Mars Station Alpha

by Stephen Penner

  Stanton and Gold rushed Mtumbe into the airlock. Or rather, Stanton rushed into the airlock, and Gold trailed behind, barely managing to hold onto Mtumbe's uninjured leg. Lin raced in after them and Rusakova sent the outer door flying shut. Oxygen-rich air flooded the airlock.

  But Mtumbe had already stopped breathing.

  "No!" shouted Stanton even as they lowered Mtumbe to the floor. "No, Daniel. You're not getting out of this mission that easily."

  Stanton yanked off Mtumbe's helmet, then his own. He blew into Mtumbe's mouth and started chest compressions. Without having to be told to do so, Lin replaced Stanton at Mtumbe's head and blew air into Mtumbe's lungs after every third chest compression.

  Gold just stood there. She didn’t even take off her helmet, but Stanton noticed her start shaking her head.

  "Come on, Daniel," Stanton urged as he continued the chest pumps.

  The airlock finally reached the proper atmospheric levels and the door to the station opened. Rusakova ran in with the station's ventrofibrillator. She pushed the tube into Mtumbe's throat and laid the stimulator pad on his chest. Stanton and Lin moved away as Rusakova activated the machine.

  A loud electric crackle filled the airlock.

  Immediately Mtumbe began coughing violently. He thrashed a bit and Rusakova removed the tube from his mouth. Mtumbe coughed again and again, deeper and deeper, as his lungs expelled the carbon dioxide and filled themselves the oxygen-rich air of the station.

  Stanton reached out and grabbed a hold of Lin's and Rusakova's hands. "Good job," he said. "Thank you."

  Gold shifted her weight, then started to unseal her helmet.

  Dekker came running in just as Mtumbe started sitting up, still coughing but clearly going to survive.

  "What happened out there?" Dekker asked.

  Stanton and Lin both looked at Gold.

  "I slipped," Mtumbe managed to rasp.

  Gold shook her head. "No, what happened is, I spaced out and slipped on the ladder above Commander Mtumbe. I slid down into him, causing him to injure his leg and tear his suit."

  Stanton suppressed a smile. He had expected less from her.

  "I don't know what happened to me out there," Gold continued. She shook her head. "I don't know. I— I'm sorry."

  "We can sort out whose fault it was later," Stanton said. "Right now we have two more important dilemmas."

  "What are those?" asked Dekker.

  "First, attending to Mtumbe's leg," Stanton replied. "And second, where the hell is Petrov?"

  Chapter 9

  Petrov had abandoned his post. Worse yet, by doing so, he had endangered the lives of his fellow crew members. Worst of all, it had been his shrieking that had sent them speeding down the ladder in the first place.

  Stanton and Dekker lifted Mtumbe and carefully carried him into the airlock control bay.

  "Water," Mtumbe whispered and pointed to his throat as they set him on the floor.

  Stanton nodded to Dekker and the Dutchman ran toward the commissary.

  "Petrov," Stanton said firmly into the comm link. "Status report."

  There was no reply.

  "Lin, can you locate him by his comm signature?" Stanton requested.

  Lin cocked her head at him. "Captain?" she asked.

  Stanton mouthed 'Say yes.' He had to do it a second time before she gave an exaggerated nod. He knew they couldn’t really do that, but he figured Petrov didn’t know it.

  "Ah, yes, Captain," Lin announced into the comm link in her suit collar. "I will do that right now, Captain. It will tell us exactly where Lieutenant Petrov is."

  Then they all stood there and waited.

  After a moment came Petrov's voice, thin and weak. "I'm on the ship," he said. "Back on the ship."

  Stanton nodded thanks to Lin. Mtumbe tried to say something, but it only made him cough some more.

  "Why are you on the ship, Petrov?" Stanton demanded.

  He didn't reply.

  "Petrov?" Stanton followed up, but again no reply.

  "Aleksandr," Rusakova soothed over the shared comm link, "why are you on the ship?"

  After a moment, Petrov replied, "You may come aboard, Oksana."

  Stanton looked again to the others, then held a finger to his lips and turned off his comm link. The rest followed suit, except that when Rusakova went to turn his off, Stanton stopped her.

  "Tell him you're on your way," he whispered directly into her ear so even the sensitive comm link wouldn’t pick it up. "We'll follow behind."

  Rusakova nodded. "I am coming, Aleksandr," she said into her comm link.

  There was a long pause, then Petrov groaned, "Good."

  Stanton instructed Rusakova to walk to the entry bay and wait there for him. She left and Stanton turned his attention to rest of his crew. "Daniel, are you okay?"

  Mtumbe raised a still-gloved thumbs-up. "I'll be fine," he assured in a raspy voice, as Dekker handed him a bottle of water. "Just need a chance to rest up."

  "Good," said Stanton. Then he instructed, "Lin and Dekker, you stay here with Mtumbe. Gold, you come with me."

  "Me?" protested Gold. "Why me?"

  "Well, I'm guessing," explained Stanton, "Daniel doesn't really want to hang out with you right now."

  Gold looked at Mtumbe, but he averted his eyes. He reached down and squeezed his injured leg, almost at her, but that smile of his couldn’t be fully repressed.

  "Fine," huffed Gold. She stormed past the captain toward the entry bay.

  "We'll be right back," Stanton said to the remaining crew with a smile. "Everything will be just fine. Really."

  Mtumbe shrugged. Dekker looked like he was trying to think of something funny to say. Lin just nodded and replied, "Yes, sir."

  Stanton caught up with Gold about half way to the ship.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," she snapped.

  "You were a little out of it up on the roof."

  "I'm not sure what you mean, Captain," Gold replied as she kept walking, looking straight down the walkway and not at Stanton.

  Stanton considered for a moment.

  "You told me to call you Cassie."

  Gold stopped walking. "No, I didn't," she said sharply.

  "Yes, actually, you did."

  "I would never have said that," Gold insisted. "No one calls me Cassie. My father called me Cassie when I was a little girl."

  "Oh well, that's nice," said Stanton, unsure what else to say.

  "No, it's not," rebuked Gold. "Don't call me Cassie. Don't ever call me Cassie."

  She stormed off again to the entry bay.

  When Stanton walked in behind her, Rusakova was already waiting by the airlock door. Stanton gave her a nod to go ahead.

  "Aleksandr," Rusakova said softly into her comm link. "We are here."

  This time Petrov’s reply was quick, "We? Who is with you, Oksana?"

  "It is only the captain, Aleksandr," answered Rusakova, "and Agent Gold."

  "No!" yelled Petrov, so loud Rusakova winced. "Not Gold. I heard what happened to her up on the roof. I heard it all. She cannot come in. Not her. No, no, no. She cannot."

  Gold started to protest, but Stanton put up a hand to stop her. Then he turned his comm link back on. "Okay, Petrov. Gold will stay out here. Rusakova and I are coming on board."

  There was a pause, then Petrov said, "All right, Captain. Thank you. Yes, Captain, just you and Oksana. Thank you."

  Stanton ordered Gold to wait in the entry bay, then he activated the airlocks and he and Rusakova passed through to the ship.

  Inside, the ship was mostly dark; just a few of the small, overhead lights were on. More noticeably, though, the air smelled and felt better. Stanton had gotten used to the high oxygen levels on the station. They hadn't gotten around to fixing that yet either.

  "Petrov?" called Stanton.

  "Aleksandr?" tried Rusakova.

  "I am here, Oksana." Petrov raised his hand and they could see him slumped into one of
the seats in the back row of the cockpit.

  "Are you all right, Aleksandr?" Rusakova walked slowly toward him. Stanton stayed back by the door.

  Petrov sighed deeply. "Yes, Oksana. I am all right."

  When Rusakova reached him she took a hold of his chin and gently raised his face. "Why, Aleksandr. You look like you've seen a ghost?"

  Petrov smiled weakly. "Yes, Oksana. I have."

  Chapter 10

  "What are you talking about, Petrov?" Stanton barked. It was bad enough the original crew was missing without a trace, he didn't want to deal with a schizophrenic communications officers and a hallucinating cosmonaut.

  Having fun yet, Junior? Ferguson’s laughter practically echoed in his skull.

  "I am talking about ghosts, Captain," Petrov answered calmly. The few overhead lights cast deep shadows over his eyes and mouth. "Do you not believe in ghosts?"

  Stanton avoided the general question for a more specific one. "I don't believe in ghosts on Mars."

  "Where there has been life, there can be ghosts," Petrov replied.

  "Aleksandr," Rusakova asked, "why are you talking this way? Whatever has upset you, surely it was not a ghost. A shadow perhaps, or something equally innocent."

  "Oh, Oksana, you do not understand." Petrov reached up and touched her face gently. "You are from Moscow, but I from a small village in the Caucasus. The spirits are still strong there. My grandmother could see them."

  "Listen, Petrov," Stanton tried again. "We're not in Moscow or the Caucasus. We're on Mars. Even if there might be ghosts on Earth, there aren't any on Mars. Like Oksana said, whatever you think you saw, I'm sure there is some other explanation."

  Petrov shook his head. "I do not believe so, Captain. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a ripple across the control glass. When I looked I saw a figure hurrying through the entry bay. At the same time, there came a rush of cold air. The figure vanished and the cold air left with it."

  "That could have been anything," Stanton tried, although he wasn’t sure what. "Maybe the reflection of someone in the control glass?"

  "Who, Captain?" Petrov asked. "Not Oksana, she was in the comm center. Not Dekker, he was at the roof access. And not you, Mtumbe, Lin, or Gold, you were all outside."

  Stanton didn't have an answer ready for that.

  "And I heard what happened to Agent Gold over the comm link," Petrov added.

  "What are you talking about?" Stanton frowned.

  "Come now, Captain, you noticed it as well," Petrov answered. "Gold was not, how you say, she was not herself. But if she was not herself, the question is: who was she?"

  "You are scaring me, Aleksandr," said Rusakova. "Tell me you do not seriously believe this."

  "But I do, Oksana," Petrov replied. "In my village, sometimes people would act strangely. They would say and do things they would never normally do. Afterwards they would not remember everything. It was as if they were in a dream."

  "Sounds like they were drunk," Stanton tried to joke. "On that Russian vodka."

  Petrov surrendered a laugh. "Yes, Captain, you are right. It sounds the same. But tell me, was Agent Gold drunk on Russian vodka just now?"

  Stanton shrugged. "She's not really an astronaut," he offered, regretting it slightly since he knew Gold was likely listening in through her own comm link. "She probably just got overwhelmed by the strangeness and beauty of it all."

  Petrov grinned. "No, Captain, she was overwhelmed, but by a spirit. Some malicious spirit who wishes us all ill."

  That was enough for Stanton. The last thing he needed was a ghost scare on top of their already difficult task. "Now you're just talking crazy, Petrov. What spirits are there that could have possessed Gold?"

  Petrov smiled, his teeth shining eerily in the half light. "Where are the colonists?" he pointed out.

  Again, Stanton didn't have an answer.

  "And don't forget," Petrov raised his finger, "there may have been life on Mars at one time."

  "Bacteria," countered Stanton. "Maybe. And that was millions of years ago."

  "Captain? Sorry to interrupt." It was Dekker over the comm link.

  "It's all right," Stanton answered. "What is it?"

  "It's Mtumbe," Dekker said. "Something's wrong?"

  "Is he breathing all right?"

  "His breathing is fine," advised Dekker, "It's his leg."

  "What about his leg?"

  Dekker hesitated. "I— I think it's infected."

  Chapter 11

  "Infected?" Stanton repeated.

  "That's what it looks like, Captain," replied Dekker. "Unless you poured foul-smelling yogurt on the cut before you trolloped off with Gold?"

  "Trolloped?" Stanton shook his head. "We'll be right there."

  He reached under the control glass and pulled out the ship's first-aid kit. They hadn't had the time to check out the station's infirmary yet.

  "You coming, Petrov?" Stanton challenged. "You've got a fellow crew member down."

  Petrov looked up at Rusakova. "You believe me, don't you, Oksana?"

  Rusakova smiled softly. "I do believe you, Aleksandr. But I also believe that we have a friend who has been injured. You should come with us so we can help him."

  Petrov nodded. "Yes, you are right." He smiled. "I am glad you believe me."

  Petrov stood up and headed for the ship's exit. As he reached Stanton, he said, "You still do not believe me, do you, Captain?"

  Stanton was too tired to pretend any more. "No, Petrov, I'm afraid I don't."

  Petrov smiled, his grin still unsettling even in the fuller light by the airlock. "That is because you didn't see what Dekker saw."

  Chapter 12

  When Stanton and the Russians reached the west airlock, Mtumbe was laying on the floor, sweating profusely, and rolling back and forth in obvious pain. Lin was holding a damp cloth to his head and Dekker was holding a towel against his leg.

  "Status report," ordered Stanton.

  Dekker lifted the towel. "Look at this."

  An oozing pile of white-yellow pus was running out of the gash in Mtumbe's leg.

  "Holy shit," Stanton couldn't help but say. "If that's what's coming out—"

  "Then what is going into his bloodstream?" finished Lin. "Yes, we thought that as well."

  Stanton popped open the first-aid kit and pulled out their various forms of antibiotics: spray, injector, and pills. He sprayed the wound first. Mtumbe shrieked and tried to yank his dripping leg away from them. But the spray did its job; the pus practically melted off Mtumbe’s leg before evaporating into the air.

  Next Stanton shot the injector into Mtumbe's leg, just above the knee, into the artery. This time Mtumbe only flinched. The extreme pain from the wound site seemed to be dissipating.

  But when Stanton tried to give Mtumbe the antibiotic pills, Mtumbe wouldn't open his mouth. He rolled his head side to side, still delusional.

  "A little help, gentleman?" Stanton looked up at Dekker and Petrov.

  Dekker laid a hold of Mtumbe’s head and Petrov forced open his mouth. Stanton pressed the pill down his friend’s throat.

  "Okay. Let's get him to sick bay," Stanton directed.

  Dekker and Petrov lifted him and carried him down the hallway to the station’s small infirmary. They placed him on one of the two metal examining tables, then Stanton set the bottle of pills on the counter and started checking the cabinets.

  "We'll need more antibiotics," he stated, "Help me find them."

  Everyone joined in the search, except for Lin who was pressing a damp cloth against Mtumbe's head, and Petrov who had started to look until Gold walked next to him. He stared at her, slack-jawed, and backed into a corner. Gold rolled her eyes but kept looking. Stanton decided not to comment—for now. Four people searching for the antibiotics would be enough.

  But after a few fruitless minutes, Stanton had to ask, "Any luck?"

  "I cannot find any antibiotics at all," Rusakova reported.

  "Me neither," said Dekker.<
br />
  Gold just looked at Stanton and shook her head.

  "They were part of their supplies, yes?" asked Lin.

  "Of course," answered Stanton. "Enough for seven crew members for eighteen months. They didn't really expect to encounter disease like on Earth, but they weren't about to ignore the possibility either."

  "So where are the antibiotics now?" Lin asked.

  Stanton put his hands on his hips and stared into the cabinet. "Good question."

  "Perhaps they used them all up?" Petrov suggested from his corner, still with that disturbing grin. "It might explain much."

  "Hush, Aleksandr," chided Rusakova. "Sometimes you say too much."

  Before Petrov could reply, Stanton jumped in. "We all say too much sometimes. Especially at the end of a long, stressful day." He looked at his watch. "Mars's rotation is twenty-three hours and we've had six months on a ship with a twenty-three-hour clock to get used to it. It's time for lights out. God knows we could all use the rest."

  Most of the crew nodded, even Gold.

  "Gold, show everyone where the crew's quarters are," Stanton instructed. "Someone needs to stay with Commander Mtumbe until he's feeling better. I'll take the first shift, two hours. Who wants the second shift?"

  Lin was quick to offer, "I will."

  "I’ll do the third shift," Dekker said. "No joke."

  "Rusakova, can you do fourth shift?" Stanton asked. He didn't trust Petrov's stability yet. If anyone needed a full night’s rest, it was Petrov.

  And Stanton wanted Gold to sleep through the night as well.

  "Yes, Captain," Rusakova answered. "Of course."

  "Great," said Stanton. "Everyone just pick a cabin for tonight. It doesn't matter which. We don't know how much longer we'll be here, so no need to select the perfect room. Just a place to sleep tonight."

  "I would rather sleep on the ship," Petrov protested.

  "Noted," Stanton nodded. "But until we straighten some things out, I want us all to stay together. Mtumbe has to stay in the station, so we all stay in the station."

  Petrov shifted his weight and glanced around, but he didn't argue any more.