“Near Adrie Petersen’s body?” Moses was very confused.
“No.” She looked at him intensely. “There was one near Bill’s body on the floor next to him. Nobody paid any attention to it. Those things age out and fall all over the place all the time. But it was there. What if he used the bee to kill him? To deliver some kind of deadly mechanical sting?”
“How do you know what was near the body?” Moses was astounded at her memory of the details.
“It was in the folder I brought to your office the other day. There were pictures and I remember seeing one of those bees on the floor.”
It was Moses’ turn for surprise. “Is that even possible? I thought those things just recorded plant locations and danced. They don’t even have stingers.” He looked to her for an answer. He knew from assisting Harold assemble them that there was no reservoir to hold a poison.
“But he is the one who assembles them. Programs them. Why couldn’t he make one with a stinger and program it to find Bill Epps and kill him? He could, right?” Her pride at figuring out the puzzle slowly transformed to dread at what all of it might mean. “What if he killed Epps? That’s what this points to, right?”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m just considering the possibility. I’m not saying that it happened.” Moses swallowed to get some moisture into his dry mouth. The deadly serious line of thought left him parched. “There are a lot of things to take into consideration. Admittedly, the drone near the body does add some weight to the idea. Do you know where all of his things were taken when he died?”
Rebecca thought for a moment, then replied, “All of his belongings were sent home to his extended family on Earth.”
“And what about the drone they found? Was it destroyed?” Moses held his breath, hoping for a break.
“His body, and all of the items from the room, were sent to ICE station III for the investigation. That’s where they did the autopsy and all of the analysis of the scene. I guess they could have the bee there.”
“Station III, that’s Lamar’s station right? The one who was filling in here until I got here?” Moses hoped the man’s lack of interpersonal skills didn’t mirror sloppy clerical skills - like getting rid of potential evidence.
“Yes, that’s Lamar. He did the autopsy and the station chief there conducted the investigation. But that all shut down as soon as Lamar ruled his death as medical causes.”
“Do you think they held on to that stuff?”
“I’m not sure. Let me work on that.”
He decided to keep his conversation with Stephanie Idleman out of their discussion for now. No sense in adding to her distress. She was reeling enough from the revelation that there could be one person to investigate. No need to add to her troubles right now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moses finished giving meds for the fourth congested patient of the day and walked out to the waiting area to greet the next runny nose. Sadly, that was how he came to refer to them. When they kept lining up with the same diagnosis, it became hard to tell them apart. Just as he was thinking about how nice it would be to get a nurse or lab tech to assist him, he noticed the waiting area was empty except for one person. Rebecca sat in the corner waiting patiently while working on her portable device. When he cleared his throat she looked up and smiled at him.
“Congratulations,” she said. “I just cleared your schedule.”
Moses was concerned. “There was a room full of sick people in here that needed help. What happened to them?”
“I took care of them?” She held her smile but a little bit of worry was starting to work its way in. She must be anticipating his rising concern at her dismissing his patients. “Look,” she said. “Ninety per cent of them were that cruddy head thing that is going around. I told them to try a decongestant before they bothered you. Nobody else had serious conditions and they all said that they would come back.”
There had been a lot of congestion and sinus problems over the last few days. “It’s still not OK that you told my patients to leave. I have a responsibility to the people of this habitat to help them get and stay well. You can’t just send them out.”
She lost her smile, stood up, and handed him a piece of paper. “I thought you would want to see this. Now.”
He took the paper from her and read it. “What is this?” he asked.
“It’s an order for you to go to Station III. Dr. Lamar requests your presence.” She smiled again.
“I don’t get it,” he said. “Am I in trouble?”
“Not at all. It is a part of the normal orientation process to visit other habitats and see how they perform similar duties to your own, in order to share the productivity maximization techniques of various departments around the planet. It just so happens that Dr. Lamar runs the most efficient doctor’s office on Mars. Normally they would want you to stick to civilian habs, but I pulled a few strings and got you a couple days with the master. You really should have gone sooner, but everybody here needed a doctor so they postponed the visit. I let him know your schedule had slowed down, and he agreed to see you.” She smiled again, pleased with herself.
“I’m not sure how well that will work for us here, Rebecca. There are still people who are getting sicker here.”
“I checked with upstairs. They will provide digital networking for you to see any emergency cases here. The rest are low priority cases that can wait until you get back. Besides, it just seems like there are a lot of colds going around. But what can you do, really? We breathe recirculated air.”
She gave him a look that seemed to ask how on mars he could possibly disagree with her. And he really couldn’t. She had thought of every eventuality. It didn’t feel right to leave while something was spreading, but at least it was more of a nuisance than a big epidemic.
“Alright,” he said. “What do I need to pack? I’ve never been off-base before.”
“Everywhere you need to go is atmosphere and temperature controlled. They are all virtually the same as here. The five minute walk to the transport vehicle shouldn’t be too bad if you go while the sun is out. You should be fine dressing the same way you do here: drab and boring.” She winked as he reacted to her statement.
“And what exactly will you be doing to keep busy while I’m gone?” He was genuinely curious to hear what she had planned.
“Not much. I’ve just got a hunch I need to work out. Nothing for you to worry about.”
It was clear that she wasn’t going to budge on this, so he didn’t push. Perhaps she was afraid she might be wrong, or maybe even afraid of what he would say if she were right. Better to wait and see what was to come.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As he walked out of the station for the first time into the nascent Martian atmosphere that many decades of terraforming work had achieved, one thought raced through his mind: I’ve got ten minutes to get to the rover before I succumb to the harsh environment on the surface. The advances in atmospheric manipulation allowed him that brief time to get into a regulated vessel before a terrible death set in.
Nothing to be nervous about at all.
Jerrod, the rover pilot, picked up on his nerves and chuckled to himself.
“It’s that obvious, huh?” Moses asked the veteran surface-walker.
“Everybody’s the same their first few times. Amazed at the view, but scared to death of the consequences of enjoying it too long.”
Moses was so preoccupied with the sun shining overhead that he had forgotten to check out the landscape. It spread out before him like a rusty desert, sunlight wavering in the thin air, distorting the view near the horizon. He made a circle, taking in everything. Distant mountains, rocks everywhere, the enormous pyramid of advanced plastics erupting from the surface that captured and delivered sunlight to the people of Habitat IV.
And then he took in his immediate surroundings. The rust-colored rocks scattered across the entire plain, dirt of the same color only differentiated from the rocks
by texture. The sand of the Martian surface, more like tiny pebbles really, blew across the ground in streams. They piled up on the lee of the larger boulders like red snowdrifts. He could hear the sand pinging the side of his pants, and the sound echoed out across the plain. There were large cliffs in the foreground that bounced any sounds back to him. In the distance above the cliffs were formations that hearkened back to the southwestern United States. On the horizon there was a slight blue tint to the otherwise black sky flush with stars.
He savored the wind on his face, turning into it.
It was breathtaking. Literally. His prolonged appreciation of the planet so different from the one he came from caused the caustic air to permeate his lungs. Breathing was now a challenge. He could get the air into his lungs without trouble, but expelling the carbon dioxide building up in his system was getting harder. So this was what the onset of emphysema or asthma felt like. This was terrible.
He located the rover and saw Jerrod already getting aboard. He hurried into the vehicle. Jerrod was still chuckling, on the verge of outright laughter. With his regular trips between habitats and research stations, he must enjoy seeing how newcomers experienced their first times onto the surface of Mars.
“Don’t fret it, man. It happens to everybody. It is impressive. But the view from inside the rover is less . . . exhausting. You’ll get used to it.” He started flipping switches and pressing buttons, the amusing experience now behind them. His red beard extended lower than on anyone Moses had seen on the planet so far. Apparently flitting between locations allowed you to dodge regulations to a certain degree.
“How long does it normally take to get to Station III?” Moses asked.
Jerrod thought for a few seconds, “Shouldn’t take more than a day. We can’t move fast, and there are some major geological barriers between the two habs. I know you’ve been here a little while, but welcome to Mars, Doc.”
Moses smiled at the familiarity of the pilot. Most ICE personnel tended to be quite formal and rigid, almost robotic. Now there were two that Moses knew he could call human. He hadn’t known the pilot for more than an hour and already felt a kinship with the man. First Rebecca, now Jerrod - how many friends could he truly hope to gain here? The civilians in his habitat were all under his care, thus eliminating the possibility of a friendship that didn’t include late night calls about fevers and cramps. Other than the two friendly ICE encounters, there didn’t seem to be much chance there either. He had left his home to seek out isolation and avoid as much interpersonal interaction as possible, and after a short time he was finding the call of relationships wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Thank you, Jerrod. Should I call you Captain?” Moses laughed at his own attempt to lighten the mood.
“Jerrod’ll do. We’re not really military, so they frown on titles.” He turned to the back of the rover and gave Moses a smile. “But otherwise, you could call me that anytime. Sounds great. Though technically I’m a commander.”
“Aye-Aye, Jerrod.” Moses replied. “When you’re not driving, where do you sleep?”
“I’m always driving. Every habitat has a dedicated bunk for drivers, so we can crash anywhere when we need to.” Jerrod laughed again, looking at Moses to see if his pun was appreciated. “We don’t have permanent quarters, which works out fine as long as there aren’t two drivers at the same place. When that happens we have to bunk up, giving us both about a meter between the bed and the bunk above us or the ceiling. Like I said, they are small quarters.”
Moses watched the ground creep by out of the side window as they talked. They continued to trade puns and biographical details with each other for the first two hours. After a while, a comfortable silence ensued. Jerrod pointed out major landmarks that Moses had studied in training. After another few hours, Moses decided to risk some meatier questions.
“How well did you know Dr. Epps? Did you ever get to take him around much?”
Jerrod considered the question, as he appeared to do with every question, before giving a response. “Yeah, I got to take him a few places. At first, he was real nice, friendly. But the last few months there was something different going on. He didn’t seem like the same guy.”
“How so?” Moses inquired. This fit in with one of his theories about what had happened.
“He didn’t talk hardly at all. And he never smiled. Just looked out that window and stared. He was either thinking deep thoughts or trying not to cry.” Jerrod paused for a second. “Or both.”
“And how about Dr. Lamar?” Moses hoped he wasn’t pushing his new acquaintance for too much information. He would hate to give the impression that he was a prying or nosy person.
“He’s a company guy. To the letter. He does what’s expected, not an ounce more, and delivers the company line.” Jerrod grew a frown as he prepared his next statement. “You know: ‘Whatever is needed to meet productivity and efficiency.’ It’s a fairly standard line around Mars. ICE drives a demanding ship. But you’ve got to give them credit because it’s working.”
“Working for what?” Moses asked, slightly more sharp than he intended. Jerrod didn’t seem to notice.
“I hear that on some parts of the surface people can go up to thirty minutes without artificial respiration. The nights are warmer than they used to be, the days a little cooler. We used to only be able to get in and out of the rovers at dusk and dawn. Now we can do it anytime other than around midday or past early evening. Got to give them credit for delivering on their promises to the Home Office.”
Moses was just beginning to hear about the Home Office, ICE HQ on Earth, home of the bigwigs and potentates that regulated things here on Mars. They were comprised of a number of political leaders, wealthy investors, corporate officers, and anonymous organizations from around the globe. And they were the ones that designed the Homestead Agreement, implementing a civilian workforce that labored here on Mars with the threat of deportation and transport fees if they failed to produce the desired results.
It was true, life on Mars was becoming more tenable. But it seemed like everyone was running scared all of the time.
“How do you like working for ICE?” Moses asked.
Jerrod did his mandatory pause for thought once again before answering, “It’s great. I trained for years to be able to escort venerable persons such as yourself from underground facility to underground facility. It gives me a first-hand view of the topside of this planet - something most people here only get to gawk at a few times a year at best. And I get to listen to whatever music I want when nobody else is in the rover with me.”
Moses detected some sarcasm in the answer, but took the challenge. “What music do you like? I’m up for just about anything.”
With that, the rest of the trip was conversation-free, no doubt what Jerrod had intended. Were the questions hitting something too uncomfortable for him, or did he really just want to listen to the greatest hits of the last century? Moses would need a few more road trips across Mars to figure that out.
Chapter 7
The differences between Station III and Homestead IV were clear to Moses as soon as the lift doors opened. They were distinct in every way conceivable apart from being beneath the surface of Mars. An ICE-only station, it was not designed to make people at ease or for long-term living. Most personnel here would float between ICE stations and Homesteads a few months at a time. The workers who stayed for longer periods had nicer quarters and a personal investment in the success of the entire enterprise of terraforming. There was no large open center that delivered sunlight to all levels, or even a nice paint job on the environs. The entire thing was grooved metallic floors with easily assembled walls that could be reorganized when needed. It was also much older and had a more lived-in feel. The station’s primary concern was being well-run, and so small cosmetic damage was left untouched.
This all hit Moses as he entered, Jerrod handing him off politely to the ICE doorman.
“Daisuke, this is Moses. Treat him well, he�
��s a decent guy.” With that, Jerrod hurried off to the driver’s bunk near the entrance to get some rest. Daisuke appraised Moses nonverbally before extending a soft hand in greeting. After introductions, they were off in search of Dr. Lamar.
“The doctor works out of the bottom levels, and is ready to see you. I will take you to him. Please wear this badge while in the facility.” He handed Moses a plain white badge with no markings or photos. The lack of an ICE logo was a stark departure from the badges that everybody else was wearing, separating Moses from everyone else in the station.
They arrived at the bottom without ceremony; no tour, no small talk, and an eagerness to get back to watching the door. In typical ICE fashion, Daisuke was all business and glad to get back to his duties. Moses couldn’t fault him for that.
Dr. Steadman Lamar arrived to welcome Moses to Station III just as Daisuke was entering the lift. He fit the image of doctor. He was wearing a thigh-length lab coat with ICE grays underneath. A stethoscope hung from his neck like a badge of office, the anachronistic device was a tool to announce his profession more than being a useful diagnostic tool.
The two doctors sized each other up in a moment, then proceeded with introducing themselves. After small talk and discussion of the trip from Homestead IV to Station III, Dr. Lamar showed Dr. Truman to the place where he would be sleeping.
“I’ve got you in one of the apartments next to my clinic here. We keep a few empty bunks in case there are situations where someone needs to sleep near the clinic for the night. You know, serious conditions that need monitoring and all that.” He smiled at Moses as he showed him the room. “There aren’t any locks on the doors, but as long as you keep them closed nobody will disturb you. It’s in case something is happening to one of the sicker patients and we need to get into the room fast.”
Moses thanked him for the room and began to get ready for bed. The day-long drive was exhausting. The terrain was rough and the effort of looking at the planet constantly for fear of missing out on something took its toll on a body’s energy reserves.
The Homestead Page 7