Traveler in the Dark

10

"C'mon Dorothy, I need you to check out these radargrams. I have what might be an underground structure on the far side of the river but I need confirmation." Rebecca waited for a response from beyond the smooth, white door. "You don't even have to leave the ship. I can bring the reports to you—"

"Yes she does," said Captain Stratton. "We all have our jobs to do. And it's time for Hackford to start doing hers." He raised his voice to be heard through the door. "Twenty-four slots, Dorothy, that's all there were, and you got one. This doesn't even happen once a lifetime. Don't waste it."

He was met with silence. "I fought for you, Dorothy. Bruheim said your evals were borderline, but I said you were the best geologist on the Keseburg and I wanted you on my crew."

There was no response and Stratton began to lose patience. He pounded on the door with his fist. "Now, Hackford. Or you'll be facing court-martial when we return. "

"I think she's really frightened, Captain," murmured Rebecca. "I don't think she means to disrespect—"

The door slid open. Dorothy Hackford was a drooping, weeping mess. The red puff of her eyes sagged into heavy wrinkles of exhaustion. Rebecca thought she'd aged ten years in the past day.

"It's not so bad out there, I promise," she offered.

Dorothy didn't seem to hear her, just stumbled out of the cargo hold, halfway into her suit, empty arms trailing behind her. "Let me see the reports," she mumbled.

Rebecca handed the printout to her and Dorothy flipped through it, rubbing her eyes with one palm. Captain Stratton watched her grimly, arms crossed over his chest.

"Emery, go get Dr. Cardiff," he said. "Tell her that Hackford is getting ready to begin her field duties and we will need her assistance."

Dorothy exchanged a panicked glance with her, but Rebecca just confirmed the order. "Yes, sir."

She hoped the odd curves on the radargram would distract Dorothy enough for her to overcome her panic, but in the end, it took both Dr. Cardiff and herself to finish dressing the woman and all but pushing her down the airlock's exterior ladder.

Dorothy stood at the bottom of the ladder on the dirt, sobbing and motionless.

"You have to calm down, Dorothy," pleaded Rebecca. "Concentrate on the pages. Tell me what we're seeing." The radargram fluttered in a passing breeze and Dorothy dropped it as if it had scalded her. Rebecca sprinted clumsily to catch the pages.

"Look at me Hackford," the doctor was saying behind her, "focus on what's actually happening, not what you are afraid will happen. You're safe. We're just at the bottom of the ladder. Here, touch it—"

Rebecca returned just as Dr. Cardiff was placing Dorothy's arm on the metal ladder. "There, now take a deep breath—"

Rebecca could hear Hackford gasping in her helmet. "Can't— breathe—"

"You can, slow down. It's the same air—" started the doctor but then Dorothy grabbed at her helmet, reaching for the clasps.

"Have to get out."

"No!" cried Dr. Cardiff reaching to stop her. "Don't take it off!"

The two grappled with a clasp for a moment, before the doctor yelled for Rebecca to help. "Have to get out!" Dorothy screamed, flailing at the two women holding her.

"Get her up the ladder, inside," said the doctor, trying to yank her up the metal rungs.

Rebecca wrapped her arms around Dorothy, the slick plastic of their suits making her slide loose. She tried to push her up the ladder, but it was too late. Dorothy unclasped her helmet and twisted it off. It tumbled over Rebecca's own helmet and down her back onto the alien soil.