Space Stations

The Ares astronaut approached him swiftly, without bothering to close the door behind, and touched the helmet to his. He heard a faint, feminine voice say, “Turn your communicator to Band H,” and saw her pointing at the equipment for that purpose.

When he reset the band frequency to H, he could hear a pleasant feminine voice. “I am Jeanne Monier, engineering physicist of Ares. You must be from Trailblazer, n'est ce pas?”

He recognized a distinctly French accent even before hearing the last phrase and it sounded pleasant to his ears. He had grown up listening to his grandparents speaking the French patois of Louisiana's backwood country, although he never really learned to speak it himself.

“Yes, I am Jacques Boutillier, pilot from Trailblazer. Are the rest of the crew all right?”

“I am afraid not. The storm suddenly hit us just before landing and we crash-landed; the ship hit a boulder, which caused the ship's hull to rupture. There was a catastrophic air decompression. Captain Ritter was piloting the ship himself and wanted to move freely during the critical final maneuver, so he was not suited. Neither was Roel van Dijk, our planetary physicist, who had to monitor all instruments closely during the landing operation. The captain had ordered Boris Ivanov, the pilot, and me to suit up before the landing operation. Just in case.”

“Did Ritter know the risk he was taking, then?”

“Oh, yes, both Captain Ritter and van Dijk were aware of the risk, but they thought it was worth taking, to be the first on Mars. Anyhow, Ivanov was knocked around on impact and broke his leg. He is immobilized and is resting uncomfortably inside. The other two had no chance at all. I tried putting oxygen masks on them immediately, but it was no use.”

Boutillier suddenly felt a warm empathy for the kindred spirit. “So they died while standing their watch on the bridge.”

“Yes, that would be a gallant way to put it. Anyhow, Boris Ivanov and I are the only survivors. I have been trying to contact Trailblazer, but our receiver is not working. The dust tornado might have knocked off the antennae. With the sandstorm so fierce, I dared not go outside to check. If I had, I might not have been able to get back in. I kept sending S.O.S. signals. Did you get them? Is that why you are here?”

“No, we received no signals from you. I came down here to see if there was anything we could do to help you and your crew. Show me where Ivanov is, and I'll carry him back to Valkyrie, our shuttle. On Mars, he can't weigh much. But the storms might come back in force. Let's not waste any time.”

“D'accord. I'll show you where he is. It's not a large ship.”

It was a bit awkward to carry another man on his back through the doorway when both were suited in bulky space suits, but Boutillier managed. He had Monier open the hatch for him when they reached Valkyrie; as he pulled Ivanov in after him, she hurried in and locked the door behind her.

They took off immediately. The storm was gathering force again and they barely made it off in one piece. Boutillier did not worry about computing a matching orbit before the takeoff; departing intact was the foremost thing on his mind. He was confident that he would be able to match orbit with Phobos, especially since he had made sure that the fuel tank was full before leaving the base.

Monier spoke up when she was certain that Boutillier could spare his attention.

“Would it be possible to pressurize this cabin so I could take off the helmet? I have been wearing this thing almost a day. The air supply is still okay for a while longer, but I could use some refreshments. That is, unless it is going to be only a matter of an hour or so to get to your mother ship.”

“It may take a few hours as I had to take off without checking the orbit of Phobos first.

We'll pressurize the cabin right away. I should have thought of asking you before you brought it up. Sorry!” With that remark, he pushed the button to repressurize the cabin.

When her helmet was removed, it revealed a bright, intelligent face with twinkling green eyes. Boutillier felt—as the French might say—thunderstruck. He had never met a woman who had captured his attention so thoroughly at first sight. Would he be indulging himself in a fantasy if he thought she reciprocated his feelings—a little? As if to confirm his thoughts, she flashed an intimate smile.

Jeanne then murmured softly. “To think that I am being rescued by Valkyrie, a messenger of death for Odin!”

It took several more hours to match orbit with Phobos despite Boutillier's best efforts.

Ivanov needed first aid urgently. It would take a minimum of three weeks for the fracture to heal. The extreme low gravity of Phobos would be a blessing to him, however. Jeanne Monier was not in top shape either in spite of the brave show she had put on.