A Step Beyond (42 page)

blue sky of Earth through the shuttle window, and he thought how good it was to be back.

He had not enjoyed the time spent in quarantine. Their exposure to Martian life-forms and to the creature, which had died shortly after they left Mars, had induced the space agencies to quadruple the isolation period. It was feared that the returning crew members might have been carriers of an alien virus. Endicott came down with the flu, which only made matters worse and prolonged their stay. It took three months before the medics finally agreed that the Martian explorers were not harboring anything that might pose a threat to Earth.

“I can’t wait to get my feet on solid ground,” Carter said. Nelson looked over at him and grinned. “It has been a long trip.”

“The last one for me. I’m sticking to aircraft. Something you can actually fly.”

“The last one for all of us, I’m afraid,” Endicott said from behind them. “The radiation, you know. We have surpassed the career limit.”

“I’ll tell them to increase the limit,” Komarov bellowed. “They’ll let me back up.”

“Like hell,” Carter said. What bothered Carter was that the Russians might just let the old son of a bitch back up. Ever since the rescue, Komarov had been getting on his nerves. The cosmonaut kept trying to prove that he was the better man, and it seemed to Carter that no matter what they did, it turned into some sort of contest.

Carter strained against the straps again. They were 600 meters from the surface, their airspeed 576 kilometers per hour. The long, flowing plains of the Mojave Desert appeared in the window, and they did not look that much different from those of Mars, except for the occasional cactus bush. Even the sand was red. He was pushed forward, away from his seat, as the commander activated the speed brake.

“Control, this is
Explorer
. Preflare initiated. Over.”

“Roger.”

“Adjusting glideslope to one-point-five degrees. Over.”

The front end of the shuttle lifted, and the Mojave disappeared beneath the panel. The sky was bright blue with tufts of white cirrus, and to Carter it seemed as if he had never seen anything as beautiful. It had been two years, but it seemed like ages.

“Preflare complete. Lowering landing gear. Over.”

“Roger,
Explorer
. We confirm that your gear is down.” “Roger. Gear down and locked. Out.”

“
Explorer
, main gear at ten meters . . . four meters . . . three meters . . . two . . . one . . . contact.”

The shuttle jumped slightly as it struck the ground at 346 kilometers per hour.

“Nosewheel at two meters . . . one . . . contact.”

“Roger, out.”

The Mojave reappeared, and Carter watched as the commander pushed the speed brake to 100 percent. They were 689 meters from the end of the runway. The commander pumped the pedal for the wheel brakes. The runway did not seem long enough, and the shuttle shook and roared as if it were about to break apart. It came to a stop with nearly sixty meters to spare.

“Wheels stop. Over.”

“Roger.”

“Control, this is
Explorer
. We are ready for egress.”

“Roger,
Explorer
. Proceed with egress.”

“Roger, out.”

The commander undid his restraint strap and turned around to look at the crew.

“Welcome back to Earth,” he said.

The passengers smiled and undid their straps. Carter pushed up front to look out the window. The runway was crowded with people, and there was a podium one hundred meters from the shuttle. A fence held back the people, and FBI and Secret Service Agents, dressed in dark blue suits and sunglasses, were standing on the other side. A long, black limousine, with the presidential insignia on the door and American flags on the hood, was parked near the podium. Several limousines were parked behind it, and he could make out the Russian flag on one of the limousines. A press helicopter was hovering overhead. Scaffolds with cameramen on them were scattered throughout the crowd.

“My, oh, my,” said Carter as pulled a stick of gum from his shirt pocket and placed it in his mouth. “We’ve got one helluva welcoming committee.”

Nelson stepped up beside him, and so did Tatiana. He could smell her scent, and he turned to smile, but she did not look at him. She had avoided him the entire trip back, but then she had also avoided Komarov. Carter felt bad now that he had tried to approach her, and that he had been so persistent, and he felt bad that he had not been able to control his desires better. He was certain she blamed herself for Vladimir’s death. He could feel someone tapping him on the shoulder. It was Komarov.

“I would like to see,” he said.

“Sure.”

Carter’s legs felt wobbly as he walked between the seats, and he grabbed a seat to support himself. One g would take some getting used to, he thought. Endicott and Satomura were at the back of the shuttle, still seated, engaged in conversation. Carter walked toward them, testing his strength with each step.

“Gentlemen, we have landed,” Carter said.

“So we have,” Endicott replied. “I was just telling Takashi here that the cellular structure of the life-form was remarkably similar to that of creatures found on Earth.”

“Yes,” Satomura said, “I suspect some sort of cross-pollination between the planets took place.”

“It would explain the similarity,” Endicott said. “But I would venture, rather than cross-pollination, that they were seeded, if you will, by an extrasolar source. A shower of comets from another solar system.”

“That’s all very interesting,” Carter interrupted. “But, I believe, we are expected to leave the shuttle.”

Endicott looked at Carter in surprise. “Yes, yes, of course.” He then continued his discussion with Satomura, as if Carter wasn’t standing there. The suggestion of an extrasolar source did not seem congenial to Satomura, for his face was twisted in a scowl, and he was shaking his head.

Carter turned in time to see Komarov place his hand on Tatiana’s, and he watched with amusement as she pulled her hand away. She did not look at Komarov, and he did not look at her. A moment later, she turned around and was walking down the aisle toward Carter. But she did not see Carter, even though she was looking directly at him. She was smiling contentedly, and it occurred to Carter that she must be happy about being back home.

The shuttle commander cleared his throat to get the attention of the passengers. “We are to exit in a specific order,” he said, and he looked apologetic and slightly embarrassed for having to enforce the formality. “Commander Nelson, you are to go first, followed by Commander Komarov, then Carter, Satomura, Pavlova, and Endicott. A reception vehicle will transport you to the podium.”

Carter made his way to the front of the craft. When they were all standing in the proper order, the commander opened the shuttle door, and bright rays of sunlight came shining through. As Carter stepped forward, he held his hands up to his eyes to block the light. The hot Mojave air struck him hard. He took in a breath and nearly gagged. He had been in a temperature-controlled environment for two years, and the sudden, natural, dry, scorching hot air that came blasting through the portal was an unexpected shock to his system. His first instinct was to turn back, but he could feel Satomura pressing against him, and he saw that Komarov was already several feet ahead. He stepped out onto the mobile stairs, and as he did, he heard the cheering of nearly half a million people gathered in the desert around him, and he waved a hand overhead as he held on to a railing.

About the Author

Chris Anderson was born in 1957. Since attending the University of Virginia, he has been employed at a high-tech consulting firm. He currently resides in Leesburg, Virginia, with his wife and two children, where he is at work on a novel about an international hacker organization.

The author can be reached at [email protected]. He maintains a Mars site at
http://www.sff.net/people/ckanderson/
.