Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

  Valkerie stood up. “Kennedy’s going to pay for this.”

  Lex grabbed Valkerie’s helmet and set it on her head. “Let’s get you out there before Kennedy decides to go for another joyride.”

  Valkerie and Lex disappeared into the stairwell. A minute later, Bob heard the whoosh of the airlock pumps.

  He lay back in his chair and closed his eyes. His skin felt flayed. And there was no telling what kind of damage the vacuum had done to his lungs. But his rescue had worked ...

  Bob felt his pulse pounding in his temples. If he’d failed ... if Kennedy had gotten to Valkerie first ... He choked back the thought. It was simple. If that had happened, he would have just stayed outside and let the Martian vacuum take him. For half an hour today, he had thought Valkerie was dead. The pain of that was worse than being exposed to the vacuum. He had wanted to die. Then, when Lex spotted Valkerie creeping out from the Hab, he’d been so thrilled he could hardly stand the tension.

  It had been nearly unbearable, watching her flit across the naked Martian plain. His heart had almost stopped as they tried to divert Kennedy’s attention.

  The airlock pumps whined into action downstairs.

  Good, Valkerie was back. Bob waited, holding his breath.

  Lex hollered something.

  He bolted upright, then tried to ease himself out of his chair.

  Footsteps pounded up the metal staircase.

  Lex burst into the commons waving aloft a battered helmet. “Look at this! Whoever designed this thing at AresCorp gets a medal. Bend, but don’t break! Wooo‑hooo!”

  Bob stared at the helmet. The visor had a series of cracks down the front, but the helmet looked intact.

  A minute later, Valkerie clomped up the stairs in her EVA suit. “It’s a miracle!”

  Bob grinned. “Actually, if you think about it, it does make sense. That’s a six‑ton rover on Earth, but in Martian gravity, it’s not much over two tons. It’s got eight wheels, so each one bears about five hundred pounds. I can believe—”

  “Will you just shut up and enjoy the miracle?” Lex grabbed a roll of duct tape. “Now observe the Jedi Master wield the power of the Force. It has a light side and a dark side—and it binds the universe together.”

  Thirty minutes later, Lex had given the helmet a meticulous cleaning and a triple layer of duct tape. “Good as new”—she held it up to admire her handiwork—”and as opaque as one of Nate’s metaphors.” She handed it to Valkerie. “Let’s just test it, shall we?”

  Valkerie set it gently on her head, latched it down tight, and flicked on her life‑support system. “Comm check, Valkerie.”

  Bob grabbed the mike from the CommConsole. “Loud and clear. Comm check, Bob.”

  “Loud and clear.” Valkerie switched off her life support again, then detached the helmet and lifted it off. She shook her amber mane.

  Bob felt a shiver deep in his gut. She’s beautiful. And she’s alive.

  “Can’t see a thing inside it, though. It’s not going to be much use.”

  Lex smiled at Valkerie. “We’ll figure out something.” She stepped to the porthole and gazed out. “Guys, we’re going to have to powwow. It’s gonna be dark in a couple hours. When the sun goes down, we need to go on the warpath.”

  “What are you talking about?” Suddenly Bob felt exhausted.

  “We’re going after him,” Lex said. “He’s got the rover, remember? We’ve only got two EVA suits and no comm with Houston. We have water and a big stash of food, but Kennedy could cut our power cable any time he feels like it. Staying here long‑term is impossible.”

  She turned to meet their gazes, determination gleaming in her eyes.

  “Tonight we take back the Ares 7.”

  * * *

  After a truly tasteless supper of freeze‑dried vegetables and some kind of mystery meat—Kennedy had always called it “reconstituted varmint”—Valkerie and Bob sat down at the conference table.

  Lex went to the porthole. “Our first objective is to take the rover. And we need to do it soon. That dust storm is gonna be here in a few more days.”

  Bob studied her. “Why isn’t the Ares 7 our objective?”

  “Without the rover, we’re dead,” Lex said. “Anyway, we need it in order to take the Ares 7. It’s docked to the Hab, which means we can’t even get in until we undock it. Once we undock it, we own it unless Kennedy goes back in there, which I doubt. If he does, then we own the Hab and we fight for the rover.”

  Valkerie folded her arms across her chest. “I ... don’t want to fight him.”

  Lex’s gaze hardened. “Sister, we fight him or we die. It’s him or us now. All other things being equal, I’d rather it was us.”

  Bob reached out and took Valkerie’s hand. “She’s right.”

  “There’s got to be another way,” Valkerie said. “I don’t want to hurt him—”

  “He tried to kill you today.” Lex turned back to the porthole and peered out. “He’s not sane anymore. He isn’t the friend I knew and trained with back in Houston. We are going to fight him and we are going to win. If we can win by disabling him, fine. If we have to kill him—” Lex froze.

  Bob spun his head to look.

  She pointed through the tiny window. “The light shining out of the Ares 7 porthole just went dark.”

  “He’s probably welding a sheet of metal over the porthole I broke.” Valkerie moved to stand beside Lex and peer outside.

  “I can’t believe he broke the glass in the inner airlock door,” Lex said. “It’s crazy. It makes the airlock totally unusable.”

  Bob shook his head. “Unusable without the rover.”

  “Which is why we need the rover.” Lex turned to face them. “Without that, he can’t even exit the Ares 7—unless he wants to vent the whole Hab every time he walks outside.”

  “Who knows what he wants,” Bob said. “Anyway, if he’s fixing the porthole on the top floor, he’ll probably figure out a way to patch the airlock door too, then he won’t need the rover to get outside.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going to let him dictate the battle. We need to strike fast. I would like to move out tonight, but we need to rest, and this will take some planning. Tomorrow we’re taking the war to his turf.”

  “But how?” Bob leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t got a suit. And we’ve only got one good helmet between the two of you.”

  Lex gave him a crafty smile. “Valkerie and I attack the rover at dawn. If he’s in it, we overpower him. If he’s in the Hab, we take the rover, come back for you, and then all of us go back and attack Kennedy while he’s sleeping.”

  Valkerie turned troubled eyes on Bob.

  He squeezed her hand. “We’re not going to hurt him. The real problem is this: How are we going to get into that rover? It’s only got one door, and right now that’s docked to the Ares 7.”

  Lex went to the DVD library, selected a jewel case, and handed it to Bob. “You are going to study the manual. Your mission, whether you decide to accept it or not, is to figure out how to undock the rover using tools Valkerie and I can carry.”

  Bob popped the DVD into the computer. “And what are you two going to do while I look for a miracle?”

  “Sleep.” Lex rolled her shoulders. “Tomorrow’s a big day.” She turned and headed for her quarters.

  Valkerie stood and followed her, but halfway across the room, she turned, came back, and planted a light kiss on Bob’s forehead.

  It burned like fire for the next hour, but somehow, Bob didn’t mind at all.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Friday, March 27, 5:30 a.m., Mars Local Time

  Valkerie

  “VALKERIE, WAKE UP. QUICK!”

  VALKERIE staggered out of bed. “What? Is it Kennedy?” She spun around, searching the shadows.

  A dark figure stood in her doorway.

  “Bob?” Valkerie backed into the wall and felt along the surface of her desk. The hammer. Where’d she leave the hammer?r />
  “It’s okay. Valkerie, it’s okay.” Bob’s voice sounded soothing, gentle. “You’re safe. Kennedy’s not here. But something’s happening. Lex wanted me to get you right away. The Hampster’s transmitting on the radio.”

  Valkerie followed Bob to the CommConsole.

  Lex was standing at the porthole, searching the dark glass with both hands cupped around her eyes. Kennedy’s amplified voice broke through the static.

  “I mean it. Get away from the Hab or I’ll blow it up! Hear me? Hear me?”

  “Who’s he talking to?” Valkerie asked.

  Bob looked to Lex. “Anything new?”

  “As far as I can tell, he thinks he’s talking to you, Bob.” Lex didn’t turn from the porthole. “Thinks you’re outside, banging on the walls. Apparently, he’s—”

  A faint metallic clank sounded through the radio. “Bob, I’m warning you. I’ll blow it up. If I go, you go too. Do you hear me? Answer me.”

  “Blow what up?” Valkerie stepped closer to the radio. She could barely make out footsteps, rustling noises—Kennedy moving around the room.

  Lex stepped back from the porthole. “I don’t know. At first I thought he was talking about the Hab, but now I’m not sure. I heard glass breaking a minute ago.”

  “Maybe he’s talking about the bacteria cultures.” Bob turned to Valkerie. “Is there anything in the lab he could make a bomb with? You know, chemicals he could mix together?”

  Valkerie ran through the lab’s inventory in her mind. “Sure, but I doubt he would need to with all the hydrogen left in the fuel‑cell tanks.”

  “Maybe I should talk to him.” Bob picked up the microphone.

  A hollow‑sounding boom crackled over the radio. A burst of angry shouting faded to static.

  Bob stared at Valkerie. “What was that?”

  “Sounds like he ran out of the room.”

  Bob poised a hand over the transmitter switch. “Do I call him or not?”

  Lex raised her hand. “One more minute.”

  Something tickled at the back of Valkerie’s mind. “That noise. It was kind of like the sound of the rover docking with the Hab.”

  Footsteps pounded over the radio. A sharp clack. “Bob, I’m warning you. Come back!” Kennedy’s voice wavered hysterically. “Don’t leave me here. Come back and face me like a man! Come back right now, or I’ll ... I’ll ...” More footsteps.

  “I don’t get it. First he’s yelling for Bob to go away, then he wants him to come back.” Lex looked at Valkerie with a shrug. She pressed her face to the porthole. “What the—”

  “What? What’s happening?” Valkerie crowded in close behind Lex and tried to peer around her head.

  “See for yourself.” Lex stepped aside. “I don’t know what he’s doing, but he’s up to something.”

  Valkerie shaded her eyes and looked out into the dark night.

  Twin beams of light moved slowly over the rocky terrain. She could just make out the shape of the rover in the back‑reflected light.

  “Bob, it’s the rover. He’s driving it toward the nuclear reactor.”

  “Bob, I’m serious.” Kennedy whined. “Bring back the rover and I’ll give you the Hab. You can’t take it by force. I’ll blow it up before you get halfway in.”

  “Cut the radio,” Lex ordered.

  Bob flipped a switch and the Hab went silent.

  “You know what he’s up to?” Bob asked.

  Lex shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. This may be our best chance to take back the Hab.”

  “But why the little radio drama? Why pretend the rover was stolen? It doesn’t make sense.” Valkerie moved away from the porthole and offered Bob a chance to look out.

  Bob shook his head. “I think the Hampster, in his own demented way, is trying to convince us he’s still guarding the Ares 7.”

  “What if it’s a trap? What if he’s driving the rover by remote control?” Valkerie asked.

  “He can’t,” Bob said. “I changed all the computer passwords in the Hab yesterday. He can’t access the rover‑remote program. He’s got to be in the rover to drive it, but it doesn’t make any sense why he’s trying to draw attention to himself like this. Why didn’t he just drive off quietly?”

  “It makes about as much sense as wasting time trying to understand the actions of a madman.” Lex moved toward the stairwell and turned at the hatch. “Bob, you keep watch at the porthole. Call us on local the minute you see Kennedy coming back. Valkerie and I are going to take back the Ares 7 and get a suit for you.”

  Valkerie followed Lex down the stairs. They donned their EVA suits without a word, checking and rechecking Lex’s suit for leaks.

  Lex pulled her helmet off and led the way to the shop. “As soon as I put my helmet back on, I won’t be able to see. You’ll have to lead me by the hand.” She grabbed a piece of pipe from the bench. One end of it had been hammered flat and sharpened into a wicked‑looking blade. “If Kennedy jumps out while I still have my helmet on, use this. Bob made it overnight.” Lex put the pipe dagger in Valkerie’s hand and picked up a crowbar from the bench.

  Valkerie tried to imagine herself using the knife. Even thinking about it made her sick. She set the knife back down on the bench. “I don’t think I could. How about we trade helmets? You take my helmet—and the knife.”

  Lex nodded, grim‑faced, and handed over her helmet, then stepped out of the shop and over to the stairwell hatch.

  “Okay, Bob. Is the coast clear?” Lex called up the stairs. “Valkerie and I are ready to go.”

  “No sign of Kennedy. Be careful!”

  “No communications unless it’s an absolute emergency,” Lex shouted back. “We’ll be listening on local.” She headed into the airlock.

  Valkerie followed, desperately trying to think of something she could say. One parting message—just in case it would be her last.

  “Yank on my arm if you have any problems. One time if you need me to slow down and twice if the helmet springs a leak.” Lex put her own helmet on and nodded impatiently.

  Valkerie swallowed hard as she placed the taped helmet over her head.

  Darkness.

  * * *

  Step after weary step, Valkerie plodded across the uneven terrain. Stumbling over rocks, tripping and falling to her knees, she clung tight to Lex’s hand. If they got separated, if something happened to Lex, there was no way she’d be able to find her way to either Hab. Her breath roared in her ears. It felt like she had been walking for miles. Was Lex lost? Had she missed the Ares 7 in the dark?

  Lex pulled her hand away.

  Teetering in the darkness, Valkerie groped forward with outstretched hands. She felt dizzy, like she was going to fall. Her hand brushed against something and she grabbed it. An upright post. She pulled herself forward. Stairs. They had made it.

  Lex took her by the hand and guided her up the stairs with a reassuring pat.

  Valkerie stepped forward until she came to a wall. She held her breath, waiting.

  A low rush sounded all around her. A loud snap at her neck. Her helmet turned and lifted off her head. Lex’s face appeared close, with a finger to her lips.

  Valkerie examined the inner hatch.

  The broken glass had been covered with a large metal plate, crudely welded to the steel hatch.

  The locking mechanism squeaked as Lex twisted open the hatch wheel. Pushing the door wide, Lex stepped inside, leaning forward in a low crouch. Her long blade swept back and forth, feeling its way through the darkness.

  Valkerie followed, gripping her crowbar tight in both hands. Through the suit room and into the corridor beyond.

  Lex raised her hand.

  Valkerie froze.

  A throaty hiss echoed in the dark. A rumbling moan, low and guttural, like the growl of a large dog.

  Valkerie put her hand on Lex’s shoulder and pointed. The sound was coming from the lab.

  * * *

  Friday, March 27, 11:00 a.m., CST

 
Nate

  Nate sipped at his steaming coffee cup and looked around the war room. “Things are looking pretty bad back in D.C. right now. I spent yesterday morning on the phone with the vice president and all afternoon trying to talk to the Senate Finance chairman. Guess who’s screaming like a wounded banshee over the budget to run that resupply mission?”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Cathe Willison said. “How do you wound a banshee?”

  “More to the point, why do we need to pursue the resupply mission?” Josh said. “We’re pretty sure we’re out of the woods on the back‑contamination thing.”

  “Pretty sure ain’t a hundred percent sure,” Nate said. “And anyway, it’ll put a muzzle on that Bactamination woman. There’s already a backlash against her in yesterday’s Washington Post. But until we can nail down the source of the crew’s infection, we have to proceed with plans for the resupply shot, even if we’re 99.99 percent sure we won’t need it. It’s a long pipeline, schedule‑wise, and if we break it now, we lose that option for good. Which brings us to the next question. What do we know and what do we not know about the good ship Ares 7?”

  “It’s been almost forty hours since Bob and Lex last called in,” Jake Hunter said. “Since then, they haven’t responded to our hailing. They’re purposely ignoring us.”

  “You know for sure it’s not a glitch in the Deep Space Network?” Nate asked.

  Hunter nodded. “CommSat 1 and CommSat 2 both report fine on all diagnostics. We’ve got fresh photos showing that dust storm moving north. It’ll reach the Hab tomorrow or the day after.”

  Nate clicked his ball‑point pen several times. “What about that static problem? Any recurrences?”

  “The usual,” Hunter said. “Once or twice per eight‑hour shift, usually for about fifteen minutes. But it’s intermittent. We haven’t found a pattern on the schedule yet.”

  “Well, find it!” Nate snapped.

  Hunter’s face hardened and he bit his lip.

  Cathe Willison leaned forward. “I’ve installed an analysis program on both CommSats to try to dig some Doppler info out of the data rates in the static signal. The programs are running and collecting data, but no luck yet.”