He rubbed the back of his neck, still trying to relax after the long, terrible, terrifying day. No one was killed, he said yet again. No one even hurt, except for this damnable leg cramp. No equipment damaged, except for the antenna. The team on the ground survived without any problems greater than a single small puncture and a spilled bottle of vitamin pills.
Now to report it all to Kaliningrad.
It had taken hours to clean up the mess inside the dome. Mironov and Connors went outside to seal the rip in the dome’s outer wall, while Vosnesensky and Abell checked every square centimeter of the inner wall for damage. They found none.
Now all twelve of the team were sitting in the wardroom, physically and emotionally spent after the adrenaline surge of their wild afternoon. The schedule said it was time for dinner, but no one thought about food. Instead, Vosnesensky had brought from his quarters the bottle of vodka he had not touched since their second night on Mars.
“For medicinal purposes,” he said when Tony Reed arched a questioning eyebrow. The others immediately rushed to their quarters to ferret out their own stashed bottles.
The first toast was to Vosnesensky.
“To our intrepid leader,” said Paul Abell, his hand raised high, “who ignored his own safety to turn on the oxygen tanks and save the dome from collapse.”
“At great risk to his own life,” added Toshima.
“And even greater risk to his own safety rules,” Connors joked.
Vosnesensky frowned slightly. “We must modify the oxygen tanks so that their valves open automatically if the air pressure in here drops below a certain point.”
“I don’t think we’ve got the equipment even to jury-rig a setup like that,” Connors said.
“I will check the inventory,” Mironov volunteered. “Perhaps between our spares here and what’s left up in the spacecraft we can do it.”
Vosnesensky nodded, satisfied. But the scowl did not leave his face.
“Are you still in pain, Mikhail Andreivitch?” Reed asked.
The Russian looked almost startled. “Me? No. My ears feel fine.”
“You’re certain? I don’t think your eardrums ruptured, but perhaps I should check you over again.”
“No. I am all right. No pain.”
They sat tiredly at the wardroom tables, slowly unwinding from the terror of the meteors. Joanna had offered Jamie a share of her half bottle of Chilean wine. “The last I have until we return to the spacecraft,” she confided. “I hid another bottle of champagne there for the day we start home.”
Jamie sipped at the wine gratefully. He had put his helmet on the table in front of him. Its curving back held a long thin gouge, blackened as if a miniature incendiary bullet had grazed it. If it had been a little bigger, a little more energetic, it would have blown my head off, he knew. Jamie stared at the damaged helmet, his insides hollow. Just a little bigger…
“You are a fortunate fellow, Jamie,” Vosnesensky called from the other end of the table. “A very lucky fellow.”
Pete Connors said, “Well, the suits are built to take small meteorite hits. Jamie was in no real danger.”
Not much, Jamie said to himself.
Vosnesensky made a rare grin. “I did not mean he is lucky to have survived. I know the suits can protect against such things. He is lucky to have been hit! Do you know the odds against being struck by a meteorite? Fantastic! Astronomical! I salute you, Jamie.”
And the Russian raised his plastic glass again, while the others chuckled tolerantly.
“Perhaps you should place a bet on the next Irish Sweepstakes,” Reed suggested.
Jamie shook his head. “No thanks. One stroke of luck like this is enough for me.”
“To think of the odds,” Vosnesensky kept muttering.
Mironov said, “Even long shots pay off, sometimes. What would you say were the odds against the only elephant in the Leningrad zoo being killed by the first cannon shell the Nazis fired into the city during the Great Patriotic War? Yet that is exactly what happened.”
“They killed the elephant?” Monique asked.
“Exactly.”
“No!”
“It is an historical fact.”
“How long will we have to breathe pure oxygen?” Naguib asked. “I think it is giving me a headache. My sinuses hurt.”