by Greig Beck
“You know what that says to me? That the issue isn’t with the signal initiation system, because that bit is working.” Maddock slapped Sam on the shoulder. “Your problem is somewhere else.”
Sam thought about it for a few seconds. “You know what? You may be right.”
“Yeah, that’s right, buddy, and why you’re the worker and I’m the thinker.” Maddock meshed his fingers and cracked all his knuckles. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“Let me see.” Sam turned and looked over the room. The communication room was fairly large by comparison to the other rooms on the base. There were racks of processors, cupboards, and cabinets that housed everything from generators to relay boosters. The cabinets were about six feet high, four wide, and double doored. Plus, they were screwed shut. Bottom line, you weren’t supposed to be poking around in them unless you knew what you were doing.
“The relay boosters.” He clicked his fingers. “I never checked them.”
“There you go.” Maddock went and sat on the edge of a bench top. “I’ll be over here if you need any more help.”
Sam paused to get a small circuit tester and an electric screwdriver, then went to the first of the steel cabinets.
He placed the screwdriver into the first screw and undid it. Then the next and next, until the middle doors could be opened. He pulled open the cabinet, and ran his eyes over the racks of machines and their blinking lights. There was only a little smell of ozone and everything seemed to be functioning fine. He tested a few boards and found that they were passing signals as expected.
“This guy looks okay; next.”
Sam closed the cabinet and rescrewed it, and then moved to the next one. He began the process of unscrewing it and turned to speak over his shoulder. “Yes, thank you for offering, you can help by unscrewing the next cabinet for me.”
“Aw, do I have to do everything?” Maddock got to his feet. “Okay, big guy, but you owe me.” He went to the tool kit, grabbed a standard screwdriver, and approached the next cabinet to the one Sam was working on. He lifted the tool, about to slot it into the screw head, when he saw it was gone. He moved down to the next one, and saw it was also missing.
“That’s weird.”
“What is?” Sam asked.
“This one is already unscrewed.” Maddock pulled it open.
The body fell out at him – and on him.
Maddock spun away, pulling his weapon and going into a crouch. Sam did the same, and both big men were covering the figure in seconds.
“That ain’t good,” Maddock said. “Cover me.” He edged forward and poked the body with his screwdriver. The body was unresponsive, and he slowly stood. “Cause of death?”
Sam came and stood beside him, looking down at the figure. It was a woman, tall, with dirty blond hair to her jaw line. Her eyes were open. She looked normal, except her head was turned totally backward on her neck.
“Not drowning,” Sam said. He moved around the body, and then reached down to flip it over. “No more rigor mortis, so given the opaqueness of her eyes, I’d say she’s been dead and jammed in here for several days.”
“Who the hell is it?” Maddock asked.
Sam used one hand to open the body’s mouth and lever down the jaw. It creaked open with a stretching sound. “Yep, all metal fillings. My money is on it being the missing Russian woman.” He wiped his gloved fingers on her jacket.
Maddock crouched. “Well, hello, Miss Olga. I think we now know why your equipment was failing – the body was crushing the relay equipment. Call it in?” he asked.
“Yeah, do that.” Sam frowned and knelt again by the body. “Why is she in here? And why wasn’t she absorbed like the others?”
She was hidden, he thought. Something stopped her being absorbed. But then whoever killed her didn’t want her found. Or at least, didn’t want people to know she was dead.
He stood. While she was missing, she was the main suspect. Not anymore.
Maddock signed off. “Boss says to finish the comms work, seal the room, and secure the body.”
* * *
Alex signed off from Maddock.
“Trouble?” Casey laughed. “I mean more trouble?”
“They just found the missing Russian woman stuffed in a cabinet down in the comms room.” His eyes narrowed as his mind worked through the implications.
Casey scowled. “What? I thought she was our freaking monster.”
“How did she die?” Marion asked.
“Broken neck.”
Marion frowned. “That’s odd.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah, it is; it doesn’t conform to the pattern. She was murdered and then hidden.”
“Great, so we’ve got a killer as well as a giant space germ,” Casey observed.
“Unlikely,” Alex replied.
“Maybe an accidental kill,” Marion added. “Like Casey said, there’s a few people on this base who really thought Olga was the source of the infection. Maybe they confronted her, panicked, and killed her, thinking she was the creature. Then when they found she wasn’t, they hid the body.”
“It’s a good theory, except for one thing: the head was twisted all the way around.” Alex folded his arms. “And it takes between 1000 to 1300 pounds of torque force to break a human neck like that. I’m not sure there’s anyone on the base who could do it.”
“If you ask me, something smells real bad here,” Casey said.
“It sure doesn’t add up.” Alex paced away for a moment and then turned back to Marion. “How long until your test is ready?”
“It’s ready now. But might not be as useful. Like I said, the antibody markers don’t seem to remain in the system. They get copied or absorbed.”
Alex sighed. “We need a break here.”
“Something about the Russian woman was different,” Marion said. “I need to see that body.”
“Agreed.” Alex headed for the door.
“Where will you be?” Klara asked.
Alex engaged his comms. “Sam, coming down.” He turned back to Casey and Klara. “I’m going to bring the body in. Someone or something went to a lot of trouble to hide that Russian woman. We need to know why.”
CHAPTER 46
Alex rode the elevator to the sub level and exited when the door slid open. He paused, turning to stare back down the long, white-paneled corridor. He sensed something, a presence, watching him. Or at least monitoring him somehow.
“I know you’re there,” he said softly.
He waited for a moment, then closed his eyes and pushed out his consciousness. The presence was there, but seemed all around him.
“What do you want?”
He waited again. He concentrated, but couldn’t pinpoint it, and eventually he opened his eyes. He turned away and headed to the communication center.
The comms room door slid open as he approached.
Maddock was just inside and gave him a small salute. “Just your average HAWC day: monster on the loose, running repairs, body stuffed in a cabinet.” He stood aside.
Alex laughed. “Come on, Roy, you’d do this job for free if you had the chance.”
“You seen my paycheck? I basically do.” Maddock shut the door.
Alex headed for Sam, who stood over the body.
He nodded to Alex. “Poor Olga here turned out to be the bug in our system. She was jammed in there so tight she damaged some of the circuits.”
Alex knelt beside the body. “There goes suspect number one.” He looked up. “How’s the comms work going?”
“Nearly done. If the new boosters come online, then we are good for a trial run.”
“Good work. Stick with it. I’m afraid until the work is complete, and we have successfully contacted Earth, you guys are living here.” Alex shrugged. “This thing already tried to damage it once. It’ll try again.”
“Got it. I estimate we only need a few more hours. Maybe four, five tops.”
Alex nodded and then looked back down at the body. “
Well, this lady has a story to tell.” He scooped Olga into his arms and stood. “Stay online, stay alert.”
He went to turn away, then paused. “And stay being Sam and Roy. Not everyone is who they say they are.” He pinned Sam with his stare. “You got three hours.”
* * *
Alex lay the body down in the med lab. He placed a hand on each side of the head.
“Brace yourself,” he said, and then, with a sickening crunch, quickly spun the head back into its normal position.
Casey, Klara, and Marion stared down at the body of Olga Sobakin as Alex stood back a step.
“Someone or something didn’t want this body found. We need to know why.”
Marion had donned rubber gloves and started to press the woman’s flesh around the glands in her neck. She then pulled the lower lid of her right eye down.
“How long was she missing?” she asked.
“Three days,” Casey said. “According to Mia.”
Marion nodded. “Blood would have pooled and congealed. There’ll be no cellular activity by now, but there will be DNA and a few other things we can learn from. Do you know how the body was situated when Sam and Roy found it?”
“Roy said when it fell at him out of cabinet it was upright. Jammed in, but upright.”
Marion nodded, went to one of the feet, and rolled up the leg of her trousers. The ankle was purple. “After death, the heart stops pumping, blood stops moving and then simply drains to the lowest parts in the body.” She turned. “Casey, get me the large hypodermic.”
Casey grabbed the largest glass tube with long silver needle. Marion took it and stabbed it into the hard flesh of the calf. She had to strain to draw out the congealed blood, and they saw it fill the tube with dark, brown sludge.
“Starting to necrotize. Lucky that room was cooled, or it would have begun to rot.” Marion withdrew the needle. She squirted a few drops onto a slide, and the rest into a test tube that she positioned in a stand. She smeared the blood on the slide and stuck it under the microscope.
“Well, well, well – hello, iron woman. Hemochromotosis.”
“Hema-what?” Casey asked.
“Unusual iron retention by the plasma cells. This woman would have been on some form of medication,” Marion answered.
“What does it mean?” Alex asked.
“Maybe a clue. Hemochromatosis is a blood disorder where an overabundance of iron builds up in the body. Without treatment, it can cause an overload that can damage the liver, heart, pancreas, joints, just about every part of the physical system.” Marion folded her arms. “Treatment for severe cases is a full blood transfusion or drawing about a pint of blood at a time, on a regular schedule. Then to manage it the patient needs medication to keep it low and under control. In fact, under management, it’s not a problem at all.”
“I doubt she would have been getting full blood transfusions on the moon. It’s a wonder the Russians even let her come,” Casey said.
“They might not have known,” Alex replied. “I’m betting she was fine for her physical and the iron only began to build up again when she came off her medicine.”
Marion nodded. “That’s what I think. Olga probably thought she’d be home before it became noticeable. But it was gradually building back up to toxic levels in her system.”
“And then a moon germ screwed up her plans,” Casey said.
“So, the million-dollar question: do you think the iron made her unpalatable to this thing?” Alex asked.
“Possibly. Iron is a great growth medium for many bacteria and fungi species. But an overabundance inhibits their ability to metabolize nutrients. In fact, some can’t tolerate it at all. Maybe the creature is one like that. It tried to absorb or assimilate the Russian woman, and found her system was toxic to it.” Marion shrugged. “It’s a theory.”
“But can we use it?” Alex sked.
“Eggs, spinach, red meat; that’s what I use to boost iron,” Casey said. “But that’s no quick fix.”
“She’s right. How do we boost our iron levels in our blood, quickly, without blinding ourselves, or destroying our organs?” Alex asked.
“Iron injections can be via four major types: iron sucrose, iron dextran, sodium ferric gluconate, and ferumoxytol. There will be some in the base stores, but not enough for the entire crew.”
“Can you make more?” he asked.
Marion sighed. “Not quickly.”
Alex nodded. “Then inoculate yourself, and all essential personnel.”
“What about you? I would have thought you were an essential person right about now,” Marion said.
“We’re not that important. In fact, we don’t even exist.” Alex grinned. “Right, Franks?”
“You got it, we’re ghosts.” Casey grinned back. She flexed her arm, making her bicep bulge in her suit. “Besides, I got enough iron right here.”
Overhead a klaxon horn blared, making the doctor cringe and Klara and Casey pull their weapons up.
“What the hell?’ Alex strode to the internal comm. unit and punched the button. “What gives, Briggs?”
The response took a few minutes, but the commander yelled back over the blaring horn. “Don’t know yet. But there’s some bad shit going down in the rec room. I’m heading there now.”
“On my way.” Alex signed off and turned to Marion. “Good work – keep at it.”
Alex headed out the door fast toward the rec room.
CHAPTER 47
Baikonur Cosmodrome Spaceport, southern Kazakhstan
“They’re off course.” The lead ground crew technician, Janus Androv, frowned deeply. “They’ve changed their trajectory.”
Major Bilov looked up from his notes. “What?”
Androv turned to the woman on his right, who was also peering into a screen. “Nadia, please confirm return telemetry.”
She read the data, and then hit some keys before nodding. “Recalculating … current arrival point is now …” Her eyes widened slightly. “The center of Moscow.”
Bilov jumped to his feet. “Impossible! How?”
“There’s been a manual override,” Androv said.
“Well, change it back.” Bilov came around his desk, fast.
Androv’s hands flew over the keyboard, then he shook his head. “I can’t – they’ve manually locked it in.”
Bilov threw his hands up. “Contact them. Try again.”
Androv exhaled and put the earphones over his head. He pulled the wire down in front of his mouth. “Lunar lander P23–09, come in.” He waited. “Commander Yuri Borgan in lunar lander P23–09, please confirm your telemetry as you are now off course.”
The room was silent, and on the wall screen were several dotted lines – the white one showing a landing at the nominated military airbase runway some four hundred miles from any populated centers. And the next, a red one, that displayed a significant deviation.
Androv turned. “There’s no response.”
“How long until they enter our orbit?” Bilov felt his face growing hot as his blood pressure rose.
“Twenty-two hours, sixteen minutes.” Janus turned back to confirm his numbers. “Mark.”
Bilov folded his arms and began to pace. “Contact Commander Yuri Borgan again and keep contacting him. Warn him that if he does not correct his trajectory, he will be placing Russian civilians at risk.” His lips pressed together for a moment. “And he will know we cannot allow this.”
Bilov knew that Borgan would know what he meant – if the returning craft represented a risk to the population, then the returning craft was be diverted, delayed – or destroyed. All Russian spacecraft had remote destruct buttons.
Janus stared for a moment, then turned back and opened the communication channel again.
Bilov paced. The landers were flying thermal bombs, and if they struck a crowded city, it could result in the deaths of thousands, the end of the Russian space program, and great loss of face for Russia. But even worse for Bilov: it could mean r
emoval or even disappearance for anyone involved.
“Hold …” Androv held the cup of his earphone.
This time, there was a response.
“Sir, coming through now.” Androv flicked some switches. “Putting it up on screen.”
Bilov breathed a sigh of relief as the fragmented images of the cockpit appeared on the screen along with a flood of static. A man’s face floated into focus. Then he frowned.
“That’s not Commander Borgan. It’s Lieutenant Igor Stanislov.”
“Lieutenant Igor Stanislov, what is your status?” demanded Androv.
Stanislov looked emotionless and disinterested and stared into the camera with dark eyes. “We had malfunction. Fixing now.”
“Lieutenant Stanislov, this is urgent and highest priority: will you able to correct your descent profile?” Androv asked.
“Of course, in next hour or two. No problem.” The astronaut’s words were almost dream-like.
“Where is Commander Borgan?” Bilov asked.
“He is doing the repairs; best not to disturb him.” Stanislov smiled benignly but the expression didn’t travel to his dead eyes.
“Okay, good,” Bilov said. “Now tell us about the Lenin Base. What is its status, was there –”
The screen began to fade out, and then vanished in a wall of static.
“Get him back,” Bilov urged.
Androv’s and the other technician’s hands flew over their keyboards, but after another moment, they stopped.
The head technician turned. “The signal has been cut.”
Bilov’s eyes bulged. “Interference?”
Androv shook his head. “No, I think they cut us off.”
Bilov felt his heart double thump in his chest. “They did?”
Androv just shook his head. “What are your orders, sir?”
“How much time do we have until our detonation opportunity has passed?” Bilov asked softly.
Androv checked his screen and then turned. “Right on two hours.”
Bilov snorted. “Interesting; exactly the amount of time he called for.” Bilov’s expression and resolve hardened. “Something is very wrong; we will give him just ninety minutes. Continue to attempt to contact him. And if not …” He shrugged. “Then they must not get anywhere near Moscow.”