of the cylindrical chamber. Behind Robert’s eyelids there is rapid eye movement.
* * *
An empty plaza, the Cantor Satori tower before him. Then Jerome Ellis’s makeshift laboratory on the Sky Floor.
Landelle and Toor slumped and unconscious, each covered in spreading lesions.
Twelve liquefying corpses laid out before him—he reels, staggering back, turning away from the horror—
Monica Satori grabs him by the throat. Her lips purse, eyes reddening to bloodshot. Blood-blue veins appear, coalescing into lesions.
He’s choking.
Her mouth falls open, a vile red goo coursing out to flow over her face.
* * *
Robert’s body thrashes in the zero gravity—brief spasms before he wakes with a sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Lucy says. “Try to relax.”
* * *
A groggy Robert pulls himself into a small zero-gee wash room next to the chambers. He looks up a camera set flush with the padded walls, a red telltale indicating he is being watched.
“Okay, Lucy. What’s going on?”
“An urgent message from Chief Justice Garr. She said I was not to delay.”
“I feel like death . Where are we?”
“Eighty nine days into mission, eight days from Mars. You have been extended sleep for twenty days this time.”
“Prepare some breakfast. I’ll take the message on my phone.”
“The message is encrypted,” Lucy says. “It can only be viewed on a master terminal.”
“I’d like some privacy please.”
Robert sets about peeling off his sleep suit. He notes the red telltale.
“We have discussed this,” he says looking directly at the camera. “If you want to watch then you have to show yourself. That’s the deal.”
The telltale blinks out. Robert can’t help a little chuckle to himself.
Lucy continues to watch.
* * *
Wearing a flight suit, but with little attention paid to grooming, Robert pulls himself along the central corridor.
“Where are you going?” Lucy asks.
Robert is pleased with himself and lets it show.
“To the flight deck. You’ll have to give me access now. That’s where the master terminal is.”
“You are not permitted access to the flight deck,” says Lucy, haughtily. “I have reconfigured a terminal in the carousel.”
Robert deflates, before finding the nearest camera and giving it a really good stare.
“I have prepared a breakfast, like you asked,” Lucy says, with more than a touch of a conciliatory tone.
* * *
Lucy observes that the tea and cereal has been supplemented by a candy bar, its brazenly discarded wrapper among the messy remains being the evidence of this surreptitious act. Robert lounges next to it on the couch as Chief Justice Garr’s recorded message plays out.
“We don’t know who broke the story, but it has caused chaos,” a desperate Garr says, her voice hurried. “The world now knows everything. There’s real sense of panic. We knew it would come out sooner or later, but the reaction is far worse than we imagined. The Council leaders are struggling to defend their positions and there’s talk of aborting. We are getting Lucy to wake you while there’s still time—”
The message ends abruptly with Garr momentarily looking away from the camera.
“How old is this message, Lucy?”
“I received it a little over fifty minutes ago. Do you wish to record a response? The current communication delay is eleven minutes.”
“No response just yet. Has there been any communication from mission control since you got this message?”
“Only routine requests for systems and telemetry data.”
“Great. Just great. ”
Robert flops back into the couch, his mood despondent.
“Were you having a nightmare when I woke you?”
“Maybe.”
“You were dreaming about Doctor Satori again, weren’t you.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t mean to pry. I am just concerned. And Chief Justice Garr said I was not to wait.”
“Lucy, it’s fine—”
“One moment. One moment—”
* * *
Mission control was crowded, most
* * *
An empty plaza, the Cantor Satori tower before him. Then Jerome Ellis’s makeshift laboratory on the Sky Floor.
Landelle and Toor slumped and unconscious, each covered in spreading lesions.
Twelve liquefying corpses laid out before him—he reels, staggering back, turning away from the horror—
Monica Satori grabs him by the throat. Her lips purse, eyes reddening to bloodshot. Blood-blue veins appear, coalescing into lesions.
He’s choking.
Her mouth falls open, a vile red goo coursing out to flow over her face.
* * *
Robert’s body thrashes in the zero gravity—brief spasms before he wakes with a sharp intake of breath.
“Don’t be alarmed,” Lucy says. “Try to relax.”
* * *
A groggy Robert pulls himself into a small zero-gee wash room next to the chambers. He looks up a camera set flush with the padded walls, a red telltale indicating he is being watched.
“Okay, Lucy. What’s going on?”
“An urgent message from Chief Justice Garr. She said I was not to delay.”
“I feel like death . Where are we?”
“Eighty nine days into mission, eight days from Mars. You have been extended sleep for twenty days this time.”
“Prepare some breakfast. I’ll take the message on my phone.”
“The message is encrypted,” Lucy says. “It can only be viewed on a master terminal.”
“I’d like some privacy please.”
Robert sets about peeling off his sleep suit. He notes the red telltale.
“We have discussed this,” he says looking directly at the camera. “If you want to watch then you have to show yourself. That’s the deal.”
The telltale blinks out. Robert can’t help a little chuckle to himself.
Lucy continues to watch.
* * *
Wearing a flight suit, but with little attention paid to grooming, Robert pulls himself along the central corridor.
“Where are you going?” Lucy asks.
Robert is pleased with himself and lets it show.
“To the flight deck. You’ll have to give me access now. That’s where the master terminal is.”
“You are not permitted access to the flight deck,” says Lucy, haughtily. “I have reconfigured a terminal in the carousel.”
Robert deflates, before finding the nearest camera and giving it a really good stare.
“I have prepared a breakfast, like you asked,” Lucy says, with more than a touch of a conciliatory tone.
* * *
Lucy observes that the tea and cereal has been supplemented by a candy bar, its brazenly discarded wrapper among the messy remains being the evidence of this surreptitious act. Robert lounges next to it on the couch as Chief Justice Garr’s recorded message plays out.
“We don’t know who broke the story, but it has caused chaos,” a desperate Garr says, her voice hurried. “The world now knows everything. There’s real sense of panic. We knew it would come out sooner or later, but the reaction is far worse than we imagined. The Council leaders are struggling to defend their positions and there’s talk of aborting. We are getting Lucy to wake you while there’s still time—”
The message ends abruptly with Garr momentarily looking away from the camera.
“How old is this message, Lucy?”
“I received it a little over fifty minutes ago. Do you wish to record a response? The current communication delay is eleven minutes.”
“No response just yet. Has there been any communication from mission control since you got this message?”
“Only routine requests for systems and telemetry data.”
“Great. Just great. ”
Robert flops back into the couch, his mood despondent.
“Were you having a nightmare when I woke you?”
“Maybe.”
“You were dreaming about Doctor Satori again, weren’t you.”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t mean to pry. I am just concerned. And Chief Justice Garr said I was not to wait.”
“Lucy, it’s fine—”
“One moment. One moment—”
* * *
Mission control was crowded, most
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