S Morden - One Way

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Zeus.”

“Fuck no.” Frank hit the door hard with his shoulder, once, twice, three times. Zeus was a big man, heavy, dense, and he’d fallen behind the hinge. Because Frank was in his bulky suit, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t reach the man. He slammed the door shut again. Too late. It was too late. He knew that. But he still had to try.

He needed to cut his way through the hab’s skin. He didn’t have a sharp edge. The plastic was thick and hard and he couldn’t tear it and he needed a knife, an actual knife or a saw blade or something and he didn’t have one and he couldn’t do anything.

He backed away down the steps. There were rocks. He could use rocks. He picked one up and started stabbing at the deflated side of the hab, and succeeded only in scoring the surface rather than cutting through. He kept on going, because Zeus deserved his effort, his perseverance, his sweat.

“Put it down, Kittridge. Put it down.”

Frank turned, rock still mashed into his fist. Brack was there, just standing, regarding him.

“We have to get in there.”

“It’s too late.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We do. He’s flatlined. No heartbeat. No resps.”

The implant. It didn’t lie.

Frank dropped the rock at his feet and looked up at the curved side of the hab.

“Get back inside, Kittridge.”

“I need to do… something.”

“That’s an order. Get back inside.”

“No.”

“Don’t you go sassing me, boy. I gave you an order, and I expect that you obey me instantly and without question. You are currently dangerous. You are out of control. You are not in your right mind and you will do what I tell you when I tell you to do it. Get your ass inside the base. Now.”

Frank listened to the sounds of his own breathing. The harshness of it as the air rattled past the knot in his throat. His heart was hammering, as if to make up for the fact that Zeus’s was now still.

From somewhere deep inside, a growl became a moan became a scream became a roar. It died the other side of his faceplate, stifled.

Brack was still there when Frank had finished.

“Get inside. I’ll deal with this.”

There wasn’t anything else to say. Frank trudged back to the main airlock, and pressed his helmet against the wall while the air cycled through.

Through the inner door, he dragged himself out of the top half of his suit, and just sat, legs splayed on the floor.

How had that happened? What possible sequence of events had led to Zeus being in the airlock, both doors closed, without his suit? What was he even doing there? He should have been with Zero, playing around with the fish. Which is what they all did sometimes, moving their bare arms through the tanks full of wriggling baby fry.

The workshop had sprung a leak. OK, but anyone working there had a tank of oxygen and a scuba mask to strap over their faces, so they wouldn’t have drifted off to sleep. There was also going to be their own spacesuit right there by the airlock door, so that even if they didn’t have time to put it on, they would have been able to drag it in with them. Close the door, open the valve on the oxygen tank to repressurize, use the suit comms to call for help, climb into the suit and seal it.

He shouldn’t have died. He shouldn’t have been in the lock without his suit.

Wait. There’d been no sign of Zeus through the little window in the outer door. Of course, Frank would have glanced at it, through it. They all did, unconsciously, as they got to the lock. Checking there was no one in there, or if someone had left the inner door open. He hadn’t seen Zeus, because he’d already been crushed up against the outer door, out of sight.

But if he’d still been alive, he might have been savable. Frank could have done something different if only he’d realized.

He looked up. Dee was standing at the hab door.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Is he…”

“Yes.” Frank wanted to throw something, anything, hard. He remembered he was in a pressurized balloon, and though there were lots of objects to hand, he held back. “Yes, he is.”

“I was hoping…”

“Well, don’t.”

Frank stared at the floor, and eventually Dee got the message and left. He wasn’t sure how long he’d sat there. Eventually Zero came out of the greenhouse. They looked at each other for a moment longer than was comfortable, and then both looked away.

“Sorry, man.”

Frank acknowledged the comment with a nod.

“You thought he was with me.”

Nod.

“He said he wanted to work on a pressure valve. Making it out of plastic pipe, or something. Left an hour ago.”

Nod.

“I had a kid brother. He was smart and stuff. Too smart to get caught up in my biz. Got shot. Stray bullet from some drive-by, on his way back from school. Hit him in the neck, right here.” Zero touched a place just behind his ear. “That’s what they all said: he didn’t suffer. Doctors, police, people coming to the house to see my mama: they all said he didn’t suffer. I don’t know, Frank. Is that a good thing? That he didn’t suffer?”

Frank’s head came up, and he tapped the back of his skull against one of the racks. “I depressurized him, Zero. I sucked out what was left of his air, and I opened the door to Mars on him. None of us have any idea whether he suffered or not. Stupid fuck would probably have wanted to suffer.”

He slammed his head back once, the panel making a boom that startled Zero.

“I thought we were over this.”

Zero stayed quiet, and eventually headed for the greenhouse airlock. While the pumps shuffled the air around, he stared at the door.

“If he’d been able to, he’d have let you know he was in there. He was already gone.”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about this. He was gone. Like my brother. You just happened to be there first.”

Frank let his head fall forward, chin on his chest.

“Whatever.”

Then Zero had gone too. The pumps chugged again, and Frank could hear the greenhouse inner door open. He couldn’t just sit there all day. He needed to move.

He pulled off his shoes and shuffled out of the legs of his suit. He stowed the life support, hung up his suit, put on his overalls and ship slippers. Every action was exhausting, like he’d run a race just moments before. He was spent. Dammit, he was so tired.

He just happened to be there first, three times now. Marcy, Alice, and now Zeus. That struck him as being long odds. Though if he’d been born lucky, he would never have been on Mars at all.

He needed to know what had killed Zeus. He needed a shower. Pathetically, the shower won. The other thing was just going to have to wait.

[transcript of audio file #10126 8/2/2038 0930MT Xenosystems Operations boardroom, 65th floor, Tower of Light, Denver CO]

BT: I thought I’d get you up to speed, Paul, sir, with the work my team have been doing. With your permission.

PL: Carry on, Bruno. I’m intrigued. And concerned. We’ve fallen behind where we should be.

BT: I promise you here and now, that this will catch us up, and even put us ahead of schedule. I think you’ll be pleased with the progress we’ve made, and not a little impressed. We can build on the great strides we’ve already achieved at the Gold Hill facility, and seamlessly integrate that into what I hope you’ll endorse as the way forward.

PL: OK, Bruno. This all sounds very hopeful. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how we view failure here at Xenosystems. That’s simply a word we don’t recognize. So, please. Continue.

[Assume a tablet presentation. Haven’t been able to track that down, and believe lost]