The Susquehanna Virus Box Set

by Steve McEllistrem

  Poole fell to her knees.

  She looked from Jack’s face to Earth and couldn’t help but imagine what their life might have been. Her stomach clenched. Was that her baby saying goodbye? She put a hand to her belly and stared at Jack’s face for a long time, trying to memorize every detail. Then she reached into her exterior pocket and grabbed a sheet of paper she’d torn from a notebook. It was a simple lined page, on which she’d copied a poem from a church service long ago, when her parents had been memorialized. The comm deactivated so no one could hear, she read the poem aloud:

  Into the great eternal, past the weeping grasp of Earth,

  through the porthole of infinity to the place where angels dwell,

  I commend thy spirit with a heavenly prayer;

  hopeful, ever hopeful, that we shall one day meet again,

  beyond the pain and sorrow, in the pastures of love.

  Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away and picked up the capsule, opening the top and placing the poem inside, letting her gloved fingers linger over the individually wrapped tissue samples stored there. She sealed the capsule again and placed it back precisely on the circle in the dust where it had stood before. But she turned the capsule, so that Jack could look toward Earth, toward home. Poole cried for a long time then, sobbing into her helmet. She didn’t try to hold back the grief. It burst past the dam of her control, flooding her.

  * * *

  Opening the inner doors to the main hangar, Poole set her face in the professional mask of doctor and psychologist. Rendela waited for her.

  “You took your time,” Rendela said. “Lots happening. Only seven hours left. The Escala are leaving. Nigeria shot a rocket at us.”

  “Nigeria?”

  “You didn’t win the pool, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Rendela said. She took Poole by the arm and steered her toward the tunnel that led to LB2. “We have to hurry. Dr. Wellon has some last-minute ideas for our treatment. Have you checked your messages?”

  Poole accessed her interface and noted a dozen new files. She glanced at them as the car sped along the rails. When they reached their destination, she followed Rendela to the central hub, where Zora, Devereaux, Quekri, Dr. Wellon, Jeremiah and Quark had gathered. They were staring at a large screen on the wall, which showed an image of the Pilgrim. The ship stood vertically, three flanges decorating the outside—no doubt for when the ship arrived at Mars and needed to maneuver in the planet’s thin atmosphere. The tube that allowed access for loading was still attached but there were no gantry cranes or support arms to hold it in place. There didn’t need to be in the non-atmosphere of the Moon. No storms or wind could threaten its balance. And it was so big that only the most careless of loading efforts would topple it. Near the top of the ship a dozen windows reflected the light of the sun.

  “You’re late, Doctor,” Zora said.

  Dr. Wellon reached into a pocket and pulled out a data cube, which she handed to Poole. “A backup. I also sent the files to your interface. It may give you some ideas for treatments.” She gestured to Jeremiah. “I took some samples from him to study on the way to Mars.”

  “Why Nigeria?” Poole asked.

  “Are you upset that you didn’t win the pool?” Zora asked.

  Rendela grinned. “Phan picked the winner.”

  “Why are you just standing here doing nothing?”

  “Well,” Zora said, “we already paid him before he boarded the Pilgrim. He used the money to buy a full case of Nummy Bars.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

  “What would you have us do, Doctor?”

  “Call somebody on Earth. The U.N., Eli, anyone.” Poole looked from face to face, but they all looked calm.

  Zora said, “They’re aware of the launch. They’ll either stop it or they won’t.”

  “We have to go,” Quekri said. She turned to Quark, who leaned forward so she could put her forehead against his. They each put an arm on the other’s shoulder and stood that way for half a minute, neither one speaking. When she pulled her head away, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a small multi-colored statue of Emerging Man, which he handed to her.

  “For safekeeping,” he said.

  “It will be waiting for you,” Quekri said. She nodded to Devereaux, as did Dr. Wellon.

  “Don’t say it,” Devereaux said. “We’ll meet again.”

  “We’d better,” Quekri said. She and Dr. Wellon turned to Jeremiah and in unison said, “Jeremiah, I remember you.”

  “Quekri, Wellon,” Jeremiah said, “I remember you.”

  The two Escala lumbered down the tunnel that led to the Pilgrim. Everyone turned to stare at the large screen on the wall. No one spoke. After a few minutes the tube connecting the tunnel to the Pilgrim detached from the ship and retracted into the ground, leaving the black hatchcover and the mirrored windows as the only things breaking up the gray of the Pilgrim. Poole knew there was another hatch on the opposite side and farther up, an emergency exit.

  “Thirty seconds,” Rendela said.

  Poole glanced at Quark. The Escala revealed nothing of his thoughts, as if he had no more than an academic interest in seeing the Pilgrim launch. But he kept his eyes on the screen. Poole felt herself drawn to him, to his bulk and his damned self-control—dark, silent and strong as they come. Not that Poole would ever act on her feelings, but it felt good in a way to have someone sexy to look at, to remind her that life goes on when a loved one is lost. The baby inside her helped too. Little Jack Marschenko Poole. She suddenly noticed Zora staring at her. Feeling the heat rush to her face, she turned back to the screen.

  Within seconds, a cloud of dust exploded outward and upward, turning yellow with the exhaust of the giant Toninato-Huxley engines. Poole felt a vibration in her feet as the golden cloud enveloped most of the ship, leaving only the top exposed to the cameras. The ship emerged from the cloud, gathering speed as it departed. The vibration vanished as the dust cloud lost its coloring. Three small yellow flares poked out from behind the capsule and the black hatch slid out of view when the ship began to spin. The vessel grew smaller as the Pilgrim accelerated away. Slowly, the dust cloud began to settle to the ground.

  “Such a small moment,” Devereaux said, as if picking up on Poole’s thoughts, “and yet that ship carries the promise of humanity’s future, for if anything is certain, it’s that Earth isn’t big enough to hold us. Our survival requires at least some of us to leave the nest.”

  “Speaking of survival,” Poole said, “how long until the rocket reaches us?”

  “Seven hours,” Zora said, “give or take a few minutes.”

  “So we might have only seven hours to live?”

  “Less, if they fire a Las-cannon,” Zora said.

  “How much time would we have if they do that?”

  Zora looked at Jeremiah, who said, “Less than a minute if they fire the orbiting Las-cannon at us. Two, maybe three minutes if they fire one through Earth’s atmosphere. Either way, we won’t have enough time to escape.”

  Poole looked at Devereaux, who shrugged. “We still have options. Remember there are two LTVs outside.”

  “How many people can they hold?” Poole asked.

  “Not enough,” Jeremiah said. “So we’re hoping not to use them. But if we have to, eighteen—maybe twenty—could be packed inside each one and sent back to Earth.”

  “It’s a risky strategy though,” Zora added. “The closer we get to Earth, the more we come into range of their remaining weapons.”

  “I see,” Poole said. “So you plan to take off if the rocket looks like it won’t be stopped, fly around for a bit and land back here.”

  Zora nodded. “That’s one option. We might also try for Earth.”

  “And who picks the LTV passengers?”

  “I do,” Zora said. She gl
anced at the screen, where the Pilgrim had become only a yellow dot, receding into blackness, then turned to Jeremiah with a sad smile. “I can’t let anyone else take that responsibility.” She looked at Poole. “The LTVs might be just as dangerous as waiting here—even more so. Here at least there are tunnels and the base at LB3. Don’t worry, we’ll try to keep your baby as safe as possible.”

  Don’t worry. Did that advice ever work for anyone? Poole had dispensed it many times to her patients, but she’d never before realized just how trite it sounded. She knew she was likely to die, whether in an LTV or on the Moon. She wasn’t sure she minded, as long as they put her in a capsule next to Jack, turning her face out like his so they could look upon the Earth together.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  For the first time in her life Zora felt afraid. She found the sensation interesting but unpleasant, and she wondered if the reason she felt fear was because every joint hurt. Pain and fear often traveled in tandem. She sat behind Admiral Cho’s desk, while Rendela, sitting across from her, cleaned her Las-rifle. Zora had dismissed everyone else so she could think, but the fear and pain took all her concentration. She jumped a little when Rendela said:

  “Talk to me, Zora.”

  “We’re going to die.”

  “So?”

  “Don’t you get it? No matter what I do, I won’t be able to get us out of this situation.”

  Rendela frowned as if she didn’t understand.

  Zora said, “China won’t allow the U.N. to fire the orbiting Las-cannon at the rocket because of their ties with Nigeria. If we stay here, we die. And if we take the LTVs, we become vulnerable. If we try for Earth, they blow us out of the sky. And if we try to land back here, the blast will have destroyed too much of the settlement for it to be livable. And even if it somehow survives, they can just come after us again. We’re powerless.”

  Rendela said, “You’re tired and you’re hurting, so you don’t see it. You should let Dr. Poole help you.”

  “What don’t I see?”

  Rendela shook her head. “That we were never meant to survive.”

  “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Not really,” Rendela said. “You’re acting like one of them. But we’re warriors. All we get to decide is how we die.”

  “I’m afraid, Rendela. Aren’t you?”

  Rendela nodded, smiling sadly. “Of course. You’d have to be stupid not to be afraid. But I’m a cadet. They picked us because we’re special. And you, you’re the smartest of us all. We need your leadership. Why don’t you let Dr. Poole give you something for the pain? They’ve tweaked the anesthetics. They’ll work now.”

  “What if the medicine changes me, makes me weak?”

  “You’re not strong now. You’re not decisive. How can you lead us? As long as you’re scared and hurting, you can’t be what we require.”

  “Jeremiah doesn’t need painkillers to think.”

  “Well, goody for him.”

  “You don’t find him attractive?”

  Rendela’s face wrinkled. “He’s ancient!”

  “No, Devereaux’s ancient. But they’re both smart and kind.”

  “If they’re so bright, why kick them out of the office?”

  “Deciding the fate of the colony is my decision, not theirs.”

  “Then make a decision.”

  “I can’t. I need more experience. We weren’t created to solve problems like this. We were only built to attack. What do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should take a painkiller and hear what they’ve got to say. Otherwise we might as well shoot ourselves now.”

  Zora grinned. “When did you get so smart?”

  Rendela sniffed and turned her head away. “If you’re just now figuring out how intelligent I am, maybe we can’t be friends anymore.”

  “I never liked you,” Zora said.

  “Does that mean you’ll take your medicine?”

  Zora laughed, feeling better despite the sharp twinge in her shaking shoulders. “Fine, I’ll take the damn medicine. And then we’ll see what Jeremiah and Devereaux have to say.”

  “Good, I’ll fetch them. Dr. Poole’s outside with the new anesthetic.”

  Zora laughed again. “You sneaky little bitch.”

  Rendela grinned as she slid-hopped out the door, but Zora caught the sorrow behind it and realized that Rendela still believed they were all going to die. We won’t, she promised silently. I’ll get us out of this. I swear.

  Dr. Poole entered the office. “Rendela said you’d take an anesthetic?”

  Zora nodded. “I need something to take the edge off. It’s too hard to concentrate.”

  Dr. Poole stepped forward and pressed a hypo pad to the back of Zora’s hand. “I don’t understand why you waited so long. That’s something Curtik would do.”

  The pain quickly diminished, making Zora feel like she could think again, like she no longer needed to concentrate on keeping the pain in check. She breathed in the familiar floral odor Dr. Poole always wore and felt slightly comforted by the older woman’s presence.

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Poole asked as she lifted Zora’s chin and stared into her eyes.

  “Better, thanks. Did you add a stimulant?”

  Dr. Poole shook her head as she released Zora. “You’re just able to focus on something besides the pain now. I could give you a little more, but I’m afraid that might inhibit your clarity of thought. No matter what you think of me, I’m rooting for you, Zora.”

  “I’m not as scared as I was before.”

  “I am,” Dr. Poole said. “I don’t see a solution. We’re counting on you to find one.”

  “No one’s dying just yet.”

  Dr. Poole pointed to her interface. “Have you seen the reports from Earth? The Nigerian rocket was made by China, and with the head start it has, no nation has a rocket fast enough to overtake it. It’ll take a Las-cannon to bring it down. Plus, no one seems to know if it’s carrying a nuclear weapon. The Nigerians aren’t saying. Neither are the Chinese. Not that it matters. Any reasonably large explosion will take out much of the settlement. Only a few pockets deep in the tunnels might be safe.”

  “There’s plenty of time for the United States or Russia to fire a Las-cannon at the rocket.”

  As Zora spoke, Rendela entered the office, trailed by Devereaux and Jeremiah, whose face was pinched in pain. He put his hands on the back of a chair as if casually leaning on it, but Zora knew he was using it to support himself. She felt a flash of guilt at having eased her pain so quickly. But she also felt relief at having these men here to help her; she no longer had to make every decision herself.

  Devereaux held up his PlusPhone and said, “I’m in contact with General Horowitz, who tells me we can’t count on that happening—at least not with respect to America’s Las-cannon. They still haven’t finished testing all the components, and if they fire it and it’s defective, the resulting explosion would be catastrophic.”

  Dr. Poole said, “You think they’ll let the rocket destroy this colony, after all they’ve invested here? Not to mention all the innocent people who will be killed.”

  Zora looked at Jeremiah, who smiled at the irony. He shrugged, wincing as he did so. “President Hope ordered the Las-cannon shipped out to sea so it can be fired more safely. They should have time to destroy the rocket before it reaches the Moon. However, they still have to calibrate it correctly. And the longer they wait, the closer the rocket gets to us, making it that much more likely the beam will hit us—either in addition to the rocket or instead of hitting the rocket.”

  Devereaux held up his hand, listening to the PlusPhone for a moment, and said, “General Horowitz confirms that they’re continuing to test components. They’re hoping to calibrate the Las-cannon some time in the next three or four hours, assuming no problems.”r />
  “That still brings the timing pretty close,” Jeremiah said. “And from what I’ve heard, Las-cannons are much trickier to build than particle beam cannons, so it’s unlikely they’ll get through the testing without finding a few glitches.”

  Devereaux said, “I agree. I’ve examined the schematics and studied the process. I estimate they won’t be able to calibrate the Las-cannon for at least five hours.”

  Zora said, “Which puts the rocket so close to us that any effort to blow it up might destroy us too.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Devereaux said.

  “Are any other nations close to completing a Las-cannon?”

  “Russia and China,” Devereaux said, “though their signal traffic isn’t as open as the Americans’ and my guess is that neither nation will consider blowing up the rocket—China because of their formal alliance with Nigeria, and Russia because they always felt slighted by the Americans’ greater presence on the Moon.”

  Zora turned to Jeremiah. He looked tired, almost old. But he smiled at her and nodded.

  “What should I do?” Zora asked. “What would you do?”

  Jeremiah frowned. “Nothing different than you. I’d prepare to launch the LTVs soon, with maybe a dozen people in each. I wouldn’t want them too crowded in case you have to keep them in space for a while. Everyone left behind should be sent to LB3 or LB2 with portable oxygen generators. Those facilities are farthest away from the main hangar and so more likely to withstand an explosion. Plus, the Escala continued tunneling as a means of working off stress, so their tunnels go deeper than any in LB1. I’d also seal off LB1 from LB2 and LB3, with explosives if necessary, to prevent the spread of radiation, because it’s likely that missile carries a nuclear warhead. But you know all that.”

  “Of course she does,” Rendela said.

  Zora smiled, glad of Rendela’s faith in her. “Who would you put on the LTVs?”

  “I’d take the people I most needed to save. The LTVs offer more flexibility. They can make for Earth if the worst happens here. And if the colony isn’t destroyed, they can return to the base. I’d certainly take Devereaux, Quark, Dr. Poole and Lendra, as well as the Verloren family and any other families with children, if there are any. And I’d fill out the LTVs with a few cadets and doctors. I’d leave behind the military personnel, the workers, and me. Not that our lives are less meaningful necessarily, but we understood the risks when we signed up and we’re in the best shape to survive.”