by John Olson
Bob hot‑docked the rover to the Ares 10 and strode back to where Kennedy lay.
Kennedy stopped biting at the tape and glowered up at him. “You’re under arrest, Bob Kaganovski. I’m on to you.”
Bob shook his head and went through the airlock and into the Ares 10. He found a towel and came back. Kennedy was still gnawing at his duct tape.
“Taste good?” Bob grabbed Kennedy’s hands and wrapped them a couple of times in the towel. Pulling on the huge knot, he jerked Kennedy out of the rover and bumped through the tunnel and out into the airlock of the Ares 10. “You’re going to jail, Hampster. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”
“You can’t leave me here!” Kennedy’s voice came out in a high‑pitched whine. “I order you to release me.”
Bob searched through the EVA‑suit lockers. He found three working suits, one for Kennedy, one for Lex, and one for himself. He made several trips and lugged them all into the rover. He checked the life‑support systems, the comm, the food supply. Everything was working, so Kennedy would be fine. He just wouldn’t be able to leave. Not without an EVA suit or the rover.
Bob strode to the airlock, then looked back.
Kennedy spat a sliver of duct tape and glared at him, hatred burning in his eyes. “It’s me she wants. Not you. Me. If you’re not smart enough to get that, I’m going to have to explain it in language you’ll understand.”
For a moment—just a moment—Bob considered taking Kennedy out. Completely. Totally. For all time. I could do it. I really could. Then sanity whispered through him, and Bob let go the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.
He closed the inner airlock door and spun the wheel, then walked back into the rover and undocked. Kennedy had wigged. Bad.
Or had he always been nuts and just hit a point where he forgot how to cover up?
Bob shrugged and returned to the cockpit. Next stop, Lexville.
* * *
“You’re telling me you just up and left me out there while you went riding back in your shining armor to rescue the princess?” Lex glowered at him from the passenger seat. “What if I’d run into trouble? Have you gone out of your mind?”
“No, but Kennedy has.” Bob met her skeptical look. “I’m telling you, he’s gone nuts. Totally freaked.”
“Bob, listen.” Lex shook her head. “You’re not going to win by doing weird stuff like this. I told you to pursue her, not abandon me. What did Valkerie say when you came prancing back? I bet that made a big impression.”
Bob reached over and switched Lex’s comm link to the CommSat band. “Why don’t you call her and find out?”
She glared at him. “You are not being rational. Listen, this is not the way to impress a girl, okay? Trust me on this. Valkerie is just going to think you’re a big jerk—”
“Lex, is that you?” Valkerie’s voice overflowed with relief. “Bob, did you find Lex? Are you guys there? And how’s Kennedy?”
Lex’s brows arched.
Bob just smiled. “I left Kennedy in the Ares 10. It’s kind of like jail. I took all the EVA suits, so he’s stuck there. Lex is fine. I picked her up just a few minutes ago. She’s got some questions for you.”
Lex looked from him to the comm, her frown deepening. “Val, what happened? Are you okay?”
They waited out the twelve‑second radio delay. “I’m fine,” Valkerie said. “A little concussion, I think. I didn’t tell Houston anything about Kennedy yet. They heard my distress call—I guess I sent that out on all channels when I called you and Bob. Anyway, they wanted to find out what was going on. I told them Kennedy was sleeping, which is sort of the truth. We’ll need to figure out what to tell them, but I said we could talk more when you return from EVA.”
Bob crested the last ridge. “Okay, we’re in line of sight, Valkerie. ETA is about four minutes.”
“Hurry. I’m ... I miss you.”
Bob grinned over at Lex.
The anger melted from her face. She flicked off her comm link and did the same on Bob’s suit. “Uh ... I think apologies are in order here. I guess I overreacted back there.”
“It’s okay.” Bob coasted to a stop in front of the Ares 7. “And congratulations.”
Lex looked at him blankly. “Huh?”
“As of now, you are the commander of the Ares 7 crew.”
Chapter Seventeen
Wednesday, March 25, 3:00 p.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
VALKERIE LIMPED DOWN THE STAIRS, grasping the rail with both hands. Every step sent waves of nausea through her body. Her head felt like the kettledrum in the “1812 Overture.” The Vicodin wasn’t helping at all. She needed something stronger, but she couldn’t risk a blackout until Bob and Lex got back. Bob would freak if she was unconscious when he returned. She could last another four minutes.
The radio upstairs buzzed in a steady monotone. Houston hadn’t stopped hailing her since she’d called them. Apparently they weren’t buying her explanation. She needed to figure out what she was going to say. Fast.
She stepped into the EVA‑suit room.
A spray of dark blood covered the walls.
She gasped, and her stomach tightened spasmodically, throwing her to her knees. She moaned out her agony. It was her fault. Bob had warned her about Kennedy, but she hadn’t listened. It was all her fault. Kennedy was sick. He didn’t know what he was doing. How could she even blame him? She was the one who should have been thinking. She should have seen the signs.
Valkerie pushed herself up onto her knees. What a horrendous mess. She raised a hand to her face. Her left temple was goopy and hot, but was it her blood on the wall or Kennedy’s? Either way, it didn’t matter. The damage had been done.
Houston was going to quarantine them for sure. Unless ... No, she had to tell Houston about Kennedy’s fever. If she didn’t, he would be held responsible. He could go to jail. But what would Houston do if they thought the fever caused Kennedy to become violent? They’d never let the crew go home. Not if they thought the infection originated from Mars. Not if it was shown to be contagious.
Oh no. Valkerie rose to her feet and wobbled to the lab. Gloves, biohazard bags, Chemwipes, bleach—she grabbed the items off the bench and hurried back to the suit room. Ignoring the fumes, she sprayed the walls with concentrated bleach and wiped them down. Bob and Lex could not get sick. They couldn’t.
A clank sounded at the airlock. They were already back.
Valkerie threw all the used wipes into the biohazard bag and carried it back to the lab. Had she missed something? She hurried back to the suit room and stooped to pick up one of the EVA suits that Kennedy had thrown on the floor. The suit felt cold and gritty. She checked the label. It was hers.
“Val!”
She turned to see Lex framed in the hatch, eyes wide and horrified.
Lex pressed her hands to her mouth and sucked in her breath.
“It’s okay, Lex. I’m okay.”
“What did he do to you?” She stumbled forward, reaching for the suit Valkerie was carrying.
“No! Stop!” Valkerie cried.
Lex froze.
“Don’t touch the suit. It’s still gritty from our last EVA. It might be contaminated.”
“I don’t care. Let me help you.”
“No, you’ve got to care. If all of us get sick, Houston will have even more reasons to quarantine us here forever.”
“But ...” Lex took a step forward.
“Valkerie’s right.” Bob appeared from behind Lex and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. “Have you told Houston anything yet?”
“Not much.” Valkerie drank in the sight of him. “I was waiting for you to get back.”
“Good.”
Lex looked back and forth between Bob and Valkerie. “Would somebody please tell me why I’m the only one who cares that Val’s just had her face bashed by a sleazo—”
“I’m fine, Lex. Really.”
“We
’ve got to figure out what we’re going to tell Houston.” Bob stepped around Lex and started shucking off his suit. “The longer we wait, the worse it will be.”
“The worse it will be?” Lex crossed her arms. “Why?”
“Put yourself in Houston’s place. They know Kennedy’s sick with an unknown bug, and all of a sudden they get a message from Valkerie saying Kennedy is trying to kill her. What would you think?”
“But Josh told them we’re sick with an Antarctica bug.”
“He lied to them. It’s bought us some time, but with these symptoms, NASA’s going to have to order tests eventually. Wouldn’t you?”
Lex nodded thoughtfully. Suddenly her eyes went wide.
Valkerie followed Lex’s gaze to the back of the EVA suit. A brown smudge filled a small crease at the back of one of the knees. It almost looked ... like clay! Wet clay—at least it used to be wet. She glanced up at Lex. The excitement in Lex’s eyes told her everything she needed to know.
“Come on!” Valkerie headed for the lab, with Lex right behind her. She carefully set the suit down on the bench. Her head pounded with the beat of her racing heart.
“What’s going on? We’ve got to decide what to say.” Bob clomped into the lab. He had already gotten out of the upper half of the suit, but he still held his pants up at waist level.
“Make something up.” Valkerie turned on the laminar flow hood and spritzed the filter down with ethanol. “Lex, get me petri dishes with all six types of media. They’re in that bin—over there.” Valkerie motioned with her free hand.
“But we’ve got to talk to them now. All three of us.”
“They’ll have to wait.” Lex handed Valkerie a stack of petri dishes, and Valkerie dealt them out onto the bench under the hood. “We’ve got what may have been a wet sample.”
“Of course it’s wet. Kennedy sprayed you down,” Bob said.
“See the way the clay was pressed into the crease?” Lex said. “It was wet before the spray. And it’s clay. Do you know what that means?”
Bob looked at the EVA suit on the bench, clearly skeptical. “It’s been sitting in the lockers for more than a week. A few more minutes aren’t going to make any difference.”
“Bob is right.” Valkerie lit a Bunsen burner and started sterilizing her equipment. “Lex, go with him and tell them Kennedy made a pass at me and got mad when I said no. Tell them it’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? Have you seen yourself in a mirror?”
Valkerie looked up from a glowing platinum loop. “What if this turns out positive? What if we really are infected by an indigenous bug? Do you want to stay here for the rest of your life?”
Lex stared at the wand in Valkerie’s hand. “Maybe ...” Her voice choked. “Maybe that would be the best thing. I mean, what if it made Kennedy crazy? Would you want that ... for people on Earth?”
Valkerie swallowed back the brick in her throat and flamed down the petri dishes on the bench until the autoclave tape across their tops charred. A lot was riding on this sampling. The last thing she could afford was contamination.
“Speaking of crazy”—Lex shifted from one foot to another—“just how well did you tie Kennedy up? Most of our food supply is in there with him. The Hampster isn’t exactly known for being a good loser.”
Valkerie scooped a bit of clay and broke it into a sterile solution of media. “You don’t think he’d actually do anything to the food? He has to eat too.”
Lex shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I’d feel a lot better if he was somewhere we could keep an eye on him.”
“No way.” Bob sounded adamant. “You didn’t see him. I’m not letting Kennedy come within two hundred yards of Valkerie. Or you.”
“I don’t know if I like the idea of him being there all alone.” Valkerie dipped a sterile spreader in the solution and spread it across the agar in one of the petri dishes. “What if something happens to him?”
“Maybe if we rigged up some of our cameras so we could watch him?”
Bob gave Lex a slow nod. “Not a bad idea.” He climbed up on a chair and started to unscrew a camera from the wall. “We could use a transmitter to send back the video.”
“If he doesn’t attack us while we’re working.” Valkerie raised a hand to her swollen face.
Lex shot an incredulous look at Bob.
“You didn’t see him.” Bob’s expression turned grim. “He was an animal. Maybe we should give him a day to cool off. We can risk a visit tomorrow when he’s not expecting us. Just Lex and me. Sorry, Valkerie. But I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
* * *
Wednesday, March 25, 7:30 p.m., CST
Nate
Nate sat perched on his chair, his eyes closed. This could not be happening. It just could not—
“She’s lying.”
Nate knew Cathe was right, but he didn’t want to admit it.
But Cathe wasn’t giving up. “First she was claiming Kennedy was trying to kill her. Then she said everything’s just fine?”
Josh paced back and forth like a cougar on uppers.
Nate tried his most fatherly tone. “It’s not your fault, Josh. We got here as soon as we could.”
“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t soon enough.” Josh’s mouth twisted. “I should have known. I should have come straight here when I first suspected.”
“Listen”—Cathe stepped forward—“we still don’t know that Kennedy did anything. Valkerie’s sick. She could have been having another hallucination.”
“Hunter, keep hailing the Ares 7,” Nate said. “I want to know why nobody’s answering the phone.”
Dr. Frazier tugged at his goatee. “Or it could have been Kennedy that was having the hallucination. If Mr. Bennett is right and Commander Hampton is suffering from a delusional disorder—which is an unproven assumption—then his illness could have triggered an extreme episode. Either way it was unwise to allow Dr. Ohta and Dr. Kaganovski to leave them alone in that Hab.”
“You agreed to it!” Nate turned to the shrinks, who were jabbering among themselves in low voices. “Abrams! I need an opinion here. Could a fever cause someone to become violent?”
“It isn’t usually—”
“This isn’t usual.” Nate wanted to throw something. Maybe even a shrink. “The whole crew has been exhibiting erratic behavior for weeks. Valkerie and Kennedy have both been sick for days and almost died. Could that make them crazy?”
“Crazy is poor nomen—”
Nate swore at him, then stood up and pounded his fist on the table. “Just answer the question. Could a fever make them crazy?”
“That’s not the real question.” Josh said.
Exasperated, Nate him. “Fine. So what’s the real question?”
“If Kennedy was already crazy, could everything else make him even worse?”
Abrams took off his glasses and stared up at the ceiling lights through the thick lenses. “Under normal circumstances, a person with a delusional disorder can function quite normally—unlike, for example, schizophrenics. Typically, they experience episodes that may last some weeks, but usually not violent episodes.”
“What about someone scared out of their mind?” Cathe said. “Someone hallucinatory due to illness. And stressed out of their gourd. Could they go violent?”
Abrams put his glasses back on and studied Cathe. “All the conditions necessary for murder are met if you shut two men in a cabin and leave them together for two months.”
“What?”
Abrams shook his head. “I read that a long time ago—I forget where.”
“Houston, this is Ares 7, and I hope you copy. This is Bob calling from base camp.”
Everyone turned to stare at the speakers. Jake Hunter cranked up the volume.
“Uh, Houston, this is Bob and Lex checking in. We went out on a field trip to the site of the biosample find, as you requested. Lex dug out the entrance to the cave and found strong signs of water. Looks like a thermal vent was feeding that a
rea where Valkerie found the stromatolite. Lex spotted another specimen farther in but didn’t take any samples. I’m handing off for her to report.”
“Hey, guys, this is Lex. I’ll keep this short and sweet. The cave is fed by at least two areothermal sources of steam. Until Valkerie and I unsealed it last week, it formed a relatively warm and moist microclimate. Our next foray will try to determine if there are any viable life‑forms in the cave itself. Bob and I ... came back a little early today. Here’s Bob again.”
Silence for a moment.
“It’s only 3:30 p.m. on Mars.” Cathe nodded to Nate. “They quit way early today.”
“This is Bob again. Sorry for the mix‑up there, I didn’t realize Lex was going to hand off so quick.” Another pause. “Uh ... right. Valkerie is doing real good now. She’s in the lab just ... you know, working away. Biology‑type stuff. We’d put her on right now, but she’s kind of busy and doesn’t want to bother. The ... uh, the Hampster is over at the other Hab. I dropped him off in the rover and he’ll be doing some testing. That’s ... uh, pretty much all. Josh, Valkerie asked me to just say once again that we ... you know, we love you and all, and we’re glad you’re in charge down there, and she said to tell you—”
A burst of static cut off Bob’s voice. Three‑beats‑per‑second static.
Hunter turned down the volume and scrambled to adjust the controls.
Cathe stepped to his side. “I want a copy of this white noise as soon as you can get it to me.”
Nate drummed his fingers on the table. “This static came at an awfully convenient time.”
“They’re hiding something.” Abrams looked positively constipated.
Nate turned to stare at him. “No kidding. What was your first clue?” He ignored Abrams’ scowl and turned to the others. “I want some ideas, people. What’s going on up there?”