Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

  Kennedy clomped down the metal stairs. “Okay. What’s wrong now?”

  Bob led Kennedy around to the scratched strut at the base of the MAV. “Listen, it’s not a big deal, but I was wondering if you might have brushed up against the base unit here when you drove the rover in to refuel yesterday.”

  “You said it was important.” Kennedy had switched to his innocent, injured tone.

  “It is important.”

  “Kaggo, basic logic lesson. You said it was important. Then you said it’s not a big deal. It can’t be both. Now, which is it?”

  “It’s ...” Bob took a deep breath. “Listen, Kennedy. You decide. The MAV is our bus ticket home—our only bus ticket, since the backup crashed and burned eight months ago. We’ve only got twenty‑two tonnes of fuel left and we need eighteen to get us off the planet. So you tell me—is it important that we all try to drive the rover carefully when we’re refueling?” He pointed at the fresh scratches on the steel frame.

  Kennedy inspected them for a moment. “Why, sure it’s important,” he drawled. “But it doesn’t make a lot of sense to blame me. What did you do, Kaggo? Hit it with the MuleBot?” He pointed at the half‑ton cargo robot that Bob had left near the fuel factory. Bob’s tool chest lay open on the mule’s broad, flat back.

  “Hampster, don’t be ridiculous. The scratches are too high up. You—”

  “So maybe you did it with the rover. But it’s kind of silly to be quizzing me about it. I didn’t have nothing to do with it.” Kennedy took a step toward Bob, his eyes puffy and bloodshot behind the gold‑tinted visor of his helmet.

  Bob stepped back. “Uh, Kennedy? You filled up the rover’s tank yesterday, remember? It’s even on our schedule back at the Hab.”

  “Of course I did.” Kennedy spoke in calm and slow tones, as if Bob were some kind of moron. “And you filled the rover before me. But I didn’t hit the MAV with it. I’m the pilot, remember? You’re the one who drives a Texas block to avoid having to parallel park.”

  “Look, just because I’m cautious doesn’t mean I can’t drive. I’d know if I hit the MAV. I never even got close.”

  “And you don’t think I’d know? I lost an eye—not a brain.”

  A hiss of static broke through on the CommSat emergency channel. “Bob! This is Lex. Valkerie’s in trouble!”

  Bob spun around, fumbling with his channel switch.

  “Bob, are you there? Come in.”

  Bob’s pulse hammered in his ears. He cranked the gain all the way up. “Loud and clear, Lex. What’s wrong with Valkerie?”

  “She was exploring a cave. The whole thing collapsed. I need you to get—” A burst of static cut through the signal.

  Bob spun around and bolted for the Hab. “Lex! You’re breaking up! Please repeat!” He ran faster, ignoring the rocks that tipped and turned beneath his feet. Faster. He leaped over a boulder and switched gait to the peculiar bounding skip that was the fastest way to hoof around on Mars. The Hab was a quarter mile away. If they’d lost the signal cone from the CommSat ...

  “Lex—please repeat.” He adjusted his comm controls, focusing on the static through the rush of his gulping breath. “Lex—can you—hear me?” The static seemed to fluctuate in a regular rhythm. Three beats per second. One for each beat of his pounding heart.

  The Hab loomed nearer.

  “—Valkerie, are you—” Lex’s voice cut through the static.

  Bob tripped and sprawled on his face in the dusty regolith. An instant later, he was up and running again. Fifty meters to go.

  Twenty.

  Five.

  Bob reached the hatch of the airlock, yanked it open, and leaped inside. In one fluid motion, he pulled it shut again and hit the buttons to pressurize.

  The pressure gauge needle swung to the right.

  Bob began spinning the wheel to the inner door. He threw open the hatch and raced inside, up the stairs three at a time.

  Tearing off his helmet and gloves, he raced to the CommConsole and flipped to the CommSat channel. “Lex, this is Bob! I’m in the Hab, now talk to me! What’s wrong with Valkerie?” The Hab’s comm system was way more powerful than EVA comm. It had to work.

  Static.

  Three‑beats‑per‑second static.

  Could it be interference from Kennedy’s radio? Bob hammered the keyboard with a flurry of commands. Valkerie. His gut turned to ice. He should have gone with her. If only he’d made more of an effort to work things out ... He brought up the comm diagnostics and checked the gain and antenna bearing. CommSat 1 sat a million kilometers above the Martian surface at the day‑side Lagrange point, the stable position where the gravitational tug from Mars and the sun balanced. If the antenna wasn’t locked on—

  Bob slumped onto a stool and stared at the controls. The antenna bearing was perfect, but he still couldn’t hear Lex. All he could hear was that weird, pulsing static that sounded like ... like ...

  But that was impossible. Kennedy’s radio didn’t have a strong enough transmitter. And there was nobody else on Mars who could be jamming his radio signals. Nobody.

  Chapter Two

  Monday, March 16, 4:40 p.m., Mars Local Time

  Valkerie

  “LEX! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Valkerie struggled in her suit, desperate to move—her shoulders, legs, toes—anything. “Lex?” She groped forward in the darkness. At least her hands were still free. She tried to push herself backward, but she might as well have tried to move Olympus Mons.

  “Stay cool, Val. I’m right here behind you.”

  “I can’t move!” Valkerie knew she was shouting, but she couldn’t help it. “You’ll have to dig me out.”

  “Working on that right now. Give me a few minutes.”

  Valkerie felt clacking vibrations behind her feet. “How are we doing on oxygen, Lex? I can’t see my gauge.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of time ... almost forty minutes.” Valkerie felt a weight lift off her boot. “I’ve got you. Hang on. I’m almost there.”

  Valkerie lay silent, trying to still her breathing. Minute by minute, rock by rock, she felt the weight lifted from her legs.

  “How about now? Can you get out?”

  Valkerie pushed backward with all her might. “Pull my feet. Use the winch.”

  Valkerie felt her feet lifted and a cable being attached.

  “Okay, I’m going to put it on superslow speed and see what happens. We don’t want to rip you apart.”

  The tension built up slowly in Valkerie’s knees. Harder. Harder. Too hard.

  “Stop!”

  The force released instantly.

  “Okay, Val, we need a Plan B. Any ideas?”

  “It feels like there’s loose gravel wedged between my backpack and the top of the tunnel. Think you can clean it out?”

  Quick, strong hands burrowed along Valkerie’s hips and lower back. “The tunnel’s too narrow. I can’t get all the way up.” Lex’s voice sounded edgy with the first traces of fear.

  “Okay, can you push me farther in? The tunnel opens up enough ahead that I should be able to shake some of the rocks off.”

  “I’ll brace your feet so you’ll have something to push against. Are your hands free? Can you pull yourself forward?”

  “There’s nothing to grab on to.” Valkerie pushed off against Lex and felt the rocks slip, but strain as she might, she couldn’t push herself through. “Bad news, Lex. I’m stuck.” Her breath was coming faster now. How much more time? She didn’t dare ask. “If I just had something to grab on to, I think I could pull ... The MoleBot! Move the mole backward. About two feet.”

  There was a long pause. “I ... can’t. I unstrapped the remote so I could dig, and while I was digging I must have stepped ... It’s crushed. Val, I’m so sorry.”

  “Lex, it’s okay. Listen. Call Bob and tell him to tele‑operate the mole from the Hab. Tell him straight backward on slow for about a second.”

  “I’ve been trying to get through to him, but there’
s some kind of interference—”

  “Then contact Houston. They can tele‑operate it from there just as well. Just make sure they move the mole and not the rover.”

  “But the time delay. We’ve already switched to reserves—”

  “Lex, please ...”

  Minutes passed. Suddenly the mole’s motor began vibrating. It pushed its way backward—right into Valkerie’s hands.

  “Val, did it work? I finally got through to Bob.”

  Valkerie grabbed the linking ring with both hands and held on tight. “Thanks, Lex. I’ll do it manually from here.” She hit the control to activate the coring tool. The machine vibrated in her hands as a powerful drill began boring straight down into the hard floor. When it had bored in several inches, Valkerie stopped the drill and tugged on it. Good—well anchored. “Wedge my feet again, Lex. I’m gonna push and pull at the same time.”

  “Okay ...”

  “On my mark. Three, two, one, mark!” Valkerie pulled as hard as she could; Lex’s powerful legs shoved on Valkerie’s feet.

  Nothing.

  “Try again.” Lex’s fighter‑pilot drawl. “Three, two, one, mark!”

  This time, Valkerie felt something above her slip. “I’m moving! Let’s do it again.”

  She edged forward, inch by precious inch.

  And then she was free. “Got it, Lex! Go back to the rover! I’ll be out in a minute.” Valkerie squirmed forward, reversed the mole’s drill, and backed the auger up out of the hole it had made.

  “Val, are you okay?”

  Valkerie shined her flashlight into the narrow chamber. The pink striated rock was inches from her faceplate. She examined it carefully—filmy pink layers in a salt white slag. Her heart pounded in her throat. It was absolutely certain. She had seen it a million times on Earth, but never on Mars.

  Until now.

  “Val, get out of there!” Lex’s voice snapped her back to reality. “I’ve dug the tunnel clear.”

  “Go back to the rover. I’ll be right behind you.” Valkerie dug a frantic hand through her kit. She had to have a clean sample bag somewhere!

  “I’m not leaving until you’re out. Hurry! We’ve only got fourteen minutes of reserve!”

  “But I’ve found it!”

  “Found what?”

  “What we’ve been looking for since we got here. Life!” Even as she spoke the word, awe skittered across her overloaded nerves. “Life, Lex! It looks like some sort of halobacteria.”

  “I don’t care! Get out of there now!”

  The rock shimmered hypnotically in the trembling light. Life! She’d always hoped, of course, but never dreamed it would really happen.

  “Val, are you listening? Move! “

  But here it was. Right in front of her. Was it alive or dead? It might not matter. For this kind of bug, there wasn’t a whole lot of difference.

  * * *

  Monday, March 16, 4:55 p.m., Mars Local Time

  Bob

  “Lex ... Valkerie ... was that enough? Should I move the MoleBot any more?”

  Bob pounded his fist on the table. This didn’t make sense. The CommSat was sitting right in the middle of the acquisition cone. Signal strength was high, and he couldn’t hear a thing but the hiss‑hiss‑hiss of static. Downstairs, the airlock door slammed. An instant later, the sound of Kennedy’s cursing echoed through the cylindrical metal stairwell at the center of the Hab. Kennedy wasn’t bothering to wash down his suit—he was coming upstairs, bellowing like a wounded bull.

  Bob stood.

  The stairwell hatch blasted open.

  Kennedy stormed in, waving his helmet. “What’d you do that for? You could have killed me! I ought to have you court‑martialed! Look at this!” He shoved the helmet into Bob’s solar plexus.

  Bob staggered back. What was Kennedy yammering about? “Didn’t you hear Lex’s message? Valkerie may be in trouble.”

  Kennedy flipped the helmet over and jabbed a finger at a long, wicked scratch streaking up the faceplate of the helmet. “I’ll have your head for this!”

  Bob stared at it, wondering what in the world he could have done. “How did that happen?”

  Kennedy blasted him with a raging stream of curses.

  Bob stepped back, raising his free hand. “Whoa! Whoa! I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Now slow down and start over—and this time try English. How did that scratch get there?”

  “You pushed me!” Kennedy spat out the words. “Knocked me onto my face from behind. You could have killed me!”

  Bob narrowed his eyes and studied the Hampster. Pushed? He’d been over five feet away from Kennedy when Lex’s call came in. “Hey, buddy, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t push you.”

  Kennedy’s eyes flared. “Well, somebody pushed me. And since Uncle Martin’s back on Earth—”

  Bob flinched at Kennedy’s spitting sarcasm.

  “—I want to know why you did it. Trying to get rid of me so you’ll be the last man on the planet? Is that the only way you can get a woman, you pathetic—”

  Bob slammed the helmet onto the floor. “Shut up, Kennedy.”

  “—such a loser, you—”

  Bob felt the heat rise in his neck and face. “I said shut up.”

  “—no wonder she dumped you—”

  Bob grabbed the DCM unit of Kennedy’s suit and yanked it forward. Hard. He glowered down at Kennedy, rage pounding in his veins.

  Veins bulged at Kennedy's temples. The skin around his eyes turned beet red.

  Bob relaxed his grip. Easy, big guy. Don’t let him push your buttons. Don’t play his game—whatever it is. Valkerie needs you. Focus ...

  Without a word, Bob released Kennedy and turned back to the comm diagnostics. He had to find out if Valkerie was okay. Kennedy wasn’t, that was for sure, but he’d had a few loose wires ever since launch. When they reached Mars, it had looked for a while like he was doing better. But lately ...

  Lately something rotten had hit the fan. Is it him who’s losing it, or me?

  Bob shook his head, desperate to focus on the problem. A jumble of meaningless graphs and numbers joggled on the display. Focus, Kaggo.

  Kennedy’s labored breathing sounded close behind him, jittering up and down his gridlocked nerves. The floor creaked.

  Bob wheeled around. “Would you mind?”

  Kennedy jumped backward like he’d been shot and stood rigid, both hands clasped across his chest.

  Bob forced himself to speak calmly. “Valkerie’s in trouble, and I can’t get comm working.” He pushed past Kennedy and headed for the stairwell. “Stay on comm. I’m going after them.”

  “What, on foot? That’s insane.”

  “I’ve got to do something. Just stay on comm!” He ducked through the lower‑level hatch.

  “Request denied. You’re staying right here. That’s an order!” Kennedy’s voice pursued him to the suit room.

  Bob pulled a fresh oxygen bottle out of his locker and swapped it with the one on the back of his suit. He checked the charges on the battery packs lined up by the wall.

  “That’s a direct order, Kaggo. Take one step out of this Hab, and I won’t be held responsible for the consequences.”

  Bob turned in the direction of Kennedy’s voice.

  The Hampster was nowhere to be seen.

  “Kennedy, listen,” Bob shouted back toward the stairwell. “Lex told me to move the MoleBot. Maybe it got wedged under the rover, I don’t know. Maybe they had a breakdown on their way back to the Hab. If I can’t find them in two hours, I’ll head back. But you need to stay by the radio in case they call. Okay?”

  Silence.

  “Kennedy?” Great. Not again. Bob stormed up the stairs with clenched fists. Okay, so they’d all been a little irritable lately, but Kennedy was really starting to lose his glue.

  You knocked me onto my face from behind.

  Right. Bob checked the command center. No sign of Kennedy. Then circled back to Kennedy’s ro
om. The Hampster must have tripped and whacked his helmet on a rock. Sure. That would explain the scratched helmet ... and the odd behavior.

  Bob frowned. But why blame me? Why would Kennedy say I pushed him? For that matter, why the big outrage act? He tripped and scratched his helmet, but it hadn’t cracked. That Plexiglas was practically unbreakable. Why make a mountain out of a molecule?

  Frustration escaped Bob in a long, exasperated breath. I don’t have time for this. He threw open the door to Kennedy’s room, ready to slap some reason into him. “Kennedy, didn’t I ask you to stay—”

  The room was empty.

  Chapter Three

  Monday, March 16, 5:10 p.m., Mars Local Time

  Valkerie

  “GET OUT OF THERE! RIGHT now!” Lex’s voice screeched over Valkerie’s earphones. The tether attached to Valkerie’s harness spun her around in the underground chamber, drawing her through the narrowing tunnel.

  “Lex, stop! Turn off the winch. I’m coming out.” Valkerie chipped the halobacteria fossil from the wall with her pick and wormed her way back into the narrow vent, pushing the loose gravel and grit ahead of her.

  “Ten minutes, thirty seconds. This isn’t funny, Val.”

  “I’m on my way.” She wriggled forward. “Turn on the winch ... on my ... mark!”

  The rover’s powerful winch jerked her the last few feet through the tunnel and swept her out into the dizzying void.

  “I’ve got—” Valkerie’s words were lost as she slammed into the face of the cliff. She clung to the fossil with both hands, twisting around, trying to get her feet against the moving wall. “Can’t you slow this thing down?”

  “No time!” Lex’s voice was tight and controlled—too controlled.

  Valkerie caught sight of her twenty feet up, bounding up the face of the cliff with staccato skips and jumps. If Lex could do it, so could she. She swung her legs around in an attempt to push off the face of the cliff, but her feet slipped out from under her, and her chest pack smashed into the rock wall. A protruding shelf slammed into her shoulder and spun her around, dissolving her world into a blur.