“Kenneth was a good man and deadly at poker. He will be sorely missed.”
“Yes, he was the love of my life.”
“I cannot imagine what you must be going through.” Sorrow bent the lines of his face as he gazed at me. I don’t mind being the center of attention, but I loathe being the object of pity.
“And how are you holding up?” I pressed the hand with the cast to his shoulder. “It sounded as if you had some good news.”
He hesitated, looking to Eugene for advice. Myrtle leaned back in her chair, watching me with all the judgment in the solar system. “She doesn’t want to rest. I figure, we let her work until she passes out and then tie her down.”
I laughed and stuck my tongue out at her. Pulling my hand free of Halim’s, I kept the smile firmly in place. “No, but seriously. What worked? Because I would love some good news.”
“Well … It is mixed news, really.” He got to his feet, resting his hands on his hips. “I tried a couple of different methods to mask my footsteps. A controlled release from an emergency oxygen tank allowed me to obscure my trail. Only for about three meters, but that was just a single tank. It let me get to the rim of a crater, which I was able to use to mask my path.”
Helen stared at the map and grimaced. “So really, the BusyBee could be almost anywhere.”
“Not if it’s the bomb.” Staring at the map, I shoved my chair back and stood.
The room tipped sideways, graying. I staggered and reached for the table. My cast thunked against it, slipping off. Halim braced me as I got my balance again. The room narrowed in a tunnel as if I were pulling too many gs and my heart thundered in my ears.
I swallowed, squeezing his hand. “I’m all right.”
Other people were standing. When had Myrtle and Eugene moved to be next to me? Halim guided me back down into the chair and his face was tight with concern.
“Sorry.” I shook my head. “Sorry. I just caught my foot. I’m all right.”
“You are not all right.” Myrtle thrust the crackers at me. “Food is fuel.”
“Screw you.” I pushed them away. She had no right to parrot words she didn’t even understand. “I tripped. That’s all.”
She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at me. “Everyone out.”
Eugene lifted his hands as if he were warding off a bomb blast and backed away from her. Helen, that traitor, turned and walked to the door. Only Halim hesitated. “Is there any—”
“Out. I know you’re the chief astronaut, but—out.” Myrtle pointed to the door.
I rolled my eyes. “Myrtle, come on. I missed my balance because we’re on the Moon. You know this happens.”
The door shut behind Halim. She grabbed a chair and turned it so it was facing mine. Sitting down, she leaned forward with the crackers held in both hands. “Do you know how much weight I had to lose to get in the astronaut corps?”
I blinked, memory pulling up Myrtle as I had met her originally, back when Elma was still trying to get any women at all accepted into the astronaut corps. She had been a woman of curves, who had borne three sons and loved to cook and did not regret the extra padding. Now she was trim and athletic without any roundness to her cheeks except when she smiled. Which she was very definitely not doing now.
“Forty pounds. In three months. My body is designed for curves. And I’m sure as hell not shaped like Helen, who could eat an entire French bakery and still be built like a teenage boy. I fast the week before every preflight weigh-in and pray that I haven’t screwed up.” She held the crackers out to me again. “You are not all right.”
“It’s not about losing weight.”
“I don’t care what it’s about.” The crackers hung in her hand between us. “The last thing Eugene needs is for you to really collapse. Eat the goddamned crackers.”
My eyes widened. “Language?”
“Eat the goddamned motherfucking crackers or so help me, I will get Ana Teresa and tell her to sedate you, tie you down, and stick an IV in your arm.”
I took the crackers.
* * *
Our compromise was that I ate the crackers and went to bed. I use the word “compromise,” because Myrtle Lindholm is married to a fighter pilot and did not find me even a little bit intimidating. She is more stubborn than I am, and my alternative was to …
If she had called Ana Teresa, the doctor would have been absolutely correct to hospitalize me. Kenneth … Kenneth would have stepped in sooner. I had not eaten anything since the tube of applesauce the morning that—
I went to bed, because she was right. They had everything under control. They were doing all the things I would have done. With the arrival of Halim, they even had an extra pilot—one who could actually fly. Eugene did not need me actually collapsing and I was right on the edge of that. I took a Miltown. I slept.
* * *
I woke in my bunk in East Bay quarters, completely disoriented. My face was wet with tears again. I hadn’t slept much for the past several days but I was so tired of waking up crying. I wanted Marlowe to sit on my back and pin me down into the bed. Outside the room, I could hear someone whispering, which might have been what woke me up. Probably Myrtle or Helen. I should get up so they would stop worrying and could get on with their lives.
Rolling onto my back, my body felt like it weighed Earth normal. I stared at the ceiling, illuminated only by the thin strip of light bleeding through from the common room. Everything was dim and gray. I closed my eyes again. Later. I would get up later.
Water dropped on my forehead.
My eyes snapped open. I sat up, room spinning around me. Swinging my legs out of bed, I reached for the light switch and stopped myself. I was out of it, but I was not stupid.
Bracing myself on the wall, I pushed open the thin plastic door. Water beaded on the walls and ceiling of the common room. Helen and Aahana were standing in a whispered conversation. Both women wore their pajamas and the room lighting was set to evening’s dim orange glow.
“Don’t touch anything.” My voice sounded like death, appropriately.
They both jumped. Helen did not waste time, she gestured at the ceiling, which was covered with heavy drops of water, waiting to fall. “We noticed it about half an hour ago. I sent someone to tell Eugene and maintenance.”
“The whole habitat module?” I didn’t actually think we’d be lucky enough that it was just the women’s quarters and Helen nodded to confirm that. “What time is it?”
“Nearly six.” Helen was tapping her lower lip, looking at the ceiling condensation. Her eyes widened and she turned to me. “On Monday. You slept through Sunday.”
“Well.” I sat on the bed and bent down to grab my shoes. Last time, I was barefoot, and having rubber soles seemed like a good idea. “I guess that’s what they mean by sleeping like the dead.”
“I’m going downstairs.” Helen turned to Aahana. “Alert someone in West Bay and get them to help you wake people up, but make sure no one touches the light switches or anything with current. Move them out to Midtown.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll come with you.” What I actually wanted to do was pee. Another drop of water hit the back of my neck as I yanked my shoes on and did not diminish the urge.
“Just go to Midtown with everyone else.” Helen started toward the door.
I stood up, too fast, and the entire module spun in a violent circle around me. I grabbed the wall to steady myself. Helen’s back was to me and she missed all of that. Aahana saw it. I smiled at her and winked. As I walked past, I gestured to the doors. “Might be best to open them so no one reaches for the switch by instinct.”
“All right.” She chewed her lower lip. “Are you okay?”
“Just practicing my dance routine for the talent show.” I turned to follow Helen out of the room, but now that I was upright the fact that I’d been asleep for more than a day made me uncomfortably aware of my bladder.
Cursing under my breath, I steered into the bathroom and peed in t
he dark. If I had been wearing a MAG I’m pretty sure that I would have discovered what the maximum in “Maximum Absorbency Garment” really was.
Five years later, I was out in the hall and feeling significantly less compromised. The condensation in the hall wasn’t as bad, with fewer people breathing in it. The door to the West Bay Men’s was open and I could hear Aahana talking to someone. I crept down the spiral stairs, carefully not touching the metal banister or support post, just in case.
The equipment room for this module took up the entire bottom floor. This can make it sound huge, but because the domes were more properly bubbles, the lowest floor and the upper floor were the smallest. The stairs came down in the middle, with four aisles that radiated out to a walkway around the perimeter. Batteries, dehumidifier, oxygen, CO2 scrubbers … all in compact packages shipped up and installed in neat quadrants. Each module was designed to be self-contained in case there was ever a decompression event in another. We had central processing for things like power and water reclamation, but basic life support was duplicated. The room was low and brightly lit and far more humid than it should be.
The lighting made it very easy to see the equipment and Helen’s body lying at the end of the aisle.
THIRTY-SEVEN
KANSAS LEGISLATURE APPROVES TAX REFORM
Bill Asked for by Wargin Sent to House by 118–7 Vote
TOPEKA, Kan., May 13, 1963—(AP)—In a special session today, the Senate passed, 118 to 7, a bill urged by the late Governor Wargin to reform taxes by removing exemptions for the very wealthy. The measure, which now goes to the House, would increase state revenue in each of the next three years.
I stepped off the stairs and my heart was racing. What the hell had happened? Helen had been maybe five minutes in front of me. There hadn’t been an arc. No telltale smell of ozone in the air. My eyes burned. Why was she on the floor? I could barely catch my breath and the room was spinning around me. I had to power through, because Helen was …
Helen was on the floor. She was facedown on the floor, reaching toward the stairs.
CO2.
The entire room tilted wildly. There were emergency masks down here. Where? I couldn’t think. The only thing that kept me focused was that we’d done this in training. I knew the drill. I couldn’t save my crewmate if I was down too. I backpedaled, turning to the stairs, and staggered. Come on, Wargin. You can foxtrot while drunk, you’ve got this. I held my breath, trying to trap what oxygen was still in my system.
The stairs swam in front of me. Helen was behind me. I should go back for her. I shook that thought out of my head and got to the stairs. Grabbing the banister, which I had been afraid of for some reason … Why had that been? Up. Go up, Wargin. CO2 sinks.
By the second floor, I was on my hands and knees or maybe I had been since down below. My left arm yelled every time I put weight on it, which helped me stay focused, so I kept crawling on all fours. The urgency to take a breath made my lungs burn, and on the landing for the second floor, I risked it. The devilish thing about CO2 is it feels like there’s air. It felt like a relief to take in that breath.
The room was still spinning but not any worse than it had been. I was fuzzy-headed, but I could remember where the emergency masks were. Mostly because they were directly across from the stairs and clearly labeled “Emergency Oxygen Mask.”
I crawled to the wall and grabbed the handle of the EOM compartment to pull myself up. Just to open it, I had to stand with my legs spread wide and brace on the wall. I pulled out a mask. The familiar, drilled motions to slide it over my head were clumsy with the wrong hand. I fumbled before I found the valve to activate it. Pure oxygen hissed with cold, metallic splendor.
The cobwebs started to peel back from my brain, still clumping and clinging, but I knew what to do. I grabbed another mask. These were small packs, designed to buy you ten minutes to get to safety. Helen had been down there for … I wasn’t sure how long, but I ran down the stairs.
Everything was still spinning and I nearly tumbled down the last few steps. I grabbed the walls. Slow is fast. I walked to Helen because I didn’t have enough control to run. Kneeling next to her, I dragged the mask over her face and turned the valve on.
Only then, did I check to make sure she was alive.
Her pulse was frantic and fast as if she’d been running. I sagged over her, catching myself on the floor with relief. The mask pressed against my face. Ten minutes. I had used two already.
I got to my feet and grabbed Helen’s arm to hoist her up into a fireman’s carry. Even at 1/6 g, when she only weighed nine kilograms, I almost pitched over trying to lift her. My limbs felt like jelly and that wasn’t the CO2 right now. That wasn’t the cast. That was my own fault. I wet my lips and rolled her onto her back.
This sucked, but I grabbed her other arm and dragged her toward the stairs. And then, what? I wouldn’t be able to get her up them, not in my current state. On any other day, I would try the intercom, but not with this much moisture on the walls. I propped her up against the base of the stairs.
I looked up the spiral. One story up we had offices, the floor above that had crew quarters. Two flights of stairs and I was barely keeping my feet. Could I get up in the … six minutes remaining? No. But I could shout from the base of the next floor, which if my brain had been working, I would have done in the first place.
With the order of operations in my head, I scrambled up the stairs. When I came out on the office level, I took a deep breath in my mask and then peeled it off.
“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” I stuck my face in the mask and drew another breath, not bothering with the seal. Above me, I heard a reassuring scramble toward the stairs. “CO2! Get a mask. Repeat. CO2. Get an oxygen mask.”
Above me, Aahana shouted back, “Roger, wilco!”
A breath of metal air. “Helen is down. I can’t lift her. Machine room.”
“Copy. We’re on our way. Hang tight.”
I didn’t wait to see who the other half of “we” was. I just trusted my colleagues to do their jobs, while the evil part of my brain pointed out that if either of them were connected to Icarus, I could expect to hear the door to the stairs close. If that happened, then I guess I’d find a nonconductive thing and use it on the intercom.
Which, again, if I had been thinking clearly earlier, I could have attempted. It still might have arced, but at least I wouldn’t have been fried. I stuck my mask back on and turned to the EOM cabinet, trusting Aahana to take appropriate action. I swapped my mask out for a fresh one and grabbed one for Helen before I stumbled back down the stairs.
As I came out of the stairwell, I saw the EOM cabinet down here, directly across from the stairs. I had been really out of it. Why the hell weren’t the alarms sounding?
I knelt next to Helen and leaned over her to check the valve on her mask. Her eyes were open. My heart nearly gave out with relief. She stirred, trying to sit up, but couldn’t coordinate enough to get her elbow under her.
She saw me and said something that was garbled enough that I wasn’t sure if it was English, Taiwanese, or French. If she had been me, it would have been some version of “What happened?”
“CO2. Help is coming.” I held up the fresh mask. “Hold your breath.”
She nodded, drawing in a deep breath, and reached up to fumble with the straps of the mask she had on. I helped her drag it off, dark hair going every which way. We got the new mask on. Above us, feet clattered down the stairs. Moments later, in pajamas and wearing rubber-sole shoes, Aahana and one of the women from computing rounded the last curve of the stairs.
They got us both up and to safety, because, who am I kidding … I needed the help too.
* * *
Helen sat across from me at the conference table with an ice pack on her head. Her eyes were closed and she leaned her head against the wall. “I keep thinking about Curt and Birgit being confined.”
“Yeah…” I had a matching ice pack, trying to knock the throbbing in my tem
ples back to a manageable level. “I’ll be interested to see what, exactly, went wrong with the CO2 scrubber.”
She cracked her eyes and looked at me. “I don’t remember seeing anything off, but this is not surprising.”
If Ana Teresa had had her way, we both would have been in sickbay. That was complicated by the fact that the SciMod was still offline from the water damage and even if it hadn’t been, she still had polio patients.
“If I hadn’t seen you on the floor … I would’ve gone down too.” Probably faster, in fact.
In front of me was a tray of food from the cafeteria. Bacon. Buttered toast. And a real hard-boiled egg from an actual space chicken. A glass of Tang and a cup of coffee.
“Do you think Icarus is trying to force us all into one module?”
It was a good question. In Midtown, Eugene and Myrtle were organizing all the people who usually slept in the HabMod, which was a good chunk of the colony. Since the SciMod was still offline, that left us with only three functioning habitation modules. Admin, Midtown, and the OpsMod. There were pilots’ quarters at the port, but not enough to accommodate everyone.
Get us all into one place, and then set off a bomb? I grimaced. During the war, I had been Icarus. I had gone places and made friends with the intention of betraying their trust. “It’s what I would do if I were—”
I heard the door open and grabbed the hard-boiled egg. Cracking the shell against the table, I concentrated on peeling it.
Ana Teresa came back in, carrying a crate of supplies. Behind her, Halim followed with a couple of hammocks slung over his shoulder. They were speaking in Arabic and switched mid-sentence. “… almar’at al’akthar eanadaan alty qabalatha ealaa al’iitlaq but it’s close. Let’s put the hammocks in the two far corners.”
“Hammocks? I take it we’re bunking in here.” The shell wanted to curl up around the egg without sufficient gravity to help it drop away.
The Relentless Moon Page 34
