Offworld (28 page)

He didn't know. He tossed the thought away. The past could not
be changed.

They stood face-to-face at the far end of the restaurant, back near
the kitchen and well out of earshot of Mae.

"I believe I may have an idea of what's wrong with Trisha," Owen
said quietly. "That is, if you still care to hear my opinion."

Chris met his eyes with a hard stare. Owen knew that he had
to appear differently to his friend now, but to Owen's surprise, his
response was, "Bogus credentials or not, you're still the smartest,
most capable man I know."

Owen offered a slight nod.

"Should we run some tests on her?" Chris asked.

Owen shook his head, glancing back at Trisha and Mae. "I
don't believe scientific readings would be particularly helpful in this
instance."

"Then what's wrong with her?" Chris asked.

"She's suffering the physical effects of a broken heart."

Chris blinked, said nothing.

Owen was ready to defend his assertion. "There have been countless published reports linking dire emotional states to-"

Chris nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "I believe you."

Owen continued. "Then I'd further postulate that her condition
is made worse by the intense loneliness she currently feels-that we
all feel" He glanced at Mae, who was still tending to Trisha without
a thought of anyone else in the room. "Well, most of us."

Chris sighed. "Trisha's always ignored her own pains in order to
put the mission and the team first."

Owen stared, his features hardening. "Chris, if you know something about Trisha that you're not sharing, now's the time."

Chris sighed again, frowning. Owen watched him make a decision on the spot. He crossed his arms.

"Trisha suffers from fibromyalgia."

Owen's eyes darted back and forth, accessing information buried
in his extraordinary mind. "I don't understand. From what I know of it,
that means muscle pain of varying severity that's nearly omnipresent. Not life threatening, but in some cases can be severely debilitating.
And it can cause extreme exhaustion." He looked up at Chris again.
"How did she ever-?"

"Make it into the space program with such a condition?" Chris finished. "It's not something that shows up in physicals, so she's learned to
monitor and hide it. Haven't you ever noticed how strictly regimented
her lifestyle is, even for an astronaut? How careful she is about what
she eats, how obsessive she can be about getting exercise?"

"Of course," Owen replied, "but I assumed that-"

"That that was just Trisha," Chris finished again. "She didn't choose
to do those things; they chose her. Trisha confided her secret to me
years ago, after I caught her taking over-the-counter painkillers on a
consistent basis during her training for the Mars mission. Her case is
mild compared to some, though extra long hours or heavy exertion
can cause her intense pain and exhaustion. Occasional headaches
and migraines are just one symptom. There are more, like the weariness, or this `brain fog' that can limit clarity of thought. But she
worked and trained every bit as hard as the rest of us, if not harder,
and she wanted the job just as badly as we did. She was capable, she
was determined, and she was deserving. I didn't see anything to be
gained by ratting her out.

"She can still do everything her job requires-the difference is
that she pays a heavier price for it than the rest of us do."

"I can't believe I never noticed," said Owen.

Chris looked hard at Owen. "I guess some of us are just better
at hiding things."

It was long after midnight when Trisha awoke on the floor. She
was surprised to see Mae seated near her, slumped against the nearby
wall, her eyes closed. Across the room she could see Owen and Chris, slouched in a booth. No one was making a sound, save Owen, who
was lightly snoring.

When Trisha stirred, Mae sprang into action and brought a glass
of water to her lips.

Trisha didn't know what to make of the young girl as her caretaker,
and couldn't think of anything immediately to say.

Chris roused and crossed the room, coming up behind Mae.
"Thank you, Mae. I need to speak to her alone for a minute."

Mae said nothing in reply but got to her feet and gently stepped
away.

"She hasn't left your side since you passed out," he began.

"What did she do to me while I was asleep?"

"I think she was taking your pulse every few minutes, though I
never saw her look at a watch. She kept an eye on your breathing.
Checked your temperature. Made sure you were comfortable," Chris
replied, turning to look in the direction Mae had gone. "She knew
what she was doing."

"Huh," Trisha replied, noncommittal. "Why would a kid who grew
up on the streets know such things?"

"What is it?" Chris asked. "What've you got against her?"

"I don't know... " Trisha said with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "I
just ... I don't connect with her at all. I worked so hard to get to
where I am, professionally. I sacrificed, I did whatever it took. She's
obviously come from a hard life but she's got no goals, no desire to
contribute to anything. I can't wrap my head around her, and I don't
know how to respect anyone who lives that way."

"Have you considered that you don't have to understand her in
order to be friendly to her?"

Trisha let out a quick burst of air that was almost like a laugh. If
anyone else had said that, she'd have considered it condescending,
but coming from Chris, she saw the humor and the truth in it.

She looked around the room. "Where's Terry?"

He explained everything she'd missed. He reluctantly included the part about revealing her secret to Owen, but she didn't care. What
did it matter now? The mission was over, and the world they'd come
home to was empty.

"Terry's all alone, Chris. You have to go find him," she said
softly.

"No I don't."

"Chris, we can't just leave him behind! And you're the only one
he'll respond to now...

"Terry's a big boy," said Chris, his features set. "He made his own
decision. If he was going to come back, he would have by now. If
he changes his mind, he knows where to find us."

`And if you're right, and there really is someone else out
there, following us?" Trisha asked, her voice still weak. "Someone
dangerous?"

"Well, if you'll recall, Terry's already proven he knows how to
acquire weapons."

Trisha sighed.

Chris looked away, not interested in discussing the subject
further.

`And Owen's a secret agent super-spy," she mused. "Unreal"

"It was reckless of NASA and the government to place him on
the crew." Chris shook his head. "He was rushed through his training
and he could have compromised the entire mission."

`But he didn't," Trisha reminded him. "He did the job he was
brought onboard to do, and I don't mean the secret one. He made
countless scientific discoveries on Mars. He worked tirelessly. He was
extraordinary, Chris. There were a couple times just watching him
pushed me when I almost gave in to exhaustion."

Chris didn't reply, and she knew he had no counterargument.

"So what's the plan?" she asked. "It's night. When do we leave?"

Chris hesitated, his face suddenly painted with concern. "I'm not
comfortable with the idea of dragging you around in this condition."

"Too bad," she replied. "We have to get to Houston; everything
is pointing in that direction."

With great care she gradually got to her feet and managed to
stand upright on her own. "So let's get going."

She spotted Owen where he was resting and moved to wake him
up. But she couldn't completely hide the stilted way her legs shifted
hack and forth, nor the stiffness in her neck that kept her from swiveling it with ease. When she leaned over to awaken Owen, she hit
her lip and closed her eyes for just a moment.

She knew Chris had seen it. And she also knew that despite how
much time he'd spent around her over the last few years, he was
still learning just how much willpower and resolve Trisha Merriday
possessed.

By three in the morning the group was breezing past the northern
outskirts of Lake Charles, Louisiana, once again on Highway 10. It
had been a silent trip, with not a single word spoken between Chris
and Trisha in the minivan. Chris imagined that Owen and Mae in the
pickup truck had very little to talk about either. He also wondered
if Owen was having as much trouble keeping his eyes open as he
was.

Driving in the dead of night may have seemed like the safe thing
to do, but fighting exhaustion and the complications of avoiding all
the stalled vehicles was more difficult than Chris had expected.

He was about to adjust the air-conditioning to help rouse himself
when a sense of motion caught his eye. It was like a jolt of caffeine.
He glanced in the rearview mirror; he could see something far back
behind them on the road. Chris was doing his usual dance around
the abandoned vehicles on the freeway, and although the road was
dark, the moon gave enough light to silhouette something traveling
far behind them.

There it was again. He blinked and sat up straighter.

"We're being followed," he announced to Trisha, who was asleep
next to him.

She half-opened her eyes. "Huh what?"

"Something's behind us."

She craned her neck around. "I don't see anything."

"It's far back, and it's working hard to stay unnoticed. If it's a car,
it's not running headlights."

"Maybe it's Terry," she suggested.

"With no lights on?"

"Right, right. I'm in a fog, overlook me...

"Wish we could ask Owen if he sees it too," Chris said.

"But we can't risk tipping our hand over an open channel," she
said, verifying his thinking. "If they're following us, they're probably
listening in as well."

Chris pressed down harder on the gas pedal. "Let's try increasing
speed. See what they do."

Owen followed Chris' lead, accelerating as he did, and Chris
suspected that Owen's keen eyes had probably spotted their pursuer
even before he had.

He watched the mirror in silence, waiting for another glimpse.
"There," he said. "They're keeping up. No-they're gaining. It's definitely a vehicle of some kind. Maybe a truck."

"They have to know we spotted them," Trisha pointed out. "What if
it's someone else left behind, like Mae? They could need our help."

Chris wished he could believe Trisha's optimistic notion, but said
nothing. Something was very off about this, and he wasn't about to
put his people in danger. He needed a well-lit spot, where his pursuers would have no immediate advantage.

As they drew closer to Houston, his knowledge of their positioning grew, and he remembered enough about this area to navigate
it smartly. Calcasieu River would be coming up momentarily, so he
turned south just before coming upon it, driving down into the city
of Lake Charles proper. He followed the shoreline to his west and spotted a tall, glittering building a few blocks ahead on the left. It
was an office building, covered in tinted glass across its every outer
wall. It was higher than any other building Chris could see, and the
building's parking lot still had functioning streetlamps.

"Pull in ahead at the lighted area, but don't get out, and keep your
engine running," he ordered Owen through his earpiece.

"Copy that," Owen replied, asking no questions.

Once in the parking lot, Chris drove to its far end and swung the
van around with screeching tires. There he waited, his driver's side
window facing their oncoming visitor. Owen did likewise, whipping
the pickup with a screech, its front bumper mere inches from the
van's rear.

"Well .. " whispered a stunned Trisha. "He's got a great big bag
full of tricks."

Chris kept the van's engine running and rolled down his window
to get an unobstructed view. He heard the approaching vehicle before
he saw it. It was not a car or a truck; it was a black military-grade
jeep. It had barreled through the turn off the main road and into the
parking lot without slowing down, and now it was speeding straight
at them like a battering ram on wheels.

"Beech .. " Chris called out urgently.

"I see it," Owen replied, his voice above the roar of the oncoming vehicle.

Please let this work....

"Move!" Chris shouted.

He hit the accelerator as the vehicle approached, and Owen did
the same, only his truck screeched into reverse while Chris lurched
forward. Their vehicles parted just as the jeep would've collided into
them and it surged forward until nearly crashing into the windowcovered office building.

In a heartbeat the driver powered it into reverse, working on a
three-point turn to face them again as Chris called to Owen and both
vehicles sped from the parking lot.

"You think they're alone, whoever they are?" Trisha asked.