“I shall contact them myself,” she said.
Komarov started to get up, but Satomura stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s not worth it,” he said softly into his Komarov’s ear. “Let her be.”
Dmitri Komarov knew he had gone too far. Lowering his head, he rubbed hard on the creases above his brow. He did not know why he had insisted upon waiting for the
Liberty
to contact them. He was angry with Tatiana, and he wanted to upset her. But he had allowed his anger to interfere with his judgment. He had given them reason to question his authority, and this now angered him even more. He closed his eyes so that the sight of Tatiana would not anger him further. He concentrated upon regaining his composure.
“
Druzhba
to
Liberty
.” She spoke louder than usual.
“This is
Liberty
, over,” Carter responded.
“How is your patient?”
“He’s sleepin’ like a baby. They got him to the shelter just in time. Although Doc here looks like he’s starting to glow. How’s the weather over there?”
“Weather?” “Radiation count.”
“We’re averaging about twenty-five rems.”
“That’s better than us. I’m sitting at forty. The other guys are close to ninety.”
“That’s high. Is there anything we can do?”
“Negative. Looks like we’re just going to have to ride this one out.”
“Good luck then.”
She turned around to face the others. All eyes were upturned and looking at her.
“He is doing fine,” she said. An ionized particle passed through her body.
E
ndicott was beginning to feel nauseous, but he felt certain it was his nerves. It was still too soon to experience the effects of the radiation. He was checking the pulse of Brunnet, whose head was rolling back and forth on his shoulders as if the muscles in his neck had been severed. Brunnet’s eyes were open but blank. The drugs they had administered for the surgery were beginning to wear off.
“Did you see that?” Carter asked excitedly.
“See what?” Nelson asked.
“There was a streak of light that just flashed across the room.”
“Where?” Nelson asked, searching back and forth.
“Right there. In the center. Right there,” Carter said, and pointed emphatically at the center of the shelter.
Endicott held up his hand to stop the conversation.
“That was radiation striking your retina,” he said wearily. Carter stood up and walked over to area where he saw the flash. Crouching down on his knees, he waved his hand cautiously through the air. He hesitated. He touched his eye, and then his chin, and then his eye again. He swiveled around slowly
until he was facing the other astronauts, his left hand rubbing his eyes. With his free hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out another piece of gum. He added the gum to the growing collection in his mouth. He chewed for nearly a minute while he pondered the situation.
“You’re shittin’ me,” he said.
“I assure you, it is a common phenomenon,” Endicott replied, slightly annoyed that the American would doubt him.
“Will it damage my eye?” Carter said with a halfhearted laugh.
“Only time will tell.”
“Carter,” Nelson said, “get back against the wall. Under the circumstances, we must observe every precaution.”
Nelson’s commanding tone had a sobering effect on Carter. He obeyed immediately, pushing himself away from where he thought he had seen the flash of light. He returned to his designated position and placed his back against the shelter wall, where the muscles in his back provided protection to his internal organs. He turned his undivided attention to the rems displayed on the console above him.
The next fifteen minutes passed in silence. The room filled with a stillness that settled into dark puddles around the astronauts. Their thoughts focused upon the rem counter, which rippled orange against its black display. There were four names on the display, and under each name was a number. Every few minutes one of the four numbers would increase. And as it increased, each astronaut wondered what subtle changes had taken place in the cells of the body through which the ionized particles had just passed. They knew that many of the cells would die. And that others would be damaged. That some could grow several hundred times their normal size, while others could multiply uncontrollably and form cancerous growths. Some could mutate. Their chromosomes could break apart and fuse into genetically unsound structures, the effect of which would not be known until their children were born. They knew that many of the injured cells would release toxic substances into their bodies. Nausea, fits of vomiting, and diarrhea could result from the sudden influx of toxins. They knew that after several days their white blood cells could reduce drastically in number and that their immune system could collapse. Or that their blood could fail to clot and they could bleed to death from a paper slice. They knew that internal organs, such as the liver, could begin to function abnormally, setting off a series of near-fatal complications. And they knew if their exposure was high enough they would die.
All of this could happen, and yet the radiation passed through their bodies without sensation. There was no physical discomfort. No piercing pain. No pins or needles. No hotness. No coldness. Not even the slightest of prickles. They felt nothing.
Commander Nelson emerged from the silence with a fabricated smile. It was his duty to maintain the spirits of his men, and it was not until he had caught Endicott’s dejected look that he realized there was a need to do so.
“Congratulations are in order,” he began. “Carl, you conducted yourself admirably. I will see that you receive due recognition for your actions.”
“Well, thank you, but I really don’t . . .”
“Nonsense, what you did back there was heroic. Most men would have fallen apart under the pressure.”
“Sometimes one, willingly or not, has little choice but to rise to the occasion.” His tone was flat, without emotion. “I only hope that fewer occasions present themselves.”
Brunnet, still under the influence of the sedation, mumbled a few unintelligible words. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to clear his mind of the lingering effects of his medication. He motioned for Endicott to come closer and waited until Endicott’s ear was only inches away before whispering into it. The two words barely made it past his lips.
“He told me thank you,” Endicott said. He was still worried over Brunnet’s condition, but for the first time since the operation he actually felt proud of what he had done. He attempted to contain the smile that emerged.
“V
ladimir suspects,” Tanya Pavlova said.
“Suspects what?” her commander asked. They were in the command module, alone, their faces dimly lit by the multicolored lights of the navigation panel.
“Us.”
“Nonsense, there is nothing to suspect.”
“He suspects us, nonetheless.”
“If he suspects, then we should oblige and provide him with something to suspect. I am tired of waiting. Why do you tease me so?”
“Come now.” Tanya laughed. “You are beginning to sound like Vladimir. Perhaps I like to tease you. Perhaps it gives me pleasure.”
“You are cruel.”
“I have never heard anything so ridiculous. He suspects; therefore, you must not be so open with your advances.”
“Ah-ha, so you don’t mind?”
“Mind what?” she replied, feigning confusion.
“You don’t actually mind my advances.” As he spoke, he moved a few inches closer to Tanya. “You just mind their openness.” She responded by moving the same distance backward, which without the benefit of full-Earth gravity she did awkwardly, and was forced to grab Komarov’s sleeve to steady herself. He offered his hand to help, but she withdrew hers the moment he touched it.
“Of course I mind. I am a married woman, and you are a married man, and neither one of us is married to each other. It would be wrong of me not to mind. I warn you, Dima, keep your distance. Vladimir is a sensitive person; I cannot bear to hurt him.”
“There is no need for him to know,” her commander persisted.
“I said no.”
“Yesterday you didn’t say no.”
“Yesterday was another day, and I did say no.”
“You said, ‘Perhaps later.’ That is not no.”
“Well now is later, and I say no.”
Realizing it was time to change his approach, Komarov backed away. Almost immediately, his stern countenance melted into a forlorn pout. He turned his palms outward as if to ask the gods what he had done to deserve such harsh treatment.
“Do you find me disagreeable?” he asked.
“Save your theatrics for sixteen-year-old girls who don’t know any better.” Tanya paused, placed her hands on her hips, and looked him up and down. “No, I don’t find you disagreeable, Dmitri Fyodorovich, but I am not interested. I already have one man to tend to. I don’t need another.”
“A hypothetical question then. If you were not married, would you be interested?”
“I refuse to answer your hypothetical question.”
“You are an impossible woman.”
“So I have been told.”
“You will change your mind. Not today, but eventually.” “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe not.”
“You will,” he repeated, with a knowing smirk.
“You are incorrigible, Dmitri,” she said with a smile.
“It is one of my better traits.”
Tanya suddenly leaned over and kissed her commander hard on the lips. For a brief moment her tongue slipped from her mouth into his, then darted quickly back. She pulled away before he could respond.
“Just something for you to think about,” she said. She turned her back and left the room without another word.
A
l Carter was in the lab module, leaning back on a chair, his feet plopped upon a stack of books placed between two makeshift beds. A stethoscope dangled from his neck, and a thermometer poked out from his shirt pocket. He flipped an aluminum coin in the air. It spun in slow motion as it climbed to the top of its arc, where it hung suspended for a second, then lazily fell into his outstretched hand. He flipped the coin again. The difference in its motion because of the reduced gravity intrigued him.
“Why don’t you get some sleep.” The voice came from one of the two beds. It belonged to Endicott. “We’ll be all right. You can’t do anything for us right now.”
“It’s no bother,” Al replied.
“Seriously,” Endicott insisted. “The best thing for all of us is some rest. You received a relatively high dosage yourself.”
“How do you feel?” Al asked.
“Slightly nauseous,” Endicott admitted. “Although the diarrhea appears to have ceased.”
“How about you, Jean Paul?”
“I’ve felt better.” At the blurred edge of Jean Paul’s vision, a coin flashed brightly as it twirled through the air.
“It’s time to take some blood,” Carter said.
“Didn’t you take some just a few hours ago?” Brunnet protested. “I’m weak enough as it is. Carl, are you going to let this man stick another hypodermic into me?”
“I assume you have checked with the med-assist,” Endicott offered weakly.
“I am to take samples every twelve hours. I can bring it up on the screen if you like.”
“No need.” Endicott allowed his head to roll to one side until one eye was buried in the white clouds of his pillow. The other peered over at his fellow patient. “He needs the blood to assess your condition. I would do the same.”
Brunnet sighed and withdrew into silent reflection. He wasn’t feeling well enough to offer resistance. He stared blankly at the ceiling. Carter’s hand appeared above him and descended, growing larger as it got nearer, until it touched his forehead. It was uncomfortably cold.
“Jesus, you’re burning up,” Carter exclaimed.
“Am I?” Brunnet replied meekly. “I feel cold.”
“The med-assist should have detected the rise in temperature. What the hell is going on?” He turned to the computer and requested a temperature check. The reading remained at 98.7.
“Are you certain?” Endicott asked.
“He’s burnin’ up, I tell you.”
“Might be a malfunction in the sensor,” Endicott said, propping himself up by his elbows. “Check it manually.”
Carter retrieved the thermometer from his pocket and cleaned it with a tissue soaked with disinfectant prior to placing it inside Brunnet’s mouth. The digital readout climbed quickly: 98 . . . 99 . . . 100 . . . 101 . . . 102 . . . 102.5 . . . 103.
Carter shook the electronic thermometer as if it were broken, as if the sudden motion would fix it, or at least lower the reading. The number did not change.
“One hundred and three,” he said. “Doc, what should I do?” “The very first thing we’ve got to do is bring his temperature down. Could you pass the keyboard over here.” Endicott scanned the distant screen then typed several instructions. “That should take care of the medication. I want you to take several towels and wet them down with cool water. We’re going to lower his temperature by covering his body with the towels. I’ll remove his clothing.”
“Right,” Carter said.
With some effort, Endicott managed to sit upright and drop his legs over the edge of his bed. He shook his head to clear it and, after pausing to gather his strength, jumped the few inches to the floor. The sudden shift in blood from his head to his lower extremities caused him to sway and buckle at the knees. He grabbed his bedsheet for support, but the sheet gave away and he fell to the deck.
Carter turned around in time to witness the white sheet settle gently on top of Endicott. It formed a large, white lump on the floor, and looked similar to a shroud placed by the police upon a dead body at the scene of a crime. The body underneath the shroud was still.
He hesitated, wondering if he should alert Nelson, but decided against it. He bent down next to the doctor and cautiously pulled back the sheet. Endicott’s face was pale. The lips were white. Carter placed his hand next to the mouth. He did not feel anything. He checked Endicott’s wrist for a pulse. The wrist was warm. He thought he could detect a pulse but was unsure. He checked his own wrist to make certain he was applying the right amount of pressure, then he rechecked the doctor’s. He felt a slight pulse. He grabbed one of the towels he had just dampened and placed it on the doctor’s forehead.