Frozen Solid A Novel

33




HALF IN A DAZE, HALLIE WALKED ALONG THE CORRIDOR OF LEVEL 1, heading for Fida’s room. Two women were coming the other way. Both wore overalls, black bunny boots, and heavy wool work shirts. She saw one of the Draggers turn and say something to her companion. After that, both of them gave her hard stares as they approached. As soon as they passed, she heard one say, making no effort to whisper, “That’s her. She’s the one.”

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that they had both stopped and were standing there, watching her go.

She understood. The only new arrival in weeks, she might have brought in some pathogen that was responsible for two inexplicable deaths. Now three, although they wouldn’t know that yet. What was it they called such a person on the old sailing ships? A Jonah. One who brought inexplicable misfortune to ship and crew. And one who sometimes disappeared, just as inexplicably, when seas were heavy and the sky held no moon.

It wasn’t hard to understand how Polies, like sailors at the mercy of natural forces, could harbor superstitions. But there was nothing she could do about that now. She knocked on Fida’s door, softly at first and then, when she got no answer, harder. Down the hall a door flew open and a woman’s face popped out. She was pale and had dark, arched eyebrows. The bags under her eyes were so severe that it looked like there were black circles around them. It was the same woman who had pointed her out during the all-hands meeting. “You want to stop that f*cking noise, please?” the woman said. “People’re trying to sleep.”

“Sorry.”

The woman started back, then stopped, peering around the door, recognizing Hallie. She shook her head but said nothing more and disappeared into her room.

Hallie needed to talk to Fida. There were too many complications flying around in her head. It might not be saying much, given his condition, but she thought he was the best person to help her sort them out. She wasn’t exactly sure what that said about her own condition.

She tried the laboratory where Fida and Emily had been working, and where she had secured the halophile sample, but he wasn’t there, either. In addition to everything else, they needed to decide what to do with the new biomatter. He had said that their other samples had survived as long as they were kept in water taken from the cryopeg but died soon after removal. She didn’t want to repeat that mistake.

She called and had Fida paged. Once again she went to the cafeteria and sat at a table with a cup of chlorinated coffee to wait. After fifteen minutes she grew impatient, and after thirty she started to worry.

She knocked on Graeter’s door, heard a growl that sounded something like “Enter,” and went in. She saw that he had replaced the woman’s picture on his wall with a fresh one, which, as yet, showed only a few punctures. Six darts lay neatly aligned on the right side of his desk. A stack of forms sat in front of him.

“Mr. Graeter, we need to talk.”

“Can it wait? You can’t imagine the paperwork required when someone dies here. And three?” He shook his head.

“No. Look, I’m a microbiologist. You know that. You’re probably an engineer by education. You think in numbers and angles. I think in pathogens and infections.”

She at least had his attention. “And?”

“You know that old saying, ‘Once an incident, twice a coincidence, three times a pattern’?”

“Heard it somewhere, yes.”

“Well?”

“You think the three women’s deaths are somehow connected.”

“I think it would be wise to assume they are and see where it leads.”

“That’s your take on what happened. Mine is different.”

“What is it?”

“Pole kills in lots of ways.”

What the hell is wrong with these people? she wondered. “That’s pretty much what Merritt said. But it sounds to me like you both are trying to explain these deaths away. I understand the reasons why you might want to do that. But wouldn’t it be wise to at least consider other possibilities?”

“I am considering them. I had Doc look into what happened, as you know. He can’t do much, but it’s all we have until conditions change and planes can land. You heard his statement about Lanahan and Montalban. His preliminary opinion is that an allergic reaction caused Bacon’s death.”

“And you buy all of that?”

He looked up sharply. “Did you go to medical school?”

“I don’t buy it. Bacon had been here almost a year, right?”

“I’m not an allergist. Neither are you, last time I checked. Doc is running some blood tests.”

“Did he say what kind? How long they would take?”

“What difference could it make?”

“Is he doing anything else? Growing cultures?”

“Jesus. I don’t know. Can you grow cultures from blood samples?”

“Are all the bodies down in the morgue?” she asked.

“You don’t need to worry about them.”

“I’m worried about what they might have left behind up here.”

“I have no reason to believe there’s danger to anyone else,” Graeter said.

It was like talking to a post. “You don’t know there is not danger to anyone else. Three people are dead.”

His head jerked up. “I definitely do not need you to remind me, Ms. Leland.”

She let the “Ms.” pass this time. “Mr. Graeter, I am not trying to get under your skin or tell you how to do your job.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’re doing both.”

“Others might die.”

“Nobody else is going to die. Jesus Christ. The bodies are quarantined and frozen. Doc has reasonable explanations. What do you have? Some crazy Andromeda strain bullshit? You haven’t been down here three days and you want to tell me how to run my station?” His voice had been rising, and his face reddening.

None are so blind, she thought. Might not be the best time to point out his, but too bad. “You could be compromising the safety of the entire station. You need to think about that.”

She nodded at the three framed photographs on his desk.

His hands balled into fists, stretching the skin, pulling open healed cracks that started oozing blood and fluid. She was sure he was going to slam both fists down onto the desk top. Instead, he opened them slowly and laid his hands flat, palms down. Took a deep breath, let it out. “We’re finished here. If you have a problem with my actions, you can file a complaint with NSF.”