Death Trap Read Online Free PDF Page A

because he acted like the entire Mars Project was his. The trouble was, this far from Earth, with him as commander, it basically was his project. So everybody had to do what he said.
    â€œSir,” I began. Now that I was here, it was too late to turn around. “I don’t think the problem is with the solar panels.”
    â€œI see,” he said sarcastically, running his fingers through his hair. “So it’s just our imagination that the dome is running out of oxygen.”
    It wasn’t fair that he treated me like I was just a stupid kid, not when I’d been forced to think and act like all the adults around me for as long as I could remember. If any of the adults in the dome had come in, Director Steven at least would have listened to them with respect. But I knew I couldn’t say this, of course, or he’d get mad and tell me to leave. My point was too important.
    â€œWhat I mean,” I said as firmly as I could, “is that the techies have taken the solar panels down twice from the railings and found absolutely nothing wrong with them.”
    â€œThank you for telling me something I already know,” Director Steven said mockingly. “You now have three minutes of my time left.”
    I tried to keep a polite smile on my face. “If it’s not the panels that are broken in some way, then maybe the problem is the sunlight.”
    â€œThis is good,” he said, leaning forward. “Very good.”
    â€œIt is?”
    â€œYou have been kind enough to help me understand this completely.” Director Steven shook his head in disgust. “Now I’ve discovered we have to fix the sun.”
    â€œSir, that’s not what I mean. What if there is something blocking the panels from getting the sun?”
    â€œClouds? On Mars? Hardly. There’s no atmosphere. Although that’s our goal, we still haven’t even found plants that will survive out there long enough to begin to create an atmosphere.”
    â€œWhat about the dome itself?” I asked. “In my virtual-reality computer sessions, the protective visors get scratched because of sandstorms. Maybe over the years Martian sand has done that to the dome, and less sunlight is getting through.”
    Director Steven stood abruptly and strode out from behind his desk. In his white lab coat, he appeared even larger than he was. From my wheelchair, I had to lean my head back to look up at him. I hated doing that because it made me feel small—and weak.
    â€œDo you think we are stupid?” he thundered, looming over me. “Do you think when we designed this project we didn’t think of that? The glass of the dome is as hard as diamonds. It was made to withstand the impact of small asteroids. A million years from now, the glass will still be as clear as the day it was made.”
    â€œI … I … was only trying to help,” I said.
    â€œYou think you know all the answers,” he said, his face red and furious. “Instead, you know nothing.” He leaned down in front of me and stared closely into my face. “Dr. McTigre keeps me informed of your progress in the virtual-reality program, you know. He told me how you failed yesterday. How the scientist attacked you instead of letting you lead all of them across the plains in a sandstorm. And let me tell you why. It’s because you didn’t bother to explain how you could do it. You just assumed if you told them something, that’s the way it was and they should listen. You should have learned yesterday that that technique doesn’t work—before you wasted my time today. You’re supposed to be smarter than that. Or are you?”
    I kept my head as steady as I could. I knew nothing I could say would make a difference. I should have known better than to try to talk to Director Steven on my own. I should have remembered that he’d made it clear on numerous occasions that he couldn’t be