Over the Moon (Star-Crossed Book 1) (15 page)

“Are you sure? Can’t he just change course?” Carmen asked.

“He could,” Jacob said. “Right up until he actually enters the slingshot maneuver. After that, I don’t even think the shuttle has enough fuel to brake and come back. I think he’s trying to let us know what he’s planning.”

She stared at the screen. He wasn’t risking anyone’s lives except his own and the people on that ship. He was going to sacrifice himself to save the rest of them.

“Is there any way we can talk to them at all?” she asked.

Jacob shook his head. “Not if their ability to receive is broken. Maybe Pat can fix it, and talk with us. But I don’t think that’s going to be his priority up there.”

Carmen quietly agreed. She tracked the course the computer plotted for the shuttle across the screen, each centimeter tracking the inevitable doom of the shuttle and everyone aboard. She blinked back tears. She hated being this helpless. Her father and Pat, both up there, and there was nothing she could do to help either of them.

Or was there?

Carmen’s mind started churning through possibilities. They couldn’t land the shuttle because of the virus. The armed terrorists on board were something of an issue, too. But the main problem was the virus. Cure the virus, and she could still save them.

“Jacob, how long until they hit the point of no return?” she asked.

“About forty hours, maybe forty two. Why?” he replied.

“I need to use the PA system.”

To his credit, Jacob didn’t blink, and he didn’t ask her why. She liked that, even if it gave her the jitters that people were starting to just follow her orders without asking any questions. He handed Carmen the headset he had been wearing, flicked a few switches, and gave her a thumbs up.

She took a deep breath.

“I need everyone’s attention,” she said. “Dr. Rosa and Patrick are both on the shuttle, on their way to the moon. All of you know that. What you don’t know yet is – the shuttle has been hijacked by terrorists, and they have brought the alien virus aboard.”

Carmen took another breath. She had to make this convincing. She was going to need every single body in the base working together if her plan was going to have any shot at all.

“I don’t think there’s a single person on this base that doesn’t love one of those two men. We have to help them. But the only way we can save them is to do the impossible.”

She looked at Jacob. He was smiling at her, his expression rapt. If he was any indication, she ought to have everyone’s full attention.

“We have forty hours to finish the cure for the virus, or Patrick and my father will slingshot around the moon and exit at an irrecoverable velocity. Forty hours to do this, or both of those men will die. I need everyone – all hands, every single body in the base – to report to the viral lab. I’ll assign duties there. Carmen out.”

She took the headset off and laid it on the table. The thing felt like it weighed a ton, even though it must actually only be a couple of ounces here on the moon. Carmen sighed, straightened her back. She felt a new sense of purpose, and a grim determination. She was not going to let them die. Neither of them. Both of those men were too damned important to her. She couldn’t separate them from each other in her head – she wanted them both back, here, safe. She loved them both.

That realization made her tear up again, and she shook her head to clear it. She needed to focus now, more than ever.

“That was a good speech, Carmen. But do you really think you can do it? Cure the virus in less than two days?” Jacob asked. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, but… It sounds like a long shot.”

“It’s possible,” she said. “We’re on the right track. I can feel it.”

“But even if you can make the cure, how do we tell Pat? He can’t receive our messages. He’ll never even know that you succeeded.”

“That,” Carmen said with a smile, “is your part of this mission. I need your help with something that’s right up your alley. In fact, your geeky hobby gave me the idea.”

P
ATRICK WOKE UP
to a beeping sound and someone poking his arm. The console was chirping at him – something needed his attention. And the guard Pierce had set to keep an eye on him was jabbing him in the arm with his toe. Pat blearily wiped his hand across his eyes.

“I’m awake, I’ll deal with it,” Pat said. The poking stopped.

He checked his watch. They’d been traveling almost two days, and he was exhausted. He’d only gotten two hours of sleep during that little nap. It wasn’t enough. He ached all over, and he was pretty sure that he was already running a temperature. The virus had spread like wildfire through the ship. The air filtration systems weren’t designed to stop something that small, and the virus was extremely infectious. If anyone wasn’t sick yet, Pat was pretty sure it was only a matter of time.

There’d been some gunfire, somewhere back in the ship. That was about six hours ago. He’d shrugged and stayed put. It wasn’t like he could do anything – to help, or to stop the gunmen. Pierce was clearly still alive, and in charge, otherwise his goon in the pilot’s seat would have been replaced. Pat was in the co-pilot’s spot, where the electronics were still mostly working.

He wasn’t really complaining about the goon, either. The man was luckily as dumb as a box of rocks. The guy might have been able to figure it out if Patrick had set a course for the sun – but he doubted it. As it was, the course he’d set had been completely undetected. Even when Pierce came forward a few hours back, looking pretty sick himself, he’d taken a look out the front, seen the moon growing ever larger in the window, nodded in a self-satisfied way, and headed aft again. Probably to shoot someone, Pat groused.

Well, it would all be a moot point in about four hours. The shuttle would accelerate like mad, entering the slingshot. It would either shake itself apart and turn into a fireball, or it would sling itself off into the abyss. He’d have gone for slamming the ship into the moon, but there was always the chance someone would spot that and stop him. This way, by the time these assholes knew that there was something wrong, they’d all be passing out from high g-forces. And by the time they woke back up it would be way too late for them to do anything but cry about it.

He cut off the annoying beep. Something was wrong with one of the airlock doors. It was malfunctioning. The thing kept trying to open itself up, and then stopping before it did. Patrick watched the pattern for a few moments, thinking that there was something familiar about it. He was so tired, though. The flashing light of the alert was mesmerizing, blinking on and off, off and on. It wasn’t a steady pattern, either. He tried to think what could be causing the error – but hell, the shuttle had enough bullet holes through stuff at this point that he could imagine all sorts of random issues cropping up. At least the airlock wasn’t going to be too important.

There wasn’t much else Patrick could do to fix the bug without actually going back to the airlock and isolating the remote systems to control it. Which he didn’t have the energy to even think about right now. He left the beeping muted, the little light flashing away.

“Patrick, could I have a word?”

He looked up. It was Dr. Rosa, floating in the cockpit doorway. Patrick peeked past him, looking for his escort – but he didn’t have one. No soldier following him around.

“Sure,” Patrick said. He turned to the solider sitting next to him in the pilot’s seat. “Just keep an eye on the console, OK? I’ll be right outside. Call me if anything flashes or alarms go off.”

The man sat up quickly, looking alarmed. His eyes went to Patrick, then to the console, then back to Patrick again. “I…”

Patrick cut him off. “It’s all on auto-pilot. Just don’t touch anything. It’ll be fine. I was just in there napping, remember? Don’t worry.”

The guy still looked worried. Pat hid a grin as he flitted aft. These people were starting to get too sick to argue much. Of course, he wasn’t feeling any better than they were. And it was a grim reminder that they were all going to be feeling a lot worse, soon.

Rosa had backed away from the cockpit a bit, grabbing hold of a seat near the front of the passenger area. He wasn’t far from where Carmen had sat, on that first journey out here. It seemed like so much time had passed, but it really hadn’t been that long. Pat could almost see her sitting there… Was that just his missing her, regretting that he’d never see her again? Or was the virus already working its way into his brain?

He’d have to trust himself, at least for now. Patrick just hoped he could keep it together long enough to get the job done. He worked his way over to the doctor, who looked, if anything, worse than Pat felt. He was pale, sweating, and his breath was a little ragged. But he didn’t have the telltale raccoon eyes that meant he was on death’s door. Not yet, anyway.

“What’s up, doc?” Pat asked with a wry smile.

“It’s definitely the virus. We’ve had our first fatality back there,” Rosa said.

Like there was any doubt? “They’ve got you helping their sick?” Pat asked.

Rosa nodded. “What else could I do? It’s not like I would be able to avoid exposure anyway. I might as well do what I can to ease the suffering of the dying. I am still a doctor.”

Patrick nodded his understanding, his head lolling more than he intended with the motion. He leaned back against the cool bulkhead wall and closed his eyes a moment. Maybe longer than a moment, because when he opened them, Rosa was shaking his shoulder with a concerned look on his face.

“You’ve got a fever,” Rosa said, his voice accusing.

“We’re all going to have a fever soon,” Pat replied.

Rosa looked away a moment, scanning the compartment. When he was sure they were still alone, he looked back at Pat, pulled himself in close, and whispered, “You cannot help these people, Patrick. You must not.”

“Oh, for the love of god. I saved your life at least twice in the last couple of days,” Patrick said. “You’d think that you might trust me at least a little?”

Rosa blinked. “The last I heard, you were taking this ship back to the moon, so that this virus can kill everyone there. Including my daughter. You know damned well that we won’t be able to stop them from going inside. By the time we get there, half of these men will be suffering from brain hemorrhage and violent dementia.”

Patrick wanted to slug the smug bastard. If he hadn’t been an asshole in the first place, Pat never would have been in this situation. If Pat hadn’t tried to keep the man alive, he’d have been able to close the hatch in time, and blast off before the shuttle was captured. But no – he had to go try to be the hero, and save Carmen’s dad. No matter how much he didn’t deserve it.

“I love your daughter,” Patrick blurted out, a harsh whisper. “You asshole. Do you really think I would let anything happen to her?”

That seemed to take Rosa aback. His jaw gaped, his eyes got wide.

“You really never considered that I might actually care for her?” Pat went on. “She’s an amazing woman. Why would I not?”

Pat smiled. He’d actually rendered the man speechless. Thank god. Maybe he’d think a little bit now. Pat knew Rosa wasn’t a stupid person – quite the opposite. He was just crazy over-protective of his daughter. A little protective, Pat was used to. And agreed with, even. Any parent wanted what was best for their kids. For whatever reasons, Rosa had just taken it farther than most folks would.

Patrick turned away from the man. It was too late to worry about it, anyway. Too late to get mad about it, too late to salvage a relationship, and too late to do anything but make sure this shuttle never got anywhere near Carmen. Ever. He reached out for one of the hand grips, to pull himself back into the cockpit. Not too much longer until they hit the point of no return. After that, they could do whatever they wanted to him. He was already a dead man walking – infected with a virus that was going to kill him soon enough. What could Pierce and his men do that was worse?

“Wait,” Rosa said, placing a hand on Pat’s shoulder with a surprisingly gentle touch.

Pat turned back, surprised to see the old man’s eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I have, perhaps, misjudged you. You’ve saved my life,” Rosa said. “And now you tell me you are saving Carmen’s, too. I cannot ever repay you for that.”

“You don’t need to repay me,” Pat said.

“I disagree. But it’s too late now for that, I fear,” Rosa said. He fished into his pocket for something, found what he was looking for and fished it out. “Perhaps I can help you, at least.” He handed a small packet to Pat.

The packet contained pills. “Tylenol?” Pat said, smiling at the memory of how he and Carmen met in the first place.

“Something like that, but a good deal stronger,” Rosa said. “Take one every three or four hours. They should hold the fever at bay, long enough for you to…long enough, anyway.”

Patrick slid one of the pills out of the paper packet and dry-swallowed. It went down hard, but it did go. Hopefully it would help as much as Rosa thought it would. He could feel the lethargy and weakness getting stronger. And he still needed to be on his toes for at least a bit longer.

“Thanks,” Pat said.

“Thank you,” Rosa replied.

“For saving her?” Pat asked. Then, feeling especially daring, he added, “Or for loving her?”

“Yes,” Rosa said. He smiled, and reached out a hand.

Patrick took the offered hand and shook it.

* * *

C
armen’s pacing
brought her back into the control room. The place was almost empty, far from the busy hub it usually was. Jacob was still sitting there, trying to work some magic with the systems in an attempt to contact the shuttle.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“Yes and no,” Jacob replied. “I’ve managed to patch into some remote system controls. But there’s no sign Pat or anyone else aboard is actually understanding anything I am sending.”

Carmen pulled up a seat and slid it over next to Jacob. “How are you sending the message?”

Jacob made a face. “I’m using the malfunction alert system to send Morse code. It should show as flashing lights on the pilot’s console.”

Carmen frowned. That wasn’t the most reliable tool in the world.

“I know,” Jacob said, seeing her expression. “But it’s the best I could come up with.”

“No sign that they’re getting the message at all?”

“None.”

She leaned back in the chair. It wasn’t a hard message. All Jacob had to do was get them to hear one word: cure.

They’d found it about six hours before. It hadn’t been that hard, once they knew what to look for. OK, that was a lie. It had taken nonstop work from everyone at the base, plus every asset on Earth that Carmen could tap into, for them to solve the puzzle. All they had to do was find the right molecule to bind to the virus and keep it from leaving the cells. Carmen lost track of how many variations they tried before they figured it out. No one had stopped to take a break – every member of both teams worked together tirelessly to find the cure.

It turned out that a small tweak to an old drug – oseltamivir – worked pretty damned well. Like the original drug, it would likely work best if given in the first day or two of symptoms, but it should help the body’s own immune system overcome the virus. It was still early to know for sure, but it seemed like it was working in the rats they were using to test the drug.

She’d already sent all their information back to Earth via an encrypted communication. Other doctors would look at the work, maybe improve on it a bit, do some live testing with humans who were already infected, and if it worked put the stuff into mass production. They were certainly going to need a lot of it.

The base crew was having a holiday. They’d earned it. Carmen figured most of them were already sound asleep, trusting her to deliver the cure to Pat and her father. There were two problems with that. The first was the armed gunmen on the ship, but frankly she was pretty sure if she could get the shuttle to land, she’d find them absolutely willing to turn themselves in as prisoners in exchange for the cure she had.

No, the bigger problem was the radio on the shuttle – which still wasn’t receiving anything they sent. She figured Pat probably had bigger things to worry about that fixing the radio, but it would have been a lot easier to tell him he didn’t need to send the shuttle off into space if she could talk to him!

Jacob had tried everything he could think of, and none of it was working. Which meant it was up to her. She took a deep breath, trying hard to calm her nerves and convince herself that this wasn’t crazy. Instead, she thought about Patrick, dying slowly up there of a virus that she’d cured, when she could have saved him.

No questions. She’d never be able to live with herself if she didn’t at least try.

“It’s time, then,” she said to Jacob.

He grimaced. “I can keep trying a little longer…”

“I think you’ve done what you can,” she said. She laughed nervously. “Trust me, if there was another way, I’d be happy to use it.”

“But…”

“Let’s do this, Jacob. Before I lose my nerve. They need us.”