Luna (14 page)

31| Afterlife

“Be right there, Martin.” Dallas finished putting on his anti-biocontamination gear—face shield, rubber gloves, scrubs, the works. It was time to do what he could for Martin, whose condition had deteriorated significantly in the last hour. James watched Dallas adjust his face mask for the fourth time.

“He’s really sick, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know, James. I’m going to evaluate him and see what I can do to help.”

It was not lost on Dallas that James did not volunteer to go with him into the lab where Martin was, either to help in some way or to do his job as an observer of shipboard practices. Dallas’ mind echoed the thought that he knew bounced around in James’ brain.
What if whatever Martin got from that thing is contagious?

The exobiologist was lying down on a cot Dallas had set up for him in the lab. Dallas, an experienced former trauma surgeon, sucked in his breath at the sight of his patient. Martin’s skin was entirely a bluish, purplish color. The color of venous blood. And yet his skin was oddly translucent, but with a bluish cast. It sort of reminded him of the realistic anatomical models he had studied with in medical school, in addition to human cadavers. And worse, his veins.
Veins
, Dallas emphasized to himself. For he couldn’t see any arteries. Even though his skin—all of it that he could see, anyway—his arms, hands, face, neck...was weirdly clear. Yet there were no
arteries
—that was it, Dallas realized. No arteries, only veins. All of his blood vessels were blue, or perhaps purplish—the same hue as the rest of his skin, where he supposed that his blood vessels and capillaries had burst, releasing their micro-rivers of blood to flood the body cavities.

He knew that blood was actually red, from hemoglobin, even though in veins it appeared blue through normal skin because it lacked oxygen, since veins carried blood back to the heart after their blood had been depleted of oxygen during its travels throughout the body. Then that same blood, after being pumped out of the heart, would be full of fresh oxygen again to tour the body anew via the arterial system. But Martin’s blood vessels were all the same color—as if all he had were veins,
or
as if
all of his blood was devoid of oxygen.

He was so stunned by the implications that it took him a bit to realize Martin was talking. Ranting, really, in rapid, monotonic bursts about how ironic it was that the first interaction of human-alien life resulted in the death of not only likely himself, but also the creature. He ended with a, “What do you think, doc?” which caught Dallas by surprise.

He cleared his throat and said, “It’s only a weak hypothesis at this point, but it’s possible that when the creature’s blood entered your system, its specialized oxygen-gathering cells—if it has cells— went into overdrive in our spacecraft’s relatively oxygen-rich environment, causing your blood vessels to rupture, basically to have a massive, circulatory system-wide aneurism.”

Martin’s expression changed then, at the realization that he was in critical condition, on the moon, so very far from help, if he even could be helped. He knew that Dallas was his only hope if there was hope at all.

“Let me hook you up to an IV,” the physician said, wheeling one next to the cot. He prepped Martin’s arm, noticing how easily it bruised with the ordinary contact needed to swipe it with an alcohol pad, and then further with the needle injection. Dallas then went about setting up machines to monitor Martin’s vital signs, the results of which were highly discouraging. Dallas was stone-faced as he looked at the readouts while Martin’s face grew paler under the lab lights.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you, Martin. There’s no time for that. Short of a major blood transfusion operation, which we are not equipped for here, I’m not sure if there is anything I can do to save you.”

“I—” Martin began but then broke off, one of contemporary society’s most eloquent writers and speakers on philosophical matters at a loss for words.

“Save your energy.” At this, Martin seemed to relax.

“You are bleeding internally, Martin. Very severely, because your blood vessels have all ruptured. That’s why all of your skin has turned blue.”

“Am I...am I contagious? The creature gave me this condition?”

“I don’t think so. I think it’s more of an oxygen-related phenomenon where your cells are splitting—lysis, it’s called— with the introduction of whatever mechanisms are present in the moon animal’s fluids that you came into contact with.”

Suddenly, Martin was racked with spasms. Dallas held him down while continuing to talk to him. He raised his voice to be heard above the rattling cot. “Martin, listen to me. You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.”

The stricken biologist continued to jerk and twist but his eyes seemed to regain some measure of light as he held Dallas’ gaze.

“I don’t think you have much time left, Martin.” He found he had to concentrate on not saying the words, “on this Earth,” since they were on the moon. In his hospital days, he had seen ministers deliver many a bedside prayer to patients, and while he was no priest, he was familiar enough with the language that he could approximate it if it would offer comfort to the patient. He could do nothing else, after all.

“If you like, I can say a prayer for you. No one has to know about it,” he added, in a nod to Martin’s outspoken atheism. He knew the man publicly did not believe in God, but when someone was about to go, he thought it was best to give them the option. Besides, he knew that Martin’s atheism was big business for him; he’d made a celebrity career out of it, after all, so what if it was only an act?

But Martin’s next words dispelled that notion. “Say a prayer for yourself if it makes you feel any better, Dallas. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

And with that, a gush of dark purple blood oozed from Martin’s mouth, the monitoring machines began frantically beeping, and he flat-lined.

32| Asking for Directions

The tunnels all looked the same. They’d been walking, searching for a landmark, anything to let them know that they’d made some progress. But the gray passageways were indecipherable in their sameness. They saw no footprints, but making matters worse was the fact that the ground here was hard rock with a very thin to non-existent dust layer, too thin to leave footprints. For the Black Sky members of the party, it was all a new experience and they simply took it in, marveling at the subterranean world so close to their spacecraft. But for Outer Limits, and Caitlin in particular, the wandering carried ramifications.

“Blake, haven’t we been past this junction before?”

“Don’t think so. I think it’s just up ahead here.”

“You keep saying that, and we keep circling around!”

“This is definitely the same passage we came through before,” Asami said, running a gloved hand along a distinct pattern of striations along a tunnel wall. “Look at this, how unusual it is. I remember it.”

Blake slammed a booted foot into the regolith and turned to look at the wall. “Forgive me for not knowing the entire goddamned moon inside and out like the back of my hand. I’m doing the best I can.” He said nothing further and plodded off down the tunnel.

“I don’t think I need to remind you,” Caitlin said, “that this is a situation where your best might not be good enough. It’s not about effort here, Blake. It’s about right or wrong. Period. You’re right: we live. You’re wrong: we die. Which is it?”

Suddenly, Blake spun and faced Caitlin as she nearly bumped into him while she walked along. “Was it about
right or wrong
, Caitlin, when you and Dallas landed the LEM far enough off course that finding our planned destinations became an issue in the first place?”

Silence, as the group huddled in the tunnel.

“Or was that effort?”

Still nothing.

“Because if I’m not mistaken, that wasn’t really good enough, now was it
?”

“Past mistakes shouldn’t lower the bar, should they Blake?” Kennedy’s voice reminded them all that there was a complex dynamic here. This was no longer Outer Limits’ problem alone.

They all heard Blake take a deep breath. “If you would all just allow me to concentrate on my path, I’m confident that I can find what we’re looking for.”

“Blake, I will say this for you,” Kennedy said. “Back during our first startup—that early web transaction thing—you always had a knack for getting people to keep forging ahead, even when there was no clear path.
Especially
when there was no clear path, I think. You kept us all moving, when it meant death to stand still. The only thing, though, Blake? You weren’t always right, either. Sometimes you were. I just hope this is one of those times, Mr. Garner. Carry on.”

They did just that, creeping through the eerie system of underground passages, periodically checking their suit systems to catch a malfunction as early as possible, to monitor the supply of oxygen keeping them alive in this hostile environment. Blake stayed at the front of the pack and a couple of times, after they turned down a tunnel, he would suddenly step back around, hand outstretched, telling them to turn back because he’d led them down what he could see was a dead end. But after a while, Caitlin and Asami agreed they were definitely in new territory. They encountered no footprints on these new paths.

Still wary of every ceiling and floor lest they be alive, the group forged on. The grumblings about whether Blake would be able to find his stash location were starting up again when they passed into an open cave. A pile of equipment sat in the middle of it, so foreign in this otherwise completely natural environment. A spacesuit stained with bluish brown splotches minus a body lay nearby. The spacewalkers piled into each other as those first into the cavern stopped in their tracks to take in the unusual scene.

“Is that blood on that suit... Is that Suzette?” Caitlin managed after some time.

“It looks like it could be deoxygenated blood,” Asami observed.

Blake took a couple of tentative steps toward the blood-caked mess. “First of all, there’s no one in that suit. It’s just a suit. Second of all, it’s missing the helmet, which could mean that whoever was using it somehow switched suits after incurring damage...”

“It says KNOWLES,” Caitlin said, glaring at Blake through their faceplates. No one said anything until Kennedy asked, “Who’s Knowles?”

“Care to answer that, Blake?” Caitlin fumed.

“Strat Knowles was a former employee of Outer Limits. He quit to work as a consultant,” he returned flatly.

“And?” Caitlin prompted at the silence ensuing when he added nothing further. The group spread out in order to afford each of them a better look at the interior of the cave while Caitlin continued.

“Look, Blake. You’ve been awfully secretive about Strat, and now here’s his bloody suit up here with a pile of gear! What happened to him?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably just a spare suit.”

Kennedy made a spitting noise. “With blood on it? What do you mean you don’t know? You said he quit Outer Limits to work as a consultant. What’s going on, Blake? If you knew something about what was going on up here that posed a danger to others, you could be held liable for Suzette’s death. You know that, right?”

“She wasn’t dead yet the last we saw her.”

Caitlin made a sound of indignation. “Oh, right, excuse me. How could I forget? You’re right, Blake, she’s not dead, she’s just part of a fucking worm monster being dragged around while her body is being used for...used for oxygen or something...”

At this, Kennedy stepped between the arguing Outer Limits astronauts. “Look, you two. You’re talking about a serious situation, and one that, I’m sorry to say, I wouldn’t put past Blake. In fact, my spacesuit has the capability to contact our Mission Control in New Mexico directly, but the signal won’t penetrate underground. But know this, Blake: if there is some serious wrongdoing on your part, it’s up to you how much you want me to use it against you when we get back. You help us out here with this equipment—and so far, at least you’ve led us to some equipment—but you see this through and get us all back home, and that would go a long, long way to me not using this kind of juicy morsel against you. But right now we don’t have the time to get into it, okay? We need to start sorting through that equipment over there and figure out what we can use, what we can take back with us.”

Blake stayed silent but the others agreed and Caitlin dropped her line of inquiry, promising Blake she’d revisit the subject later. The double team made their way cautiously to the center of the cave, spreading out around the pile of space gear. They began picking through it to figure out what they had at their disposal, to separate the junk from potentially useful items. After a couple of minutes, Takeo pointed to a metal canister. “Oxygen tank, here. Gauge reads full.”

“Another over here,” Kennedy called from the other side of the pile, bending down to pick up another cylinder.

“Let’s set everything we’re going to want right over here, together.” Kennedy pointed to a patch of ground a little ways away from the center of the cave and the gear. The astronauts began carrying objects there and depositing them.

“Still looking for that parts box,” Blake said, rooting around the stuff. The implication was clear: Black Sky had the most valuable components of what they wanted, in the form of the oxygen cylinders, but what Outer Limits most needed was the electronic part likely to be in that box. Not a minute later, Asami called out. “Got something here, Blake.”

She held up a gray metal container.

“Don’t open it,” Blake cautioned. “We don’t want anything to float away.” The reminder that there was limited gravity here wasn’t likely needed, and yet the image of a critical part floating up and getting caught in some narrow crevice in the cave ceiling or wall was a grim one, indeed.

Kennedy agreed. “Let’s just take the whole box back to the lander and open it there. What else can we use?”

The team looked around and scavenged a few more odds and ends, but clearly the big prizes were the full oxygen canisters and the large box of electrical parts. Blake eyeballed his suit’s oxygen gauge. “How about we get going, people? I doubt we can carry too much more, anyway.”

No objections were voiced. The team rounded up the gear in the center of the cave. They split the burden as equally as possible. Here on the moon, weight was not the issue, simply the bulkiness and unwieldy nature of some of the items. But they managed to grab all of the gear and exit the cave back into the tunnels.

Blake led the way, free of gear so that he could scout ahead to navigate if necessary, with Kennedy behind him, carrying one of the oxygen tanks. Once they got into a hiking rhythm, moving through the trails, things went smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that Kennedy and Blake got to talking, which was okay for a while, but then, after noticing Blake craning his head around to check the walls and ceilings so frequently, the subject of the creatures came up.

“So, Blake, let me ask you...when exactly did you plan to unveil your discovery of life on the moon? At some opportune moment timed to inflict maximum damage to Black Sky, I suppose, right?”

Blake was indignant. “Believe it or not, Kennedy, but your operation is not the only thing on my mind at all times. I—”

Kennedy whirled around from where he’d been standing to get a closer look at the tunnel wall, concerned that, as he had heard, it wasn’t really a wall, to literally point a finger at Blake. As he spun, the valve of the oxygen tank knocked against the wall.

“Blake, the problem with you has always been—” He cut himself off mid-sentence as he felt the tank hit. He stopped to stare at the valve. It was marked with a red line that was visible when in the OFF position, but now the line was green, meaning the valve was open. Behind him, Asami pointed to it.

“Kennedy! Valve’s open. Close it!”

The Black Sky CEO reached out and twisted the valve shut, but not before a gush of pure oxygen was released into the airless passage.