by John Olson
“I’ll have a driver there for you in about fifty minutes.”
“I’ll need his license plate number to get him authorized.” Josh heard the sound of computer keys clicking. The operator read off a license number.
“Thanks a million.” Josh hung up and punched in the phone number for the gate on Saturn Lane.
“Security, Gate 1.”
Josh tried to hoarsen up his voice a little. “This is Nate Harrington, Mars Mission Director. My pickup truck won’t start, and I have requested a AAA driver to come through your gate to give me a tow. Here’s his license plate number.”
“No problem, Mr. Harrington.”
“Any luck tracking down Josh Bennett?”
“Not yet, but we’ll find him, sir.”
“You’d better.” Josh hung up and turned to face Cathe.
She grinned back and sauntered toward him.
“So.” Josh held his arms wide. “What are we going to do now?”
Cathe snuggled up to him. “You know if this doesn’t work, I’m not going to see you for a long time.”
“It’ll work. It has to.” Josh looked down into her eyes and drew her closer.
Forty-five minutes passed a lot quicker than he could possibly have imagined.
“The tow truck’s going to get here any minute!” Cathe said. “Take your stuff and run!”
Josh grabbed the cap Cathe had found for him and raced out of the door and down the hallway. If he met anyone now, it was all over. He reached the ground floor without seeing anyone and dashed toward the parking lot.
The AAA truck had already stopped in front of his pickup. The driver had left the engine running and was standing in the poorly lit lot looking around anxiously. He had dark hair and wore a T‑shirt and trucker’s cap.
Josh waved his arms and hurried to meet him. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m Mr. Benet. Think I had a bad burrito for supper, and I’ve been having to hit the head every half hour.”
“The head?”
“Bathroom.”
“So what’s wrong with your pickup?”
Josh shook his head in disgust. “I think the ignition switch is shot. The engine won’t even turn over. It’s the third time, and my mechanic swore up and down he had it fixed.”
“Sign here and I’ll get it hitched up.”
Josh filled out the form and then walked all the way around the truck. By the time he came around behind the mechanic, his truck was hitched and the front end raised. Josh cleared his throat. “Hey, would you believe it, my right rear tire is way low on air.”
The driver shrugged. “I can fill that up for you.” He grabbed a canister of compressed air and walked around to the back of Josh’s truck. “Which tire did you say?” he shouted. “They look fine to me.”
Josh was already in the cab of the AAA truck. He slammed the door and looked at the dashboard. An automatic. Thank God even mechanics these days were wimps. And they always left the engine running. Josh shifted into drive, released the parking brake, and gunned the motor.
The truck lurched forward.
Josh looked in the side mirror.
The mechanic was running after him, shouting and waving his arms. It was a big parking lot. By the time Josh reached Second Street and turned left toward the main gate, he’d left the mechanic in the dust. He spotted Cathe Willison’s lithe form jogging across the parking lot toward the mechanic.
In the three blocks it took to reach the gate, Josh yanked off his button‑down shirt to reveal a T‑shirt underneath and jammed the cap on his head, tipping it forward to shade his features. It wasn’t the same color as the mechanic’s, but who would notice? For sure, not the rocket scientists working the security night shift.
He drove past the parking lot to Rocket Park and slowed as he approached the gate. The security guard held up a hand for him to stop. Josh was sweating like a pig now. He raised his left hand in a friendly wave that also obscured his face.
The guard nodded and walked past him, his big flashlight sending out a yellow cone in the night air. Josh watched him in his mirror as he poked his light into the pickup truck cab, then inspected the bed. Cathe had been right. Security people were wired to ignore anything hidden in plain sight. Finally the guard nodded and waved Josh to go.
Josh began breathing again as he took his foot off the brake. Easy. Don’t go nuts now. Just drive normally. Fifty yards past the gate, Josh punched the gas pedal. At NASA Road One, he turned right. Half a mile down the road, he turned left into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn. He cut the engine and leaped out. It took him a full minute to figure out how to get his truck detached. He popped the fuse‑box cover and shoved in the ignition fuse, then turned the key. His engine started with a satisfying roar. He backed away from the tow truck, then pulled around past it.
As he turned left onto NASA Road One, he waved cheerily at a red Mazda sports car that was just pulling into the parking lot.
Cathe was sitting at the wheel ignoring the frantic gestures of the mechanic in the passenger seat next to her.
Josh jammed his foot to the floor and headed for freedom.
* * *
An hour later, Josh and Cathe arrived at her apartment, having ditched Josh’s truck in a strip mall parking lot. Cathe unlocked her apartment door and they slipped inside.
“I can’t stay with you.” Josh took in the utilitarian furnishings with one glance. “Nate’s going to send people here first thing in the morning. They may be on the way here already.”
“Fine, he can search my apartment.” Cathe dropped onto a worn brown sofa. “But he won’t know to search Mrs. Truby’s place.”
“Who’s Mrs. Truby?”
“My neighbor. She’s about five hundred years old, and she’s got the most amazing houseplants in her apartment. I hope you like green.”
“I can’t impose on your neighbor.” Josh sat down beside her.
“She’s been in Minnesota for the last month.” Cathe held up some keys. “Guess who volunteered to water her plants while she was gone?”
“When’s she coming back?”
“In a week.” Cathe gave Josh a wicked smile. “But don’t worry. That’s enough time for us to figure out who set you up.”
“I want to talk to EECOM.”
“This is kind of late to be calling her. Even EECOM sleeps sometimes.”
“No, I mean tomorrow. In person.”
Cathe’s eyebrows went up.
“I’ve been thinking. It’s obvious someone wanted to lure me away from my computer. But why the cafeteria? Why involve you and Jake?”
“Yes … ?” Cathe leaned closer.
“Well, what if they wanted to give me an alibi? And what if they wanted me to see you and Jake together? You know—kill two birds.”
“You think it was Jake?” Cathe frowned.
“Not a chance,” Josh said. “The bogus e‑mail to you lays a big, fat trail back to him. I say that makes him less a suspect, not more.”
“So where are you going with this?”
“I think it was EECOM.”
“Josh, be serious.”
“That proves half my point. She’s the last person anyone would suspect. As of tonight, she’ll be in the perfect spot—monitoring the network. And while we were driving, it just hit me. Somebody wanted me out of my office, but they also wanted me to see you with Jake. Now, who would want to make me jealous?”
“You don’t really think she’s in love with you, do you?”
“Remind me,” Josh said. “When we caught that burn command queued up on the ERV stack, who found it?”
“CATO.”
“And then Nate ordered us to cancel it, right?” Josh closed his eyes, trying to picture the scene.
“Right ...” Cathe dragged the word out.
“And somebody said we ought to wait. Wanted to study it first. Who said that?”
She shook her head. “That’s just the way she is, Josh. She’s hypercautious.”
“Who said
it?” Josh demanded.
Cathe clutched his arm. “You’re jumping to a conclusion.”
“It was EECOM, wasn’t it? We could replay the tapes. Wasn’t it her?”
“Yes,” Cathe whispered. “Josh, she’s been such a ... help to me. Teaching me stuff. She loves that crew. She wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.”
“De‑orbiting the ERV wouldn’t hurt the crew—at least as far as anyone knew then. That was before Kennedy burned up himself and all the food. All she was trying to do was keep them on Mars. I believe hypercautious was your word.”
Cathe stood up and went to the bathroom. Josh heard the sound of a nose blowing. He felt sick inside. He’d known EECOM for almost ten years. NASA was her life. She’d never been married, except to her job.
If anyone could hack into that Russian computer, it was her. EECOM was the acknowledged Unix wizard on a staff of supergeeks. And as of this evening, she would be in charge of monitoring the networks to protect the crew.
Cathe came back out, her nose red.
“What’s the plan?”
Cathe grabbed a sleeping bag from her closet and some keys off the table. “The plan is for you to get into Mrs. Truby’s apartment and get some shut‑eye. You can sleep in tomorrow and meet EECOM anytime you want, but I need to be back at JSC at 8:00 a.m., so that gives me ... almost five hours to sleep. Should be plenty. Let’s move.”
Josh followed her, wondering how one human body could hold so much energy.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wednesday, April 29, 11:45 p.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
BOB’S EYES FLICKERED OPEN. TOTAL darkness. He tried to scratch his nose, but his right arm wouldn’t move. There it was again. Something tickling his nose. Where was he? Why couldn’t he move his arm? Frostbite?
Memories of his trip with Valkerie flooded over him. Fixing the MuleBot. Riding on its back. Winching down the sheer side of the canyon. Blocking up the exit to the cave. Making hot tea inside this tent using a spare battery pack and a NASA coffee maker.
He tried wiggling his toes and felt them pushing into the insulation of his thick EVA boots. They even felt warm. Next his legs. Then his left arm ...
He brought his hand to his face and brushed away a damp curl. Valkerie. He traced the outline of her head. She was lying on her side, using his right arm for a pillow.
She sighed softly and snuggled closer, burrowing her head under his chin.
Bob’s heart started pounding wildly. For a terrifying second he worried the noise would wake her, but he forced himself to relax. He was being ridiculous. He was still wearing his suit.
Slowly, in tiny, halting movements, he brought his hand to the back of her head and stroked her thick hair. She’d saved his life. Picked him up and tied him to the mule. His throat suddenly tightened. And she’d told him she should have said yes.
He turned his head slightly and brushed a kiss across her forehead. A tear traced across his cheek and dissolved into her curls.
* * *
Thursday, April 30, 2:00 a.m., Mars Local Time
Valkerie
Valkerie jerked awake. The scrubbers. She was supposed to have been monitoring the CO2 level. She tried to sit up, but her bulky pack wouldn’t let her get twisted around.
“Good morning.” Bob’s voice sounded close by her ear.
Valkerie’s heart leapt. “Bob! How do you feel?” She groped in the darkness for the flashlight and switched it on.
“Happy.” Bob grinned up at her, blocking the light with his hand. “Happy to be here. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with you.”
Valkerie studied Bob’s face. What was going on with him? He looked different—more relaxed. His eyes were lit with a strange glow. Like he knew something she didn’t. “Um ... how are your feet?”
“Warm and toasty. You picked the right spot for the tent. I think we’re in a warm pocket near one of those thermal vents. It’s probably just below freezing outside—practically the tropics in this neighborhood. And Kennedy’s mattress is insulating us from the ground pretty well.”
Again the strange look. Did he think something was funny? She brushed her hair out of her eyes with her fingertips and swept it back behind her shoulders. “I know I must look a mess ...”
Bob shook his head wistfully. The corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile.
Valkerie broke away from his gaze and checked the CO2 levels. “We have another hour of oxygen left in here. We should go over our plan of attack.”
“Valkerie?”
Valkerie drew in her breath. He sounded so serious. She turned slowly and searched his eyes through a sparkling haze.
“Valkerie, I made you a promise earlier. I meant it at the time, but I need you to release me from that promise. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
His proposal. Valkerie’s heart sank. She nodded as her world dissolved into tears. He didn’t want her anymore. Of course he didn’t. Could she blame him?
“Please say you release me. Please.”
The pleading tone in Bob’s voice cut through her like a razor. She buried her face in her hands. “I ... understand. You don’t ...” The words stuck in her throat. “You don’t have to keep your promise.”
Somewhere through her sobs she heard Bob moving inside the chamber. Probably trying to get away. She had lost him.
Valkerie wiped her face with the back of her hand and found herself looking up into Bob’s downturned face. He was on his knees before her. “Valkerie, will you marry me?”
A gasp escaped her throat. “But you said ... you wanted a release ...”
“I’m sorry. I know I said I’d wait till we were back on Earth, but I ... I just couldn’t bear it. I love you so much. It’s killing me.”
“Bob.” Valkerie flung her arms around Bob’s neck. “Of course. Yes. The answer is yes.”
* * *
Thursday, April 30, 2:15 a.m., Mars Local Time
Bob
They each ate a couple of food packets in haste, smiling. Bob’s heart felt too big for words, too full, too ... happy.
Yes.
There was no finer word in the English language.
Yes.
Bob put a fresh oxygen bottle on Valkerie’s backpack. She put one on his. They swapped in fresh battery packs.
Yes.
If they didn’t make it back to the Hab, or never got off Mars, or never reached the good green Earth again, it was okay. He had come to Mars to search for life—and he had found it.
Yes.
Valkerie pulled on her gloves and snapped the wrist connectors. “Ready to go out there and find us some water?”
Bob pulled on his gloves. Fastened them. Looked at her and grinned.
“Yes.”
* * *
Half an hour later they found ice. They had followed the cave back into the side of the canyon for a few dozen yards. They moved slowly, wary of their footing, watchful for any crevices that might swallow them whole. And there it was, right where Lex had predicted.
“Pay dirt.” Valkerie handed Bob a pick and kept a shovel for herself. “We’ve got two five‑gallon buckets. How long is it going to take to haul out a ton of ice?”
Bob did a quick calculation. “If we could get eighty pounds per trip, that’s twenty‑five trips. But we’re going to spill some and waste some of our volume, so thirty‑five trips is probably safer.” Bob raised his pick and slammed it into the ice. A small hunk broke off—maybe a pound. It was gonna be a long night.
It took five minutes to fill the first load. Bob handed Valkerie the pick. “Keep breaking it up. I’ll carry this out.” He hefted the two buckets and started walking. Thank God for Mars gravity, because hauling out the ice was going to be a papa bear.
They had taken down the hyperbaric chamber and left it just outside the entrance of the cave. Bob painfully pushed the buckets through the exit tunnel on his hands and knees, then dumped the ice into the makeshift tent. The pile looked pitifully small. O
ne trip down, thirty‑four to go.
When he got back to Valkerie, he was surprised to see how much ice she had already broken free. He scooped it into the buckets, picked them up, and started the trip back to the cache outside.
The night passed far too quickly. At first, Bob managed eight trips per hour, but soon he slowed to seven, then six. The last four loads took over an hour. It was almost 7:30 a.m. when they finished. The thin yellow sun had poked its head up into the peach‑colored sky.
Bob flicked on his comm to call Lex again. He’d been calling in every couple hours to keep her posted on their progress. “Hail, Yoda. We’ve completed digging out the water and we’ve got it in a pile here on the ledge. This was almost too easy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Valkerie groaned. “My back is killing me and we’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”
“Good going, guys,” Lex said. “How you doing on oxygen supplies?”
“Two bottles apiece,” Bob said. “Right, Valkerie?”
A long silence.
Bob turned to look for her. “Right, Valkerie?”
“Um, Bob, don’t be mad, but I forgot to tell you something when you woke up last night,” Valkerie said. “We ... uh ... we used a lot of oxygen in the tent while you were resting.”
“How much do we have left?”
“Three bottles,” Valkerie said. “Plus whatever’s left in our tanks right now—maybe an hour’s worth.”
“Three bottles doesn’t divide up evenly,” Lex said. “Unless you two can figure out how to get into one suit.”
“Splitting the oxygen isn’t the problem,” Bob said. “I’ll use half of a bottle, then switch to a fresh one. When Valkerie finishes her first one, she uses the other half of my first. The real problem is that we’re exerting ourselves awfully hard and we might run out.”
“If you guys boogie, you can get here in six hours,” Lex said.
“That’s about all we’re getting out of a bottle,” Valkerie said. “Maybe six and a half. They’re rated for eight, but that’s for normal exertion.”