by Bonnie Doran
“I don’t think you meant to hurt anyone.”
Was the woman dense? “But I did. My father’s dead, dozens of people here are sick, and I don’t know what the final death toll will be.” His stomach lurched as he imagined corpses zipped into body bags and transferred to freezers for dead people. He winced.
“I still want to be your friend.”
Chet pushed his meal away. “Why?”
“I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character.”
Chet laughed. “Yeah, right. Just look at me.” He leaned forward. “This flu is going to get worse. It’ll kill thousands, possibly millions. It will take months to develop a vaccine to prevent people from getting it. Unless Evie—my sister stuck on the space station—can pull it out of her space helmet more quickly. She’s as good a vaccinologist as I am, maybe better.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Your sister’s Hildi Hildebrandt? You’ve got quite a family.”
“Yeah. And I’ll be the first convict.”
She locked eyes with him. “I’ll pray. I’ll pray that the virus won’t spread, and that God and the authorities will have mercy.”
“Pray?” He rolled the word around his tongue. He gazed into her blue eyes and got nothing but affirmation. He hung his head. “I’m sorry. I should have guessed you were a Christian. I didn’t mean to say you were a hypocrite.”
Sandy laughed.
“Look, I appreciate the gesture, but—”
“But what?”
“You shouldn’t associate with me.” Chet pulled his eyebrows into a scowl.
“What I do is my own business.” She crossed her arms as if spoiling for a fight.
Chet didn’t have any fight left. He felt strangely touched by her sympathy. “Thank you.” He had a sudden thought as she turned to leave. “Uh, do you think you could help me with something?”
“I’ll try.”
Chet cleared his throat as he reached for the Bible. “I’ve been trying to find these verses, and I can’t. It’s been a long time.”
With a glance at the guard, who held up ten fingers, Sandy set down the tray. She sat beside him on the edge of his bunk. “So what are you trying to find?”
“Something about God’s forgiveness.”
42
“I” Plus Twelve Days
Mission Control’s wake-up call startled Dan from sleep. He groaned. “Ode to Joy” definitely didn’t reflect his mood.
He glanced at Shorty, already untangled from his sleeping bag. “Mornin’.” Dan mumbled a greeting and rubbed his eyes.
NASA had insisted on a few hours of sleep as Valiant closed the distance to the station. Dan would get out and push if it would help get them there faster. He chewed his lip.
“Valiant, this is Houston. You awake up there?” Pete could have a second career as one of those annoyingly chipper DJs.
Shorty keyed the mic. “Valiant here. Nice music.”
Dan ran a hand through his hair, not that it would help. Weightlessness made your hair stand on end, a weird sensation.
Pete resumed the usual procedure confirmations. “Valiant, NASA has confirmed your instruments are still nominal. You are GO for mission. And for breakfast.”
“Roger that.”
Dan breathed a sigh of relief at Houston’s go-ahead. He glanced at the glowing indicator lights. NASA could still order Valiant to de-orbit if Dan or Shorty sneezed the wrong way. Although Dan had talked tough after the lightning strike, he really didn’t want to disobey direct orders. It irritated his sense of duty. It would also end his career. But failure now meant death for the station crew. For Hildi. His stomach clenched.
Shorty hummed NASA’s wake-up song. Too bad he was off key. He squished bags holding yellow goo that passed for scrambled eggs. Yum.
“Breakfast is served.” Shorty handed Dan a packet of eggs and a second packet that looked vaguely like orange juice. Dan grabbed a flour tortilla and gratefully accepted a bottle of coffee.
“Breakfast of champions. Nothing like astronaut food to wake up the old stomach.” Shorty seemed bent on spreading his morning cheer.
Dan shook his head. “At least the station will have decent food.” Maybe tomorrow he’d have dinner with Hildi. He smiled at the prospect.
“Yep. The Russians make great borscht.”
Dan groaned. At least the Russians usually brought a tin or two of caviar.
They downed their meals in a hurry, expecting an interruption at any minute. They’d just tossed their trash when CAPCOM’s voice crackled through the speakers.
“Valiant, this is Houston. You are GO for initial burn.”
“Acknowledged.” Shorty grinned and turned to Dan. “Strap in.”
Dan grabbed the back of his flight chair, pulled himself into the seat, and buckled his restraints. He beat Shorty by mere seconds. They went through the checklist with efficient ease.
“Initiate burn on my mark.” Shorty switched to his commander voice.
Here we go. Dan gripped the joystick as Shorty started the countdown. “Five, four, three, two, one, mark.”
“Firing main engines.” The ship’s nose pointed upward as they sped toward a matching orbit with the station. Dan prayed that the fix Frank and Jasper had made in repairing the dock would hold. He watched the screens. Time crawled. Dan’s muscles tensed with every minute of the slow maneuver. After several hours, a bright spot showed on radar. “Coming up on the station.”
Shorty activated his mic. “Houston, this is Valiant. We have ISS on our instruments.”
Dan pointed. “There she is.”
“Houston, we have visual contact.”
“Valiant, this is Houston. You are GO for manual docking.”
Dan made gentle corrections as Valiant approached ISS. As sunrise lit the station, he grinned. “We now have matching orbit.”
“How does she look?” Pete’s voice held a tinge of concern.
Mission Control was talking about damage, not the glint of red and gold on ISS. Shorty keyed his mic. “There are a few scratches, but the repair work looks secure. Ready to rock and roll.”
“Very well, Valiant.”
Dan slid the joystick forward, then a tiny bit to the left. The controls felt sluggish with the overloaded spacecraft. The sounds of soft puffs from the attitude jets penetrated the hull. When the instruments indicated he was aligned, Dan cut all engines. Valiant slipped into the station’s docking ring without a bump. Perfect. If he’d been golfing, it would have been a hole in one.
Shorty nodded. “Secure docking clamps.”
“Docking clamps secure.”
“Station, please confirm docking.” CAPCOM Pete spoke with a please-pass-the-potatoes inflection.
Silence.
“ISS, this is Houston. Please confirm docking.”
Silence.
Dan’s stomach squeezed his half-digested breakfast.
“Valiant, this is Houston. ISS does not respond. Repeat, ISS does not respond.”
Dan muttered under his breath, “Like they’re telling us something we don’t know.”
“Acknowledged.” Shorty’s voice tightened.
“This is Houston. Flight surgeon reports the crew’s vital signs are weakening.”
Dan batted away visions of a floating, dead crew. A floating, dead Hildi.
Mutterings crackled in the headset, and then Steve bellowed, “Get aboard and get those people some oxygen.”
Dan and Shorty grabbed eight green emergency tanks, each about ten inches long and with attached breathing masks. They each donned one and carried the rest. After opening the capsule’s hatch, they pulled themselves through the airlock and into the station.
“Houston, we’re inside,” Shorty said.
“Roger.”
They split up and sped through empty corridors with their little green tanks of life. Dan stopped at Maria’s side, her body—body?—floating in her quarters. He positioned a mask over her face and opened the valve. He watched her for a couple of
breaths before he took one of his own. “Found Maria,” he panted. “She’s OK.”
“Found Jasper,” Shorty said. “He’s good.”
Dan sped into another room, securing a mask to the occupant. “Got Leonid.”
“Joe’s OK.”
Dan found Frank in the next room. He stirred when Dan opened the tank valve. “Frank’s OK.”
Where’s Hildi?
The next room was empty. Dan propelled himself through the modules. Finally, he found her floating in the lab, her body seemingly lifeless, her hair streaming from her head like a red halo. Was it the lighting, or was her skin blue? Heart pounding, he placed a mask over her face and opened the valve.
No response.
“C’mon, c’mon.”
No response.
“Dan, she’s flatlined.” Pete’s voice quavered.
“Shorty, grab the AED and get to the lab. It’s Hildi.” The defibrillator was useless unless Dan could get a pulse. Any pulse.
Dan anchored himself, slammed her against a table, and ripped off her mask. Taking a deep breath, he pulled down his own mask and performed CPR, his thoughts keeping rhythm with his chest compressions. She can’t be dead, she can’t be dead, she can’t be dead. He panted with exertion.
“Dan, flight surgeon says we’ve got ventricular fibrillation.” Pete’s pronouncement gave Dan a slim hope.
“Shorty!”
Shorty appeared a second later.
Dan ripped open Hildi’s shirt. Two buttons floated away. He slapped monitors and electrodes on her inert body.
Dan gulped down the bile of his own fear. “Clear.” He pressed the button. Hildi’s body convulsed.
He stared at the EKG reading. Shorty shook his head. “No effect.”
“Clear.”
Another convulsion. No change. A fist of dizziness gripped Dan.
Shorty grabbed Dan’s mask and forced it over his nose. “Breathe.”
Dan breathed. His head cleared. He gripped the paddles again. Please, Lord. “Clear.”
Hildi’s body convulsed. No change. They were losing her. His throat tightened.
Wait…
“She’s stabilizing.” Dan’s scream probably deafened Shorty and most of Mission Control. Judging from the cheers, they didn’t mind ruptured eardrums.
He adjusted the mask over Hildi’s nose and watched her breath mist the clear plastic. Her eyes opened. They focused on him. “Are you a dream?” she whispered.
“No.”
Hildi smiled.
To heck with NASA propriety. Dan cradled her face in his hands and tried to kiss her forehead. The masks ruined the tender moment as they banged together.
Dan grinned. “I think you need more mouth to mouth.”
43
“I” Plus Twelve Days
Carol’s stomach smiled with contentment. “That was delicious.” She pushed her chair away from the patio table and wiped her mouth with her napkin.
Mike leaned back. “You were right, George. Best hamburgers ever.”
Betty laughed. “Well, it’s hard to go wrong with George’s flair with the fire, and what more do you need than burgers, corn on the cob, and watermelon?”
Summer had come early to Denver this year, bringing with it Carol’s favorite foods. She basked in the sun’s warmth. Winter had lasted far too long.
Laura set her half-eaten burger on the plate. “I can’t eat another bite.”
George turned off the grill and closed the lid. Carol turned to him.
“You gave a beautiful eulogy yesterday.”
Sighing, George sat. “Hard to fit all of Worth’s life into a few words.”
A weak smile brightened Laura’s expression. “I’m sure he would have loved it.”
Conversation halted. Carol remembered the joyful, public memorial. A few of the news people had looked puzzled, but at least they’d respected Laura’s wishes for no flash photography.
Betty grasped Carol’s hand. “What did the doctor say Thursday at your checkup?”
Mike laced his fingers behind his head. “Just a healthy baby boy.”
“Girl.” Carol locked eyes with her husband.
“Boy.”
“Girl.” Carol stiffened as a pang of fear rose then quieted. She patted her still-flat belly. “Well, the doc couldn’t tell what sex yet. Too early. But he thought I was doing fine.”
“Dear, that’s such good news. God is faithful. So when’s your next appointment?”
“In a month.” Carol frowned. “He wants to do a CVS to test for birth defects, but we’ve decided to have this baby whatever the results.” Carol gazed at her husband, who smiled his agreement.
Mike put his arm around Carol’s shoulders. “It’s hard to think about what this child might go through, the struggles we all might face. All because of a stupid flu. But we couldn’t take the life of our own child.”
Carol’s eyes started to leak.”
“Let's have none of that.” Betty lifted Carol's chin. “I think your decision to have your baby regardless of the test results shows a lot of faith and courage.”
Not trusting her voice, Carol nodded.
Betty patted Carol’s arm before standing. “We have dessert,” Betty said. “Brownies a la mode. Coffee, anyone? Regular or decaf?”
“Make mine decaf.” Carol patted her belly again. Got to take care of the little one, even if decaf never had the kick of the real thing. Kick. She couldn’t wait to feel the life within her.
The clatter of dishes disrupted her musings as George cleared the table. Mike squeezed Carol’s shoulder. “We’ll face this together with God’s help.”
We. Carol liked the sound of that.
She dug into her brownie and ice cream for two.
44
With the ISS crew out of danger, Dan and Shorty donned their pressure suits and EVA’d to swap out the liquid oxygen tanks. The exchange took several hours. Dan’s hands cramped before they were done.
When they returned, the station astronauts applauded. They all looked a little bleary-eyed, still shaking off the effects of near asphyxiation. Dan gulped as he realized just how close they’d come to death.
He hugged everyone after removing his suit. Frank shrugged him off. His old stubborn friend. Hildi’s hug was warm and lasted a little longer.
Joe snapped on the radio. “Houston, this is ISS. Hope you guys haven’t fallen asleep down there. Things here are as exciting as watching hay bales rot.”
“Affirmative.” CAPCOM Pete yawned into the mic. “If you’re ready for some challenges, we’ll invent a few.”
“Nope. We’re doin’ just fine on our own.”
“Flight surgeon has cleared you for work as long as you take it easy.” Pete’s voice crackled over the radio. “Dan and Shorty, great job. Steve wanted to tell you himself, but he’s getting some sleep. Joe, you and the rest of the station missed it, but Dan and Shorty made an amazing rescue at the risk of their own lives. And Dan made a perfect docking.”
Frank’s eyes narrowed.
“Nothing like being late to your own party.” Jasper grinned. His smile was contagious, and soon everyone laughed.
“ISS out.” Joe switched off the radio.
Jasper sighed. “I sure could use some coffee.”
“We brought some.” Shorty smiled. “And a shipload of other stuff.”
The astronauts formed a bucket brigade to transfer supplies from the Valiant to ISS.
“Tortillas. We were nearly out.” Maria grinned as she stowed them.
“Ah, comrades. My government sent borscht.” Leonid’s eyes glowed. “Now you will taste famous Russian soup. And plenty of hot sauce for your enchiladas.” He winked at Joe.
“You tenderfoots will appreciate the extra spice,” Joe muttered. “Everything’s bland after a few months in space.”
Even beet soup with hot sauce sounded good to Dan’s growling belly.
Frank still scowled. Judging from the few barbs he’d unleashed, Dan gues
sed Frank was mad at him for his textbook docking. Why? Frank’s attitude went beyond mere jealousy. Lifting an equipment package labeled “thermocycler,” Dan guided it through Valiant’s hatch to Jasper.
“Makes you think you’re a weightlifter, huh?” Jasper flexed his biceps.
Dan grinned. “Be gentle, though. We don’t want this delicate equipment to hit the walls.”
“Doesn’t bounce well, huh?” Jasper pushed the package toward Shorty, who handed it off to Hildi. She and Maria secured it in the lab with straps until they were ready to unpack it. Leonid stowed the food supplies.
Joe peered inside Valiant. “Is that it?”
“Except for the virus sample. I’ll get it.” Dan reached into Valiant for the case cushioning the sample vial. “One influenza virus, coming up.” He glided to the lab module and delivered the case to Hildi. Their fingers touched. She smiled.
Hildi snapped on gloves, opened the case, and extracted the vial. Dan squinted over her shoulder. The liquid inside appeared harmless. Deadly viruses didn’t emit blood-red sparks.
Frank bolted into the lab, his face contorted. “We just got another report from NASA. How does it feel to be a hero?” He spat the words at Dan. “Surviving a lightning strike, making a perfect docking, and rescuing us poor astronauts, while the press blames me for the accident. I still say my controls were faulty.”
Dan floated back a few feet. He had to do something to calm Frank. “What do you mean, hero? We delivered the oxygen. That was our job. If you’d had the mission, it would have been your job.”
“You haven’t been vilified by the press. And you didn’t have your fiancée stolen from under your nose.”
Dan’s jaw dropped. Frank blamed him for the breakup? It didn’t make sense. “I didn’t steal her.”
“Frank.” Hildi stepped between them, clutching the vial in her hand. “I knew him only as your best buddy while you and I were engaged. Dan and I didn’t even date until six months later. And it was my decision to break our engagement. Dan had nothing to do with it.”
Frank clenched his fists, his breathing ragged. He wasn’t going to listen to reason.
