Plains of Utopia: Colony Six Mars

by Kilby, Gerald M.

  It was still hacked into the enclave via the rover docking interface and maintained some control over many of the internal systems. One possibility it considered was to close the emergency depressurization door at the far end of the tunnel, isolating the docking wing from the rest of the facility. But that would still leave four well-armed guards to deal with. And while the droid could take a lot more damage from a plasma weapon than a human, it knew only too well that it was not invulnerable. Also, it had no weapons of its own to fight back with.

  To rescue any of the humans would mean opening the airlock door, entering the tunnel, and dragging them one by one back into the rover, all while under a sustained attack. It was not possible. Probability of success—approximately zero. And even that window of opportunity was closing, as both Nills and Jann were being dragged out of the docking tunnel and into the main facility. With all other options exhausted, it finally made the decision to abandon them and follow the primary directive from Jann—it would make a run for Jezero City.

  Gizmo powered up the rover and instigated the undocking procedure. But it failed to disengage; the system had been manually overridden, it could not get free. To add to the droid’s woes, it detected two other rovers preparing to undock, presumable to block its progress should it figure out a way to break free. It didn’t have much time.

  Again, it analyzed the situation and considered the options. It could not release the locking bolts holding the rover tight to the docking port. But that’s not to say it was completely trapped—it could simply use brute force. The rover was powered by a micro-fusion reactor feeding an electric drive train. That gave the rover a huge amount of torque.

  Gizmo carefully monitored the activity inside the tunnel, and when Jann, Nills, and Xenon were finally dragged back into the main facility, past the emergency depressurization airlock, it put the metaphorical pedal to the metal and applied full power to all six wheels.

  Great clouds of dust and sand billowed up all around the machine as the tires fought for traction. The rear airlock docking port creaked and cracked as the forces on it started to undermine its integrity. Under normal circumstances, no one in their right mind would consider doing something like this because the result would be cataclysmic depressurization and almost certain death. But Gizmo, being a robot, had no such concern. Therefore, it kept the power dialed up to eleven.

  The rover began to swerve from side to side as the wheels spun in the dirt. A broad crack appeared along the outer edge of the docking port, and cabin pressure dropped dramatically as the air evacuated. Finally, the entire port tore away from the main structure and the rover broke free. It shot forward like a missile and slammed straight into the side of one of the rovers trying to block its path. But the sheer momentum of the machine’s escape velocity made short work of the obstruction, and sent the other rover spinning and tumbling across the dusty surface.

  By now, the cockpit was a sea of screeching alerts and flashing lights. Most of the windshield was gone, and the rear was a tail of torn metal and flailing wires. Yet Gizmo pushed the machine to the maximum, leaving a trail of billowing dust in its wake. But this freedom didn’t last long, because a second rover was now hot on Gizmo’s tail and gaining fast.

  The droid analyzed the rover’s drive systems, hoping to squeeze more speed, but it was designed as a workhorse rather than a racehorse. Gizmo overrode the safety systems, allowing the drive motors to suck in more energy. But more energy meant more heat, and more alerts started flashing as the drive system temperature rose beyond critical.

  Gizmo scanned the terrain, looking for a more rugged surface. It was something that might give it the edge because it could not outrun its pursuers on the flat. It changed course, swinging wide, aiming for a rocky patch around a kilometer to the southeast. Here, the ground was cracked and broken, with boulders scattered about. If it could make it there, then it had a chance. Gizmo risked a little more juice to the drive, pushing the envelope, trying to maintain a lead.

  It was half a klick from the change in terrain when an incandescent ball of plasma slammed into the rear of the rover. The power systems died momentarily and the high-energy electrical spike overloaded the circuitry, but Gizmo coaxed it back to life, shutting down unnecessary subsystems. The rover’s drive reengaged, and it raced into more challenging terrain.

  But the pursuers had gained significantly, and two more plasma bolts slammed into the rover. This time the power failed completely, and nothing Gizmo could do would bring it back. The droid finally lost control, the rover veered awkwardly, hit a rocky embankment, and took off high in the Martian air. It spun violently as it flew, and Gizmo found itself being thrown out through the nonexistent windshield. It arced through the thin Martian atmosphere in a near perfect parabola before finally impacting the surface into deep, soft sand some distance away, and ending up almost completely buried.

  Farther behind, the rover finally hit the ground, but it was less fortunate than the droid as it slammed down onto hard rock. It bounced and tumbled, bits flying off in all directions, then finally exploded in a fiery ball of uncontained plasma as the fusion reactor disintegrated.

  17

  Access Denied

  For a cult that supposedly eschewed technology, the Xenonists seemed to acquire a lot of sophisticated equipment. This was the conclusion that Mia was slowly coming to as she spent more and more time looking into their past activities.

  Long before the Great Storm, around the time of the decennial celebrations, Xenon Hybrid was little more than a one-man cult. He had no followers as such, just admirers. And although he had been elected president of Mars by a unanimous Council vote some time earlier, no one really took it seriously. He might as well have been president of the Jezero Horticultural Society. In fact, one could argue that the latter had more power.

  Yet, it was around this time that Xenon stopped his wandering and settled down in an old, isolated research station up in the Plains of Utopia, which had been donated to him by the Martian state. Mia started her investigations at this point in time, as this was when people began to visit the enclave hoping to talk with Xenon and seek his wisdom. Yet some of these visitors never came back, choosing instead to remain and create the foundation of the enclave it would later become.

  But not all who took the trip to seek Xenon’s counsel were citizens of Mars. Some traveled from as far away as Earth. And as Mia scanned the lists of these intrepid pilgrims that passed through Jezero on their way to the enclave, several names stood out. Names of people who were clearly representatives of various Earth-based corporations—no doubt looking to gain some traction with the Xenonists.

  But one name stood out more than most, and that was none other than Orban Dent, Montecristo Industry’s old head of security. It was someone Mia had history with. A nasty individual who would do pretty much anything for a buck. But in many ways, it was not that surprising. During the Great Storm there was a supposed embargo on shipments from Earth, and anything that did come in was routed through Montecristo—they had almost a complete monopoly. Therefore, if you wanted something you had to deal with them. Yet Orban Dent was something of a lone wolf, a fixer, a facilitator, as well as a gun for hire. If his name was on something, you pretty much knew it was highly suspect.

  It was not long after these visits that a big increase in shipments started to wend their way up to the enclave. More money seemed to be available, and it rapidly grew in both wealth and size. Some of these supplies were what one might expect for a growing colony: building materials, machines for soil processing, atmosphere processing, power generation, and so on. But others were clearly the type of equipment that would only be utilized by a bio-lab. DNA sequencers, centrifuges, microscopes.

  All this equipment was routed through the port in Jezero, and it was these records that Mia spent her time perusing from a lonely desk in a dark and pokey corner of the MLOD HQ.

  Stanton, to his credit, let her have her way. But it was under the proviso that she didn’t
go meddling in the ongoing investigation. Mia agreed—she had no choice. She also got the impression that Stanton felt he could at least keep an eye on her here, and there was less likelihood that another attempt would be made on her life within these walls.

  It had taken her less that a sol to get this far. She had also moved into a small accommodation module on one of the upper floors of HQ and was beginning to feel physically better. She could walk again without the aid of a crutch, and could take her arm out of the sling for short periods. She had also dropped in to see Zack again, who was still on life support, but the doctors spoke in less fatalistic tones—a good sign, she presumed.

  By sol two of her investigations, she began to get a better understanding of the evolution of the Xenonists. While the Great Storm had almost brought the rest of Mars’s society to its knees, the Xenonists came out of this period with a renewed strength and vigor. They had built up their resources before the storm, like a caterpillar building its chrysalis. And so when the storm ended, a whole new creature emerged. They became more politically active, setting up new enclaves and spreading more propaganda. Ultimately, they were given a lot of leeway to expand by both the regular citizens and the authorities, since most viewed them as a benign cultural institution.

  So, who was funding all this expansion? To get some insight into this, Mia focused her attention back on the shipping manifests, the documentation giving the exact details of all shipments coming into the port in Jezero. And this was when Mia’s investigations began to run into roadblocks. Public information on them started to dry up, and she had difficulty tracking down any documentation regarding their trade activities.

  But what really piqued her interest was a number of supply ships from Earth that had their manifest documentation restricted. Any time she tried to access this information, she was met with an access denied notice. And even as a Mars envoy, she did not have the clearance. Questions started accumulating in Mia’s head. What exactly were they bringing in that required such secrecy? Were these supplies bound for the Xenonists? Who authorized this? She needed answers, so she stood up from her desk and hobbled off to find Stanton.

  Mia strode into his office while he was taking a call and slid her slate across his desk. “Take a look at this,” she said, without waiting for him to finish.

  He glanced at her, then at the slate screen, then resumed his call. “Eh…let me get back to you on that,” he said, to whomever it was on the other end of the line, and terminated the conversation.

  He leaned back in his chair and gave Mia a long, hard look. “Any chance you could let me know when you’re coming, maybe even knock once in a while?”

  Mia ignored him and pointed at the slate. “Take a look.”

  Stanton gave a defeated sigh and again glanced down at the screen for a moment, before looking back up at Mia with raised eyebrows. “This is a classified database you’re trying to access.”

  “Correct. It’s the import manifest of a select number of supply landings just after the Great Storm.”

  “So?” Stanton replied, a little annoyed.

  “So why is it classified?”

  Stanton gave her a considered look. “I don’t know. But what’s it got to do with anything?”

  “You remember Orban Dent?”

  Stanton raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. But I thought he’d disappeared.”

  “He did. But from what I’m seeing here, he was into a lot more than we imagined at the time. My guess is that when his backers were trying to gain influence here on Mars, they spread their net far and wide. One of the targets was Xenon and his followers. No doubt they saw them as a group that could be infiltrated. So, before the Great Storm, he made several visits to their enclave up north. Then a short while later, shipments from Earth began to arrive.” Mia pointed to several lines on the screen. “The volume dropped off as Earth began their embargo, but resumed again once we were out of the worst of it.” Mia took back the slate, tapped a few icons, and handed it back to Bret.

  “See here, this is the manifest for one of the earlier shipments. There’s a lot of bio-tech equipment on that list. I ran it by a contact over in forensics, and he reckons it could be used for developing new plant species or bacteria, but it’s grossly over-specified for your average botanist. In other words, they don’t need this type of advanced tech to engineer a better potato.”

  Stanton remained silent, studying the screen, digesting the information, rubbing his bottom lip, thinking. “We did a search of the clearing house in Jezero,” he finally said, matter-of-factly.

  “And?”

  “And we found nothing of interest.”

  “Did you do a proper search?”

  “You mean did we unscrew every access panel and crawl through every duct in the entire sector? No. But there was no lab in there.”

  “Zack saw a lab, quite a sophisticated one.”

  “Well, unfortunately he’s in an induced coma in an intensive care unit. And even if he wasn’t, it’s just his word against…” Stanton’s sentence trailed off.

  “Against who?”

  Stanton leaned back in his seat and sighed. “We got an ear-bashing from the Pioneer sector on the Council for doing a search of the clearing house. They see it as an insult to the legacy of the colony founders.”

  “The Xenonists are hiding something, Bret. I can smell it. I need to find out what’s in those manifests.”

  “Sorry, I can’t get access to this.” He gestured at the tab. “It’s above my pay grade.”

  “What about the chief, Poe Tarkin?”

  “Doubt it. This would require approval from the Council, and since we’ve just pissed off the Pioneers with that search, well…” He shrugged.

  They were silent for a beat. Mia mulled over her options. If this rabbit hole she was going down led all the way to the Council, then she would be entering very choppy waters. It was a cesspit of factions and intrigue, way beyond Mia’s ability to navigate. Yet, there was one person she could trust—one who could swim in those waters like a well-oiled barracuda.

  Mia leaned over and picked the slate off the desk. “It’s okay, Bret. I get the picture.”

  “Sorry I can’t help.” His reply seemed genuine.

  Mia gave a nod.

  “So, what are you going to do? Are you taking it to the chief?”

  “No, I’m taken it to Dr. Jann Malbec.”

  “Malbec?” Stanton almost shouted. “Have you not heard?”

  Mia stopped and looked back. “Heard what?”

  “She’s gone AWOL. Her and Langthorp headed off into the lowlands in an old transport rover.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “A few sols ago, three or four maybe.”

  Mia sighed and deflated slightly. “Any way to contact her?”

  “No, they’ve gone incommunicado. Even the rover’s tracking beacon is off.”

  “Well, that’s just great.”

  “On the upside, you’ll be happy to hear that Langthorp rescued that droid of yours from the museum.”

  “Gizmo?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Council is mighty pissed off about that, too.”

  Mia pondered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, well thanks for the heads-up.” And again she turned to go.

  “I wouldn’t fret about it, Mia. Just stay safe for the next few sols, until flights resume. Then you can get off this rock and back to Earth—home-free.”

  “Home-free, yeah. Well, I still have one last thing I need to do.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The only thing left to do, Bret. I’m going to get drunk,” Mia said, then hobbled out of the office.

  18

  Shoulder to Shoulder

  Jann anxiously watched over Nills as he drifted in and out of consciousness. He lay flat on his back on a low makeshift bed, his breathing labored. He had sustained a direct hit on the chest from a high-energy plasma blast, just below his right shoulder. It was burned and scarred, and the
impact site had a dull purple color indicative of internal bleeding. He would need treatment, and soon, otherwise he could die. Her own injuries, and Xenon’s, were insignificant by comparison; they had simply been stunned, nothing life threatening—unlike Nills.

  Jann had regained consciousness a few hours earlier and found herself in a sparsely furnished, nondescript room, around ten meters square. There was only one door into it, a steel slab with no discernible handle.

  Xenon was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, mute. He had said very little since she awoke. Perhaps the realization that he may never taste freedom again was too much for him. Although, Jann was never sure what went on in his head.

  Her mind turned to Gizmo. She comforted herself with the thought that there was a chance the droid had escaped, and had somehow manage to transmit the data that she and Nills had collected back to MLOD in Jezero. If so, then agents would be here soon to put an end to this insanity. She clutched Nills’ hand. “Hang in there, help is on the way.”

  The door opened, and three well-armed Xenonist guards strode in followed by Argon. This incursion finally evoked a reaction from Xenon. He opened his eyes, uncrossed his legs, and stood up. From his body language, Jann thought he was about to physically attack Argon. But he relaxed, moved over to the farthest corner of the room, and sat down again on a low bench.

  Argon flicked a glance at him, then looked down at Nills. “Unfortunate,” he said, shaking his head a little. “Most unfortunate,” he repeated. “It seems that one of our security personnel was a little reckless with his weapon settings, and Langthorp has borne the brunt of that.”

  “He needs medical help,” Jann said, now standing directly in front of Argon.

  He waved a hand. “Yes he does, and we can discuss that in a moment. But first I have some news for you.” Argon paused as he took a seat on a low stool facing Jann, while keeping Xenon visible in his periphery. “Your rover has been destroyed, and your droid along with it. It suffered a reactor breach and was instantly vaporized. All that remains is a blackened crater.”