was his idea.”
“Absolutely. I think we can rule out Nate too. Besides the obvious lack of motive, he’s been every bit as supportive as Josh.” Bob looked hard at Valkerie.
“But he’s the one who said it had to be one of six people. He’s the only one left on the list.”
“Well, he’s obviously wrong. Whoever planted the bomb was very good. He was also an insider. He could have gotten around the security cameras just like he covered his tracks after stealing the explosives. I’m one hundred percent convinced that the explosives were stolen from JSC, and whoever did it covered his tracks brilliantly.”
“Which brings us to another point.” Kennedy turned toward Bob. “You never did tell us how you knew about that.”
Bob’s ears turned hot. “I did a little human engineering on Nate and got him to tell me there’d been a break-in at Energy Systems. Then ... I hacked into the ESTL database and checked inventories.” Bob looked down at the floor. “I guess I was a bit of a geek when I was in high school. Back when hacking was considered cool.”
A broad smile spread across Kennedy’s face. “I suppose that makes two of us. Think we could do a little snooping on our asynchronous ground connection? It’s tied into the JSC network.”
Bob shook his head. “Too slow and way too dangerous.”
<
br /> “Too dangerous? Why?” Valkerie wasn’t following. What was so dangerous about doing a computer search?
“We know one thing for certain. Whoever planted that bomb wasn’t waiting around for me to set it off with a multimeter. That was a total fluke, and it probably saved our lives. If it had gone off any other time, we wouldn’t have been able to get into our EVA suits fast enough. Lex is proof of that.” Bob looked around at each of them. “So the bomb was either wired into the ship to go off when a certain system got activated, or it was wired to go off at a command sequence sent from earth.”
“So you’re saying there may be another bomb?” Valkerie couldn’t believe that. Ridiculous.
Bob shook his head. “I’m saying that there’s a good chance that the saboteur can transmit command sequences to this ship. If he thinks we’re on to him, he may be able to figure out a way to get to us from the ground. Up until now, we’ve been as good as dead, so there wasn’t any reason for him to take the risk. But now that we’re out of danger—well, let’s just say that we may be in more danger than ever.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Wednesday, June 4, Year Three, 10:00 A.M.
Bob
BOB HAD BEEN ON THE treadmill only ten minutes, but he felt as if he’d just finished the Pike’s Peak Marathon.
“You’re slowing down,” Valkerie said. “You can do better than that, Kaggo.”
She called me Kaggo. Bob picked up the pace a little. It was nice having your own personal trainer. The bad part was knowing you had a deadline to meet. Four weeks from tomorrow, he and Valkerie would have to go traipsing across Mars to get the rover. Two hundred meters, if they landed perfectly. Four hundred if Kennedy hiccupped on entry. And if it was more than that ... you could kiss this mission good-bye.
Valkerie floated over to inspect Kennedy, who was doing isometrics upside down. “Come on, Hampster—I want fifty reps of those! Did you do fifty?”
“Give me a break,” Kennedy groaned. “I need a recovery day. You’re working me to death.”
“We need you in shape for that landing,” she said. “You’re doing great—just keep it up, okay? You’ll have to fly us in, and you won’t get to stop for a breather halfway through the aeroentry.”
Bob felt himself slowing again. I’m not going to make it at this rate.
Valkerie moved on to Lex. “How you doing with that squeeze-ball? Make a fist for me, okay?”
Sweat stood out on Lex’s forehead as she squeezed.
Bob felt sorry for her. She’d been in a coma longer than any of them, and on top of that, she’d been down to almost full vacuum. Lex was lucky to be alive. They all were. He grabbed his sports drink and took another pull. This treadmill was torture, but it was going to save his life.
Hopefully. Valkerie had hacked up exercise charts for all of them, and had made them promise to hold to the schedule. Bob was keeping his promise—barely.
Valkerie floated back to him. “How you doing, big guy? Keeping the pace up?”
Bob nodded, panting. “How much ... longer?”
She checked her watch. “Another five minutes should wrap you up for this session. That way you’ll be fresh for your strength workout tonight.”
Bob groaned. He didn’t want a strength workout. Didn’t want aerobics. Just kill me now—it’ll be an improvement.
Which was a lie, of course. He wanted to live. Wanted Lex and Kennedy to live. And Valkerie.
Especially Valkerie. If only he could find a way to tell her ... if only he knew what to say. So far, everything he’d ever said to a woman had ended up backfiring. Ever since Sarah ...
Don’t think about Sarah.
“Keep that pace, Kaggo!” Valkerie said. “And, Kennedy, was that fifty reps? I want fifty! Lex, don’t give up yet. Try the other hand if that one’s exhausted. Come on, guys. Please. Our lives depend on it.”
Finally, the torture was over. The treadmill was in the unpowered coast mode, so Bob didn’t have to turn it off—he just staggered to a stop. He fumbled with the bungee cords, searching for the release. Half undone, they tangled. He swore, then felt his face flushing. “Oops. Sorry, Valkerie. Bad habit.”
She floated over, braced herself on the treadmill, and helped him untangle the mess.
“You worked hard,” she said, feeling his sweaty shirt. “Good job, Bob.”
“I’m exhausted.” He floated up out of the harness. “I have got to take a little nap.”
“You need to get cleaned up first.”
He groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“Come on, you need to wash up. You’ll feel better.”
“I didn’t wash when I was unconscious.”
“You didn’t smell like this, either.” Valkerie wrinkled her nose. “Good grief, do I need to drag you again?”
Bob shook his head. “I’m a big boy. I know how to take a shower. I’m just ... can’t I do it later?”
“No way. Come on.” Valkerie grabbed his wrist and pulled.
Bob let her herd him off to the bathroom. As he passed Kennedy, he thought he saw a trace of a smile on the Hampster’s face.
“Work those quads!” Valkerie barked. “You haven’t got gravity to fight against, so go for speed. I want you working against your own inertia. Do it! Fifty reps! Lex—you’re looking good. Keep it up.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Bob was clean and dressed in fresh clothes. “You were right, Valkerie,” he said. “I do feel better.”
“Next time, you can put your shirt on by yourself,” she said. “I’ve got two other babies to take care of too.”
Bob suppressed his urge to smile. Nobody’s stopping you.
Kennedy was on the treadmill now, dogging along, looking like one of those Bataan death-march survivors.
“Come on, Hampster, give me some leg speed!” Valkerie said. “Lex, how are you doing?”
Lex was asleep, upside down, having drifted against the wall and up into a corner. She was sleeping about twenty hours a day—which was good for her.
“How much longer?” Kennedy asked.
Valkerie floated over to the treadmill and looked at the indicator. “Good, half a mile. That’s your record. Take a break.”
Kennedy cut the treadmill and collapsed under the force of the bungee cords, groaning.
“You need a shower too, Hampster.” Valkerie turned back to Bob. “Bob, I still need you to help me figure out how to fill those breather bottles from the LOX tank.”
“Hey, Valkerie, give me a hand on these bungees?” Kennedy asked.
She floated back to him, hit the release, and hauled him out. “Now go take a shower!” She gave him a shove, and he went spinning toward the bathroom.
“But, Mommy, you carried Bobby. Why can’t you carry me?”
Valkerie shook her head. “Cut the baby talk, okay, sweetie?” She turned back to Bob. “Ready to work, champ?”
He looked at his watch. “We’re due for a comm link in six minutes.”
“I’ll get the radio switched on and boot the computer.” Valkerie floated toward the CommConsole. “Can you check on Lex?”
Bob pushed off toward Lex. She was breathing slowly, evenly. Bob gently pulled her down and floated her over to her SRU. He Velcroed her inside and patted her gently on the head. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”
When he reached the CommConsole, Valkerie had a little smile on her face. “You’ve changed, haven’t you?”
“Ummm,” he mumbled, flushing.
“Ares 10, this is Houston, and top of the morning to you all! Come in, Ares 10!”
Grateful, Bob reached for the mike. “Houston, this is Ares 10. Nice to hear we still have a few fans down there. This is Bob, and Valkerie’s right here. Kennedy’s taking a shower after a tough workout from Taskmaster Jansen, and Lex is asleep.” He held the mike to Valkerie.
“Morning, Josh!” she said. “Great to hear from you again. My boys are working hard, and they might even be able to beat me at arm-wrestling in a
few more weeks.” She grabbed Bob’s biceps and squeezed. “Then again, maybe not. What’s on the agenda today? Over.”
They waited for the return message. After a couple of minutes, Valkerie suddenly let go of Bob’s arm. “Sorry,” she said.
Bob felt his ears starting to glow again. “Um ... no problem.”
The seconds ticked slowly by. Nine minutes. Ten. Eleven. “Okay, Ares 10, how did the breather-refilling project go yesterday?” Josh’s voice sounded a little strained.
Bob wiped his forehead with his arm. “Negative, Houston. We had our hands full with the IMU. It glitched on us again and we had to resync a couple of times.”
Valkerie leaned in close. Bob could feel her body heat. “Also, Lex had some problems with her breathing. I had to give her some epinephrine. Things got a little tense for a while. We’re hoping to get to the breathers today. Over.”
Another eleven minutes of silence. “Okay, keep us posted on that, then. Bob, I’ve got some baseball scores for you.” Josh rattled off scores for a couple of minutes. It was a little fiction Houston maintained that Bob cared about sports scores. A touch of normalcy in a battle zone.
“Cubs win again! Roger on that,” Bob said. “Anything else we need to know? Nate hasn’t gone off and retired on us, has he? Tell the old coot he needs to finish out this mission. And say hi to Dr. Perez, okay?”
They sat close together, hunched over the mike, waiting out the comm delay. Finally Nate’s voice came rasping over the speaker. “Hey, Kaggo, this old coot heard that. I’m not gonna retire till you lazy bums either finish blowing yourself up or get your tails back here so I’ll have someone to cry at my retirement party. Hang on, here’s Perez.”
Bob heard the sound of a mike changing hands. “Hey, team,” said Steven Perez. “Great to hear from you all. Just want you to know that we’re all praying for you down here. Valkerie, I have big news! Trident erupted Monday night. Roger talked to Dr. Wiseman and made me promise to tell you that your old cabin is now sitting under six feet of fresh lava. And Kaggo, guess what? When you get back, the Cubs manager has invited you to throw out the first ball. So you just get that arm into shape, okay? We can’t have you embarrassing NASA. And I had a call from the pope yesterday. He’s going to lead a special prayer service for you guys on Pentecost Sunday. Anyway, I know you have lots to do, so I won’t hold you long. I don’t want you to waste any more of your juice running the radio. Here’s Josh again.”