Offworld (13 page)

"It's just ... after the whole 'buried alive' thing ... and looking
around at our home, at where we are now, and what's happened ...
I guess it's sinking in." He paused again, then faced her. "This isn't
how it was supposed to be when we got back. There were going to
be parades and stuff. Instead, it doesn't even feel like we're really
here. Is home still home if nobody's there?"

Mae tossed the ball to him and then gazed up at the overcast
sky. "No stars out tonight," she said. "Don't mean they ain't there."
She turned to go.

"You know," said Terry, "astronauts are trained not to dwell on their feelings. They get in the way of the job. But for someone who doesn't
say much, you got me talking about my feelings pretty quick."

She shrugged and didn't look back.

"Use your powers for good, not evil," he joked, calling out to her
as she went inside.

She heard him shoot the ball once more, but it must not have
gone close to the rim.

Nothing but air.

Mae yawned as she entered the living room. Owen's bulky frame
still sprawled over the couch. But he was awake. She took a seat in
an armchair nearby, but he didn't acknowledge her entrance. He had
the television on and was focused on it.

"You feeling okay?"

"No, I feel like a building fell on me," he replied, without any
trace of warmth.

"What's that?" she asked, nodding at the TV.

"Home video," he said, not looking her way. The video showed
some sort of celebration. A child's birthday party, perhaps. She didn't
examine it too closely, but Owen wouldn't stop watching it.

"They the ones that lived here?"

Owen nodded, ignoring her.

"Terry said you got a kid, and a wife," Mae said. She thought she
saw his jaw clench when she said it.

Finally, he nodded. "I do. I left them. I went away, on a very
important mission. For a long time. And now they've gone away.
Maybe forever."

She said nothing.

He glanced at her and continued. "It's fitting. It's justice. I'm getting what I deserve."

Mae cocked her head to one side. " 'Cause now you know how
they felt."

He turned to look at her, and it was an uncomfortable sensation. He wasn't merely regarding her, he was examining her like a
specimen on a microscope slide. She'd already learned that he was
extremely smart, and now he was bringing that intellect to bear on
her. She didn't like it.

She sighed and settled back into her seat. "What?" Mae asked,
her voice a little louder than before.

"What, what?" Owen replied.

"Been watchin' me all day long, but never said nothing. So ...
what?"

Owen watched her, a look of curiosity or confusion on his face.
"You're the fly in the ointment. There are so many things about this
situation that make no sense. But you most of all. When I look at
you, I see a giant, flashing question mark hovering over your head.
And I can't answer it. Yet."

"How come I'm still around?" said Mae.

Owen made no movement to indicate an affirmative, but she
knew she'd hit the bull's-eye.

Already said ... Don't know why."

And the whole Earth breathed a sigh of relief," he remarked melodramatically. "If you weren't involved in what happened to everyone,
then it stands to reason that you would be more than a little curious
as to why you are the only person still here that we know of. But I've
yet to see even a trace of concern from you over this. Maybe you hide
your feelings very well, maybe you're desensitized from living alone
too long. Maybe you really do have no idea why you're still here. Or
maybe ... you are somehow right at the heart of all of this. Either
way, you're the fly in the ointment. I have spent considerable time
over the last few years solving scientific mysteries, and you're next
on the list. And I promise you, I will figure you out."

Mae studied him, scouring every inch of his face. She was unmoved
by his words. "Don't know me. Don't like me. Don't trust me." She wasn't frowning exactly, but her face became somehow more stern.
`Just so happens ... been watching you too. On to you."

Now she had his undivided attention.

"You keep everybody away. Don't let nobody close-not even the
ones you run with. They're used to you-don't even see it. I see it."
She leaned forward in her seat and reduced her voice to just above
a whisper. "Don't know what ... but you're hiding something. And
it ain't nothing little."

Owen returned his gaze to the television, very pointedly ignoring her.

"Secrets is dangerous," she said, rising from her seat. "Awful lot
of 'em in this house tonight."

Get up, boy.!" Chris heard his father's voice, ringing in his ears.
"Snap to!"

Open your eyes, Chris. Open. Open.

Come on, get up!

With considerable effort, Burkeforced his eyes open, ficshting off an
oppressive wave offatigue. He was lying flat, facedown on ... someth. ing. But there was no change when his eyes were open-everything
was black, everywhere he looked. The taste of blood was on his tongue,
and he felt sore all over.

His arm sluggishly responded to his command to turn on his
internal .helmet light. The dim fluorescent didn't provide much help.
Next he activated the bright beam attached to one arm of .his space
suit. He couldn't have much power left in the suit, but without getting
a look at where he was, there was no chance of escape. Or rescue.

Ground.

He was lying on the ground. That wasn't really a surprise.

But what ground? Where?

And why was the ground so smooth?

Very carefully, Burke raised himself to a seated position, resting
on his knees. He used the beam to scan the immediate area and saw
that the ground was indeed hard and very smooth. Almost polished
in appearance.

He shined the beam straight up and could see the hole that hed
fallen through. It had to be over thirty feet away; he was lucky not
to have broken anything. He turned the light o fbr a moment and
gazed up through the small hole directly above. Even in the darkness
he couldn't make out any stars.

Had he really only fallen thirty feet?

He brought the beam back to l fe, tracing it slowly down the walls
on either side of this odd cave. At least he supposed it was a cave.
What else could it be?

The walls were as smooth as the ground. The ground and the
walls weren't perfectly even-there were sizable bumps and grooves
carved into them. But even these had the rounded off appearance
of something that had been buffed or polished. There wasn't a sharp
edge to be, jbund.

The one truly positive thing he could say about this place was that
it was considerably warmer down here than it was on the nighttime
surface above. Though that was odd.

Slowly, he stood. Checked the time. A little over an hour of oxygen
remained in his suit.

Well, if they couldn't pick up my signal before, they'll never
hear it now.

I'm dead. Rest in peace, Christopher Burke.

When the flashlight's beam receded into the distance just ahead,
he realized this was no cave.

It was a tunnel.

Of course! The answer came to him in a burst of insight. A lava
tube ...

Scientists had speculated for decades that empty lava tubes might stretch beneath the Martian surface, perhaps evidence of ancient
volcanic activity. Photographic verification decades ago seemed to
confirm it, but he and his crew hadn't had a chance to huntfbr any
of the elusive chambers yet.

I've just proven they exist!

And ... no one ... will ever know.

He scowled.

Three cheers for me.

Trisha awoke with great reluctance. Foggy and disoriented, she
found herself in a strange bed and a strange room, listening to
a strange song that had started playing by itself. She glanced at
the clock beside the bed, which, like much of the decor in this
tiny bedroom, was pink in color. It featured a holographic stream
projected a few inches into the air above it, where a tiny pair of
teen movie stars were singing and dancing on an invisible stage,
to some insipidly cheerful pop tune about sunshine and "the best
part of the day."

She sat up and turned the ridiculous thing off. Ten o'clock in
the morning. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept that
late.

Standing up, Trisha gazed in a mirror attached to the inside of
the bedroom door. She barely recognized the all-but-dead person
who looked back at her. Her hair was hanging down around her
shoulders, instead of pulled back in her customary ponytail. She
felt creases under her eyes that betrayed the crying she'd done both
before falling asleep and after.

And she was sore. So terribly sore.

I'm off my routine. That's all. Need to get some good food, a little
exercise. It'll make all the difference.

Trisha did her morning stretches, starting with her legs and working up to her arms, shoulders, and finally the neck. Everything was
stiffer than it had been in a long time, but even this routine seemed
an annoyance. Why bother keeping up a strict, disciplined lifestyle
if ... well, if things were what they now were.

She zipped open the duffel bag she'd packed back at Kennedy
and threw on some clothes. Wandering out of the room but wishing she'd stayed in bed, Trisha was unsurprised to find that all was
quiet. Owen snored softly on the couch. Teriy was no doubt deeply
asleep somewhere else. Chris wasn't in sight, though she already
knew where he would be right now. And Mae-well, she had no
idea where Mae was, and couldn't bring herself to care.

Trisha rubbed her eyes and shuffled into the kitchen, curious
about what sort of breakfast foods might be found there. Her first
thought was cereal, until she remembered that the world's entire
stock of milk would have soured over a month ago. And with all of
the animals gone, there was no way to get a fresh supply.

That's so sad, she thought, fighting the urge to give up and slink
back to bed. I really miss milk.

The mineral supplement NASA had developed for them to
drink while on Mars to help their bones and muscles resist breaks
and atrophy may have been white and thick, but it just wasn't the
same.

She searched the cupboards and the foul-smelling refrigerator,
hoping to supplement what they'd salvaged yesterday. It wasn't long
before she was making a little too much noise, slamming doors in
weariness and frustration, while under her breath asking the universe why she was always the one who did these kinds of things.
She didn't want to be the mom of the group.

From seemingly out of nowhere, Mae appeared just outside the
kitchen.

"Need help?" she asked, yawning.

Trisha didn't meet the girl's eyes. "No. Thanks."

Mae walked away without comment.

Trisha frowned. Why am I being so snotty to her? She didn't do
anything.

That we know of.

Toast was out of the question; there was no such thing as fresh
bread. As she settled on some frozen waffles in the freezer, Chris
jogged through the open front door, wearing an oversized hockey
jersey and a pair of mesh basketball shorts. She figured it was the
only gym-wear he could find in the house. He was sweating but
smiling, hands on his hips as he caught his breath, clearly enjoying
the endorphin high of his morning run.

"Good morning," he said cheerily.

"That's debatable." She yawned and pushed her hair behind her
ears. "Sleep any? I sure didn't."

Chris glanced at where Owen still slept on the couch, oblivious
to the world. "No, not really. Trish, can I talk to you for a second?"

She knew that tone of voice. Her morning grumpiness was quickly
pushed aside and she put down her breakfast.

He stepped into the kitchen. "I've been having more of the
dreams," he said, voice low. About my missing time. And not all of
the dreams have been happening while I'm asleep."