Edward Lee - Operator B

So much for that, Wentz thought.

When the dust cleared, nothing at all remained.

—

CHAPTER 13

The pressure ducts hissed as the air-clock emptied. The interior hatch popped and Wentz stepped out. Ashton leaned sullenly against the commo chair.

“Is he still alive?”

“Yeah. He sends his regards.”

Wentz labored to get out of the EVA gear. He threw it all into the corner.

And looked at Ashton.

“What now?” she asked. “Put me into the air-lock and eject me into space?”

“You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to once we were underway…but I had orders not to.”

“Yeah, well you still should’ve told me, that’s all.”

“They were afraid you might bolt, abandon the mission and fly back to earth.”

Wentz’s hands clenched into strange fists. He seethed. “I’ve never abandoned a mission in my life, and those sons of bitches know it.”

“They couldn’t take the chance,” Ashton countered. “You know what’s at stake here.”

“Yeah…”

“And what could I do?” Ashton was growing irate. “Christ, I’m dying. I offered to do it. I offered to have the surgery and take the training, but it wouldn’t have worked! It takes a pilot’s mind, Jack. A pilot’s reactions and a pilot’s instincts. I couldn’t have flown this thing in a million years.”

Wentz slumped into the operator’s seat. “I know. I’m just pissed off. I put up with the bullshit for twenty-five years…and now they give me one more mouthful.”

“I’m eating from the same bowl, remember?” Ashton sat disgruntled in her own seat. “We had our jobs to do and we did them. We’re in the military; sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves. Others have—now it’s our turn. And look at the payoff. Now the virus will never get to earth.”

Wentz errantly stroked his chin. “You’re right, of course. It’s a kick in the ass: women are always right.”

“I won’t disagree with you there.” Ashton rolled up her sleeves. “I guess you’ve noticed—”

Wentz looked over. Shit. The stuff moves fast. The tiniest specks of the virus already could be seen on her arms. Then Wentz checked his own arms and noticed the same. On the OEV’s deck, the faintest glittering traces had formed.

“Farrington said we’ve got three months if we’re lucky,” Wentz recounted.

“That’s probably pretty accurate. The virus has an extended incubation period, which means infectees are contagious for a long time. That’s why it’s particularly dangerous.”

But Wentz wasn’t listening. The remaining realization was fully sinking in. “So we can’t ever go back.”

“No, Jack. Even if they quarantined us, the virus also attacks inorganic material, and it’s osmotic—it goes through anything.”

Wentz stared at the silence in the air as if it were a distant cloud. Everything he’d ever been seemed just as far away.

“The apogee’s on,” Ashton told him. “We’ve got video. Do you want to talk to them?”

Wentz sighed. “Why not?”

Ashton tapped a few keys on an auxiliary panel, flipped down a small liquid-plasma display screen. First there was only white fuzz and static, but then a grainy picture formed: General Rainier’s face.

“Sorry about this, Wentz,” his voice crackled. “But surely you realize—”

“I know,” Wentz confessed.

“Did you destroy the collector probe?”

“Yes sir. It’s space junk now.”

“Good. You’ve made the ultimate sacrifice, Wentz. What you’ve done for your country and for the world is beyond—”

“Save it, General. But do me a favor, will you? I know you have to tell my wife and kid that I died in a test crash. But tell them I loved them, will you?”

“I will, Wentz. Personally.”

Waves of static rose and fell.

“Is there anything else?”

“No, sir. I guess not,” Wentz replied.

On the screen, now, Rainier was saluting. Then the screen fizzed and faded as contact was lost. Ashton turned off the display.

“I don’t know about you but I could use a drink,” Ashton commented.

Wentz scowled at her. “The bars close early up here.”

But then Ashton whipped out a bottle of whiskey. “I smuggled this on in my flight pack. It’s not Johnny Black but—”

Wentz grinned. “It’ll work.” He opened the bottle, took a swig, then passed it back. “So what do we do now? We can’t go back to earth.”

“No, but look what we’ve got. We’ve got rations that will last months,” Ashton reminded, “and a fuel-cell that’ll produce all the water we need. And what else have we got?”

Wentz saw her point. “We’ve got an unlimited air supply and an unlimited fuel supply, not to mention a fully operational extraterrestrial vehicle capable of exceeding the speed of light.”

“Um-hmm.”

Wentz clapped his deformed hands together.

“Looks like we’re going on the road trip of all time,” he said.

“Go for it.”

Wentz could feel the gleam in his eyes. The internal systems powered up when he pressed his hands into the detents. “Ready for take-off, Colonel?”

“Yes, sir.”

The OEV began to hover upward.

“Now let’s see what this alien spam can’ll do…”

The craft rose a few more yards then shot away, heading for the universe.

THE END

—

Edward Lee (seen here with his new electronic cigarette) has had more than 40 books published in the horror and suspense field, including CITY INFERNAL, THE GOLEM, and BLACK TRAIN. His movie, HEADER was released on DVD by Synapse Films, in June, 2009. Recent releases include the stories, “You Are My Everything” and “The Cyesologniac,” the Lovecraftian novella “Trolley No. 1852,” and the hardcore novel HAUNTER OF THE THRESHOLD. Currently, Lee is working on HEADER 3. Lee lives on Florida’s St. Pete Beach. Visit him online at:

http://www.edwardleeonline.com