Plains of Utopia: Colony Six Mars

by Kilby, Gerald M.

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. “In the meantime, I want this little guy brought back to life.”

  The crew began migrating closer to the workbench, leaning over and inspecting the machine with a renewed and slightly less skeptical interest. They poked and prodded and began to scrutinize the extent of the damage and assess the task ahead of them.

  “A lot of these components are very outdated,” said Ajay. “Do you want a full upgrade? I mean it would be quicker, and better. We could just replace parts with newer stuff.”

  Nills thought about this for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted the old Gizmo back with all its quirky ways. But a lot of that was to do with its personality and less about its physical appearance. And Ajay was right: replacing the outdated with the latest hardware would be infinitely quicker that trying to coax a new life out of the old.

  “Do it,” he finally said with an emphatic flourish of his hand, then pointed at the droid. “Upgrade everything you can. We may as well, seeing as we have the parts on hand.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” Ajay said as he dragged over a tool trolley.

  “Okay, guys, you heard the boss. Let’s get to work and bring this bucket of bolts back to life.”

  * * *

  Nills sat across the desk from Oto DeGroot, chief data analyst for Jezero City’s primary AI network. He was a heavyset man in his early forties, with an academically detached demeanor, like he had grander things to ponder and social interaction seemed get in the way of that.

  “No way, Nills. You know I’m happy to help you with anything, but this is asking too much.”

  “I can’t see what the big deal is. The Council was happy to reanimate Gizmo a few months ago, so what’s changed?”

  “Well, you need to go to them to get the okay. Surely someone in your position would have no problem with that.”

  Nills waved a hand. “I can’t be bothered with all the politics and bureaucracy. I would just be giving some self-important moron an opportunity to make political hay.”

  “The same goes for me, Nills. If they find out I facilitated this, then there are certain people who could make my life very difficult.”

  “But there’s no need for anyone to find out, Oto. I just need enough time to make the interface connection and download Gizmo’s data-stack.” Nills continued with his appeal.

  Oto leaned back in his seat and became silent for a moment, giving Nills’ request further consideration. “The thing I don’t get, Nills, is why you want to do this in the first place. I mean, what’s the big deal with this droid?”

  “We go back a long way, me and that droid. It’s a part of me. I suppose you could say it’s a friend. So I can’t bear to see it simply…discarded. I feel that I owe it.”

  “It’s just a droid.”

  “A lot of people have said that, Oto.”

  “And another thing.” He sat forward again. “How are you going to pass this off? I mean, they’ll know you’ve reactivated it and accessed the primary AI. How can you hide that?”

  “Sure, they’ll know I put it back together, but they won’t know how. Anyway, we both know that they can’t really stop me if I pull rank on them.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re fortunate that you’re not just anyone. But interfacing it with the AI, how are you going to explain the droid’s cognitive abilities?”

  “Who’s to say it wasn’t all still intact? The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked, and its neural-net and data-stack were still viable.”

  Oto screwed his mouth up. “Hmmm…maybe you could get away with it”—he waved a hand in the air—“and maybe not. It’s still too risky for me. I wish I could help, but you’re asking me to put my ass on the line here.”

  Nills took a moment to marshal his thoughts. True, he was asking a lot from the data analyst, but there really was little or no risk of being found out if they played it smart. Maybe Oto just needed some enticement, something to sweeten the deal. “Say, how’s that rover project you’re working on going?”

  Oto had acquired himself a beaten-up old transport rover a while back, just after the storm settled. It was a non-runner, but serviceable—and with few spare parts around, he got it cheap. But there was a world of work to do to get it running again, even if he could find the parts.

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t talk to me about that. It’s still sitting in a lockup, costing me money, and parts prices are just crazy at the moment. Not one of my better ideas.”

  Nills leaned in, placing his elbows on the edge of the desk. “Maybe I could help with that?”

  Oto raised his eyebrows. “Ahhh, no. I see where you’re going with this, trading me some spare parts. I’ll admit it’s tempting, but no.”

  “I wasn’t talking about spare parts. I was thinking of rebuilding it for you.”

  The analyst gave him a curious look, as if he wasn’t sure what he was hearing.

  “What’s the power source? Methane?” Nills asked.

  “Yeah, old school.”

  “Could swap it out for a compact fusion reactor, virtually unlimited range. Give it to me now and I can put a team on it, bring it back in a few sols. Could be very handy to have working, now that all flights are grounded.”

  “Fusion power source, did you say?”

  “Drives smooth as glass, and a two-million-kilometer range.”

  Oto shook his head and slumped back in his seat again. “Goddammit, Nills, you must really like that droid. Okay, you got me. What do you need?”

  “Thanks, Oto. I really appreciate this.”

  He waved a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah, just don’t make me regret this, Nills.”

  5

  All Wired Up

  Jann walked quietly through the access tunnel, heading for the old industrial sector of Jezero City. It was an area that had undergone a long, slow decline, starting way before the Great Storm.

  When the city became the administrative capital of Mars and a primary tourist hub, the heavy industry that had populated this sector started moving out, some to the northern part of the Jezero Crater, some over to Syrtis in the east or even Elysium in the west. But a few still remained. Light industry mostly, those that serviced the needs of a population based on administration, wealthy inhabitants, and tourism. Yet many of those had still struggled during the Great Storm.

  As she moved through the sector, she passed numerous shuttered and dilapidated units, all signs of the toll that period had on the viability of these industries to survive. It was a sad sight, and one that had little hope of recovery, particularly if the recent incident at the spaceport was not resolved satisfactorily.

  But the health of the Martian economy was not what concerned Jann. No, it was the possibility of a return to a dark past. In her mind, there was only one possible explanation for the identical DNA of the bodies they had found—they were clones. And if that turned out to be true, then there was something far more sinister going on than just the threat of moribund economic activity.

  Overhead lights flicked on as she moved, illuminating the way forward. She pulled on the hood of her cloak so as to obscure her face from any cameras that might still be operating in this sector. Underneath the cloak she wore a light EVA suit, suitable for short excursions on the planet surface, the helmet and gloves stowed in a backpack. It was probably overkill; they shouldn’t need to go full EVA. But this was Mars, where it paid to be prepared.

  She eventually entered into a wide, open area that provided access to the larger industrial units. She was now at the very extremity of the eastern side of the city.

  Jann found the door she was looking for. Above it, in large faded letters, was a simple sign reading Langthorp Tech. She presented her eye to the retinal scanner and the door clicked open into a dimly lit, domed expanse. Here and there, drifting out of the shadows, she could see the shapes of several rovers and utility vehicles in varying states of repair. A multitude of dismembered droids also looked out from the shadows, l
ike a theater of ghosts. A low background hum provided the soundtrack. It all felt a little eerie.

  Most of the light illuminating the workshop area spilled out through a long, windowed side area. Behind it, she could see Nills standing with his back to her, looking intently at a bank of monitors that seemed to be scrolling through thousands of lines of code. As she approached, she could see a droid all wired up to some interface—presumably Nills was working on it.

  It was not a standard service droid. It looked like an obsolete model, and it reminded her of Gizmo. Except this one looked more robust. Poor Gizmo, she thought. Just an exhibit now.

  “Nills, shouldn’t we be getting ready to go?”

  Nills turned around and waved a hand. “I just need to get this done, then we can go. Sorry, but it’s the only time I can get to do this.”

  Jann moved over beside Nills and glanced at the screens. “What are you working on?”

  He gestured at the droid. “Recognize it?”

  “Looks like Gizmo, but that’s parked in the museum.”

  “Was.” He smiled. “I rescued the little guy, and the team here rebuilt it.”

  “What? You’re joking me. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. There’ll be hell to pay for doing that.”

  Nills waved a hand. “Ah, screw them. What are they going to do?”

  Jann sighed and shook her head. She should have known that Nills might pull a stunt like this. “Make life difficult, for one. You seem to forget, Nills, that your actions also reflect on me. I’m back to being a Council member, and this looks bad.”

  Nills lowered his head a bit. “Sorry, Jann. I…just couldn’t leave it to rot in the museum, or go through the torture of trying to get Council approval. Anyway, I’ll take the heat.”

  Jann went silent for a moment. Nills had just pulled a fait accompli, and there was not much she, or anyone else, could do about it now. But before she could remonstrate him any further, the droid twitched, then began to move its limbs very slowly.

  “What’s it doing?” she asked, taking a step back.

  “Self-test. It has new appendages, so it’s figuring out its new geometry.”

  Jann stood for a moment, a little mesmerized by this robotic tai chi. “I thought it was so damaged that it would never operate again.”

  “Fortunately there was still a backup on its mind in the central AI.” He turned and gestured at the screens. “That’s what I’m doing now, restoring its cognition.”

  Jann raised an eyebrow. “You hacked into the primary colony AI?”

  “Eh, not exactly. I called in a few favors.”

  Jann shook her head. “If any of this ever gets out, I’m going to disown you, Nills.”

  Nills gave a laugh. “Ha, don’t worry. Even if it does, it will all blow over eventually.”

  Gizmo stopped moving, prompting Nills to swing around on his chair and check the screens again. “It’s finished.” He looked back at the droid expectantly. Nothing happened for a moment—then it spoke.

  “Nills Langthorp and Doctor Jann Malbec, what a pleasant surprise. How nice to see you”—it paused for a beat—“after all this time. My last data entry is of a high-energy plasma blast heading my way.”

  “Gizmo? Is that really you?” Despite Jann’s annoyance at Nills’ complete disregard for protocol, she now felt a ripple of excitement at the prospect of the robot’s resurrection.

  “Yes, it is I, Gizmo.”

  Nills punched the air. “I knew it. I knew I could get you back.”

  “It would appear I have been sojourning in the museum, yet again.”

  “Yeah, everyone thought you were a goner last time,” Jann said, her excitement audible in her voice. “But Nills thought otherwise.”

  “Well, I am very grateful. Thank you.” It proceeded to examine some of the new upgrades. “And it seems I have become somewhat more robust in the process.”

  “I thought I might as well bring you up to spec,” said Nills.

  The robot began to move around, leaving the area they were in and heading out onto the workshop floor, where it zoomed back and forth, testing out its newfound abilities.

  “Are we taking it with us?” Jann asked.

  “I reckon so. Could be useful. Let’s face it: it’s saved our asses before, so it would be almost reckless not to bring it.”

  “I suppose. Anyway, it’s getting late. We need to go soon.”

  Nills flicked off the screens, picked up a backpack he had lying on a seat, and headed out to the workshop area. “Come on then, this way.” He stopped beside a beaten-up old six-wheeled rover, activated the outer door, and clambered in.

  Jann followed, a little skeptical, then Gizmo. “Are you sure this will get us there and back? It looks like it’s seen better days. Can’t we use one of your fleet rovers?”

  Nills began powering up the rover’s systems. “The problem is that they’re classified as official vehicles, so they all have tracking beacons. Central would know exactly where we are, and even who’s on board.”

  “Ah, I see. So, we’re stuck with this.” She rubbed a finger along the back of a dusty seat.

  “Sorry, Princess—you’ll have to get your hands dirty. But this machine is completely off-grid. My crew here have retrofitted a new power system and given it a thorough overhaul. It actually belongs to a client, but we can put it down to a road test.” He sat down in the pilot seat. “Gizmo? I need you up here.”

  The droid moved up into the cockpit.

  “Think you can navigate this machine to the Brandon waystation?”

  “My pleasure,” Gizmo said as it moved into the cockpit and interfaced with the rover’s systems.

  Jann strapped herself into a seat next to Nills. The outer door closed, sealing them in, and the machine began to move into the main facility airlock. Once the pressure was equalized, the outer door opened and they moved out across the surface of Jezero Crater, heading northwest and ultimately into the Plains of Utopia.

  6

  Our Sol Will Fall

  Mia watched Stanton and the security droid disappear around a far corner of the plaza, leaving her to her thoughts and her new bodyguard—who was standing alert a short distance away, still doing his best to look confident in his new role. Great, she thought. Stuck here for who knows how long, babysitting a rookie. She sighed, flagged the waiter, and ordered another coffee—not much else to do.

  While she waited, her mind turned to who might want to kill her. Sure, there were a few people that might hold a grudge or two. She had stepped on quite a few scumbags and lowlifes over the past few years as an agent with the MLOD. But was there anyone that really hated her to the extent that they would try to kill everyone on a ship just to get rid of her?

  None came to mind. And she was certain that no one on the quick mental list she had compiled had the technical skill to implement such a bold plan. Could she really have been a target?

  The more she thought about it, the more she reckoned that Stanton, and others in the department, were just covering their asses. They were simply looking at all possible motivations, and so it would be prudent not to rule out the possibility. Yet, she could sense from the rookie they’d sent her that they weren’t really convinced she was a target. So if it wasn’t her, then who? Or was it something else entirely? Or was it just a technical failure?

  She glanced over at the young agent. “Hey, what’s your name again?”

  “Zack Steffen, ma’am.”

  “Just call me Mia.”

  “Yes, ma…eh, Mia.”

  “Come over here and sit down. You’re making me nervous hovering around like that.”

  Zack looked a little unsure if he should comply with this request. Mia reckoned he was probably searching through the official rulebook in his head, trying to find the correct protocol to implement in such a circumstance.

  “Hey, Zack, just chill. We’re not on a training mission, I’m not scoring you out of ten. We just have to get along for the next few we
eks until flight restrictions are lifted. Trust me when I say no one is trying to kill me, okay?”

  Zack nervously glanced left and right, as if checking for some unknown threat that was about to pounce at any moment.

  “Come on, sit.” Mia pointed to the seat in front of her. “Let me get you a coffee.” She turned and caught the waiter’s eye.

  Zack finally relented, sitting down with the actions of someone who’d just had a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

  Mia studied him for a beat. He was not as young as she had first thought. He just had one of those boyish faces that some men are cursed with. Cursed in that they’re forever doomed to never be taken seriously, until that time when the years finally catch up and they look at themselves in the mirror and realize they’ve turned into an old man overnight. She almost felt sorry for him.

  “And it’s obvious that the department doesn’t think so, either,” Mia continued.

  “What makes you think that?” he said, adjusting the position of his plasma pistol to get more comfortable in the seat.

  “Because they sent me you, Zack. Let’s face it, you’re not exactly a one-man killing machine.”

  Zack raised a hand. “That’s a little unfair. I know I don’t have a lot of experience in the field, but…”

  Mia cut him off. “Trust me, I’ve met a few killers in my day, and you’re not one of them. Faced with the cold, hard reality of a life-and-death situation, you’ll probably just shoot yourself. So, here’s the deal, Zack. If you and I are to get through the next few weeks, then you do what I say, when I say it—or I can just shoot you now and get it over with.”

  Zack remained mute for a moment, considering this onslaught on his self-esteem by the very person he was supposed to protect. “Eh, with all due respect…”