Oxygen Series Box Set: A Science Fiction Suspense Box Set

by John Olson

  “Hey, we’re brainstorming.” She wrote Russians on her pad. “Just tossing out ideas. We’ll criticize later. So who’s the last person you’d expect to have done this?”

  “EECOM.”

  Cathe giggled and wrote it down. “Who else?”

  “Nate.”

  Cathe wrote that down too, a big smile on her face. “Okay, good. We’re loosening up a little. Who else?”

  “I don’t know. Jake Hunter? Naw, scratch that. He couldn’t have done it.”

  “Way outside the box.” Cathe wrote down his name. “Jake couldn’t hack his way out of a paper bag with a machete. Oooh! I’ve got an idea! How about Dr. Abrams?”

  Josh snorted. “That’s so far outside the box it’s ... in left field. What he knows about Unix you could put in a buckyball, with room left over.”

  “He pushed to get you off the Ares 10 crew.”

  Josh thought about that. “True. But he hasn’t got any technical skills.”

  “So what? He’s a shrink. All shrinks are crazy—that’s why they study psych. What if he teamed up with EECOM?”

  “Naw, I think she’s got a crush on me.”

  Cathe frowned. “Really? Maybe she’s seen us hanging out together and drew some conclusions.”

  “Cathe, she’s a good ten years older than I am.”

  Cathe looked him boldly in the eye. “That’s about how much older you are than me. Think I’m discouraged?”

  “I don’t believe it’s EECOM.”

  “Okay, but we’ll leave her on the list. For now. Who else?”

  “What about CATO? Maybe he’s jealous that you’re walking on his turf?”

  Cathe wrote it down. “I think we’re running out of names.”

  Josh looked at the list. “They’re all ridiculous. You might as well write down mine and yours too.”

  Cathe wrote down both their names, connecting them with a big, fancy ampersand. “Josh and Cathe, sittin’ in a tree, H‑A‑C‑K‑I‑N‑G.”

  Josh laughed out loud. “Okay, seriously, tell me about the Russians. Why do you think they did it?”

  “We already know they’ve been messing with our CommSats,” Cathe said. “Plus, it was their flight sim machine that did the hack into Goldstone.”

  “They say it was from my account.”

  “Oh, good point! They say it, so ... guess it must be true! Boy, if they hacked Goldstone, they’d be jumping up and down to point the finger at themselves, wouldn’t they?”

  “What’s their motive?”

  “Nationalism. Fear of back‑contamination. Ego. Rage that you’ve stolen the hearts of all their women. I don’t know. But it was their machine, Josh. They had the easiest access to it. Do you really believe they left your account open for two years after you left? That’s so bogus.”

  “It couldn’t have been the Russians,” Josh said. “What’s their motive? What does a whole country care about a few astronauts?”

  “Maybe it was one person. Someone you knew while you were there. Someone who had access to your password.”

  “I was good friends with one of their security programmers.” Josh stopped, feeling his ears heat up.

  Cathe narrowed her eyes. “A woman programmer, I take it?”

  “Yes.” Josh refused to look down. If Cathe was going to get mad about every woman he’d ever dated, well ... then she was going to be a pretty unhappy camper, wasn’t she?

  Cathe put her hand on his. “I like it that you don’t try to lie about your ex‑girlfriends.”

  Josh felt relief surge through his veins. “Did you tell Nate about this Russian woman? Maybe she’s mad at you for jilting her.”

  Josh flushed.

  Cathe studied him. “What’s wrong? I’m not jealous. That was then. This is now. She’s over there. I’m right here. I’d say that gives me a pretty good head start.”

  “It’s just ...” Josh tried to find the right words. “It’s really hard when your past keeps coming back at you. Know what I mean?” He closed his eyes, wishing he had done things differently for the last few years. But you couldn’t change the past, and wishing didn’t do a thing except make your head hurt.

  “Josh.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Josh, you’ve got to learn to forgive yourself. Put the past behind you. Accept your mistakes and move on. It’s bad enough when Nate and Mr. Collins and that Yamaguchi witch are on your case. Don’t you jump on yourself too. Okay?”

  That’s my problem. I hate myself.

  He felt Cathe’s hands squeeze his. “Josh, listen to me. I don’t care what you’ve done. What women you’ve gone out with. What mistakes you’ve made. I don’t care about your past. I care about you now. Right here. I care for you the way you are. Do you understand?”

  “I ...” Josh couldn’t go on, because a huge lump had jumped up into his throat and his heart was jackhammering. He wished Cathe wasn’t looking, but somehow he was glad. He finally understood what it was to be loved.

  Cathe’s arms slipped around him, squeezing him tight. “Learn to care for yourself, Josh.”

  A dam broke somewhere, way inside his heart, and a river of peace—as big and broad and bodacious as the mighty Mississippi—came roaring through his soul.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Tuesday, April 21, 6:00 a.m., Mars Local Time

  Valkerie

  VALKERIE ROLLED ONTO HER SIDE, pulling her blankets with her. The dust and sand pinging on the outer hull sounded just like frying chicken—her mother’s homemade chicken with peppered crust and milk gravy. She sat up and took a gulp of water, but it wasn’t what she wanted. She was hungry. Not the empty stomach kind of hunger she had experienced off and on all her life. That had long since faded. This was a deeper, emptier kind of hunger. The kind that cut right to the bone. The shaky‑muscle kind of hunger. Light‑headedness when she stood up. Fatigue that made her lie back down. Everything she was, everything she did, screamed out her need for more food. And the fried chicken sizzling on the outer hull wasn’t helping.

  A faint squeak sounded in the hallway. A bedroom door—but was it opening or closing? Valkerie stood up slowly and waited for the dizziness to pass. Then, wrapping herself in a blanket, she crept to her door and opened it just a crack. Nobody out in the hallway. She slipped outside and tiptoed to the commons, searching the dark room by the dim light that escaped around the stairwell hatch.

  Nobody.

  Searching the room one more time, she tiptoed into the galley, pulled open the middle bin, and started counting food packets. Forty. That couldn’t be right. She counted the packets again. They had started out with exactly one week of rations plus the four Jell‑O packets from the Ares 10 Hab. At a standard five packets per day per crew member, that was a total of 109 packets. For the last twenty‑three days they’d been living on one packet per day—one‑fifth the standard ration. Plus the extra Jell‑O packets they got to eat at their Jell‑O parties. And so far they’d eaten six. The numbers just didn’t add up. Someone was cheating.

  Bob. It had to be. Why hadn’t she realized it earlier? She slid the bin back into the cabinet and snuck through the circular corridor. His door swung open at her knock.

  “Bob?”

  No answer.

  “Bob?” She poked her head into his room and looked around.

  He was gone.

  Great. Valkerie pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and circled through the corridor to the stairs.

  Footsteps sounded below. The weary thud of feet on metal treads.

  She waited at the hatch, trying to control the fury that boiled up inside her.

  “Hey, Valkerie! Good news. I was just monitoring ...” Bob swayed on the top step, looking suddenly confused. “What’s wrong? Is Lex okay?”

  “I heard you get up.” Valkerie let anger creep into her voice. “And I got up and counted the food packets. Want to guess how many there are?”

  “I don’t know.” Bob shrugged impatiently. “Thirty‑four?
”

  “Try forty.” Valkerie’s eyes filled with tears. “Bob, how could you? You promised—”

  “It wasn’t me. Promise.” Bob held up three fingers. “But it doesn’t matter. Houston just called with good news. The storm’s definitely dying down. I just checked our weather stations. Wind speed’s already down to eighty at station four.”

  A dark coal in Valkerie’s soul blazed suddenly to life. The first ray of hope she’d felt in days. “What are you saying? Think we can launch?”

  “We have to—if we can get the MAV ready today. It’s our only chance. Even at fifth rations we don’t even have enough food left for two weeks.” Bob flicked on the light switch and ducked through the hatch.

  Valkerie followed him through the corridor. He’d lost so much weight. She couldn’t help but notice the way he sagged against the wall, using his right arm to maintain balance.

  “Hey, Lex, wake up!” Bob pounded on Lex’s door.

  “What?”

  Bob pushed open the door and flipped on the lights. Lex lay in bed blinking.

  “The wind storm’s dying down.” Bob bustled into the room. “We’ve got to prepare for launch.”

  Lex’s muscles trembled as she struggled to sit up. She looked terrible.

  “Really?” Lex seemed almost disappointed. “What’s the wind speed?”

  “A hundred and twenty and falling, but—”

  “Still too strong. We can’t launch above eighty.”

  “Station four’s at eighty. And Houston says the satellite photos show a definite lull. They’re giving us a two‑day window.”

  “Okay.” Lex staggered to her feet with a sigh. “What are we waiting for? Let’s suit up. Val, radio Houston. Bob and I have to run checkouts on the MAV.”

  “Not now. It’s too cold.” Valkerie stepped past Bob and put a hand on Lex’s shoulder. “And I’m not even sure you can do an EVA. When’s the last time you ate?”

  Lex looked down at the floor.

  “Come on, Lex. We’re wasting time.” Bob moved toward the door. “We’ve got to run an equipment check.”

  “Lex isn’t going anywhere until she answers my question.” Valkerie looked her in the eye. “I just counted forty food packets and there are supposed to be thirty‑four. You’ve been cheating. And there’s no way on Mars I’m letting you do an EVA if you haven’t eaten in six days.”

  * * *

  Tuesday, April 21, 12:00 p.m., Mars Local Time

  Valkerie

  “Lex, would you please hurry?” Valkerie’s stomach tied itself into knots as she looked across the feast she and Bob had prepared. One last meal before leaving Mars. One last chance to build their strength.

  “Houston is still go for tomorrow’s launch.” Lex trudged to the table and collapsed into her chair.

  “Did you tell them about the bacteria?” Valkerie fixed apprehensive eyes on Lex. “What did they say?”

  Lex turned to Bob with a shrug.

  “I’m serious, guys.” Valkerie got up from the table. “We’ve got to tell them. It wouldn’t be right to just show up with it. Hi, Nate, we’re home. And see? We’ve brought uninvited guests.”

  “Valkerie, wait.” Bob grabbed her arm before she could get to the transmitter. “Please, now isn’t the time. No matter what they say, we’ve still got to launch. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Telling them now would only muddy the waters.” Lex’s voice was remote. Dead.

  “We’ll tell them as soon as we get to the ERV,” Bob said. “Even if they didn’t want us to come back, at least we’d still be able to eat. Speaking of which ...” Bob motioned to the steaming dish at the center of the table.

  Valkerie slumped back down into her chair and watched as Bob started serving the thick stew of peas, carrots, chicken soup, and meatloaf.

  “Don’t you think this is a bit much?” Lex stared down at her plate. “What if the wind picks up? This might be enough to last us another two weeks.”

  “Two days or two weeks. What does it matter?” Bob dipped Valkerie a huge serving. “If we don’t launch tomorrow, we’re dead either way.”

  Valkerie watched her glop of stew spread itself slowly across her plate. Maybe Bob was right. It would be silly to starve on Mars when two years of supplies was orbiting just above their heads. “I can’t believe it’s already time to leave.” Valkerie looked at Bob with wondering eyes. “We have a lot to be thankful for.”

  Bob reached out and took her by the hand. She grabbed Lex’s hand and held it tight.

  “It’s, uh ... really a miracle that the storm’s letting up.” Bob looked up at Lex. “Don’t you think?”

  Valkerie’s heart pounded as Bob crossed himself and closed his eyes. “Our Father, thank you so much for this food and for keeping us safe and for opening the door for us to go home tomorrow. And thank you for ... thank you that we can share all this ... together. Amen.”

  Valkerie gave Bob’s and Lex’s hands a squeeze. “Amen.” She looked up at Bob and a smile lit his face. She felt so full. So satisfied. Like she’d already eaten a whole pot of stew.

  Valkerie took a small bite and its rich, beefy flavor thrilled through her like a warm summer breeze. “What do you think?” She turned to Lex. “Was it worth the wait?”

  Lex stared straight ahead. Her face hard and unreadable. “It’s good.” She scooped a large bite into her mouth.

  “Just take it slow. Let your system get used to it.”

  Lex stared back.

  Valkerie took another bite and looked down at her plate.

  “So, Lex ...” Bob spoke around a mouthful of stew. “What’s the first thing you want to do when you get to the ERV?”

  “Take a shower.”

  A long pause.

  “Uh, what about you, Valkerie?”

  Valkerie put down her fork and turned in her chair to face Lex. “Are you okay? You don’t seem yourself at all.”

  Lex nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  “Look, I’m really sorry I got so mad about you not eating. I was just worried, that’s all. What you did was very noble. Very unselfish.”

  Lex stared straight ahead.

  “Is it something else? The food? We could eat just a little bit and freeze the rest. If you’re worried ...”

  “We’ve got enough to last two more days at full rations,” Bob said. “It really should be enough.”

  Lex pushed herself away from the table. “I’m just tired. Maybe I should go to bed.”

  “Lex, please.” Valkerie hurried after her. “Talk to us. Something’s bothering you. We’re your friends. We want to help you.”

  “I’m fine, really. It’s just that—” Lex’s voice choked off and her eyes filled with tears.

  Valkerie held out her arms and Lex collapsed into them. A chair scraped the floor behind her and she felt another set of arms wrap around both her and Lex.

  Lex started shaking. “It’s just that ... I don’t know if I want to go back. I know I should. I mean, what kind of a horrible wife wouldn’t want to be with her husband?”

  Valkerie held Lex tighter, trying to still the spasms that shook her trembling frame.

  “It’s not Ron. He’s a ... he’s so perfect. I’m the problem. I don’t deserve him. I’m just bad at relationships. I’m different with you guys. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had. And I know when we go home ... I’ll never ... It just won’t be the same.”

  Valkerie felt herself being rocked back and forth by strong, encircling arms.

  “It’s okay,” Bob crooned. “No matter where we go, we’ll always be your friends. You’re stuck with us.”

  “But Ronnie’s always traveling. And you and Val will probably get—”

  “I’ll tell you what.” Bob swayed a little too far and they had to shift their feet to keep upright. “We can buy a little round camper with three tiny rooms and a shower the size of a coffin. It’ll be our Hab away from Hab.”

  “Can we cover everything with sand a
nd grit?” Lex sniffled.

  “The very finest.” Bob pulled them in closer. “And we can board up the windows ...”

  “And filter our urine for drinking water,” Valkerie said. “And flavor it with dirty socks.”

  She swayed too far and felt herself tipping over backward. She tried to back step, but her feet left the floor and they all fell over in a flailing tangle of arms and legs.

  Shocked silence.

  Then a soft hiccupping sound. Lex was shaking.

  “Lex, are you all right?” Valkerie eased her weight off of Lex’s back.

  “I’m fine.” The hiccupping crescendoed to Lex’s hyena laughter. “But would you mind getting off me? My stew’s getting cold.”

  * * *

  Tuesday, April 21, 11:00 a.m., CST

  Josh

  “Josh, they’re flying out tomorrow!” Cathe Willison burst through the airlock and stepped across a pallet of simulated Martian soil.

  “What? Who?” Josh set down the pallet of soil he’d been mixing and wiped his hands on a towel.

  “The crew.” Cathe gave him a cursory hug and pulled away to pace the cluttered floor. “There’s a lull in the storm, and they’re flying out. Nate gave them the okay. He’s still convinced they’re starving to death.”

  “And you’re still convinced they aren’t?” Josh shook his head.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s awfully convenient that right after Kennedy gets sick, all their cameras just happen to go on the blink and Kennedy just happens to be by himself in the abandoned Hab when it just happens to burn down with all their food in it.”

  “I’d have put Kennedy in the other Hab even if he wasn’t sick.” Josh smiled. She had a good point, but he couldn’t help baiting her.

  “Come on. They knew about the dust storm for weeks. Would you leave all your food in the other Hab and not think about getting it until the day the dust storm was supposed to hit? They’re probably feasting it up right now. Laughing at Nate for buying their little sob story.”

  Josh grinned. “I sure hope so. At any rate, it’s really good news.” He caught her arm as she passed within reach and spun her in a graceful turn to face him. “With the crew safe and sound on the ERV, Nate won’t have an excuse to keep me locked up here. Not that I won’t miss your house calls ...” He pulled her close.