A Step Beyond (15 page)

“Close block windows.”

“Closing block windows.”

“Withdraw drill.”

Satomura watched the seconds disappear as the rover pulled the drill out of the ground. The vehicle was four minutes from
Greenhouse
, which gave Satomura eleven minutes unless he chose to travel farther from the probe. He was starting to consider his options when he noticed that the temperature of the rover was increasing faster than had been anticipated.

“Tanya, can you run an analysis on the temperature?” he asked.

“Holy shit.” The exclamation came over the intercom. They recognized the voice as Carter’s.

Satomura focused on a number that was blinking red. It was the time remaining before the rover had to be back inside the probe, and within a few seconds it had dropped from fifteen to seven minutes. The temperature of the rover jumped forty degrees. Satomura considered the possibility of a malfunction in the sensors, but the risk was too great to continue as planned. Reluctantly, he concluded they would have to abandon the collecting of surface materials with the strong arm. He only had one option, and there was little time to lose.

“Return to
Greenhouse
,” he said into his microphone as calmly as he could manage.

Nelson had anticipated the request and already had the rover heading full throttle toward the probe.

“Roger,” he replied. They had three minutes to spare, less if the temperature of the probe increased again unexpectedly.

“Tanya,” Satomura said, “the analysis.”

“Nothing yet, Takashi,” Tanya answered.

Another forty-five seconds disappeared from the time remaining.

“Prepare to open probe door,” Nelson instructed Carter. Satomura watched the temperature of the rover climb rapidly. The timer dropped to sixty seconds remaining. The rover was two minutes from the probe. They watched the screen in tense silence as Nelson steered it through the maze of rocks. The ground rolled slowly underneath as
Greenhouse
grew larger. At five seconds remaining, the screen went blank.

“We’ve lost the cameras,” Nelson said calmly. “The comm link is active.”

Satomura ripped the goggles off his eyes. He looked up at the monitor that contained images of the Venusian horizon transmitted by the camera mounted on
Greenhouse
. The rover was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is it?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper.

“It went behind that boulder,” Tanya said, standing up to point out a rock.

“I’m going to bring her in,” Nelson said over the intercom. “It was approximately a meter in front of that rock before we lost the cameras. I’ll take her around the east side.”

Satomura scrunched his eyelids tight as though it would help him to see through the planet’s yellow haze. He stared at the orange dirt to the east.

“There it is!” Tanya said, pointing.

The rover emerged from behind the rock. It crept over the rough terrain like a toy tank.

“Twenty seconds.” They could faintly hear Carter’s voice through Nelson’s microphone.

The rover disappeared under the view of the camera.

“O
pen the probe door,” Nelson ordered.

“Probe door open.”

“Ten seconds.”

Nelson had nothing but memory to guide him now. He knew that the aperture was slightly below and several centimeters to the right of the camera and that there would be only a centimeter of clearance on either side of the rover. He closed his eyes and imagined the brightly lit opening and steered the rover toward it.

“Five seconds.”

He visualized the rover climbing into
Greenhouse
and faintly considered the possibility that the rover was banging against the metallic exterior of the probe.

“Three . . . two . . . one.”

Nelson hit the switch to stop the vehicle. If it went too far, it would damage the scientific instruments inside
Greenhouse
. If it did not go far enough, it would be mangled by the probe doors as they closed. His eyes were still shut. He imagined the rover sitting on a platform in the center of the probe.

“Close probe door.”

“Probe door closed.”

The closing of the doors would activate a sensor indicating whether the rover was in position for soil transfer. They waited for the signal, but nothing happened.

“I’m going to nudge her forward another centimeter,” Nelson said, his voice was flat, without emotion.

They waited again and after a few seconds the message INITIATE SOIL TRANSFER appeared quietly on their screens; the appearance of the message implied the rover was properly docked. Nelson breathed a sigh of relief that was audible over the intercom. He closed his eyes and listened to the others speak excitedly about the events that had just taken place.

S
atomura watched a replay of the rover’s short trek across the planet’s surface as he waited impatiently for the results of the soil analysis. He could detect the telltale signs of a lava bed. The rocks were porous and when viewed through a filter that blocked out the reddish tints of the atmosphere they were dark brown and black. Many of the rocks showed signs of erosion. Data from the mass spectrometer finally appeared on the screen. It confirmed his observations. The rocks were basaltic. This was in line with findings from earlier missions. The entire length of the sample proved to be similar in composition. And since it was a lava bed, they would probably find similar soil several meters deep. He smirked at the thought of this. What would one expect so near a volcano.

The probe continued to transmit data for nearly an hour beyond its expected life span. Satomura jumped from one analysis to the next. He uttered odd and, to Tatiana’s mind, unseemly sounds whenever he found something unexpected. After some time he turned his attention to the biological analysis of the core sample. Temperatures at the surface were too high to support organic molecules. They would denature in a matter of seconds. But if there were life in the clouds, some evidence of that life would eventually fall to the ground. Satomura was studying the spectrograph for elements that might make up the decomposed remains of a life-form. Many of the elements were present, but not in the mixtures he would have expected. Still, he told himself after several hours of scrutiny, the hypothesis had not been disproved. They were simply looking in the wrong place. As he stretched he noticed that he was alone in the room. He could not remember the others leaving. A glance at the clock revealed that he had been working for nearly thirteen hours since the probe had landed. The others must have left hours ago. He did not feel tired, but decided it would be best to retire, since his crew mates would be waking shortly, and he did not want them to think that he had been up all night.

Reluctantly, he shut down the terminals and made for his quarters. He fell onto his bed fully clothed. His thoughts were racing with possible interpretations of the data. He looked up at the ceiling and, after some time had passed, focused on a tiny green light and began to meditate.

U
naware that Carter was watching him from the edge of the portal, Endicott injected premeasured amounts of nutrient into the hydroponic containers. The gentle sounds of a piano filled the garden. His movement was automatic and seemed to be guided more by the music than by his own will. The high-pressure sodium lamps above him glowed faintly. Normally the room would have been more brightly lit, but he had turned the lights down. The dim light helped him relax. He was thinking of Brunnet. He told himself that there was really nothing he could have done differently. Had he known there was going to be a flare, he could have set up in the shelter; but the flare hadn’t been detected until it was too late. No one actually blamed him. The radiation had caused Brunnet’s death. He couldn’t have left the wound open; although he knew that if he had, Brunnet might still be alive.

Endicott re-created the events in his mind in search of alternatives that he might have overlooked. If only the appendix had not been perforated. He knew it was best to put such thoughts to rest. But the manner of Brunnet’s death and his own role in it was not the only thing that troubled him. He had lost a companion. Nelson and Carter were not Brunnet’s equal. He found it difficult to talk with them. And now more so than ever. Because he couldn’t help thinking that perhaps they blamed him in some way. It was best not to think about it, he reminded himself. He focused on the solitary tomato plant in the garden. The stem was supported by an intricate cage of wire that Endicott had constructed himself.

“It’s gettin’ late,” Carter said.

Startled by the sound, Endicott jumped and felt his hand strike the wire cage as he turned around to confront the intruder. He turned back in time to see the cage hit the deck. Two of the tomatoes broke open and splattered red juice across the floor. It looked like blood. He knelt on one knee to inspect the damage.

“I’m sorry,” Carter said as he approached to assist.

“Please,” Endicott said. “I can handle this.”

“Of course,” Carter replied.

Endicott looked around for a towel, but there weren’t any in sight. He thought about asking Carter to fetch a towel, but that meant Carter would return, and he would rather that he just left. For a moment he was at a loss as to what he should do. Carter was between him and any towel that was to be had, and he did not want to seem rude. Carter might report the incident. The medical consultants back on Earth were considering a psychiatric evaluation, and an outburst would probably be enough to convince them to proceed. He did not see the need for the evaluation. His reaction to Brunnet’s death was not abnormal. He simply wanted some time to himself. If an evaluation was conducted, he feared that others might find out. He did not want that on his record, and he certainly did not want it to become public knowledge. He decided he would have to make a greater effort to interact with Carter and Nelson. He was guilty of avoiding them, even more so than before.

“If you could find a towel . . .” Endicott said.

“Right,” Carter replied, and disappeared through the portal. He carefully undid the wire that held the plant to the cage and removed the plant as if he were removing a stillborn from its mother’s womb. It was fragile. Far more fragile than its Earth counterpart. He was examining the end of the broken stem when Carter entered the room with a white towel.

“What are you looking at?” Carter asked.

“The stem,” Endicott replied simply. Then added in way of explanation: “The lignin and cellulose content is considerably less than that of the same plant grown on Earth.”

“So it is,” Carter replied. “Here’s the towel.”

“Thank you,” Endicott said. He took the towel and wiped the floor with it. The towel turned red, and he thought of Brunnet. He paused in thought.

“What is it?” Carter inquired.

“Nothing,” Endicott replied.

“It’s Jean Paul, isn’t it?”

Endicott was startled by the suggestion, and at first did not know what to say. “Why do you think that?”

“I’ve seen it before. My line of business has a high casualty rate. I’d say you’re handling it pretty well. Most people don’t. Those were the ones I took out and got drunk.” He grinned as if it were a joke, but they both knew it to be true. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about the shrinks. I’ve taken care of them. Told ’em you were doing fine. That you just needed some time to yourself. Tom did the same.”

Endicott was at a loss as to what to say. He wanted to express his appreciation, but at the same time he did not want to admit anything. He was genuinely surprised at Carter’s support.

“It was nothing,” Carter said, stepping back to leave. “You would have done the same for us.”

“Yes, of course,” Endicott replied.

“If you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me. Guess I’ll be going now.”

Endicott wanted to stop him, but he did not have the nerve. It was what Carter had said about doing the same for them. He realized that it was probably not true. He probably would have insisted upon psychiatric examination if it had not been himself, and he would have been confident that he was taking the correct course. But would it have been? Now he wasn’t so certain. He sat down on the floor with his legs crossed and closed his eyes and smiled as he considered what Carter had done for him.

T
atiana tiptoed into a dark room. She turned and locked the door behind her.

“Are you there, Dima?” she whispered over her shoulder. “Yes, I am here,” a deep guttural voice replied.

She cautiously took one step forward, her arms outstretched. Several meters in front of her was a panel of tiny lights she recognized as indicators for the environmental-control system. They illuminated only a small corner of the room. Her heart was beating fast. She wondered if he would be waiting in the bunk. She could have turned on the light, but she did not want to be seen. Nor did she really want to see him. It would make it too real. She hesitated for a moment. As she stood there, peering into the dark, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She pushed the concern from her mind. The thought of Dmitri nearby excited her.

“Where?” she asked to be certain.

“Over here,” he said.

She turned to her left at the sound of his voice. Within arm’s length there was an unmistakable masculine form, a V-shaped torso and long muscular legs, stepping forward. The sharp, defined lines meant only one thing. He was not wearing any clothing. She took a deep breath and held it. She stood rigid, frozen in place, as his arms surrounded her. She could feel his warm, hard skin through her clothing.

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered into her ear.

“I told you I would,” she said.

“I thought you might have changed your mind,” he said, kissing her behind the ear. “It is late.”

She pushed back gently and shook her head. “Not so fast.” “It has been seven months,” he offered apologetically.

“Yes, so it has. A few more minutes should not matter then. Should it?”

“Where is Vladimir?”

“I took care of him,” she replied. She had left Vladimir curled in a ball at the edge of the bed with the covers wrapped tightly around him. “He will sleep soundly.”