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CHAPTER 39:
The Return



United States Space Force @USSFActual

Percheron, her remaining crew, and the Marsbase One team are home. Civilians will be returning groundside as soon as they are cleared by Mission Medical; USSF personnel are awaiting orders.

Welcome home, spacefarers!

Weekly Solar News @NickSteve

Hey viewers, Nick Steverson here with your weekly dose of dirt. What do you think they’re going to do to Shepard? Mutiny trial? Desertion? Abuse of authority? Let me know what YOU think is going to happen at Channel WSN21-043.

USSF Office of Scientific Integration

@OSIGenBoatright

@NickSteve, Mister Steverson, we need to get the sick crewmembers into medical care first, then allow the rest to see their families. Colonel Glenn Shepard suffered several injuries in the performance of his duties and will be going into medical treatment and bionic repair as well.

Please keep in mind that *none* of these brave astronauts would be here without some pretty heroic efforts—particularly those of Glenn Shepard.

ChirpChat, March 2044


A green light lit over the airlock. The atmosphere aboard Percheron was tense, the crew should have been excited about being home, but mostly they were tense. Glenn waited by the inner hatch, stabilizing Takeda’s and Katou’s stretchers with a few light touches of his right hand. Bialik floated nearby. She’d refused one, even though she needed it as much as the other two. They had all done so much better since he’d started treatments, and probably could have gone on their own, but it was a precaution against the variable gravity zones they’d experience on their way to the med bay.

Glenn had argued with Marta that even though Heinlein only maintained one-half gee in their rotating ring, she was still weak from the prolonged period without sufficient gravity. They’d only had Percheron’s habitat ring rotating again for three months. The Marsbase One crew had been at point three seven gees for more than two years, and everyone had been at zero gee for two months prior to restarting rotation, so Glenn had slowly increased them all to point four gees before they’d had to shut it all back down for orbital maneuvers. Bialik still insisted, so Glenn kept his left hand at her elbow until the USSF medics came for them.

The light turned amber, then green again. Three medics entered, and took charge of the stretchers and Marta, then cycled back through to the station.

While waiting for the airlock light to turn green again, Glenn pulled himself against the corridor wall. He nodded his head, and the Marsbase personnel queued up to exit. They all wore clean Marsbase uniforms—freshly printed onboard at Shepard’s insistence. Taketani would go first, followed by Melissa and Steve Green, then Rachel Amit. They’d cycle the airlock again, then Surya Mishra, Victor Grigorescu, and Maia D’Cruz would enter the station.

Yvette . . . would not be leaving the ship with them.

Once the civilians had departed, Major Dvorak called Erik Philips and Jonas Christensen to attention—not an easy maneuver in zero gee, but Space Force had evolved a work-around.

“You’ve been an excellent crew. We’ve made history in ways we desired, and some we didn’t. To paraphrase Rhysling, ‘Out ride the sons and daughters of Terra, upon our thundering drives.’ Until the next great leap, it has been my honor to serve with you.”

All three would fit in the airlock, so there was no need to maintain any sort of hierarchy or order of precedence. Still, Philips and Christensen floated two flag-draped black tubes into the lock before they entered, followed by Dvorak.

One held the body of Gee LeBlanc. Her husband and family members had planned a private service in her hometown of Rancho Palos Verdes, California. Boatright, on the other hand, insisted she should be buried in Arlington. Many of the family were living in Hawaii, though, and travel to California would have been a hardship; Washington, D.C. was simply too far. They’d compromised on interment at the National Memorial of the Pacific, Hawaii, located in Punchbowl Crater just northwest of downtown Honolulu.

The casket for Lieutenant Commander Scott would be empty, but nevertheless buried in Arlington near the Challenger memorial. He had only one close family member, a sister—Kirstie—who’d moved back to Scotland to work as a teacher. Their parents had passed away five years before, and been buried back in their native land. General Boatright had insisted the engineer should be honored with other American and Space Force astronauts, and the sister concurred. The ceremony would be small—Boatright insisted on that—but Jen and Nik would be there in Glenn’s place.

Glenn planned to be last off the ship, for many reasons. One of those was the woman who floated beside him, face appearing to be set in stone. She’d been crying, earlier, but Doctor Green had assisted her in cleaning up and putting on fresh makeup for the arrival and press conference.

The airlock indicator turned green once again, and two Space Force security officers stepped into the chamber and approached Yvette.

“Turn around. Hands behind your back,” one of them said. The fact that they were ignoring Glenn meant that they weren’t here for him, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“You don’t have to do that, she . . .” He tried to say, but Yvette shushed him.

“It’s okay, Glenn.” She rotated her body to present her hands clasped in the small of her back.

The guard who hadn’t spoken placed flexicuffs around her wrists, and rotated her back to face the airlock. He hadn’t been forceful while putting on the restraint, and his touch seemed gentle as he lined her up to enter the airlock.

Glenn moved to enter, but the first guard motioned for him to stay.

“Not yet, Doctor Shepard.”

As the three cycled through the airlock, Glenn thought about what the man had said. Doctor, not Colonel. Just exactly what does that mean?

On the next cycle, the same officer returned. His face looked familiar . . . 

“Ian? You’re not security!”

“Just floating under the lidar, Doc.”

“Well, it’s good to see you, but why did you come up from Texas? What’s going on?”

“I’ve got to prep you for the cameras. Once everyone else moves to their places in the station, Boaty’s gonna let the newsies into the dock for your triumphal return.”

“My triumphal, what?”

“It’s a show, man, directed by an OSI colonel named Richardson and produced by the general. I see you’re wearing the replacement arm we sent. Do you have the other one?”

“What? Why? It’s in my quarters back on the shuttle. The attachment’s trashed, I can’t put it back on.”

“No problem, I’ve got one here for you.”

Glenn noticed that Ian was carrying a case much like the one used to ship his replacement arm.

“Dare I ask what’s in there?”

“It’s the arm you damaged in North Carolina.” He opened the case. “We’re just going to swap out from the elbow down. I’ve got a sling, and you’re to let the wrist and finger damage show.”

“Theater.”

“You’ve got it, Doc. Now let’s get you ready for the cameras.”


The two cycled through the lock. Ian operated the door and was pretending to manage things so that Glenn wouldn’t have to use his left hand. Immediately in front of the airlock were three people, two of whom he immediately recognized—Bill Webb and Nik. The third was in a Space Force uniform; his nametape said “Richardson.”

“Colonel Shepard, so glad to have you back,” Webb told him, as he and Richardson saluted.

Glenn returned the salute stiffly, and awkwardly. The combination of zero gee, damaged left arm and sling made it a bit difficult to keep from flailing around. Ian touched the back of his elbow and helped stabilize him.

Nik floated up and embraced him in a hug. “Buck, up, buddy, here come the thundering hordes,” he whispered.

Extremely bright lights came on and a man with slicked-back hair and a thin mustache pushed a camera and microphone in Glenn’s face. Webb tried to push the man out of the way, but he’d secured himself to a rung on the corridor wall, while Webb was free floating. The gesture had no effect on the journalist.

“Colonel Shepard! Nicholas Steverson, Weekly Solar News. Colonel Shepard, is it true they’re going to make you a scapegoat?”

Glenn recognized the name. Steverson was well known for sensationalism, conspiracy theories, and overall trashy journalism. He was surprised the reporter had managed to penetrate so far through security.

“Colonel Shepard, why did you steal the C-21-MX? What does your family have to say about your actions? You were seen in the company of reporter Jen Butler for a while there—are you two still an item? What does she have to say about you flying off to rescue a former girlfriend?” It all came out in a rush. It seemed as if the man was trying to ensure that his words would be remembered more than Glenn’s. The last part, though, likely cancelled out everything that had come before. “Is it true that NASA and MarsX are trying to cover up an attack by Martians?”

Lieutenant Colonel Webb managed to insert himself between Shepard and Steverson. “Hey, we told you not to do that,” he growled. “Wait your turn.”

Glenn saw Nik turn to Richardson as if to protest, but saw the latter simply turn his head slightly and wink, then turn back to the spectacle with a neutral expression.

Ah, Glenn thought. This is all part of the show.

Webb succeeded in pushing Steverson out of the way this time, and SF security cleared a way for him to proceed to the next compartment, where a small podium was set up. Ian and Webb helped Glenn up to the stand, where he was peppered with questions for fifteen minutes.

The reporters asked about travel on Bat, the effects of high-gee acceleration, how he’d discovered the cause of the illness, how he’d known to check the water tanks . . . There were so many details, and frankly Glenn didn’t know how much he should reveal, saying only that his bionics helped him endure the flight, that spaceflight was mostly boredom punctuated by brief flurries of activity, that he used all of the medical diagnostics at his disposal, and relied on Percheron crew to assist him in his investigations.

He was asked about Captain LeBlanc’s death, and he answered solemnly that copper toxicity had affected her liver, and that the damage had been irreversible. To the best of his knowledge, there had been no public release of information regarding the delusions suffered by many of the crew, so he said nothing about the incidents that happened before the toxicity had become severe. In his mind, certain details could just remain covered by doctor-patient confidentiality.

The next question shook him.

“Doctor . . . Colonel Shepard. Why did Lieutenant Commander Scott die?”

Glenn and Boatright had discussed the fact that someone would ask how the engineer died, but neither of them had expected to be asked why. He looked closely at the woman who’d asked the question. She was short, with reddish hair, and turned up nose. She had a faint Scottish accent, and was using her wristcomm as a recorder.

He knew her instantly. Glenn had studied every patient record, from medical to family history. This was Kirstie Scott, Angus’ sister.

Glenn cleared his throat, looked her in the eye, and began. “Well, Miss Scott. I want to say first, that your brother died a hero. People on Percheron were sick, and they didn’t know why. They felt—and Mission Medical agreed—that food and water contamination was likely, but at the time, we were looking for viral or bacterial contamination. Vacuum and solar radiation are excellent sterilization methods for food, and Lieutenant Commander Scott was securing a portion of the onboard food supplies in Cargo Bay One for just that purpose when the hatch blew off. Angus died of vacuum exposure.”

A murmur went through the crowd of journalists. For most, this was more detail than they’d known.

“Why did the hatch blow, Colonel?” Kirstie continued, in a quiet voice. “Was it a malfunction? An accident? Deliberate?”

The rest of the crowd went silent to wait for the answer.

This is the moment that makes or breaks my career, Glenn thought. If the Powers That Be want to keep this secret, they won’t be happy with me answering her right now.

But I have to.

“It was an accident, Miss Scott. The hatch release was accidently triggered from the bridge.”

“By whom, Colonel Shepard?” Tears streamed down Kirstie’s cheeks.

“Captain LeBlanc triggered the hatch release. The cargo bays are not airlocks, their outer doors open directly to space. The hatch opened, and Angus was pulled out into space.”

“Why? Were you there when it happened?”

“No, ma’am. It was before I was aboard Percheron. As for why? We may never know. Captain LeBlanc was very sick, and we can no longer ask her those questions.” Glenn blinked away his own tears. “By God, I wish I’d been there sooner.”

Kirstie Scott nodded, muttered her thanks, and put away her comm. Webb pushed up to the podium to inform the group that Shepard needed to be seen by the doctors. Richardson floated up to Glenn and directed him to a hatch guarded by USSF security.

The hatch no sooner closed behind them, and Glenn turned on Richardson with fury in his eyes. “Tell me that wasn’t part of your grand plan, your little theater for the masses.”

Richardson held up his hands. “It wasn’t me, and I can assure you it wasn’t the general’s intent.”

“Intent. So, he knew.”

“Not . . . entirely. He brought Miss Scott up here to talk with you. She’s been tormented by her brother’s death, but the plan was for her to meet with you next. In private, not in front of the cameras.”

“Yeah, so I imagine I’ve blown it, now. Whatever clever little story you and Boatright have cooked up is now shredded, and the media now knows Gee went nuts.”

“Actually, Matt LeBlanc filed a freedom of information act request and got all of Commander LeBlanc’s medical data. He’s been talking about it for the past month. All you did was confirm what people already knew.”

“I can’t imagine Space Force will be too pleased by that, though.”

“If you haven’t guessed by now, what the other branches of Space Force think, Boatright doesn’t care. He’s pretty much holding the reins of power, and has been tapped to be the next CSO.”

“You still could have stopped her.”

“I could have, but you’re a hero, Colonel, and the whole world just learned that you’re an honest one. Don’t dismiss the fact that you’re the man of the hour.”

“Well, half-man. The other half is a lot of machinery.”

Bionic man of the hour. Yes, I could have stopped her, but I didn’t. Anyone who knows you—and by the way, I read every single report you’ve filed, watched four months’ worth of bionic bodycam footage, I think I can truthfully say I know you—know you wouldn’t lie. She needed to hear it from you. The world needed to hear it from you.”

“Hero, yeah. I’m not any such thing. A hero is some poor fool who doesn’t know when to quit. Now, can we get out of here so I can get my arm back?”


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