"I don't think we were arguing exactly," added Mtumbe.
"No, not just now," Lin said. "Earlier, when you were ordering her over the comm links to open the equipment bay doors."
Stanton tried to remember. "What did she say exactly?"
"She was attempting to goad Lieutenant Petrov into more irrational responses," Lin recalled. "I could hear it all through my comm link. She listed all the unexplained happenings which might have been caused by a poltergeist."
"So?" asked Stanton.
"She listed the carved word together with the initial explosion and the nonworking entry pads," Lin explained.
Stanton just stared at her. He wasn't getting it.
"The word would not be an unexplained happening," Lin said in exasperation, "if she had actually done it. But in her own mind she has categorized it as unexplained and she accidentally admitted as much when she listed it among all the other things."
Stanton wasn't convinced. "She might have just been playing with Petrov," he said.
"Something I considered as well," Lin reported. "So after you had departed the equipment bay and Agent Gold was in the comm center, I quickly inspected the carving. This was while you were still yelling at her," she observed.
"Right," said Stanton. "There's an explanation for that."
"I assumed so," Lin replied politely. "In any event, I checked the carving and, knowing what to look for, there are obvious aging signs which indicate that it was carved well before our arrival."
"Are you sure?" Stanton asked.
"Yes, Captain," Lin replied confidently. "I was concerned about the information and so I made sure to be careful. Whatever was used, it was more then just a knife. The edges of the grooves were slightly rounded, indicating a heat source. More like a soldering gun or some such tool. In addition, the plastic coating around the letters was slightly scorched. More importantly, it had yellowed inside, indicating far more than a few minutes since the inside had been exposed to air."
Stanton nodded as Lin provided the explanation. He had no reason to doubt her and every reason to doubt Gold.
"Why would she say that?" he wondered aloud.
"What reason did she give you for doing it in the first place?" Mtumbe asked. "That might shed some light on it."
Stanton frowned as he tried to remember. "I was about to report it back to Earth, when she took me aside and admitted—" he stopped himself and smiled darkly. "I mean, when she claimed she had been the one to carve it. I made her tell the whole crew, but it did stop me from comming back to Command."
"So she was willing to have the entire crew mad at her," observed Lin, "rather than have you send a communication back to Earth."
"Have we sent any communications back home yet?" Mtumbe asked.
"Yeah," Stanton nodded. "After you got hurt, when you were still in sick bay, I snuck onto the ship to send a comm back to Command."
"'Snuck'?" asked Mtumbe with a sideways glance. "How does a captain sneak onto his own ship?"
Stanton had to laugh, despite himself. "See, now, that's a good point. I was sneaking because I was trying to send the comm without Gold finding out. After I did the first round at your bedside I went to the ship instead of my quarters. I figured Gold would be asleep."
"And was she?" Mtumbe asked.
"No," answered Stanton. "She was already on the ship. She had just sent a comm back to Earth with an 'all clear' status. No mention of your infection, so Command wouldn't forbid us from coming home and starting a plague. I thought that was pretty smart of her actually."
Lin and Mtumbe looked at each other and shook their heads.
"Captain, are you certain she actually sent a communication?" Lin asked. "Did you see her do it, or did she just tell you she had done it?"
Stanton's face grew grim. "You're right, Lin. I didn't see her do it. She told me she did, but I didn't see it."
"Just like she told you she had carved that word in the wall," Lin observed.
"So as far as we know," concluded Mtumbe ominously, "we've never sent any transmissions back to Earth."
"Just like the first colonists," Stanton mused. Then he considered the ramifications. "Was that her real assignment?" he posited. "To prevent any transmissions at all?"
There was no time for an answer because another question was being screamed down the access corridor. It was Rusakova, hurling aluminum plates and cups from the kitchen at Petrov who was running away from her, and toward them.
"How dare you?!" Rusakova was screaming hysterically. "How dare you?! How can you say such things, you monster?!"
Chapter 27
"Shut up!" Rusakova screamed at Petrov. "Shut up, you devil!"
A cup bounced off Petrov's raised forearm and clattered to the floor. "You cannot shut up the truth, Oksana," he said, remarkably calm considering the attack he was enduring.
"I will shut you up, Aleksandr!" she shrieked. "You do not speak the truth! Your mouth spits only evil lies!"
Stanton rushed into the hallway to break it up and received a cup to the face for his trouble.
"Ow! Damn it!" he yelled, holding his left cheekbone. It was cut and blood started to seep from the wound.
Mtumbe had stepped into the doorway to monitor events. He pointed at his leader's injury. "Watch that. You don't want it to get infected."
Stanton glared at him.
"Oh, Captain," said Rusakova "I am so sorry. I did not mean to strike you."
"You meant to strike Petrov?" he asked, his hand to his bleeding cheek.
"I mean to kill Petrov," growled Rusakova.
"There's been enough death today, Oksana," Stanton said.
"Do you think I do not know that?" Rusakova replied. "That is why I am so upset."
"Okay, okay," Stanton was starting to lose his patience. "Someone needs to tell me exactly what you two are fighting about."
"I am not fighting," Petrov insisted. "She is attacking me."
"You attack me with your words, Aleksandr!" shouted Rusakova.
"What words?" asked Stanton.
"He said Nils was to blame for his own death," Rusakova related. "He said that Nils deserved to die for angering the Martian gods at their temple."
Stanton turned to Petrov with an expression he hoped said, 'Did you really say that, and if so, what the hell is wrong with you?'
"I did not say he deserved to die," Petrov responded. "I said that he tempted the spirits and it is not surprising they punished him."
"That's a pretty slim distinction, Petrov," Stanton observed. "He died because his suit failed."
"Ah, yes, Captain." Petrov raised thick eyebrows over gaunt eyes. "But why did his suit fail?"
"His suit failed," Lin answered, "because of multiple points of fatigue, particularly at the joints and connections."
"That is where it failed," Petrov corrected, his eyes growing wider. "Not why."
Lin considered. "I am not sure I agree. The fatigue is the reason for the failure. It suggests excessive or extreme use of that particular suit."
"There are other explanations, my dear Lieutenant," Petrov grinned. "Less scientific, but equally valid. Perhaps more so."
"I think I'll stick with science," Lin responded. "It is superior to superstition."
"Today's science was yesterday's superstition," Petrov reminded her. "We're standing on what people used to think was the God of War moving across the night sky."
Lin thought for a moment. "I'm not sure how that means Dekker’s suit failed for any reason other than excessive fatigue."
Petrov smiled broadly, a strange, disconcerting grin. "The evidence is all around you," he said. "You just refuse to accept it."
Just then Gold walked in. She seemed completely uninterested in the pending argument. Instead, she announced, "I've sent word of Dekker’s death back to Command."
Mtumbe murmured, "Sure you did."
Before she could respond, Petrov said, "Agent Gold knows. She has kept track of all the dangers the spirits have infli
cted upon us."
Rusakova's eyes widened at Gold. "You believe this lunatic? I thought you were smarter than that."
"I am," she said. She looked at Petrov. "What dangers? What are you talking about?"
"Do you not remember, Agent Gold?" said Petrov almost hypnotically. "When we were in the equipment bay, you listed all the misfortunes which have befallen us. You agreed they were committed by the poltergeist."
"Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that list," said Stanton.
Gold ignored him to respond to Petrov. "I was joking, you idiot."
That seemed to shake Petrov.
"Stop it!" shouted Rusakova. "Shut up, all of you! This has nothing to do with a poltergeist! This about Nils! Nils!"
Everyone was shocked into silence.
"Nils died," she said, "because of a stupid senseless accident on this stupid senseless mission."
Then she narrowed her eyes and pointed at Stanton. "And because you took away the suit he was going to wear. If he'd worn that suit he'd still be alive!"
Stanton was stunned. "I— I'm not sure about that," he stammered.
"That is what I told her as well, Captain," Petrov said. "She blamed you, but I told her it would not have mattered what suit he wore. Whatever suit he was in would have been torn asunder when he angered the spirits."
"Shut up, Aleksandr!" shrieked Rusakova.
"No, everyone shut up!" bellowed Stanton. He'd had enough. "Dekker is dead because of an accident, plain and simple. He isn't dead because of spirits and he isn't dead because I took his suit away. Now everybody be quiet about it. The man deserves to be honored, not argued over."
There was a long awkward silence at the captain losing his temper. He wasn't one quick to anger, so when he did yell, it carried extra weight.
They may never like you, Ferguson had counseled him once. So be ready to make them fear you.
"Yes, Captain," Rusakova was the first to break the silence. "Of course you are right. I would like to make arrangements for his memorial service."
"I apologize as well," Petrov said. "I will speak no more of this."
"I would like to run a full inspection of all the remaining suits and exogear," Lin suggested.
"Thank you, Lin," Stanton answered, his usual calm returning. "Those all sort of go together. We'll need to bury him outside. We can't cremate him. There’s no oxygen outside for burning, and we're not doing it inside because of the health ramifications."
Stanton thought a bit more then added, "We'll need to do it today. We don't have a refrigerated morgue to slow decomposition."
Mtumbe was looking out of one of the corridor windows. "We might need a Plan B," he said grimly. "Here comes a sandstorm."
Chapter 28
"Sandstorm?" confirmed Stanton as they all turned to look out the row of west-facing windows that ran the length of the main corridor. "Shit."
The storm was still distant but it was moving fast, and directly toward the station.
"Lin, please check shield status," Stanton instructed as they all watched the billowing dust cloud amass on the horizon.
Lin disappeared down the hallway and into the control center. After a moment she returned. "Shields fully operational."
That was a relief to Stanton.
"How long will the storm last?" Gold asked.
"Hard to say," answered Stanton.
"It could be a few minutes," Mtumbe added, "or it could be hours. Depends on how big the storm is."
Everyone looked out at the angry storm growing and swirling its way toward them.
"It looks very big," Rusakova said.
"Yes," agreed Petrov. Rusakova did not throw him a glare. Their spat was forgotten. This was far more serious.
"The worst part will be if it stops on top of us," Mtumbe went on. "These storms can rush across the open space at a hundred kilometers per hour, or they can stall out and spin and thrash in the same place for hours. It's like a hurricane over open sea. Sometimes they rush toward shore, sometimes they sit and spin for a while, growing stronger and bigger."
The storm was almost on them. In fact, the first grains of sand were beginning to strike the shields with an unmistakable buzzing zap noise. The midday sky was darkening too as a cloud of spinning dust began to arch overhead, blocking out the small, distant sun.
"We should move away from the windows," Stanton advised. "Just in case."
There were no disagreements and the entire crew made their way down the corridor and into the commissary. It was cramped but there were no windows, and if the storm did last for several hours, then they were already where the food and toilets were.
Petrov was murmuring to himself as they walked in and sat down. He was in his own world, but Stanton heard the words 'spirits' and 'mercy.'
"Knock it off, Petrov," Stanton ordered. "Don't start with the ghost stuff again."
Petrov's head jerked up and his darting eyes met the captain's. "Hush, Captain. Do not speak like that. I implore you."
"I'm not going to let you freak everyone out again," Stanton replied.
Petrov looked pained, nearly in agony. "No, no. I can hear them, Captain. They whisper to me. They promised they would not play any tricks until the storm had passed."
Stanton rolled his eyes. "Well, that's good, I suppose," he said sarcastically.
"Well, it was good," Petrov answered, "but you made them angry. They want us to believe in them, and you made them angry!"
Petrov stood up from the table and kicked the chair out behind him.
"Whoa, calm down, Petrov," Stanton said, standing up. Mtumbe stood up too and slowly took a position behind Petrov.
"Everything's going to be okay," Stanton soothed. He started wondering where they might be able to lock up Petrov until it was time to head home. "Just tell your spirit friends that everything is going to be okay."
Petrov tipped his head back, his dark eyes rolling within the deep eye sockets.
"They have stopped talking to me," he cried. "I can't hear them any more!"
And just then the power went out.
Chapter 29
Although it was daytime, the sandstorm was blocking out most of the sunlight. In addition, they had moved inside to a windowless room. As a result, the loss of power resulted in almost complete darkness, with just a bit of faint light filtering in through the doorway from the corridor windows.
"Damn it!" yelled Stanton.
Mtumbe and Gold also added epithets. Rusakova started screaming and Petrov began reciting scripture in Russian. Lin remained silent.
"Quiet, everyone, quiet!" Stanton ordered after a moment. "Don't panic."
But once they were quiet, they had more reason to panic. The steady clicking of sand being incinerated by the shields had been replaced by the scratching, scraping, clawing noise of the sandstorm swallowing the station.
"You would not believe me!" yelled Petrov. "And now we will all pay the price!"
"I still don't believe you," Stanton said in the dark. "Lin, any ideas as to why the power failed?"
But she didn't answer.
"Lin?" Stanton called out. "Lin?"
Then there was a large electric pop, and the dim red emergency lighting turned on. They could see again, but Stanton almost wished they couldn't. Petrov's drawn face looked positively demonic in the crimson half light.
More importantly, though, the clicking buzz noise had returned. The shields were back on. A moment later, Lin walked back through the commissary door.
"The emergency power should have kicked in automatically," she complained. "I do not know why it didn't. But I went to the control center and activated it manually."
"How did you do that with the power off?" Gold asked, almost suspiciously. "Wouldn't the control glass have been off too?"
Lin smiled, allowing her bemusement to appear on her scarlet lit features. "There is a manual switch in the wall in the control room," she explained. "You really should familiarize yourself with the station's blueprints, Agent
Gold."
Gold just sneered at Lin.
"So now what?" asked Rusakova.
"Now we wait for the storm to pass," answered Stanton.
"And hope the shields hold," added Mtumbe.
Everyone expected Petrov to make some comment about not angering the great and powerful spirits of Mars. But he didn't.
In fact, Stanton couldn’t see him anywhere in the dim red light of the commissary.
"Petrov?"
"Aleksandr?"
A quick search of the room confirmed it.
"He's gone!"
Chapter 30
"Aw, crap," said Stanton. "This is not good."
"We must find him," warned Rusakova. "There is no telling what he might do."
"Let's split into teams," Gold suggested. Then she looked over at Stanton. "Unless you think that's a bad idea, Captain?"
Stanton was stunned at even being asked. It was a day of surprises. "No, Agent Gold," he replied. "It's a good idea."
He turned to Rusakova. "Where do you think he might have gone, Oksana?"
"Who knows?" she answered. "He is crazy."
"Not very helpful," Stanton said. "Try again."
"The entry bay?" she suggested. "To get back on the ship again?"
"Okay, that makes sense," Stanton answered. "You and Gold go there."
Then he threw the question open to everyone. "Where else?"
"The control center," suggested Lin. "To turn off the emergency power?"
"Good," said Stanton. "You and Mtumbe go there."
"Where are you going?" Mtumbe asked him.
Stanton's features hardened in the dim scarlet light. "Sickbay," he answered. "If he's obsessed with ghosts and death, he might try to do something to Dekker’s body."
Chapter 31
Stanton walked into the sick bay but had to stop suddenly. Dekker had only been dead for a few hours, but the smell—that smell—was already starting.
He had been around dead bodies before. It came with the territory. Exploring space is dangerous work and not everyone makes it. When he was training on the Moon Base, one of the older astronauts had gotten himself electrocuted. It was a month before the next transport. They finally had just put the body outside, but not before everyone became acquainted with the smell of death.
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