commander tapped a few commands into his control panel. A hailing noise filled the control room.
“This is John Barrington to all colonial personnel. The base is on lockdown until further notice. I repeat. The base is on lockdown until further notice. No unauthorised movement in or out of the facility without my express consent. Doctor Tyrell, please report to main RV bay immediately. Barrington out.” With that, he made his way to the door.
“Llewellyn, I need you to keep working on the system preps for the incoming transits from Phobos. You’re in charge here until I get back,” he said to an attractive female officer at a control screen in front of him.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Can I do anything?” Carrie asked.
“Yes, you can. Come with me. I need you to be there when Bobby comes in.”
Main Vehicle Hangar
Aquaria Base
18:45 Martian Standard
Theassembled group stood looking through the glass into the RV hangar. Tyrell was last to arrive and stood next to Barrington and Doctor Michelle Brubaker, the chief medical officer. A fiery woman in her early fifties, she kept her curly, greying hair tightly pulled back in a hair clip and her hands firmly planted in the pockets of her white coat. The large enclosure held a fleet of thirteen vehicles of various design, depending on the type of work required on the surface. Carrie was standing beside her father with her arms tightly folded. She looked worried. They waited outside the main airlock viewing room and watched as the trail of dust from the incoming RV made its way towards them.
“Get ready to hit the door,” said Barrington, as he watched. Doctor Brubaker placed her hand on the hangar door release panel and waited. In a whirlwind of red dust the RV sped into the hangar and swerved, narrowly missing another smaller version of itself before coming to a grinding halt.
“Hit it, Doc,” he said to Brubaker, who hit the control panel, bringing down the main hangar door. Silence surrounded the bay as the dust settled on the ground. Barrington could see Bobby in the vehicle, with his faceplate resting against the steering column.
“I’m going in,” said Brubaker, as she made her way into the airlock.
“Hang on, Doctor,” Barrington said, grabbing her arm. He hit a button on a control panel in front of him, which bleeped.
“Bobby. This is Barrington. Can you hear me?” His voice carried into the hangar bay over the loud speakers.
“He could be hurt, John. I need to get in there,” said Brubaker.
“Not yet, Doctor,” said Barrington, asserting authority in his voice.
“Bobby?” he repeated. The figure in the vehicle raised his head and looked over to the commander.
“Yes, sir, I can. I’m okay,” came a stumbled reply. Barrington waited.
“John, please,” said Brubaker.
“Okay, Doc, in you go. Do a visual before you make contact. Everyone else stay here.” He turned to the hangar and pressed the comms.
“Bobby, stay where you are. I’m sending the doctor in. Do not remove your faceplate until instructed to. Understand?” A nod from the young man satisfied the commander. The airlock hissed and Brubaker made her way over to Bobby, who had swung around and was sitting on the edge of the vehicle.
“What do you think, Tyrone?” Barrington asked Tyrell, still watching the RV bay. Tyrell drew a long breath.
“Unknown, John. There’s no reason to believe that The Black is a contagion. Then again, we know very little about it. I’m afraid I have very little to offer at this juncture. My instinct tells me that Mr. Shields is perfectly fine. If a little shaken.”
Brubaker reached the RV and placed a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. She removed a medical scanning instrument from her shoulder bag and began taking readings. A few minutes later, she turned to the commander.
“John, I am not showing any signs of infection or injury. I think we can get him to the medical bay.”
He turned to Carrie. She was crying.
“He’s
“This is John Barrington to all colonial personnel. The base is on lockdown until further notice. I repeat. The base is on lockdown until further notice. No unauthorised movement in or out of the facility without my express consent. Doctor Tyrell, please report to main RV bay immediately. Barrington out.” With that, he made his way to the door.
“Llewellyn, I need you to keep working on the system preps for the incoming transits from Phobos. You’re in charge here until I get back,” he said to an attractive female officer at a control screen in front of him.
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Can I do anything?” Carrie asked.
“Yes, you can. Come with me. I need you to be there when Bobby comes in.”
Main Vehicle Hangar
Aquaria Base
18:45 Martian Standard
Theassembled group stood looking through the glass into the RV hangar. Tyrell was last to arrive and stood next to Barrington and Doctor Michelle Brubaker, the chief medical officer. A fiery woman in her early fifties, she kept her curly, greying hair tightly pulled back in a hair clip and her hands firmly planted in the pockets of her white coat. The large enclosure held a fleet of thirteen vehicles of various design, depending on the type of work required on the surface. Carrie was standing beside her father with her arms tightly folded. She looked worried. They waited outside the main airlock viewing room and watched as the trail of dust from the incoming RV made its way towards them.
“Get ready to hit the door,” said Barrington, as he watched. Doctor Brubaker placed her hand on the hangar door release panel and waited. In a whirlwind of red dust the RV sped into the hangar and swerved, narrowly missing another smaller version of itself before coming to a grinding halt.
“Hit it, Doc,” he said to Brubaker, who hit the control panel, bringing down the main hangar door. Silence surrounded the bay as the dust settled on the ground. Barrington could see Bobby in the vehicle, with his faceplate resting against the steering column.
“I’m going in,” said Brubaker, as she made her way into the airlock.
“Hang on, Doctor,” Barrington said, grabbing her arm. He hit a button on a control panel in front of him, which bleeped.
“Bobby. This is Barrington. Can you hear me?” His voice carried into the hangar bay over the loud speakers.
“He could be hurt, John. I need to get in there,” said Brubaker.
“Not yet, Doctor,” said Barrington, asserting authority in his voice.
“Bobby?” he repeated. The figure in the vehicle raised his head and looked over to the commander.
“Yes, sir, I can. I’m okay,” came a stumbled reply. Barrington waited.
“John, please,” said Brubaker.
“Okay, Doc, in you go. Do a visual before you make contact. Everyone else stay here.” He turned to the hangar and pressed the comms.
“Bobby, stay where you are. I’m sending the doctor in. Do not remove your faceplate until instructed to. Understand?” A nod from the young man satisfied the commander. The airlock hissed and Brubaker made her way over to Bobby, who had swung around and was sitting on the edge of the vehicle.
“What do you think, Tyrone?” Barrington asked Tyrell, still watching the RV bay. Tyrell drew a long breath.
“Unknown, John. There’s no reason to believe that The Black is a contagion. Then again, we know very little about it. I’m afraid I have very little to offer at this juncture. My instinct tells me that Mr. Shields is perfectly fine. If a little shaken.”
Brubaker reached the RV and placed a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. She removed a medical scanning instrument from her shoulder bag and began taking readings. A few minutes later, she turned to the commander.
“John, I am not showing any signs of infection or injury. I think we can get him to the medical bay.”
He turned to Carrie. She was crying.
“He’s
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