by John Olson
His tired eyes scanned down the list of twenty unread messages. The last one caught his eye. An urgent message from [email protected]. Sent all of about twenty minutes ago. Josh double‑clicked on the subject line.
Josh:
I know I should be working now, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I tossed and turned all night. I wouldn’t have slept at all but for the hope that you would fill my dreams like you’ve filled my every waking thought. Please, Josh, I desperately need to see you. Something urgent has come up. Can you meet me in the cafeteria right away? I love you so much,
C.
Josh leaned back in his chair, stunned. Was this the Cathe he knew? Yow! The more he got to know her the more astonishing she became. How many hidden facets did she have? He password‑locked his computer and swept out of his office, flinging the door shut behind him.
* * *
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual noon craziness. Josh swept his eyes across the room. Where was Cathe? He looked at his watch. She’d sent the e‑mail twenty‑five minutes ago. Had he missed her? He ambled among the tables, scanning. No Cathe.
He saw a long table of engineers—some of the hotshot engineers in the Mission Evaluation Room. The kids in MER did essential support for Flight Control, and most of them would probably be working in the FCR someday. Cathe had spent two years in MER and had to know most of them.
Josh moseyed over to their table to ask if they’d seen her.
And as he came within earshot, their table suddenly got quiet. Real quiet.
Like they’d been talking about him.
“Hey, guys. Any of you seen Cathe Willison?” Josh said.
They shook their heads, the whole line of them looking guilty as sin.
“Well, uh, thanks.” Josh felt his face burning. Had Nate and Perez already spilled the beans about his confession? They had told Dr. Frazier, and probably Abrams, and who else? A secret like that, well, once it got out, wildfire wouldn’t touch it. Another couple of days and everybody would know.
Josh felt like he’d swallowed a lead brick. He’d spent the last year trying not to face the music. Now he was about to get hit with the whole orchestra, like it or not. He whirled and hurried toward the nearest exit. Who was watching him now? Smirking behind their hands? Whispering to their tablemates?
Heard the scut on Bennett? Bombed his own crew—can you believe it? What kind of a jerk would do that?
Josh burst outside and rushed toward the solitude of the duck ponds. This was the beginning of the purgatory he’d created for himself. The purgatory he deserved. Josh sat down on a bench and closed his eyes. What if that’s why Cathe had split early? People knew she and Josh were an item. What if she’d been caught in the rumor‑mill grinder too? The averted eyes, the offhand questions. It was too much for a girl to take. He wouldn’t blame her if she dumped him then and there. Minutes dragged by—how many, he couldn’t tell. What was he going to do? He ought to resign. But he couldn’t. Bob and Lex needed him. Valkerie and Kennedy too, if they were still alive. There was no way he could leave them hanging, even if it meant walking through fire.
But Cathe was a different story. Even if she still wanted him, did he have the right to drag her down with him? She had such a bright future ahead of her. The last thing she needed at this point in her career was to be pinned under the hot lens of NASA scrutiny. But he couldn’t just let her go. Not after her last e‑mail. Besides, she’d said she needed to talk to him. Maybe she’d been caught at her office.
Josh stood up and strode toward Building 30, checking his watch. Almost 1:00. He only had a few minutes till he was supposed to be on duty. Cathe wasn’t working console this afternoon, so she’d probably be in her office by now—if she wasn’t in the cafeteria waiting for him. What did she need to tell him that was so urgent anyway? He raced into 30A and ran up the stairs. At the third floor, he flew out of the stairwell and dashed down the hall to Cathe’s office.
The door was locked.
He punched in the five‑button combination and pushed open the door.
The room was empty.
Footsteps padding down the hallway behind him.
“Looking for somebody?”
Josh spun around. “Cathe! I ... I looked for you in the cafeteria, but you weren’t there. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“The cafeteria?” She gave him a half‑puzzled, half‑exasperated look. “I was there to meet someone, but it turned out to be a really weird mistake.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have waited longer, but I thought ...” Josh shrugged. “I thought you might not want to be seen with me.”
“Wouldn’t want to be seen with you?” Cathe’s eyes blazed. “What gave you that idea?”
“Word’s out that I bombed the Ares 10.”
“So?”
“So ...” Josh took a deep breath. Cathe didn’t seem that bothered by the news. Of course she wasn’t. Just because he was a shallow, self‑centered toad, didn’t mean everyone else was too. “So didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?”
Cathe looked at him like he was losing his mind. “Am I supposed to?”
“You said ...”
“Oh yeah.” Cathe disappeared into her office and came back with a manila folder. “This is the list of transits Nate asked for. I thought you’d want to see it first. Turns out they have just enough delta‑V for an October transit.”
Josh took the offered folder without looking at it. “That’s what you—”
“Oops, gotta run.” Cathe glanced at her watch and bolted out the door. “Catch you in the FCR. EECOM asked me to bring her some data.”
Josh stared after her as she hurried down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.
What had just happened?
* * *
Friday, March 27, 7:30 a.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
Bob peered out through the porthole at the party of three, now a hundred meters from his Hab.
Kennedy staggered along in an overly large suit—they’d made him wear one of Bob’s. He wore the duct‑taped helmet. Valkerie led him by the hand. His ragged breath hissed over the radio channel.
“Keep walking,” Lex said. “Val, keep him at arm’s length. Don’t let him get too close. One false move, buddy, and I put this spike right through your oxygen tank.”
“Please ...” Kennedy stopped.
“Move,” Lex said. “You stop again and it’ll be your last time.”
Kennedy shuffled forward.
Valkerie hadn’t said anything since they left the Ares 7. Bob wondered what she was thinking. Which was crazy, because he’d never had a clue what she was thinking. Not really. He was as different from her as she was from Kennedy.
“Kaggo, you watching us?” Lex waved her sharpened club up at the porthole.
“Roger dodger,” Bob said into the mike. “Careful with that samurai sword of yours. I’d sure hate to meet you in a dark alley, RoboLex. Valkerie, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded tight, controlled. The voice she used when she was scared and trying not to show it.
It took another five minutes to cover the ground to the Hab. Bob went downstairs and prepared the airlock. He grabbed a rubber mallet and hefted it. Just let Kennedy try any funny business and Bob would whack him into next Tuesday.
Valkerie led the way into the airlock, holding Kennedy’s hand to guide him up the steps. Bob flinched. Lex followed them in, pressing the sharpened edge of her club against Kennedy’s oxygen pack.
Bob pressed the button to shut the outer door, then pressurized the airlock. When the needle stopped moving, he spun the wheel and yanked open the door.
Valkerie stepped out, her helmet already off, tears standing in her eyes.
“Valkerie, are you okay?” Bob said.
She nodded vaguely and walked over to her locker. Kennedy just stood there, blind, unmoving.
“Move forward slowly,” Lex said. She still wore
her helmet.
Kennedy fumbled for his helmet. “I can’t see.”
“I’ll get it.” Bob stepped forward.
“Stay back and let him do it.” Lex prodded him with her club. “Kennedy, I’m right behind you and Bob’s in front of you with a hammer in his hand. So you move real slow and take the helmet off like it was made of eggshells. You try anything, and I take your head off.”
“Bob, talk to her!” Kennedy’s voice sounded pathetic, childish. He found the latch at his neck and nudged it free. He eased the helmet off his head and held it out to Bob, blinking rapidly. “Tell her to back off, Bob! I didn’t do anything to her. She’s the one who stole the rover. Talk some sense into her head.”
Bob grabbed the helmet and put it in a locker. He stepped back and motioned to Kennedy to follow him. “Take off the suit.”
“Bob, I’m really tired.” Kennedy’s breath was coming in short jags. He staggered into the room and plopped onto a bench. “Can you ... give me a hand with this?”
Valkerie nodded. “Lex made him do push‑ups till he dropped.” Her face clouded over and she looked back down at the floor.
Lex stood in the doorway, her helmet off now, her face a mask of iron. “He can take it off himself.” She hefted her club and handed Bob the spare helmet she’d brought. “Five minutes, Kennedy.”
“Bob, somebody stole the rover,” Valkerie said.
“I saw.”
“It can’t be far,” Lex said. “Kennedy had to walk all the way back to the Hab.”
Kennedy leaned forward and let gravity pull the upper half of his suit off. “I ... didn’t ... take ... the rover.”
Bob wrinkled his nose. When was the last time Kennedy had taken a shower? He smelled pretty gamy. And that was Bob’s suit he’d stunk up, the little creep.
“If you didn’t, then who did?” Lex said. “All three of us stood up here and watched that rover drive off. And all the while, you were yakking on and on about Bob. What kind of game are you playing?”
Kennedy lay down on the floor and closed his eyes. “I didn’t ... not playing a game.”
Lex smacked the wall. “Move!”
Kennedy squirmed forward out of the pants of the EVA suit.
Thankfully, he was wearing his own LCG. If he’d worn one of mine, that would be just too disgusting for words. “What did you do with the rover?” Bob said.
Kennedy glared up at him. “What did you do with the rover?”
“Time to tell the truth.” Lex swung her club in a semicircle, letting the blunt middle of it thud into her left hand.
“Um ... guys?” Valkerie said. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but ... I think he is telling the truth.”
Bob turned to stare at her.
Lex sighed impatiently. “Which means exactly what?”
“Which means ... I don’t believe Kennedy drove the rover away.” Valkerie bit her lip. “So either someone in Houston cracked Bob’s password and decided to play games with us, or—“She blushed and searched Bob’s eyes. “Or there really is a fifth man on Mars.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Friday, March 27, 1:30 p.m., CST
Nate
“NOT RESPONDING?” NATE SAID. “HOW can it be not responding?”
EECOM hunched over her console, typing furiously. “It’s not complicated, sir. I send commands—the Ares 10 does not respond.”
“But why?”
She glared up at him. “I am not a mind reader. Perhaps the energy supply has failed. Or the radio system. Or the crew may have disabled the radio. All I can tell you is that the Ares 10 does not answer queries on its life‑support functions—nor on anything else.”
“Is there any evidence that someone is in there?”
“Mr. Hunter has been hailing both the Ares 10 and the Ares 7, with no answer from either one.”
“Okay, so show me those numbers again on oxygen usage in the Ares 7.”
EECOM punched some keys and then pulled out a pocket calculator. “Over the last forty‑eight hours, the oxygen production is consistent with the usage required by ...” She tapped in some numbers. “2.14 adults.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Nate said. “You can’t have .14 adults.”
“Please.” EECOM slapped the calculator on the console. “I am not making up numbers, I’m just reporting them. I have a number for integrated oxygen production. I have another for the nominal usage by a normal adult. I divide the two numbers and report the result. If they’re exercising, they are using more than normal. If they’re all in a coma, they’re using less.”
“So you’re telling me there could be two active people in there or three slugs,” Nate said.
She nodded. “I’m very sorry, sir, but it looks like there are fewer than four people occupying the Ares 7.”
“And we’ve got no videocams active?”
“None plugged in on the Ares 7. The Hab is reporting zero video sources active. And as I said, the Ares 10 is not reporting at all. For all practical purposes, the Ares 10 does not exist.”
Nate felt a knot forming in his gut. Who was dead? Kennedy? Valkerie? Both?
EECOM opened a window on her console. “Sir, I’m ready to send those queries to the ERV.”
“Let’s do it,” Nate said. “I want to know for sure nobody’s on that ship.”
Jake Hunter screamed something from across the room.
Nate scowled and spun around to look. Hunter was fidgeting with some dials at the Capcom station.
“Houston, this is Alexis Ohta, Commander of the Ares 7, reporting.”
Nate blinked twice. Commander? What about Kennedy?
Lex repeated her hailing one more time, then continued. “With me are Bob Kaganovski and Valkerie Jansen. Check off, guys.”
“This is Bob.”
“And this is Valkerie.”
Nate strode toward the Capcom station. Where was Kennedy?
“Kennedy Hampton is undergoing psychological difficulties and we’ve been forced to isolate him in the Ares 10 Hab. We have relieved him of command.”
A small circle had formed around the Capcom station. EECOM’s eyes were wide. “How do we know Dr. Ohta is telling the truth?”
Josh held up his hand. “Just listen.”
Lex continued. “We’ve been a little busy lately and we apologize for not calling in sooner. Kennedy is seriously maladjusted and he’s been a handful to deal with. Right now we have a question about the rover for which we demand an immediate answer.”
Eyebrows raised around the circle.
Nate couldn’t believe it. She demanded an answer? Immediately?
“How do we know they aren’t on the ERV and playing for time?” EECOM said.
“The rover was moved from its docking position at the Ares 7 this morning,” Lex said. “Bob and Valkerie and I observed it driving away. Right, guys?”
“Right,” Bob said.
“We thought Kennedy was on it.” Valkerie sounded nervous.
“Kennedy denies it,” Lex continued. “And we think it’s possible he may be telling the truth. So we request that you inform us at once whether you’ve sent any motion commands to the rover. We await your response. Over.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Cathe said. “Nobody’s been driving the rover.”
“They’re wasting our time,” Jake said. “They could be in Mars orbit in the ERV and locking us out of computer access this very minute, while we fiddle around looking for rover commands.”
Josh turned to Nate. “What do we do?”
Nate pointed to EECOM. “Get those queries queued up for the ERV. While we wait for an answer, Cathe can pull up the log of all commands sent to the surface of Mars for the last twenty‑four hours. The rest of you check everything! I want a list of every command that’s gone out of here through the Deep Space Network.”
The engineers fanned out to their consoles and began typing furiously.
Cathe was first to respond. “Sir, I’ve got the log for
every command to base camp since yesterday. There are a number of videocam queries, and those life‑support queries EECOM sent.” She typed something in. “Okay, I’m making a printout now, but I can tell you already there are no rover commands. I’d recognize those if—”
CATO shouted a curse.
Nate was behind him in a second.
“Sir, there’s some kind of burn command queued up for the ERV.”
“Cancel it,” Nate said.
“I don’t know what kind it is,” CATO said. “Could be just ordinary station‑keeping.”
“We should find out what it is first,” EECOM said.
CATO just stared at the screen. “The burn is queued up for execution in about twenty‑five minutes. Radio delay time is almost twenty minutes. We won’t have time to—”
“Cancel it right now!” Nate pounded the table.
EECOM leaned over CATO’s shoulder and typed in something on the screen. “It’s cancelled.”
Cathe peered past them. “It was a burn of ... 2,200 meters per second.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Nate said. “That’s enough to break them out of orbit, but it wouldn’t get them to Earth. What kind of a transit were they trying for?”
“You’re making two mistakes,” CATO said. “The direction of the burn would have de‑orbited the ERV.” He stared at Nate, his eyes wild. “It would have crashed into Mars.”
Nate scowled at him. “And what’s the other mistake?”
“It’s obvious,” EECOM said. “That command went out through the DSN. Whoever put that command on the stack queued it up from planet Earth.”
Nate shivered, his gut turning to molten lead. Somebody had tried to crash the ERV. Tried to strand his crew on Mars. But who? There wasn’t supposed to be a saboteur anymore.
“Hunter!” Nate bellowed. “Get back to the crew and tell them we’ve checked the command logs. Nobody’s been driving the rover from here.”
“Do I tell them about the ERV?” Hunter asked.
“Not a word,” Nate said. “Not till we know what’s going on.” He smacked the table with his open palm. “I want you engineers to team up in pairs. You’re all suspects until we figure out who did this, so watch each other. Track down that command and give me an answer—who queued up that de‑orbit burn to crash the ERV.”