by John Olson
Lex took a deep breath. “But it’s not the things you do that make life important. Not the missions you run. The medals you earn. It’s the people you love. Every morning I wake up and I want to cry, because here I am in the one place in the universe I always wanted to be, and I don’t have ... Ronnie here with me. Sometimes I talk to him. Even though he can’t hear me, I just have to tell him about all the bizarre and beautiful things I’m experiencing. They don’t seem complete without him here to share them with me. The weeping fissures—uncanny. Stonehenge—unbelievable. And probably the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen in my life—two crazy people who obviously love each other but would rather suffer alone than be happy together.”
Lex’s eyes were gleaming now. “If I had Ronnie here, there’s no way I’d let him go off to die with someone else. You guys belong together. So you’re going, Val. Bob, tell her she’s going with you.”
“Valkerie, you’re going with me.”
Valkerie smiled at Lex, and her heart felt full. “Thanks, Lex.” She looked up at Bob.
His eyes shone with an intensity that pierced her to the marrow. He opened his mouth to speak and the room around him faded into silence. An expression of intense pain spread itself across his features. Indescribable sadness.
He shook his head slowly and stood up. “If we’re going to leave in the morning, we better get some sleep.”
Chapter Thirty
Wednesday, April 29, 11:30 a.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
BOB FINISHED CINCHING DOWN THE last of the oxygen bottles on the MuleBot. They were taking every tank they had, every battery pack. If they didn’t come back, Lex would never get out of the Hab alive. But of course, if they didn’t come back, she would never get off the planet, so the gamble seemed reasonable. He turned to Valkerie. “Okay, let’s get going!”
Valkerie plodded to the side of the mule. “We’ve only got seven hours of sunlight left. Maybe we should stay in the Hab one more night and try again tomorrow.”
Bob checked his watch. Repairing the Bot had cost them almost three hours. It would be getting pretty cold by the time they arrived at the canyon. But time was precious. “We’ll just be hungrier and weaker tomorrow. We can’t afford to lose another day.”
Lex’s voice came in loud and clear over comm. “You’ve got time to get there. Bring us back some water.”
Valkerie nodded. “I ... guess you’re right. Let’s go, Bob.”
Bob punched the Drive button, and the MuleBot lumbered forward. “Okay, take care of yourself, Lex, and keep the door locked, all right? Want us to keep comm on the whole time so you’ll know we’re okay?”
“Roger that, and take care of yourselves, guys.” Lex’s voice didn’t betray any fear, but she had to be scared. “But feel free to go silent whenever you want. Some things Lexie just doesn’t need to hear.”
Bob rolled his eyes. Good grief, this wasn’t a trip to Club Med. Leave it to Lex to get things started off on an awkward note. He guided the MuleBot forward, wondering what Valkerie was thinking. Last night after Valkerie had gone to bed, he’d taken Lex aside and told her about his promise to stop pursuing Valkerie until they were back on Earth, but she’d blown it off. Like Valkerie didn’t have the right to decide for herself.
The mule jostled along behind him, silently adjusting its speed as he manipulated its joystick controller.
“Are you okay, Valkerie? Let me know if I’m going too fast.”
“I’m fine. You can go faster if you want.”
Bob stepped up the pace. They’d be able to make good time on the first leg of the trip. During their first two months of exploration, they had cleared a trail all the way to Stonehenge. It was the leg beyond Stonehenge that worried him. Without a trail, they would have to pick their way through the rocks. The mule’s suspension was good but not nearly as good as the rover’s, and its small tires couldn’t go over rocks bigger than basketballs. One bad turn, one impassible barrier, and they would end up freezing to death in the cold Martian night. They had to make it to that cave before dark. He’d spent three hours kneeling on the frozen ground fixing the Bot, and the cold had bored up deep into his legs. EVA suits weren’t made for doing outdoor repairs. Maybe if he walked faster, it would help warm him up.
Bob turned to make sure Valkerie was still beside him and then picked up the pace. “Valkerie, I’m sorry about the mule. I must have busted the strut when we were working on the valve.”
Valkerie double‑stepped to keep up with him. “Either that or Kennedy broke it before the dust storm. We haven’t got out much lately.”
A hard lump formed in Bob’s throat. He didn’t want to talk about Kennedy. Kennedy would still be alive if ... if Bob had just listened. He hadn’t told the girls about his last contact with Kennedy. Oh, he’d told them a little. But not the fact that he’d shut off Kennedy’s final plea for help. Couldn’t tell them. If they knew what he’d done—that he’d intentionally shut off comm with a guy who was begging for help—what would they think?
They walked in cold silence for a couple hundred yards. The burned‑out hulk of the Ares 10 loomed slowly on their right. Bob wouldn’t look at it. Somewhere in there were the mortal remains of Kennedy. They ought to go get his body, give him a decent burial. They hadn’t dared during the height of the storm. Before Kennedy died, there had been a couple of tons of water in the Ares 10—more than enough to make the rocket fuel they needed. Now it was all gone, evaporated when the water tanks leaked in the fire. If he’d listened to Kennedy, the guy wouldn’t have killed himself, and they would still have that water and all the food they needed.
“Bob?”
“Yeah?” Bob turned to look at Valkerie. She was looking at him with a funny expression. “What’s up?”
“Could we ... um ... switch to local for a bit? Sorry, Lex.”
“Ooh! Guys, this is just too hot for me. You go right ahead, lovebirds.”
Bob switched his channel to local. Valkerie did the same on her suit, but she didn’t say anything.
Way to set things up, Lex. Bob counted off ten steps. “What’cha thinking about?”
“Kennedy.”
Oh great. Bob hesitated. “What about Kennedy?”
Valkerie didn’t say anything for a long time.
“It’s okay,” Bob said. “We can talk about something more pleasant—like death and dying, or the futility of life, or—”
“Please. Don’t make a joke.” Valkerie’s voice was pleading.
“It wasn’t a joke.”
“Bob, I feel so horrible about the whole thing. All these weeks, I’ve been wondering ... What if Lex hadn’t made him do all those push‑ups? What if you and he hadn’t gotten into that fight? What if I ...” Valkerie turned away. “Do you think I was ... was flirting with him? Leading him on?”
“Absolutely not!” Bob stopped the MuleBot and took Valkerie by the hand. “Valkerie, look at me. It’s not your fault. You were nice to him, that’s all. Because you’re a nice person. There’s nothing wrong with that.” He leaned forward to touch his faceplate to hers. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.
“But you said I was ...”
“Because I was being a jerk. I had no right to say those things. I was just ... You have to believe me—it wasn’t true and I knew it.” Bob shook Valkerie’s hands, trying to get her to look him in the eye.
“Valkerie, please. It’s my fault, not yours. I left you alone with him even though I knew ...” Bob tried to blink Valkerie’s face back into focus. “Valkerie, I’m so sorry. I was so jealous. I almost wanted him to do something. I wanted you to see him for what he really was. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.”
Valkerie shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who made you—”
“It was my fault. Listen to me.” Bob choked.
Valkerie studied him intently through the two faceplates that separated them.
Bob closed his eyes. “The last night ... before Kennedy burned up, he
called me on the radio. Kept telling me to go away, to stop bothering him. Said he heard me pounding on his Hab. If I had just believed him. If I had just believed you when you said you were hearing noises.” Bob pulled away and brushed vainly at his visor with his hand.
Valkerie grabbed his arm and held it.
Bob turned his head. “I killed Kennedy by my negligence. I could have saved him and I didn’t. How am I going to face his parents when we get back?” He tried to pull away.
Valkerie hugged his arm tighter. “Kennedy was sick. It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could, but we didn’t know how to help him. We gave him every chance we knew how to give him, and it wasn’t enough. We didn’t come prepared for him to go crazy on us. Some things are just out of our hands.”
“Like getting off the planet?” Bob started the MuleBot and started forward again. They walked for a long time in silence. When they reached Stonehenge, they left the cleared path and slowed their pace to skirt its northern edge. Cold crept back into Bob’s muscles. A cramp tightened his empty stomach.
Valkerie’s breathing was becoming increasingly ragged and her stumbles more frequent. How long would she be able to last like this? “Valkerie, do you want to ride on the mule for a while? It’ll help save your energy.”
“If you’re walking, I want to walk too.”
“You can walk later and I’ll ride. We need to have something left in our muscles when we get there.” Bob stopped the mule. “Here, I’ll help you climb up. There’s room in the very back to sit.”
A minute later, she sat perched on the rear edge of the mule. “Thanks, Bob.”
“Hey, guys?” Lex broke in on the emergency channel. “Bob? Valkerie? I called in to report to Houston a while ago and I just heard back from Nate. He’s tickled pink about your little excursion. Have a listen.”
A crackle of static and then ...
“Ares 7, this is Nate Harrington. I’ve talked to the boys and girls here in the FCR about your proposed trip out to the canyon, and the unanimous opinion is that it’s not going to work. We’re especially concerned about the overnight part of your proposal. Guys, this is a loser idea. That hyperbaric chamber hasn’t got the insulating power. The ground is gonna suck heat right out of you, and you’ll die in your sleep. So forget it. That’s an order. Please acknowledge.”
“This is me again,” Lex said. “I sent Nate an acknowledgment that we heard his message and are considering it. I consider that his advice stinks. We’re going to starve if we don’t get off the planet, and we can’t do that without water.”
Bob switched to the CommSat channel. “I agree. It’s our decision, and we’re sticking by it.”
“We have to go,” Valkerie said. “But, Lex, Nate’s going to be really mad. What are you going to do when he finds out we’ve left?”
“Ask forgiveness. Because I sure don’t need his permission.”
By the time they got past Stonehenge, Bob’s feet were clunky blocks of ice. Why weren’t they warming up? “Are you doing okay, Valkerie?”
“Mmm … Fine.” Valkerie mumbled something that sounded anything but fine.
Bob looked up at the sun. It was already well past zenith in the amber sky. His watch told him they had just over four hours to cover the remaining two kilometers and set up camp. If they didn’t make it to the vent by nightfall, they were Tastee‑Freez.
They trudged on, not speaking. Bob’s legs went from cold to numb and then painfully numb. After another hour of walking, he couldn’t feel anything below the knees. He felt like a pirate balancing on two wooden legs.
“Bob?” Valkerie’s voice startled Bob out of his reverie. “What made you want to go to Mars?”
Bob tried to think back. It seemed like such a long time ago. “I don’t know. I guess because they needed me. It was probably Josh more than anybody. He’s the one who convinced me. How about you?”
“I think it was the adventure. The excitement. The glory of being selected. Pretty dumb, huh?”
“Yeah. I mean ...” Bob felt like an idiot. “I mean, most people come here for the balmy weather and pristine beaches.”
They shambled along for another half kilometer. They’d now been outside for over six hours. Maybe they should have stayed overnight in the Hab. But tomorrow there would have been another reason not to go, and the day after another. If you were going to play poker for survival, then you had to just deal the cards. And pray for five aces.
The sound of Valkerie’s breathing interrupted Bob’s thoughts. Her breath was coming in ragged pants and gasps. He turned to look back and saw that she had hopped off the mule and come up alongside him. “I needed some exercise,” she said, step‑step‑stepping determinedly by his side, doing her best to keep up with his long strides. Valkerie. Never a complaint for herself. Never a word of reproach for anyone. She deserved so much better than this. If only she was safe and warm on Earth right now. Walking through sun‑dappled forests. Running through waving fields of wild flowers. He tried to imagine her wearing normal clothes. Jeans. A nice cotton dress. But he just couldn’t picture it. The image kept twisting into dirty NASA coveralls. A clunky EVA suit that hung on her like the unrelenting weight of death.
Valkerie stepped on a rock and lurched sideways, stumbling into Bob.
Bob put a supporting arm around her and slowed his pace.
She glanced at him with a smile that pierced his heart.
So beautiful. So wondrous, through and through. What had he been thinking? He didn’t deserve her. Never in a million years. No wonder she’d said no.
Valkerie leaned in closer. “If we don’t make it ... I just want you to know I’m sorry. I should have—”
“We’re going to make it,” Bob said. Way too quickly.
“Bob.”
“We have to,” Bob picked up the pace. “I ... won’t let anything happen to you. Ever.”
Long silence.
“I should have said yes.” Valkerie gazed up at him with wide, wondering eyes.
Bob’s heart lurched, staggered. Warmth surged through his body, spreading through his limbs like a tingling fire.
“Bob? Did you hear me?”
“I heard—”
The MuleBot jerked to a halt, yanking Bob backward.
Off‑balance, he windmilled his arms, then toppled to the ground.
“Are you okay?”
Bob struggled to his feet and tugged at the MuleBot’s joystick.
Nothing.
Fear kicked him hard in the gut.
“I’m fine,” he said. “But the mule’s broken down again.” And we’re still a long way from the nearest Motel 6.
* * *
Wednesday, April 29, 5:30 p.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
Valkerie paced back and forth, stamping her feet to shake some warmth into them. Bob lay on the ground, pulling wires through an access panel beneath the dead MuleBot. It was getting late. They still had at least a kilometer to go, and maybe an hour to do it in—if they left right now. That would be an easy pace if they were fresh and decently fed. Bob’s quivering breath sounded in Valkerie’s ears.
“Bob, you’re freezing. Let me do it. You have to get off the ground.”
“Almost there ...”
“Can’t I do something?”
“Climb up on the MuleBot again. You’ll stay warmer if you’re off the ground.”
Valkerie looked out at the sinking sun. “Maybe we should leave the mule and try to make it on foot. The mule’s not going to do us any good if we’re dead. Or maybe—”
“Valkerie, listen to me. I’m almost there. You have to trust me. I want you to climb up onto the mule.”
“Not while you’re on the ground freezing to death. If we leave now—”
“Please. I need you to trust me. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Valkerie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.” She climbed up on the MuleBot and took a seat atop the large bag that contained the hyperbaric c
hamber. Turning to face the sun, she hugged her knees to her chest and tried to rub some warmth into her legs through the bulky fabric of her suit.
The rocky plain blazed like burnished gold. Too bright. She turned to look back the way they’d come. A couple of kilometers away, the great Stonehenge formations stood tall and purple with cloaks of aureate flame. If only they held water. A drowsy calm settled over her. She’d done all she could do. The rest was up to God.
“Okay, try it now.” Bob’s voice shattered the calm.
Valkerie slid off the mule and eased forward on the joystick. The robot rolled slowly ahead. “Bob, you did it! We’ve got ...”
Bob still lay stretched out on the ground.
“Bob?” She hobbled over and reached down to tug on his pack. “Bob, get up. We’ve got to go.”
“I ... can’t. Can’t move my legs.”
Valkerie rolled Bob onto his back and pulled him into a sitting position. “Come on. You can do it.” She tugged on his arms, trying to help him to his feet.
“Go on without me. I’m too cold.”
“No!” Valkerie circled behind him and dead‑lifted him to his feet. His body hung like a sack of cement. When she let go, his legs gave way beneath him.
Valkerie guided the mule back to him and waited while she caught her breath. She got behind him and lifted him to his knees.
Bob’s hands latched on to the mule.
“Can you pull yourself up?”
“Maybe. My legs aren’t ... working.”
Valkerie squatted down and grabbed his torso. “Pull!” She lifted his slack body—higher, higher—and felt the load lighten as Bob got leverage on top. Finally he was on the mule’s back, draped over the top of the hyperbaric chamber like a sack of wheat on a camel. Valkerie let go and stepped back. “Will you be able to hold on?”
“I’m trying.”
Valkerie dug in one of the packs, found a rope, and lashed Bob down. Then, tugging hard on the joystick, she set out for the canyon at a shuffling jog.