Chapter Ten
“PRESSURE GOOD, OPENING AIRLOCK.”
Adrian brought his band down on the key that opened the inner hatch. The clank of the portal opening was followed fast by the thumping of multiple pairs of stiff, heavy boots and the clunking of armored limbs as they accidentally bumped into walls and other people in a confined space.
“Another day, another dollar,” said Kevin, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So they tell me.” Adrian got to his feet and arched his back in a prolonged stretch. The team had gotten good enough at managing their suits that he no longer had to hover around them each time they returned. The snapping of catches and various, wordless, relieved noises drifted up the central corridor. He knew how they felt. He was really looking forward to the end of this run. Terry Wray in particular was becoming a bigger pain in the ass all the time, despite her good looks. For the past week she’d been running back and forth, asking them both for the story of how the base was found over and over, until finally Kevin said to her, “Ms. Wray, you’re sounding less like a media face and more like a lawyer all the time.”
“What an interesting choice of words, Mr. Cusmanos,” she had replied mildly.
After that, Kevin’s normal good humor had started to fade, and Adrian had found himself engaging in the unhealthy and unproductive hobby of marking time until the run was over.
The radio beeped. “This is Venera Base calling Scarab Five and Scarab Fourteen,” said a woman’s voice. Adrian blinked at the speaker grill. That wasn’t Tori at flight control. That was Grandma Helen.
Kevin touched the Reply key. “This is Scarab Five. Receiving you, Venera Base.”
“This is a recall notice. Five and Fourteen, you are to return to base immediately.”
“What? Why?” The questions were out before Adrian remembered whom he was talking to.
“You’ll hear all about it when you get back up here.” Dr. Failia sounded grim. “Get your people back and get in the air.” A soft popping underscored her voice.
Adrian looked at his boss. Kevin sat there, a coffee cup held in both hands. His fingers tightened convulsively, denting and redenting the plastic, making the popping noise. Kevin stared at the radio, but Adrian felt positive he didn’t see it.
“We’re on our way up, Dr. Failia,” said Adrian, not taking his attention off Kevin.
“Good. Venera Base out.”
Kevin still just stood there, crushing the cup and letting it go again. Adrian’s confusion quickly bled away into cold concern.
“What’s going on?” asked Adrian softly.
Kevin shook himself and tossed the cup into the garbage. “We’ll find out when we get back up, won’t we?” He looked at the floor, the chair, the window, but not at Adrian. “You’d better tell the passengers.” Kevin settled himself back in the pilot’s chair.
That was no answer, but what could Adrian do? “Right, okay.”
As he sidled and shuffled his way down the scarab’s narrow central corridor, he realized that the sounds of a team getting out of their suits had silenced. He was not surprised to see them, all in their various stages of unsuiting, standing still and staring at him.
Adrian sighed. “I take it you all heard that? We need you in your couches, please, so we can get in the air.”
“Can we get any kind of information here?” asked Peachman.
“There’s nothing I can tell you.” Adrian spread his hands. “I’m sure there’ll be a full briefing when we’re back on base. If you’ll just fasten yourselves in, please.”
“Surely, there must be something—” began Peachman, half to Adrian, half to his teammates, looking for their support.
“I’m sorry,” said Adrian. He was. He didn’t know what was going on either, and he wanted to. Probably more than any of them did. Recalls did not happen unless something bad did.
Hatch’s expression caught his eye. She was looking at him, speculatively, as if she were trying to guess what was going on inside his head. Kenyon, on the other hand, was watching Hatch as if he were worried about what she’d do next.
But she didn’t do anything except bend over and start snapping the catches on her boots. Wray bent over next to her and murmured something Adrian couldn’t hear. He heard the reply, though.
“I’m sure you’ll get to interview everybody soon enough. Now, shouldn’t we do what we’re told?” Dr. Hatch gave one of her brainless smiles and started stripping out of the stiff, white, undersuit that covered her everyday clothes.
Tourists. Adrian left them to it and headed back to the pilot’s compartment. For a moment, he didn’t see Kevin, because Kevin was almost doubled over in his chair, with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, and his fingers twined through his thick hair.