by John Olson
I’m blowing this big time. “All I’m asking is for you to check him out. Make sure he’s okay. What’s so wrong with that?”
Valkerie searched Bob’s expression for what seemed like an eternity, then shook her head. “I’m not giving him an unscheduled physical. He’d want to know why. And what could I tell him? That you’re … jealous?”
Bob looked at the floor. He’d brought this on himself. He should never have brought it up. “Well, at least be careful.”
“About what?”
Bob winced at the frustration in Valkerie’s voice. “The Hampster. You don’t know him like I do.”
“I don’t know him? I’ve practically lived with him for the last two years. What’s gotten into you? You used to be so ...” Tears formed in Valkerie’s eyes. “Bob, I’m sorry. I just can’t ...”
Bob swallowed hard. “Can’t what?” It was all he could do to force out a whisper.
Valkerie looked at the floor and shook her head. Bob watched her turn and plod down the corridor. He took a step after her, arms outstretched, then let them fall to his sides. The firm click of her door as she closed it between them spoke clearly to his aching heart.
He’d lost her.
* * *
Wednesday, March 18, 10:30 p.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
Valkerie belly flopped onto her cot and buried her face in her pillow. Why did Bob always manage to ruin everything? Two days ago, she had made the biggest discovery of her life—maybe the biggest of the twenty‑first century. She was supposed to be deliriously happy. Supposed to be celebrating, dancing the night away ... not suffocating herself in a tear‑soaked pillow.
Why couldn’t he just forget his toolbox of petty jealousies and be happy for her? Why couldn’t he celebrate with her? Dance with her. Sweep her off her feet. Crush her in his arms ...
Valkerie pounded the pillow with her fist. She would not go there. It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t even moral. NASA hadn’t spent fifty billion dollars to send her on a Love Boat luxury cruise. She had a job to do. Thousands of scientists were counting on her. Billions of people were watching her every move. Every day the newspapers were running stories.
A guilty pang stabbed through her. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t she learned anything from her freshman year? She should never have put Bob off. Why hadn’t she told him the second he asked? She only caused him—and herself—pain by putting off the inevitable. They weren’t going to get to know each other any better. Not on Mars. The daily work schedule. Press conferences. The ever‑present eye of the camera ...
It all made a personal relationship impossible.
The longer she waited to say that, the harder it would be—for everybody. She knew what her answer had to be to Bob’s marriage proposal. Whether the press liked it or not, she had to do the right thing. It was her moral duty.
Valkerie rolled out of the cot and dabbed at her puffy eyes in the mirror. She looked terrible. Good. Maybe that would make things easier.
She pushed open her door and tiptoed through the corridor to Bob’s door. Knocking softly, she put her ear to the door for an answer. Nothing. She knocked a little louder. No way could she wake Kennedy with a few raps, but Lex was a light sleeper. “Bob, can I come in?”
Silence. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was probably asleep. Either that or he was too mad to talk to her. She shuffled off through the galley and into the commons. She could hardly blame Bob for being angry. Not after she’d acted like such a child. It was just that he put so much pressure on her. Every look he shot at her hung with an unspoken question.
A noise in the darkened commons made Valkerie jump. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Bob stood staring out the porthole into the night sky. A heavy weight settled in her stomach.
Now was her chance. But how could she tell him? What could she say?
He turned slowly and fixed his expressionless gaze on her. Valkerie’s heart stopped dead. His eyes were moist. A trail of spent tears glistened on his cheek. He was miserable. It was her fault. She had to do something. He was too nice, too heartrendingly endearing, too good. Bob didn’t deserve this. He deserved better than her.
She took a deep breath. “Bob, I don’t know what to say. I’m so, so sorry.”
He nodded in resignation. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you when I did. I put you on the spot. It was way too soon. All it did was make things awkward between us.”
She took a step closer. “No, you were fine. I was the one ... Don’t you see, I’m the one who’s ... not right.”
Bob shook his head slowly. His expression held so much sadness. So much pain. It made her want to cry out for forgiveness.
“Bob, I told you about how I almost flunked out of school my freshman year? Because I partied too much. Because of this guy.”
Bob nodded. “Sidney Nichols. You were ... in love with him, weren’t you?”
Valkerie jerked her head up to meet his eyes. “No, I ... Of course not. I was just infatuated. In love with the idea of being in love.”
“Then ...” Bob lifted his hands. “I guess I don’t understand. If you’re not in love with the memory—”
“Bob, don’t you see? I ... I care for you. Much more than I ever cared for Sidney. I almost let what I felt for Sidney ruin my life, and it was nothing compared to ... If I ... Don’t you see how many people are counting on me? This mission cost taxpayers fifty billion dollars! Don’t tell me you don’t feel the pressure!”
He shrugged and his face contorted into a goofy grin. For some reason, his eyes seemed brighter.
Valkerie felt herself breathing easier, like the weight of his misery had just lifted off her chest. “So you don’t hate me?”
Bob brightened even more. “Do you want an honest answer?”
“Bob, I’m serious. Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”
“What?”
“I’m trying to tell you ...” She searched the room, looking at everything but Bob’s eyes. Why was saying no so hard? “Bob, I’m trying to tell you that I ... can’t say yes. Not now. Not ... ever.”
Bob stiffened. Like he’d just been stabbed. “But why? You just said you cared for me.”
“I do, but ... How can I be sure with all this?” She swept the room with a broad gesture. “We’ve been through so much together. How long have we been in danger? We almost didn’t make it. Of course we have strong feelings for each other. It’s only natural.”
He took a step toward her.
She felt her heart constrict. Don’t. Please, don’t ...
“So why can’t you just trust those feelings? They’re right. I know they are.”
“How do you know it’s not just psychology? Biology? Stimulus‑response?”
“Because I’m not an amoeba.”
“Bob, weren’t you paying attention in training? Remember what the shrinks told us about the apes leaving the rain forest and crossing the open plains? They’re so stressed and hypervigilant that if nothing attacks them, they end up turning on themselves and killing each other. How is being on Mars any different? No atmosphere. Cramped quarters. To‑do lists a mile long. If we’re ruled by our feelings, we could end up killing each other.”
Bob took another step. “I’m not an ape either. I know what I know.”
Valkerie stamped her foot. “I’m the only single female within a hundred million miles. Of course you’re going to be attracted to me. Of course I’m attracted to you. It’s only natural, but that’s not a good enough reason to make a decision that could affect the rest of our lives, is it?” She drew a steadying breath. “I appreciate you asking me to ... I really do. But it was wrong for me to ask for more time. I’m sorry. That only made things bad between us. I should have said no right away. I want to go back to being friends.”
Bob sighed. “Once we’re back on Earth ... think you’ll be able to trust yourself then?”
Valkerie shook her head. He wasn�
�t getting it.
“No, not now.” Bob held up a hand. “Later. Until then, I promise not to bring up the subject of marriage—or anything more than friendship. Not until after we’re home and in a normal environment. And until then ... Suppose we could just start over?”
Valkerie hesitated. Was it possible? Could they start over? I hope so. She gave a slow nod. “If you can forgive me.”
Bob laughed, a ringing sound that broke like beams of sunshine through the storm clouds choking her mind.
Valkerie couldn’t help it. She stepped forward and walked into his open arms, burying her face in his chest. She breathed out a long sigh, letting him enclose her in his strong arms and rock her gently from side to side, like a mother rocking her child. Wonderful. They should have had this conversation months ago. She pulled back to look up into Bob’s face—and screamed.
Right outside the Hab, illuminated by the exterior lights, something large and alien had moved across the porthole.
* * *
Wednesday, March 18, 10:45 p.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
Bob’s heart climbed into his throat. Valkerie’s scream still echoed in his ears.
She pointed over his shoulder. “Out there! I ... I saw something.”
“What?” Bob turned to look out the porthole. “I don’t see anything.”
Footsteps thumped in the hallway. A second later, Lex came tearing into the commons. She threw on all the lights. “Val! What’s going on?” She gave Bob an accusing look. “What did you do to her?”
“There’s something out there!” Valkerie pointed again. “Turn the lights off. I can’t see anything now.”
Bob went to turn off the banks of LED lights. When he returned, Lex and Valkerie stood huddled around the dark porthole. “Do you see anything?” He peered over their shoulders into the night. Phobos and Deimos, the twin moons of Mars, weren’t up in the sky. In another hour or so, one of them would probably come speeding low across the horizon. But at the moment—
Kennedy’s uneven footsteps thudded into the commons. “What’s going on out here?”
Bob heard the crack of a shinbone against the CamBot. Oops. Bob had left the short robot parked by the CommConsole after wasting all afternoon trying to fix its drive system.
Kennedy spent the next twenty seconds swearing and thumping around on one foot.
“Valkerie, what exactly did you see out there?” Bob asked.
“It was ... something dark,” she said. “And big.”
“How could you see anything at all out there?” Lex asked.
Valkerie pointed to the Ares 10 Hab, the ship they had come to Mars in. Bob had tried to tow it closer to the Ares 7, but it had gotten stuck when the suspension system broke down. Right now it was about two hundred yards away, its outline invisible except where a few LEDs shone on its exterior. “I was looking up at Bob, and then I saw something behind him on the other side of the window. It was just ... weird. But I know it was real—and close enough that I could see it from the lights on our Hab.”
“But what was it?” Bob studied her features. “How big?”
“It was ... pretty big,” Valkerie’s eyes went wide at the remembrance. “And it had an uneven surface. But other than that ...”
“Are we talking dog sized, moose sized, elephant sized?” Bob’s heart was thumping away. This was ridiculous. Absurd. There wasn’t anything out there.
“I just don’t know.” Valkerie shook her head. “It could have been any of those. But ... that’s impossible. There aren’t any animals on Mars.”
“Probably a dust devil,” Kennedy said. “The wind scooped up some dust and made a little mini‑tornado. That’s all it was. It’s late, and your eyes are playing tricks on you. I say we should all go back to bed.”
“There aren’t any dust devils at night,” Bob said. “No sun, no thermals.”
Kennedy scowled at him. “How do you know? What else could it have been?”
Lex put a hand on Valkerie’s shoulder. “It’s been a long day. You’re tired. Is it possible that—”
“Possible that what?” Valkerie’s tone hardened. “That I’m seeing ghosts? I don’t think so. You saw it too, didn’t you, Bob?” She turned to look up into his face, her eyes begging him to back her up.
Bob hesitated. He hadn’t seen anything. But then, he hadn’t been looking.
Valkerie’s eyes widened at his hesitation. “You had to have seen it! I pointed it out and you looked. Come on, Bob, tell them what you saw.”
He cleared his throat, his heart sinking. He couldn’t believe he was going to disappoint her again. “Uh ... I must not have been looking in the right place. I’m sorry, Valkerie.”
Anger flickered in her eyes. “So you don’t believe me either. Nobody—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Lex said. “It’s been a long day, and you’re tired, Val. We all are. Let’s go out and look for tracks in the morning. Hundred to one we don’t find any.”
“Second that motion,” Kennedy said. “Let’s get to bed, people. There’s nothing out there, and that’s an order.”
“You can’t just order there to be nothing out there,” Valkerie said. “Bob, are you sure—”
“Yeah, I’m sure I didn’t see anything.” Bob shook his head. “My night vision isn’t that good.” He turned to Kennedy. “But I believe Valkerie. She doesn’t make things up, and she knows what she saw. Tomorrow morning, as soon as it gets light, I’m going out to do an EVA.”
“It’s a poltergeist,” Kennedy muttered.
The four of them headed toward the hallway in the darkness. A small hand brushed against Bob’s, brushed again, then seized it. Bob turned to look at Valkerie.
“Thank you,” she whispered into the darkness, just loud enough for him to hear. The squeeze she gave his hand sent shivers up his arm and straight into his heart.
Part 2: Bactamination
Expecting a probe to return with possibly life‑packed Mars rocks within a generation, a scientific advisory board is urging the U.S. government to begin work on a quarantine facility. The chance that martian samples would contain dangerous organisms is extremely low, most space scientists agree .... In the meantime, a facility that protects Mars rocks from terrestrial contamination and safeguards Earth organisms from possible extraterrestrial microbes will take seven years or longer to design, construct and test, the National Research Council scientists said in a report released Tuesday.
www.CNN.com, May 29, 2001
... it has been estimated that these Martian rocks continue to rain down upon the Earth at a rate of about 500 kilograms per year. So, if you’re scared of Martian germs, your best bet is to leave Earth fast, because when it comes to Martian biological warfare projectiles, this planet is smack in the middle of torpedo alley.
Robert Zubrin, The Case for Mars
Chapter Seven
Thursday, March 19, 7:00 a.m., CST
Josh
JOSH WAITED IMPATIENTLY WHILE THE FBI woman punched in a six‑digit combination. What was he doing here? The whole thing was crazy. Kennedy wasn’t jamming comm. It was the Russians. It had to be.
But what if EECOM was right? There was a good chance the signals were originating from Mars. If that was the case, then Kennedy was the only rational explanation — because crazy people didn’t need rational explanations for what they did. And Kennedy was as crazy as they came.
“All the materials we confiscated are cataloged.” Agent Yamaguchi pushed open the door and led the way in. “There’s a photocopy machine in the corner. You’ll be expected to copy anything you want to take with you. We need to keep the originals here. Chain of evidence, you know.”
“Chain of evidence?” A lump rose up in Josh’s throat. “For what investigation?”
“I’m guessing the same thing you’re working on—the Hab explosion. If you have anything new on Kennedy ...”
Josh shook his head. “Nothing yet. Just a hunch.” A hunch with a capital K.
For a tension‑filled second Yamaguchi pierced him with a penetrating look. Then she shrugged and held out a logbook. “Okay, sign right here.” She pointed to the end of a long list of handwritten names. “And make sure that anyone who comes in here signs in and out.”
Josh scanned down the list of names. Ed Sha ... something, Jennifer Williams, Tom ... squiggle. There must have been fifteen different FBI agents working on the case. They weren’t kidding about still trying to find the saboteur. A cold sweat tingled down his spine. He’d hoped that they’d forgotten all about it. Apparently not. Josh signed his name, suddenly self‑conscious. He’d heard that experts could tell a lot about a person just by their handwriting.
“If you need me, you’ve got my cell number.” Yamaguchi shook her head. “Our people have been over this pretty carefully. If you want to see their analysis—”
“Um ... better that I come at it with fresh eyes.” Josh gave her what he hoped was a casual smile. “But I’d really appreciate reading your team’s analysis after I’ve formed some impressions of my own. Thanks for offering.”
Yamaguchi nodded and looked up at him with an unreadable expression.
Josh shifted and glanced around the small room. A filing cabinet. Government‑issue desk. And one of those horrible old gray metal chairs—a Mercury‑era original, from the looks of it.
Josh turned back.
Yamaguchi was still watching him. She didn’t look suspicious or angry. Just the opposite. It was almost like ...
“My niece Brittany is a major fan of the Mars mission.” Yamaguchi broke into an embarrassed smile. “I was, um, wondering if you could autograph this Scientific American article?” She pulled a magazine from her big, floppy handbag. “She’s eleven years old.”
The ice in Josh’s gut turned to water. He grinned. “Sure, I’d love to. I was crazy about space when I was her age.” He flipped to the article and signed across the full‑page picture of himself and the other team members—the team as it had been two months before he was dumped from the mission. He took the time to write a personal note. Dear Brittany: Dream big and study hard and maybe you can go to Mars someday! Josh Bennett.