She pulled in a deep breath. “Yes, I’m really going to leave all this behind me. I’ll miss you guys, but I’ve made up my mind.”
Anson was surprised that she had to force the words past a good-sized lump in her throat.
Doug found that he could not lie idly waiting for the medics to start their tests. He asked for a computer and, once the technician on duty wheeled a laptop machine to his bed on a swing-arm table, he searched through the literature program for something to read.
Nothing appealed to him. In the back of his mind a question simmered, making him restless with pent-up curiosity. An oblong piece of ceramic or metal, about fifteen centimeters long and half as wide, gold on one side and white on the other.
There must be an inventory program, Doug told himself. He started searching the computer files for it.
BIOLAB
The party was winding down. Jinny Anson had gone back inside the biolab, Lev Brudnoy at her side. Only about a dozen and a half people remained, most of them paired off into couples. The music had gone softly romantic, dancers held each other in their arms as they shuffled slowly across the cleared space behind tike lab benches.
As Anson tipped over the big cooler of fruit punch to get its last dregs into her plastic cup, Greg Masterson showed up at the door, looking somber as usual. Anson frowned inwardly. He’s going to have to unwind if he expects to make it as director up here. Otherwise he’s going to have a mutiny on his hands.
She giggled to herself. Captain Bligh, she thought. Who would be Fletcher Christian and lead the mutineers?
Brudnoy saw Greg, too, and made his way past the dancers and the lab benches toward him. Jinny followed the Russian, drink in hand, feeling a little annoyed. Greg’s a wet blanket, he’s going to rain on my parade, she thought, mixing metaphors in her slightly inebriated condition.
“Better late man never,” said the Russian, smiling.
Greg’s face remained somber. “Is my brother here?”
“Your brother?” Anson asked. “I thought he was in the infirmary.”
“He was. He just disconnected all his monitors and walked out.”
Anson glanced at Brudnoy, who looked as puzzled as she felt. “He hasn’t shown up here.”
Greg’s frown deepened. “He’s got to be someplace.”
“Want to call security?”
“No,” Greg said. “I don’t Want to get my mother upset. She’s asleep, but—”
“We can search for him,” Brudnoy volunteered. “After all, this place isn’t so big that he can hide from us”
“Why would he want to hide?” Anson wondered.
“Where the hell is he?” Greg growled.
Doug was prowling the tunnel that led to Jack Killifer’s quarters. He had put aside his search of the computer’s inventory program when the medics came in to run their infernal tests. After they left, he booted up the program again and found what he’d been looking for.
The cermet piece that Bianca Rhee had described was a cover for a hopper’s electronics bay. The electronics bay held, among other items, the electrical controls for the main engine’s liquid oxygen pump.
Doug’s mind had leaped from one point to the next. Remove the cover and the electronics systems are exposed directly to the radiation from the solar flare. Knock out the rocket engine’s propellant pump and the engine can’t ignite. A dead engine keeps the hopper on the mountaintop, where the radiation will build up to a lethal level in a couple of hours or less.
He killed Brennart! And he damned near killed me. Once Doug was convinced of that, he pulled off his monitor leads, bolted out of bed and ran out of the infirmary in nothing but his flapping pale blue hospital gown.
Killifer kept the cover in his spacesuit pocket, Doug reasoned as he trotted down the nearly-empty tunnel. It was past midnight, the lighting was turned down to its late-night level. Still, the few people he passed in the tunnel stared at Doug in his loose gown and bare feet.
Bianca found the piece and thought it might have something to do with my vidcam. She kept it in her quarters and Killifer went in there and took it back. Good thing she wasn’t there when he broke in; he might have killed her, too.
There it is. Doug saw J. KILLIFER stencilled on the name card beside the accordion-pleat door. He banged on the door frame and called Killifer’s name. No answer. Either he’s sound asleep or he’s not in. Doug pulled on the door handle. Locked. He braced one bare foot on the door jamb and pulled hard. The flimsy catch gave way and the door jerked open, nearly toppling him.
Doug padded into Killifer’s quarters. Empty. The bunk was a mess, hadn’t been made in days, from the looks of it. The place smelled of unwashed clothes and sweat. Doug closed the door as far as it would go. He’s got to come back here sooner or later. I’ll wait.
He didn’t want to sit on the grubby tangle of the bed. There was a slim molded plastic chair at the room’s desk. When Doug sat on it he realized that his hospital gown left a lot to be desired. The chair felt cold and sticky on his partly-bare rump.
He jumped up and went to Killifer’s closet. Two clean pairs of olive green coveralls hung limply there, but once Doug held them up against his own frame he realized how small Killifer really was. No wonder Bianca took his spacesuit by mistake; he’s not much bigger than she is.
So he waited for Killifer in his loose hospital gown, pacing up and down the tiny room in four strides. Suddenly an idea struck him. The cermet cover must be here someplace, hidden in this room. Doug started to search through the drawers of Killifer’s desk.
It was the best night Jack Killifer had ever had on the Moon. There’s something to this hero business, after all, he laughed to himself as he headed back toward his quarters, weaving slightly along the tunnel.
The patty had been great fun, and just like Jinny had said, there were several women falling all over him. He danced with them all, then picked the one who had snuggled the closest and walked her back to her quarters. Sure enough, she made no objection when he stepped into her place with her and as soon as he slid the door shut she was unzipping her jumpsuit for him.
When he left her quarters, Killifer thought briefly about heading back to the party, see who’s still there, maybe go for a double-header. But as tie started along the tunnel to the biolab he ran into Jinny and Lev and Greg Masterson.
“Have you seen Doug Stavenger?” Jinny asked him, very serious and concerned.
“Little Douggie?” Killifer wanted to laugh but held it in. “He’s in the infirmary.”
“No he’s not,” snapped Greg. He showed no recognition of Killifer whatsoever. They hadn’t seen each other in more than eighteen years, but Killifer recognized Greg instantly.
“We’re trying to find him,” said Brudnoy, also looking so damned sober.
Killifer ignored Greg. He wants to be a stranger, fuck him. Suddenly it all seemed awfully funny: little Douggie out on the loose. Maybe he’ll fall down and break his neck. But he made a serious face and shook his head gravely. “Nope. Haven’t seen him.”
They hurried on past him. Killifer stood in the tunnel, blinking with thought. Douggie’s not in the infirmary. They lost their little Douggie.
Then a thought hit him hard enough to snap him into sobriety. The cover! Suppose the little sonofabitch has figured it all out and he’s looking for the cover. I’d better hide it, and quick.