by John Olson
Three hands went up around the table, including Josh’s. Even Dr. Perez kept his hands in his lap.
“This ain’t a democracy, but just for curiosity, who agrees that we need to wait and see before we decide?” Nate counted the hands, then turned to Josh. “With me, that makes twenty‑three votes. Listen, Josh, if there were any other way—”
“You’d still do it your way, wouldn’t you? You could show a little conscience on behalf of your crew, but you won’t, because you couldn’t stand the heat, could you? It gets a little too hot in this kitchen, doesn’t it?”
That stung. Nate took a lot of heat that nobody in this room knew about, and he just plain did not need a backseat movie critic right now. “Josh—”
“Forget it!” Josh stormed to the door. “Talk to me when you grow yourself a backbone.”
The door slammed behind him.
A second later, Nate was at the door, yanking it open. “Josh, I’d like to remind you of a certain executive order which you will respect this time—unless you want to go to jail.”
Josh kept walking.
Nate shut the door and plumped into his seat. “Dr. Perez? This could get out of control if he—”
“He’s not going to tell the press. He didn’t last time, either, remember? That’s what he said. And you said you believed him.”
Right. So he lied and I lied. Prosecute me. Nate put his head in his hands.
“And Josh won’t tell this time, because the press would be against him,” Cathe said.
Nate looked at her sharply.
She shrugged. “Everybody in their right mind is afraid of back‑contamination.”
Heads nodded around the table.
“We’ll have to notify the press anyway.” Perez sighed heavily. “A resupply mission is going to cost billions, and we’ll need to get that from Congress. And we need it now if we’re going to run that mission.”
Nate felt his stomach do a barrel roll. “The Senate subcommittee is going to have a cow and a half.”
“Will they like the alternative any better?” Perez’s question hung heavy in the silence for a long moment.
Cathe was the first to speak. “Maybe, in a very weird, renormalized sense, this will all turn out for the best.”
Nate glared at her. “You want to explain why that isn’t the most Pollyanna‑stupid thing you’ve said all year?”
“It’s simple.” Cathe didn’t even blink. “Congress cancelled the Ares 14 mission, so if our crew comes back, we lose our presence on Mars—maybe for a very long time.”
“Oh, I get it.” Nate hadn’t thought his gut could turn more sour. He’d been wrong. “This way we get to stay as long as we want. And did it ever occur to you to ask what happens if Congress cancels the resupply mission at some point? They don’t care two cents about four kids lost in space.”
Dr. Frazier took off his glasses and held them up to the light. “None of us do, if we’re honest. Not as much as we care about saving our own hides. And that”—he finished his inspection and jammed his glasses back on—“is just as it should be. If Homo sapiens didn’t have a survival instinct, we wouldn’t be here now. It’s good that we’re selfish.”
Nate wanted to tell him he was a liar. But he couldn’t.
“Fine, then.” Nate yanked out his phone and made a note. “I’m heading to Washington to shake down our happy little gang of thieves in Congress for all the money they saved on the Ares 10 and Ares 14 missions. Josh!” He looked around the room, then remembered.
“I’ll go find him,” said Dr. Perez.
“Tell him we’ve got a resupply mission to get started down the pipeline—at least until we decide different—and it needs to launch in ...” He flipped through the pages of the Tiger Team 2 report.
“Three hundred and thirty days.”
Nate looked at Cathe Willison. The kid just had every duck lined up in neat little rows, didn’t she?
She pointed at one of the bullet points in the report. “But we’re going to have to move fast before they scrap the launch vehicle that was being built for the Ares 14 mission.”
“Make it so.” Nate flinched. Picard would never have sentenced four people he loved to life imprisonment on Mars.
Chapter Twelve
Monday, March 23, 5:45 a.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
BOB KNELT ON THE FLOOR beside Valkerie and slid a towel under her head. “Valkerie, can you hear me?”
Her nod was slow and weak. Finally her eyes flickered open.
“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?” Bob’s voice trembled. He felt so helpless.
“I’m fine. I just—” Her eyes went suddenly wide. She rolled her head back and forth, looking around the room.
“It’s okay. Try not to move.” Bob eased her back to the floor as she struggled to rise. “You fainted and hit your head.”
Lex’s footsteps sounded behind him. “Is she awake?”
“I’m fine.” Valkerie shrugged off his hands and pushed herself up onto her elbows.
Bob helped turn her so she could lean against the wall. She was so weak. So vulnerable ... His heart felt like it was going to explode.
Lex held an ice bag to the side of Valkerie’s head. “What were you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to call me or Bob if you need something.”
“I didn’t faint.” Valkerie looked from Bob to Lex. “Something ...”
Bob watched as the determination on Valkerie’s face melted into ... what? Confusion? Fear?
“Something pushed me,” Valkerie said weakly. “Something ran across the floor and knocked me off my feet.”
Bob exchanged glances with Lex.
“I know what it sounds like, but you’ve got to believe me. It hit me hard. I can still feel the bruises across the back of my thighs.”
“So what were you doing in here to begin with?” Lex asked the question Bob was afraid to ask. Spiders. Valkerie had screamed that she was covered with spiders when she was sick.
“I ... heard something in the galley. Bob was downstairs, and you were—”
“You knew I was downstairs?” Bob lifted the ice bag and gently slid his hand across the bulge on the side of Valkerie’s head.
“I heard you welding down in the shop before all this happened.”
“Sorry.” Bob replaced the bag. “I woke up at four this morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. My sleep cycle’s still out of whack from ...”
“From when you were taking care of me.” Valkerie’s weak smile charged the air between them with crackling awareness.
“So what else do you remember?” Lex blurted out.
Valkerie looked at Lex, and the connection was broken. “I ... um, there was some kind of a clang out here in the commons ... or maybe the galley. That’s why I came out—I wanted to see what was making all the racket. And I remember I heard you talking in Kennedy’s room.”
Bob turned to Lex. “Kennedy was awake?”
She shook her head. “No, he’s been out the whole time.”
Bob felt his uneasiness returning. “Valkerie, are you sure you heard Lex talking? Maybe humming?”
“Sure, I’m sure.” She jutted her chin at him. “Look, my fever’s broken. I wasn’t hallucinating. Lex was talking.”
Bob sighed. “Valkerie, it’s not that I’m doubting you, but you have been sick and maybe—”
“Kaggo.” Lex stood up and began pacing. “I didn’t say I wasn’t talking. I said Kennedy was out.”
He raised his eyebrows.
For the first time he could ever remember, Lex blushed. “I was just ... talking. It’s no big deal, okay?”
“To anybody we know?” Bob didn’t know what else to say.
“No.” Lex sat down, her face turned away from them.
“Right.” Great. Now Lex is seeing ghosts. Or at least talking to them. Bob turned back to Valkerie. “So then what happened? You came out here and ... Why didn’t you turn on the lights?”
“I was trying
to, but I couldn’t find the switch.” Valkerie shuddered. “Then I heard something. Kind of this groaning noise. And ...” She hesitated. “I know it sounds crazy, but something attacked me. Ran straight at me from over there.” She pointed across the commons, where it opened into the galley.
Lex shook her head. “This is just too weird.” She got up and padded toward the galley.
Bob put his hand on Valkerie’s shoulder. “Is there anything else—”
“Bob!” Lex’s shout echoed in the galley. She backed out of the room, pointing at the floor.
He jumped up and bounded toward her.
“Lex, what is it?” Valkerie called out behind him.
Bob skidded up to Lex and followed her gaze.
The pantry door was flung open. Food packets lay scattered all over the floor.
“I don’t believe this.” Bob turned to Valkerie. “Did you come into the galley? At all?”
She shook her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Food. All over the place. Our food.”
Valkerie stood shakily to her feet. She was halfway across the room before Bob could get an arm around her for support.
He led her slowly to the galley.
She gasped. “Somebody’s been eating our porridge.”
“Impossible.” But how could he deny what he was seeing? Bob put his arm around Valkerie’s shoulder and guided her back to a hanging chair. “Impossible.”
She held on to his hand. “Bob, listen. I know everything sounds impossible, but we’ve got to ask what’s the least impossible?”
Lex came back to join them, her face drawn, tense.
“Look, there are four of us, right?” Valkerie held up four fingers. “We agree that Kennedy didn’t make that mess, right?”
Bob nodded. “The galley was fine a couple hours ago. I got a tube of Jell‑O and ate it in the shop.”
“And I’ve been with Kennedy the whole time since then,” Lex said. “He’s the last person who could have done it.”
“Okay, then that leaves one of us three.” Valkerie folded down her first finger. “And I promise you guys I didn’t do it.” She folded down her second finger.
“I sure didn’t,” Lex said. “I was with Kennedy the whole time.” When Valkerie folded down the third finger, the two women turned to Bob.
He shook his head. “I didn’t do it either. Swear on a stack of Bibles.”
The three of them looked at one another uneasily.
“One of us is fibbing,” Lex said.
Bob nodded. That was the only possibility. But it was wrong. It had to be.
Valkerie shook her head. “Guys, that’s impossible. After what we’ve been through, I know you two. I’d know if you were lying. And you’re not. I know it. Neither of you made that mess.”
Lex stared at her. “Valkerie, that’s pretty much the same as admitting you did it. You know that, don’t you?”
Bob spun on her. “Come on, Lex. Valkerie saved our lives to get out here. I would trust her with my life—have trusted her with my life a couple of times. She wouldn’t tell us she wasn’t hallucinating unless she was sure.”
“Then who did it?” Lex stared back at Bob with an unflinching gaze. “In case you haven’t noticed, there are only four people on this planet.”
Valkerie took a deep breath. “I know it sounds weird, but ... we’re out of choices. It wasn’t Kennedy, and it wasn’t one of us. So it has to be something else. Or somebody else. Is it possible we brought a guest with us to Mars? A fifth member of the crew?”
“You mean like rats?” Lex sounded incredulous.
Valkerie rubbed the back of her thigh and shook her head. “It was way bigger than a rat.”
Bob felt his insides lurch. A stowaway? That was ridiculous. Absurd. How could anything have hidden inside the ship all the way from Earth? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made any sense. “This Hab was sent without passengers, remember? It didn’t even have an atmosphere until a few months before we got here.”
Lex’s face was impassive. “Valkerie, tell us again about that thing you saw Wednesday night outside the Hab. What did it look like?”
“I don’t know,” Valkerie said. “That’s just what made it so scary. I saw something move and ... that’s all.”
“How big? Did it have a face? Arms? What are we up against here?” Lex crossed her arms and looked up at the porthole.
“One thing’s for sure,” Bob said. “We should do a thorough search of the ship.”
“Bob?” Valkerie grabbed Bob’s arm. “Is there any way we could ... lock the door?”
He shivered. The airlock didn’t have a physical lock of any kind. It didn’t need one. There were just the four of them—the only living beings on the entire planet. No bogeymen, no burglars, no bad guys. No mysterious fifth man. “I guess I could jury‑rig something.”
Lex turned to look at him, her eyes wide, her jaw set. “First we search.”
“Houston is going to think we’ve gone off the deep end,” Valkerie said.
“No, they’re not.” Bob shot a glance at Lex. “Because we’re not going to tell them. Right?”
“Then what are we going to do?” Valkerie looked frustrated, tense.
“That’s simple.” Lex squared her shoulders. “We’re going to use our heads and work this thing out like rational human beings.”
“So we’ve got a mystery on our hands,” Valkerie said. “But one thing I know for sure. Something’s out there. Likely as not, it’s in here. And I’m not going to rest until I find it.”
Lex turned toward the stairwell, but not quick enough to hide the look of skepticism that washed across her features.
Bob knew exactly what she was thinking. Valkerie had been sick. What if she’d been dreaming? Sleepwalking? He didn’t want to believe it. Truth was he felt terrible for even thinking it, but there was no fifth man. There couldn’t be. End of discussion.
But the way Valkerie had looked at him. Her eyes ... she had said she wasn’t dreaming. Said it really happened. She’d know the difference between a nightmare and reality, wouldn’t she? She wasn’t the type to say she was sure if she had any doubts. She wouldn’t lie ...
Bob jumped up and followed after Lex. “Just stay here and rest, Valkerie. Lex and I are gonna search the Hab from top to bottom. If there’s so much as a pregnant cockroach onboard, we’ll find it.”
* * *
Bob snapped the last plastic wall panel back in place and stretched his aching back, letting his breath out with a sigh.
Lex shot him a troubled look from across the room. “Now what?”
Bob stepped toward the airlock and started examining the wheel. “I don’t know. We tell her we didn’t find anything. What else can we do?”
“What if she’s still sick? Don’t you think we owe it to her to let the flight docs know? They’ve been asking about hallucinations.”
“That was back when they were thinking Legionnaires’ disease. You checked the water system yourself. They’ve already ruled that out.”
“Still, I think they should know. It might be important in diagnosing this thing.”
Bob turned his head to look at the stairwell. “Lex, it’s going to be kind of awkward if we go back up there. She’s sitting right next to the CommConsole.”
“Which is one reason we’re having this discussion down here.” Lex led the way out of the EVA‑suit room and around the corridor to the workshop. “We can call from here.”
Bob sat on a stool. He hated to admit it, but Lex was right. They had to report it. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling that somehow, in some way, he was betraying Valkerie.
He sighed deeply, wishing he knew what was right. You had to tell the truth, didn’t you? Even when the truth was the worst thing in the world. Better an ugly truth than a beautiful lie. Bob picked up the mike and handed it to Lex. “You do it,” he said, his voice thick.
Lex keyed the mike. “Houston, this is the Ares 7 calling with an update on Valkerie’s con
dition—”
A floor panel creaked.
Bob turned.
Valkerie stood framed in the stairwell hatch, her eyes brimming with tears.
“Valkerie, I—”
She turned and fled up the stairs.
* * *
Monday, March 23, 9:45 a.m., CST
Josh
Josh slammed the Tiger Team reports onto his desk and crash‑landed into his chair. He pressed his face into his hands and leaned against the wall. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t planted the charge ... If it hadn’t gone off on their ship ...
He took a step toward the door. They’d probably fire him, but he had to tell them the truth. Once they knew that the bacteria came from Earth and not the micrometeorite ... Once they knew the bacteria was safe, they’d forget all their back‑contamination paranoia.
Josh paused at the door. But this wasn’t going to work. It wasn’t his bacteria making the crew sick. His little bug wasn’t toxic. So what was infecting them? And who would stand up for them if Nate fired him? He was the only friend they had right now.
Josh spun on his heel and stalked back to his desk. Bob and Lex had to find the source of the contamination. They’d gone through every empty food packet in the waste system, but they’d already dumped the trash from their space flight. If they could just prove that one of the food packets had been contaminated. If they could just find a trace in the bioreactor, the greenhouse materials—anything.
A knock sounded at the door. Josh ignored it. If Nate wanted to kiss and make up, he could go cozy up to one of the reptiles he’d brought in to swing the vote his way.
Another knock. “Josh, it’s me, Cathe.”
Speak of the devil. Josh picked up his phone and started flipping through his calendar.
“Josh, please. I need to apologize.”
Josh walked over to the door. “Apologize for what?” He waited with his hand on the doorknob.
No answer.
“Apologize for what?”