"I require your cooperation," Yang said without preamble.
Vosnesensky turned in his chair, started to push himself to his feet, then gave it up and simply sat there looking at the Chinese physician, almost eye to eye.
"You must begin taking large doses of vitamins, now, immediately."
"Vitamins?" Vosnesensky was saying dully. "But we take vitamins. We take them every day, on the regular schedule."
"They are contaminated," Yang said.
Vosnesensky’s eyes shifted to Reed.
"It’s true, Mikhail Andreivitch," said Tony. "They were bathed in oxygen after the meteor hit. They’re practically useless."
"But what has that to do…?"
"Scurvy," said Yang.
"Scurvy?"
"That’s right," Reed said. "You’ve all come down with scurvy from lack of vitamin C."
Silently he added, Because of me. Because I panicked. Because I didn’t want to see the truth. I’m a murderer. That’s what I am.
SOL 39: MORNING
"Vitamin deficiency?"
The words woke Jamie. He had been sleeping dreamlessly when Connors’s voice, shrilly high-pitched, cut through to his conscious mind.
Untangling himself from the thin blanket, Jamie slithered out of his bunk and padded in his stockinged feet forward to the cockpit. The rover felt shivering cold. Connors was talking to Vosnesensky. Both men looked utterly drained, but there was a strange grin on the Russian’s image on the screen.
"We have scurvy," Vosnesensky said, almost as if it were a joke.
"Scurvy?"
"It is definite. Yang’s tests were analyzed during the night. Our vitamin pills have been poisoned — no, that is not the correct word. The vitamin C in the pills has been deactivated because it was exposed to oxygen after the meteorite hit. Without sufficient vitamin C we have all come down with scurvy."
Jamie slumped into the right-hand seat. "You mean like old-time sailors who’ve been at sea too long?"
"That’s why they called the Brits ‘limeys,’" Connors said, his voice still echoing disbelief. "Because they carried limes and other fresh fruits aboard their ships once they figured out what caused scurvy."
"Scurvy," Jamie mumbled. "Scurvy."
"According to Dr. Yang it will take several days before the symptoms go away," Vosnesensky said.
"What about us?" Connors asked.
The Russian’s grin disappeared like a light winking off. "So far, Kaliningrad has forbidden a rescue flight from orbit. Not until they make a decision."
"We’re stuck here until they make up their minds?" Connors said it as if it were equivalent to a death sentence.
"And our illness will get worse, not better. We can barely stand on our feet, as it is," Jamie said.
"There is the backup rover," Vosnesensky said.
"But who’s going to drive it?" Connors asked. "You’re all just as sick as we are."
"I will."
"You can’t do that," Jamie said. "You’re too sick to risk it."
Vosnesensky’s grin reappeared, faintly. "I will drive the rover. I will gobble vitamin capsules by the kilogram. I will arrive in your vicinity in no more than thirty-six hours."
Despite his exhaustion, Jamie understood the reason behind Mikhail’s smile. "Ivshenko and Zieman are at the dome now. You’ll take them with you. They’re both healthy."
The Russian bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Yes, I will bring Ivshenko with me. We will ride to your rescue like the Seventh Cavalry in your western cinemas."
Connors muttered, "Wasn’t that Custer’s outfit?"
Vosnesensky had not made up his mind until he had seen their faces. Connors looked gaunt, dying. Waterman’s broad cheekbones were jutting out, the flesh of his face was pulled taut, his eyes were red and watery.
There is nothing else to do, Vosnesensky told himself. I will pilot the rover to them and bring them back here to the dome. I will carry a supply of vitamins and food for them. Ivshenko will go with me, and Zieman will remain here. It is all within mission regulations; no safety measures will be broken.
His mind made up, he called Dr. Li up in Mars 2 and informed him of the decision.
Li looked startled. "You are in no condition to make such a traverse."
Vosnesensky said stubbornly, "Ivshenko is. And I am quite capable of sitting in a chair and steering the vehicle. We will detach the middle section and take only the command module and the logistics module. I will be in constant communication with Dr. Yang and Dr. Reed. I will take whatever medications they prescribe."
"Kaliningrad will refuse to permit it," Li’s image on the screen said. "They have decided that the eight of you in the dome are more important than the four in the rover."
"The four in the rover have the specimens of Martian organisms with them," Vosnesensky pointed out.
Li shook his head. "The decision has been made to evacuate you from the dome first, and then to see if it is possible to rescue the traverse team."
"In that case," Vosnesensky said, "I will go without Kaliningrad’s permission. Or yours."
Li’s eyes widened. "Do you realize what you are saying?"
Feeling all the enduring strength of Mother Russia surging through his veins, Vosnesensky said, "Certainly I do, Dr. Li. But you must realize what you are saying. As expedition commander your responsibilities are huge, heavier than I would want to bear. But I would not willingly allow Kaliningrad or god almighty to write off four of my comrades."
"The safety of your remaining team members is the most important issue now."
"Perhaps so. I am merely the leader of this ground team. I do not have to worry about the mission controllers or the politicians above them. My responsibility is to the men and women here on the surface of Mars. All of them, including the four stranded out there in the canyon."
"You would be risking your life and the lives of whoever you take with you," Li said.
"Ivshenko will be happy to volunteer, doctor. I will see to that, never fear. We will observe all the safety regulations."
"I cannot grant you permission for this!"
"Yes, I understand. That is your responsibility. Mine is to my comrades."
"Let me discuss it with Kaliningrad."
Vosnesensky almost laughed. "By the time the mission controllers finish arguing we will all be ready for our pensions — or our funerals. No, this must be done now, not two days from now."
Li licked his lips. In the comm screen he suddenly looked to Vosnesensky like a startled rabbit staring at him, ready to dart to safety. For long moments the two men stared at each other wordlessly.
Finally Li said, "Good luck."
Vosnesensky gathered the eleven men and women together in the wardroom and announced his decision.
"Ivshenko and I will drive the second rover to the canyon and pick up Waterman’s team. We will be gone for three days — four, maximum."
The others said nothing. Standing in a loose semicircle before the cosmonaut, they looked at one another uneasily, feet shifting, eyes questioning.
Finally Dr. Yang said, "You are not in physical condition to make such a journey."
"It is my responsibility," Vosnesensky said. "Li and the mission controllers want to evacuate us back to orbit before trying to rescue the excursion team. I have decided otherwise. I must go. Me, myself."
"But you are still ill," said Yang. "The effects of scurvy will linger for many days. You will be weak and debilitated…"
"Dmitri Iosifovitch will do all the work; I will merely take the glory."
They laughed, nervously.