Authors: Edward Lee

Operator B (18 page)

BOOK: Operator B

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Wentz stood forlorn, eyes in a daze. Eventually the reality cracked him in the face. “How long…have I got?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been here close to two months and I’m fading. Heartbeat’s fucking up, dizzy spells, fever. Give yourself three months max.”

Wentz gulped, nodded.

“Jill’s with you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“She tell you she’s dying?”

“Yeah,” Wentz said.

“She can handle this… But can you?”

“I think so,” Wentz felt strong enough to say.

“Don’t think about your family,” Farrington added. “That just makes it worse. You’ll want to kill yourself, which is what I almost did. Just think of it this way: you did it for them.”

Wentz continued nodding. “Come with us,” he offered. “I’ll go back to my ship, get the second EVA suit, and bring it to you.”

“Naw, I’m a loner, you know? Always have been. I’ve got more specs to pipe back to earth. The apogee’s only optimal seventeen minutes a day. And they pipe back ESPN for me, gives me a chance to catch the ball scores.”

Wentz smiled. “Yankees man?”

“
Hell
no. Orioles. The only team that matters.”

“Marines, what can I say? They’re
all
fucked up.”

Farrington laughed. “Hey, and tell Jill I said hi.”

“I will…”

Farrington swung his feet off the bunk, coughed hard, then began to get up—

“Don’t, sir,” Wentz said.

“Fuck it.” Farrington, after considerable effort, stood up straight. “At least you’re not Navy. But I always knew there was some punk out there who was a better pilot than me.”

“Sir, I’m not better than you by any stretch of the imagination.”

Farrington grinned. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Guess we’ll never really know, will we?”

“Guess not, sir.”

Farrington saluted; Wentz saluted back. Then Farrington extended his surgically-altered three-fingered right hand. Wentz awkwardly shook it with his own gloved hand.

“It’s been an honor to meet you,” Wentz said.

“Get the hell out of here,” Farrington said. “And blow that piece of shit probe right the fuck up.”

“With pleasure.”

Wentz put his helmet back on, recharged his pressure, then entered the air-lock to exit the craft.

««—»»

He set the pyrotechnic timer—the last thing to do—then trod back to his OEV. He took one long last gaze at the planet’s desolate surface, then turned just in time to see the QRS4 collector explode spectacularly in dead silence. Brass-colored dust erupted, a twisted mushroom cloud in the near-vacuum conditions and, via the explosive’s design, the debris shot upward in a straight plume.

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.

BOOK: Operator B

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