by John Olson
Bob put his hand on hers and squeezed. “Maybe not.”
Chapter Twenty
Thursday, March 26, 8:30 p.m., CST
Josh
“I’M SORRY, CATHE, IT’S NOT you at all.” Josh turned onto NASA Road One and stepped on the gas. “I’m just ... I don’t know. I’m just not very good company tonight. Maybe dinner isn’t such a good idea.”
Cathe shifted in her seat to face him. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it. But it is late and you have to eat. Let’s just pick up Chinese. We can eat it at my place.”
At her... ? Josh turned to give her what he hoped was a casual glance.
“So we can talk.” She returned his gaze with earnest frankness. “Something’s been bothering you all day. I can tell. If you feel like talking about it, I’m here to listen. And if you don’t, well, that’s fine too. That’ll just give me more time to bore you with the details of my CommSat investigation.”
Josh considered the invitation. He probably shouldn’t. It wasn’t fair to inflict his foul mood on Cathe. They still hadn’t heard from Valkerie and Kennedy, and they’d been hailing for twenty‑four hours. He pulled into the right lane and flicked on his turn signal.
“Well?” Cathe flashed him a pixie smile.
“Is Hidden Wok all right?” Josh turned at the entrance to the restaurant and pulled into a parking space.
“It’s perfect. Stay right here. I know just the thing.” Cathe stepped out of the car and glided toward the entrance. Hopping onto the sidewalk, skipping aside to let an elderly Asian couple pass—Josh couldn’t take his eyes off her. Every move was like a finely choreographed dance. Poetry springing to life before his eyes.
Josh looked around the parking lot to see if anyone else was watching. How had he been so blind for so many months? She’d been right under his nose all this time, and he’d never even noticed. He leaned back in his seat and pressed his palms to his eyes. Because he’d been trying to keep his friends alive. Because his criminal stupidity had almost killed them. Would have killed them if it weren’t for Cathe and her computer simulations. And he had written her off as a cold‑fish engineer.
The irony was overwhelming. He, the one with a soul as cold and black as coal, he had written her off. Thank God she hadn’t given up on him. Yet. But he still had to make it through dinner. And how was he supposed to be suave and charming when he was exhausted and cold and empty—when his best friends in the universe were probably dead or dying because of something he had set in motion fifteen months ago?
The car door jolted open and Cathe slid into the passenger seat, holding up two enormous bags.
“Josh, what’s wrong?” She shut the door and turned to him.
“Nothing. I just ...” He faced forward and started the car. “I just don’t think this is a good idea. I’m really tired and—”
Cathe placed a hand on his. “Please. Just say it. Tell me the truth. Don’t worry about hurting me. I can handle it.”
He turned suddenly.
Her eyes brimmed with tears—her lips were pressed together in fearful expectation.
“Cathe, no.” He took her by both hands. “It’s not you. It’s ... You’ve got to believe me. Valkerie and Kennedy. We haven’t heard from either of them since this time yesterday. And Bob ... I know something’s wrong, but he can’t say anything—because of my message. My warning. Cathe, don’t you see?” He stared at her, his throat constricting around the next words even as he forced them out. “I killed them. As sure as if I were there and pulled the trigger.”
Cathe’s arms eased around him, pulling him close, urging him to rest his head on her shoulder.
He didn’t resist.
“It’s okay. Let it go. It’s not your fault. It’s okay.”
He abandoned himself to the sweet softness of her voice. Gradually he relaxed, trusting more and more of his weight to her slender frame.
She swayed back and forth, stroking his back, running her fingers gently through his hair. “It’s not your fault. You got them all the way to Mars. If it weren’t for you they would have died on the flight. I’ve heard their transmissions. They love you. They owe you their lives and they know it.”
Josh pulled back reluctantly and swiped a sleeve across his face. “But the explosion. What if it was the straw that finally broke Kennedy? He attacked Valkerie. You heard the transmission.”
“Kennedy is sick with a terrible fever. A Martian fever. You can’t blame yourself for that. And Bob says Valkerie’s working in the lab. I think he’s telling the truth. I think she’s working right now to isolate the disease—a Martian disease—that didn’t have anything to do with your little explosion. You’ve got to learn to forgive yourself. This guilt thing is driving you crazy. You’ve got to let it go.”
“But I am guilty.”
“Josh, we’re all guilty”—she gave his hands a shake—“of something. The difference is, you care. You really, really care. That’s the important thing. That’s the reason I ...”
Josh looked at her.
She lowered her eyes. Her grip tightened and she took a deep breath and held it. Finally, she looked up. Her eyes were liquid and bright, glowing with emotions more intense than he’d ever dreamed possible.
“I—” Her voice choked off. “Josh, I ... I never was very good at talking about ... feelings.”
Josh forced the words out in a whisper. “I love you too.” He wrapped Cathe in his arms and lowered his head to hers, letting their first kiss linger, savoring it.
When he pulled back, he cupped her face with trembling hands. He smiled down at her. “You don’t need to say a thing. Your eyes say more than a billion words could ever express.”
* * *
Thursday, March 26, 4:00 p.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
Valkerie looped a cord around the locking mechanism of the outer airlock door and ran it back to the inner door, tying it to the wheel lock with knot after knot. There. Kennedy thought she was dead, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She sank down onto the airlock floor, leaning the backpack of her EVA suit against the wall.
Her throat tightened and a gurgling cough exploded inside her helmet. Her mouth and throat burned. Her lungs seemed to be filled with liquid fire. If Kennedy had hesitated for ten more seconds she would have been a goner. As it was, she’d barely had enough time to get downstairs and find her helmet and gloves. She cleared her throat and coughed again. It had been terribly risky, but her gamble had paid off. Kennedy was outside, and she was inside. That’s all that mattered—for now. She checked the gauge on her DCM. Five more hours of life support. Five more hours to come up with a plan.
“Lex? I know you’re listening.” Kennedy’s forlorn voice sounded in Valkerie’s ears. “Bob is a killer. I had to take the rover. If I’d let him get his hands on me, first time your back was turned, he would have finished me off. Remember who set off the bomb. Think about it. That’s all I’m asking. If Bob hadn’t turned Valkerie against me, Valkerie never would have killed herself. He drove her to it. It’s his fault. Right? Lex, are you there?”
Silence.
Lex wouldn’t dignify Kennedy with a response, if she was even listening. More likely she was consoling Bob. Valkerie placed a gloved finger on her transmitter switch. No, she couldn’t. As much as it hurt her to know that Lex and Bob were suffering, she couldn’t break radio silence and let Kennedy know she was still alive. She tested the cords she’d strung from hatch to hatch, wondering if they’d even hold. She had to think of something. Before Kennedy came back.
But what could she do? Bob and Lex didn’t have EVA suits in the Ares 10. They had gone over there in street clothes, hot‑docking the rover at both ends. There was no way they could get to her—unless Kennedy offered them a ride. She could forget that option. That left her with only two choices: She could repair the Ares 7 porthole and repressurize the Hab from the reserves, or she could try to get to the Ares 10.
To repair the porthole was to risk disc
overy. Even if she was careful, Kennedy would notice eventually. Then she’d be left alone with him laying siege outside, battering at her door in the middle of the night. No. Better to join Bob and Lex. If she could get across with an extra EVA suit—then maybe they could return to the Ares 7.
Valkerie waited in the airlock, ticking down the time on her life‑support gauge. Kennedy hadn’t transmitted for a long time. Maybe he was in one of the bunks of the rover—lying down or doing whatever he did when he locked himself away in his room. Valkerie pushed herself to her feet and stretched her cramped muscles. She carefully untied each of the knots in the cord, opened the inner hatch, and started fastening Bob’s EVA suit together.
She circled her arms around the bulky suit and tried to lift it. Great. The legs dangled on the floor, tripping her as she tried to move around. Her own suit was bad enough. No way could she run two hundred yards carrying Bob’s suit too. Valkerie fastened Lex’s suit together and hoisted it. It was just about as heavy, but at least the legs didn’t drag. She carried the suit into the airlock and set it on the floor.
Swinging the outer door open, she cautiously peered outside, sweeping the terrain with darting eyes.
The rover stood facing the other direction, about thirty meters away from the Ares 10.
She swung the door open wide, waiting.
Nothing.
Either Kennedy didn’t see her, or he was waiting for her to move away from the door. There was no way to tell which. She had to make a break for it.
If Kennedy isn’t paying attention, I have a chance. She pulled Lex’s suit out onto the stairs and shut the hatch. Then, folding the suit double and wrapping her arms around the PLSS backpack, she staggered down the steps. She turned left immediately and headed off at a right angle to the direction of the rover. If she could just get out of his line of sight and circle around to the Ares 10 ... maybe she could make it without being seen.
Step, step, check the rover. Step, step, check the rover. Valkerie picked her way over the rocky plain in a wide semicircle toward the Ares 10.
Something caught her eye.
She fell on her knees and lay flat on the ground.
The rover rose on its suspension and started to move.
“Kennedy.” Lex’s voice blared inside Valkerie’s helmet. “I, uh, was wondering if you could go back to the Ares 7 ... to look for Valkerie. Uh ... what if Valkerie managed to ... get inside a rescue bubble? What if she’s alive?” Lex’s voice was tense. Nervous.
Lex had seen her. That was the only explanation. Lex had seen her and was trying to send Kennedy off on a wild‑goose chase. Valkerie flattened herself on the ground, praying Kennedy didn’t notice the strain in Lex’s voice.
“She couldn’t have made it.” Kennedy’s words sounded slurred. “I waited for her as long as I could. I barely made it out myself.”
“Kennedy, you’ve got to try!” Lex sounded almost frantic. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but you’ve got to try. If for no other reason than to prove your innocence.”
“Prove myself? To who? Bob? He knows I’m telling the truth. Just can’t admit it. Know why? Because it would just prove he’s the saboteur. He’s the one who’s been trying to kill us all along.” The rover looped in a big half circle and headed slowly for the Ares 7.
Valkerie held her breath.
“Wait a minute!” The sudden suspicion in Kennedy’s voice made Valkerie’s heart pound. “Where’s Bob? Why isn’t he talking?” The rover slowed to a stop.
“I’m right here with Lex, remember?” It was Bob. “Locked in the Ares 10.”
“What’s going on?” Kennedy was clearly getting agitated. “Bob, are you out there? What’d you do? Set another bomb?”
The rover swung slowly around until its nose pointed directly at Valkerie.
An explosion of oaths filled her helmet. The rover leaped forward.
Kennedy had seen her.
She bolted to her feet and ran for the Ares 10, staggering under the weight of Lex’s suit.
“Nice try, Bob, but I see you. What were you going to do? Blow up the rover with me in it?”
Valkerie kept running. Only fifty meters to go. So close.
“Kennedy, that’s not me. It’s Valkerie!” Bob was yelling. “Valkerie, say something. Tell him it’s you!”
She flipped the transmitter switch. “Kennedy, it’s true.” She gasped out the words. “It’s me, Valkerie.” She turned to look back.
The rover was still closing. She wasn’t going to make it.
“Did you really think I’d fall for that one? Face it, Bob. I’m on to you.”
“Kennedy, it’s really me.” She stumbled toward the Hab. “Ask me a question—anything.”
“Nice try, Kaggo. I’ve got tapes too. But mine have—”
“Kennedy, this is Lex. You said you didn’t kill Valkerie. Don’t do this!”
“Valkerie, watch out!”
Valkerie dropped the suit and swung around to face the rover, gauging its speed. Twenty meters. Ten meters. Five. She jumped aside at the last second.
The rover went bumping past.
She took a step toward Lex’s suit, but stopped. Despair grabbed her gut. The rover had run over the helmet. She ran for the Hab.
The rover executed a slow, wide turn.
Twenty more meters, and she was home free.
“Valkerie, he’s right behind you.” The hoarse cry from Lex spurred her on. “Twenty meters, ten ...”
She feinted to her left and jumped to her right.
The rover nicked the back of her left foot and spun her around, throwing her to her hands and knees. Pain shot through her ankle.
She tried to stand, but her ankle wouldn’t take the weight. Valkerie began crawling. Exhaustion surged through her like fire, melting her muscles to water. Too far. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t make it up the steps.
“Valkerie, he’s turning around!” Lex’s voice jolted her. “He’s coming back! Get into the airlock!”
Valkerie collapsed on her face, spent. It was no use. She didn’t have anything left.
* * *
Thursday, March 26, 4:45 p.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
Bob burst into the airlock and slammed the hatch shut behind him. He took a deep breath. This was going to hurt. A lot. Without an EVA suit, the books said he had about eleven seconds. He just had to trust that he wouldn’t need more than that.
Bob punched the button to depressurize and watched the needle swing down toward zero. Just exhale all the way.
His skin began prickling, as though a thousand red‑hot needles were river dancing all over him. Lex began banging on the airlock door, shouting.
Then the air thinned, melting her shouts into silence.
Still exhaling, Bob unlatched the outer door and stepped out into the Martian near‑vacuum. His skin was on fire. Three feet in front of him lay a hazy white blob.
Valkerie.
A much bigger blob was speeding toward him. Thirty meters away. Twenty‑five.
Bob scooped Valkerie into his arms. Her suit burned deep into his skin, but he hugged her tighter.
The rover was still coming. He turned and lunged for the door, rolling Valkerie up the last step and shoving with all his might. He exhaled the last of his air, felt the vacuum clawing his skin. His mind began turning muzzy and the sunlight dimmed to haze.
Darkness began closing in on him. He fell through the hatch and pulled his legs in. Whatever happens, I’m safe.
He groped blindly behind him for the hatch, but the world turned black before his wooden fingers could find it.
* * *
Thursday, March 26, 5:45 p.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
“I don’t care what the books say. That was crazy and you shouldn’t have done it.” Valkerie shook her head and swabbed more lotion on Bob’s face.
Bob couldn’t help smiling. Sure, she sounded angry, but if that wasn’t appreciation glittering in her eyes, he was a Ma
rtian toadstool. And something else shone in those blue depths as well.
“Thanks for shutting the door.”
“Shutting the door?” She glared at him. “You run out into a vacuum to save my life and thank me for shutting a door?” She dabbed another blob of lotion on his neck, using a bit more force than he thought necessary.
Bob winced. His hands and face stung like fire ants had been using him for a buffet. But her touch felt ... nice.
Lex turned from the porthole. “Kennedy just hot‑docked over at the Ares 7. What’s he doing?”
“He can’t go in there without a suit,” Bob said. “And the rover only had two suits. One of mine and one of yours. Neither one is going to fit him.”
“Mine would fit him, sort of.” Lex peered outside again. “Not good! Looks like he did it. There’s a light on in the hab now. Val, that suit you dropped out there—whose was it?”
“Yours.” Valkerie shook her head. “I wanted to bring one for Bob, but it was too awkward to carry. I’m sorry, Lex. Kennedy ran over it.”
“He hit the helmet,” Lex said. “But the suit looks fine. What say you run out there and pick it up? Then if I need to go outside, I could borrow your helmet. That way, both of us will have some mobility.”
“Let me finish with Bob.”
He sat forward. “I’m fine. Really. I probably look a lot worse than I feel.” Which was pretty bad, but he didn’t want to say so. Lex was right. They needed that extra suit.
Valkerie gave him a doubtful look.
Bob tried to smile at her. The skin on his face screamed in protest. “Go get the suit, Valkerie. This may be our last chance. Who knows what Kennedy might do next? If he wrecks all the other suits in the Ares 7, that one out there might be all we have.” Which meant that he wouldn’t have a suit. How was he going to get off the planet?