by Ben Bova
But Taki said, “Bee, we lost a lot of water. Is there enough in the skin to protect us?”
“Should be,” he replied tightly. “Mission control ran the numbers just before we broke Mars orbit and started home. With the water Ted sent up from Fermi, we ought to be okay.”
“Ought to be?” Virginia asked. She looked frightened, floating almost a foot above the deck, drifting toward the hatch.
Benson put out a hand to steady her. “Just after the accident, once we patched the leak, it didn’t look good,” he said. “They thought that a major solar storm would give us a significant radiation dose. Not lethal, but enough to raise our chances of getting cancer by ten percent or so.”
Taki said, “But that was when they thought there’d be eight of us aboard using up the water. And no replenishment from the Fermi.”
“Right,” said Benson. “The numbers they ran just before we left Mars orbit looked a lot better.”
“And that was for four people,” Taki added. “Now we’re only three.”
“We’ll be okay,” Benson repeated.
Virginia still looked unconvinced. She glanced around the narrow confines of the area, as if trying to see the invisible subatomic particles that were bulleting through her body.
“It’ll be all right,” Taki said.
“How high is the radiation level now?” Virginia asked.
“Pretty close to normal, I would guess,” Benson replied. “The cloud hasn’t reached us yet. I’ll have the readings from the command center piped into the comm panels in our cubbies. We’ll get minute-by-minute reports.”
“Unless the sensors fail.”
“They’re hardened against radiation, Virginia.”
“But we’re not.”
Taki pushed herself up off the deck and rapped her knuckles against the overhead. “We’re shielded, Jin. We’ll be fine.”
Virginia nodded. “I’m sorry I’m such a worrier. It’s just . . . kind of scary.”
Rubbing his chin in thought, Benson said, “You know, we could take the emergency box shields from the CTV and bring them in here. They’re high-density polyethylene: should give us a good layer of extra protection.”
“But we’d have to go out and take it from the crew transfer vehicle,” Virginia countered. “We’d have to leave the protection of the shielding here.”
“That’s all right,” said Benson. “The radiation cloud won’t reach us for several hours. I’ll check with Houston and see if we have time enough to get the box shields from the CTV.”
Taki smiled at him. “Yeah, but if you do we’re going to be cooped up in something the size of a phonebooth for a couple of days, at least.”
“With nothing much to do, except watch the radiation readings,” said Benson.
Virginia’s worried frown eased into a tentative smile. “Bee, you’ll be stuck in here with the two of us.”
Taking up on Gonzalez’s smile, Taki suggested, “I suppose we could play computer games. Or something.”
Feeling his cheeks warming, Benson pushed himself toward the hatch. “I’m going to the command center and check in with mission control.”
December 7, 2035
02:09 Universal Time
Mars Landing Plus 32 Days
Fermi Habitat
When Houston’s CME warning reached Mars, it automatically triggered the alert klaxon, just as it had aboard the Arrow.
Catherine and McPherson were in the auxiliary airlock, where they had been spending their nights. It was a cramped little space, between the inner and outer hatches, its floor area not quite big enough for Hiram to stretch out to his full length. He had to sleep curled around Catherine’s body. Somehow he didn’t mind that. Neither did she, apparently.
Catherine snapped to a sitting position. “What’s that?”
“Emergency,” Hi answered, and immediately felt stupid.
He fumbled in the darkness for the flashlight he always kept beside him, grasped it and flicked it on with his thumb. Then he reached for his coveralls and began tugging them on. Catherine was doing the same.
Through the thick inner hatch they heard the automated warning: “SOLAR STORM ALERT. REPORT TO THE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.”
Getting to his bare feet, McPherson cracked the inner hatch open. “We’d better get to the sleeping area.”
“Yes. Quickly,” Catherine said, zipping up the front of her coveralls.
The lights were on throughout the habitat, and Ted Connover was sitting at the communications console in the command center, looking grim.
“How long do we have before it hits?” he was asking the display screen, which showed a mission control technician.
Amanda Lynn came out of their sleeping area, wearing a rumpled pullover shirt that reached her knees.
“Solar flare,” Ted told Catherine and Hi before they could say anything. “Looks like a big one.”
Glancing around at the hard walls of this section of the habitat, Amanda said, “We should be okay in here.”
With all four of them squeezed into the command center, the compartment felt crowded, steamy.
Connover was studying the spiky lines of graphs on the console’s display screens.
“No rise in radiation levels, so far,” he said. “The cloud’s still several hours away.”
The network of satellites that had been put in orbit around Mars by NASA, the European and the Japanese space agencies monitored radiation levels above the planet’s atmosphere, together with dozens of other duties, such as relaying communications around the planet and retransmitting messages to and from Earth.
Looking up from the displays, Connover broke into a tentative smile. “We’ll be fine in here. In fact, we could probably keep on working as usual, as long as we don’t go outside.”
Catherine said, “The atmosphere protects us, non?”
“Not as much as Earth’s atmosphere shields against radiation storms,” said McPherson, “but even the thinner air of Mars gives us a decent layer of protection.”
Connover nodded agreement. “You know, the safety guys back in Houston were pretty damned conservative when they drew up the mission guidelines. They were using old data, back from the days when they thought that a CME storm could kill you outright if you weren’t protected. It turns out that the atmosphere of Mars shields us from most cosmic rays, even though it’s a hundred times thinner than Earth’s atmosphere.
“If we were outside and exposed to a CME flux, we’d get a bigger radiation dose than we would on Earth, but it’d be about the same as we’d get in an orbiting space station. But in here, under the water shield, we’ll be fine.”
“No worries,” Amanda said. She looked far from relaxed, though.
“Not here,” said Connover. “It’s the guys in the Arrow that I’m worried about. They’re facing a helluva bigger flux than we’ll catch, and they’re much more vulnerable.”
“Don’t they have that portable shelter from the crew transfer vehicle?” McPherson asked. “They could use it to give them an extra layer of protection.”
Connover said, “Yeah, they could, couldn’t they?”
“Perhaps you should call Bee and suggest it,” said Catherine.
Connover hesitated. Bee’s probably already thought of the portable shelter, he thought. He doesn’t need any suggestions from me. He’ll think I’m interfering.
“Call him,” Amanda urged.
With a single curt nod, Connover reached for the communications panel. “Right,” he told them, while he thought, I’ll have to chance Bee getting sore at me. There are lives at stake. Including his.
December 8, 2035
19:00 Universal Time
Mars Landing Plus 33 Days
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
The teenage boys were, of course, much more interested in their online gaming than with their school homework. All three were juniors in high school, and possessed the latest-greatest computers, notepads, and virtual reality systems. N
one of them paid much attention to what was going on in the world, except for the Mars mission. They were the demographic that President Harper was trying to inspire by the exploration of Mars, and he’d succeeded. They were hooked.
To an outside observer, the three of them were standing in the jumbled, gadget-crammed bedroom with its unmade bed and telescope standing by the only window, wearing metal-mesh sockhats on their heads as they flailed at unseen enemies like a trio of youngsters being attacked by a swarm of invisible bees.
From their own perspective, however, thanks to the images flooding their minds from the sensor webs affixed to their heads, they were battling hordes of shape-changing Martian monsters hell-bent on taking over their high school. Never mind why the aliens wanted their high school; the game had them totally engrossed.
Manuel, the unofficial alpha male of the pack, was as usual kicking the other two boys’ butts by killing upwards of fifty of the wily green monsters in this latest virtual reality simulation to hit the Internet, inspired by the country’s renewed interest in space exploration. For high school boys, killing dreaded Martians was the next best thing to lusting after high school girls.
Manuel pulled off his sensor web first. He had won this encounter and eliminated the Martian threat, for now. Level three would be next.
“Man, that was great!” he enthused as the other boys peeled off their sensor webs. “I can’t wait to try that in the porno mode.”
“Your mind is always in the gutter, Manny,” Jim complained.
“Best place to be, man.”
Billy, the youngest of the three asked, “Hey, did you hear about the Arrow? One of the spacewatch feeds is saying that the guy who died was infected with something he picked up on Mars. They’ve got a video of him showing a Martian creature busting out his gut.”
“No way! Are you kidding me?” Jim said. “I thought he had cancer. That’s what the science feeds say.”
“Yes, way,” Billy insisted. “It’s all over the news feeds. That video’s gross, dude. I sure hope they don’t bring that shit back here.”
“I don’t believe it. You can make anything look real these days. Just look at this game. I can’t tell if I’m in your room or at school fighting Martian zombies. Anyway, I haven’t read anything like that on the science feeds. You see too many conspiracy theories on those alternative sites.”
Both boys turned to Manuel, who was a good six months older than either of them.
With a totally serious expression, Manuel proclaimed, “The space agency won’t allow us to get infected. If it’s real, the government will send the ship off into the Sun or something and that’ll be the last time we go to Mars for a long, long time.”
“Geez, I hope not,” Billy said. “I was looking forward to meeting those guys when they get back. They’re real heroes. And besides, I’d like to go to Mars myself, someday.”
“Me too,” said Jim.
“Yeah,” Manuel agreed. “That’d be great.” Then he slipped his sensor net back on his head. “But are you guys ready to kick some more Martian butt?”
“Let me at ’em,” said Jim and Billy, as one.
December 8, 2035
17:24 Universal Time
Mars Landing Plus 33 Days
Habitat Fermi
It’s like being in jail, Ted Connover thought. The four of us crowded into this tiny space, like four prisoners locked in a damned jail cell.
Connover was sitting disconsolately at the command panel, where the jiggling curves of the display screen showed that the radiation level outside their shelter was still murderously high. Catherine and Amanda were bent over some computer game they were playing, hardly more than an arm’s reach away. Hi was pacing methodically back and forth: four paces one way, then turn around and four paces back.
He’d rather be back in the auxiliary airlock with Catherine, Connover told himself. Can’t blame him. I’d rather be anywhere except this effing Black Hole of Calcutta.
McPherson stopped his pacing and came to Connover’s side. “How’s it going?” he asked.
Pointing to the jagged curves, Ted replied, “Still hot enough outside to fry your cojones in half a minute.”
“No letup?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s Houston say?”
“Another six hours, at least.”
McPherson straightened up and looked across to the two women, still busy with their game. “We’re okay in here, though.” It was a flat statement of hope.
Connover nodded tiredly. “Yep. Radiation level inside our little igloo is just about normal.”
“That’s good. We’re in—”
“Fermi, Houston here.”
Both men jerked with surprise. Amanda and Catherine looked over to them, their faces worried.
Nathan Brice’s face appeared on the communications screen. He looked tired, pouchy-eyed.
This can’t be good, Connover thought.
“Fermi here,” he said, knowing that his words wouldn’t reach Brice’s ears for a quarter of an hour. “Go ahead, Houston.”
Brice hadn’t waited for his reply. “We’ve been working on this nonstop ever since Amanda’s report on the biomarkers. The bio team confirms that everything checks out: complex prebiotic molecules, PAHs, even amino acids. Tell Amanda she’s verified the Chinese findings and then some. Good work, guys.”
Amanda shot out of her chair and raced to the comm screen, a gleaming smile splitting her dark face. Catherine got up too, more slowly. McPherson pumped both his fists in the air.
“You did it, girl!” He grabbed Amanda in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.
Connover grinned happily at Brice’s image on the screen.
“Thanks for the good news, Nathan.”
But Brice was still talking. He concluded with, “By the way, you should be clear of the CME in another four-five hours.”
Who cares? Connover thought, as he watched Amanda, Catherine and Hi dancing across the cramped room.
December 9, 2035
14:00 Universal Time
Mars Landing Plus 34 Days
Fermi Habitat
“Satellites show that the radiation level’s been normal for six hours now,” Connover reported into the intercom. “Storm’s over.”
In the sleeping area, where she’d been going over the results of their previous excursions on her laptop, Catherine smiled tentatively and asked, “We can go outside again?”
“Don’t see why not,” Connover replied, still eying the displays on his control panel. “But let me check with Houston first, just to make sure.”
McPherson called, “Find out how they did on the Arrow, Ted, while you’re at it.”
“Will do.”
Benson smiled as he pulled the comm bud from his ear. “Houston confirms it. We’re in the clear.”
Virginia and Taki, sitting against opposite walls of the box shelter, looked up from the chess game they were playing on their tablets.
“We can get out of this coffin?” Taki asked. She hadn’t used that term for the confining shelter before, while they were still in the radiation cloud.
“Back to normal,” Benson said, his smile widening.
Taki floated to her feet and started lifting up one section of the shelter. “First thing I’m going to do,” she announced, “is take a shower.”
Benson raised a cautionary finger. “We’re still rationing the water, you know.”
“I know. I’ll make it quick. Well within the limits we agreed to. But I feel so grungy.”
Once they had taken the shelter down and stored it, Benson headed for the command center. “I’d better check out the ship’s systems,” he said.
Virginia followed right behind him. “Bee, when we were cooped up like that I has a lot of time to think about everything.”
“So did we all,” he said, ducking through the hatch into the command center.
He sat in the command chair. Virginia hovered behind him, grasping the back of t
he chair to keep from floating away.
“I mean,” she said, her voice soft, almost wistful, “we’ve been gone from Earth a long time now, and it’ll be another eleven months before we get home. We almost died when the ship was hit, we’ve left our friends on Mars where they very well might die, and we’ve lost one of our team.”
He glanced up, over his shoulder, at her.
Virginia went on, “I’ve read just about every book I ever wanted to read and watched all the videos I can stomach. We’ve played games with each other and the computer, messed around with the VR simulator and even got some science work done.”
Benson turned around in his seat to looked squarely at her. “Where’s this leading, Jinny?”
“Bee, I’m scared. The accident, this solar storm, doesn’t it frighten you?”
“Yes,” he admitted. “A little. But we’ve come through it all okay.”
“There’s something else, too.”
Benson started to reply, but checked himself.
Without waiting for him to ask, Virginia confessed, “Bee, I’m lonely. I want to be held. I know it’s wrong, but I want to be close to you.”
“Virginia, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be held.” He reached out to her and pulled her down onto his lap. She twined her arms around his neck.
“Bee,” she whispered, “make love to me.”
“I’m still a married man,” he whispered back.
“I know. But you never speak of your wife and as far as I know you haven’t even sent her a message. Aren’t you lonely too? Wouldn’t she understand?”
Benson looked at the beautiful woman in his arms and thought about his loveless marriage back home. He and Maggie hadn’t been intimate since halfway through his training for the mission; that had been more than six months before he’d taken off for Mars. He had no idea if he had anything more awaiting him when he returned than divorce papers.
He was already reacting physically to Virginia’s presence in his arms. He took a deep breath and made up his mind.
