Last Flight For Craggy

by Gary Weston

  Too many dead had been left by the survivors to crumble like the buildings, not even scavengers around to help clear up the remains. Time and the elements had eventually done the job and their dust had combined with the city dust, fittingly becoming one with it. Any sadness and bitterness Potts felt were buried deep and he had dedicated himself tirelessly to creating a safe place to live.

  'Save some booze for Frosty when he clocks off,' said Cragg.

  'I'm sure we won't drink it all tonight,' said Potts. 'Fawn. You don't have to drink it, if you don't want to.'

  Dillow sniffed it, then cautiously sipped it. 'Jeez. That would strip paint.'

  Potts laughed. 'Just never accidentally drink the conc. Not unless you're tired of living. That's why there are skull and crossbones on the labels. How's yours, Craggy?'

  'Hitting the spot, Pottsy. Who is this guy?' he asked, nodding at an unfamiliar face on the slide show.

  'Ah. Joe Dogg, One of the foremen on the mining gang. Died in an accident four months ago.'

  'Mine collapse?'

  'Not this time. A hydraulic hose burst under pressure. It whipped back and smashed his visor. Not a nice way to go on this planet. Remember this guy? Andrew Foreman, the GenMop man?'*

  'Him?'

  'That's the one.'

  'He died?'

  'No. This is just to make sure he's not forgotten here.'

  'He's only a couple of years older than I am,' said Cragg. 'I wonder what he's up to these days?'

  'The last I heard he's on Earth still looking after genetically modified primates, the GenMops and other animals, what few are left. He still has Monkly the GenMop's offspring with him. Hardly any of the wildlife primates survived the wars, but the GenMop's in the laboratories survived, and such rare creatures are sources of wonder. He does okay, I heard. There's talk of him paying a visit here one day.'

  'Fantastic. Still active at his age. He's like me. Got years of useful work in us. Ninety is the new middle age.'

  Misty said, 'Craggy. Let it go. Retire gracefully.'

  'Easy for a youngster like you to say, Misty.'

  'Hardly a youngster. But I do feel ancient next to this lovely young woman.'

  Dillow guessed Misty's age to be about the same as Cragg's, but she had worn much better. Misty, working with Marcia Potts, Tagg's wife, was in charge of supplies to keep the people fed, clothed and provided with the basic comforts of life. On a world so underdeveloped, that was a challenging occupation, and having seen troubled times on Earth looming, they had begged, bartered and traded anything and everything they could lay her hands on from there, and had built up a significant inventory.

  This had been a blessing others had often dismissed, but when Misty's and Marcia's prophecies of harder times to come finally arrived and their foresight had made everyone's life more bearable.

  Misty was kept slim by the largely vegetarian diet supplemented by the farmed fish, and the energetic way she applied herself to her work and everything else. Dillow could imagine Misty being a stunner fifty years ago. Her light brown eyes shone with affection whenever she looked at Cragg.

  Misty asked, 'Are you excited about your first visit to Mars?'

  Dillow said, 'I suppose so. I'm keen to see the technology used here, before I make the return trip.'

  'No poetry in her soul,' said Craggy. 'Hopefully a condition she'll grow out of in time.'

  'She'll be just fine,' said Misty. 'Fancy a dip in the pool, everyone?'

  'I never thought to bring a swimming costume,' said Dillow.

  'No problem,' said Cragg. 'It's traditional we skinny dip in here.'

  Potts laughed at Dillow's face as her chin dropped, horrified at the idea of sharing a pool with three naked wrinklies. 'Relax, Fawn. Craggy's just yanking your chain. We have plenty of spares. Come on.'

  After changing, Potts led the way from the restroom, across the sealed road that divided the accommodation from the jungle. There were several well worn and tended paths through the jungle and they followed one to the wallowing pool.

  They passed a small crop of marijuana that was cultivated for “scientific experiments” and could be obtained in small doses. Alcohol was a rudimentary beer from root crops, and wine made from various fruits. The illegal concentrate on Moon was brought in by Cragg and used to trade other things.

  Smoking, illegal on Moon, was allowed on Mars. Not condoned or encouraged, but not frowned upon, either. But there was a special fireproof room where smokers could relax and indulge, their smoke extracted and vented outside so as not to mix with the regular air.

  It wasn't a defiance of Moon's draconian ways. Not really. It was in some ways, a simple compensation for the harsh conditions of working on Mars. People were treated like human beings, not machines. Twelve hour days in space suits working the mines and a hundred and one other outside duties, was a telling way to make a living. The dope and booze provided a vital release of tension.

  Abuse was strictly controlled by the security officers, and anyone guilty of either missing work duties, being intoxicated on the job or disturbing the peace spent forty eight hours in a solitary cell, and fined a months salary. They usually got the message after that.

  True, the prison sentence for life and the death penalty still existed on Moon, but it was a hangover from the very early years, when booze was smuggled in with deliveries from Earth. A few incidents involving heavy equipment and people dying had meant serious measures had to be taken. A fire in a workers quarters had resulted in two deaths and serious injury to three others and damage to vital equipment.

  One smuggler had been found guilty of causing the death of three men by supplying hard liquor to a construction gang. As an example to others, he was sentenced to death. He was driven to the other side of the moon and abandoned, left to walk alone until his air ran out. He was the only one to suffer such an end, but the law still stood and was enough of a deterrent to at least keep illegal smoking and drinking in check.

  By the pool was a well made wooden bench. It had a brass plate on it which stated, “This bench is in recognition of Andrew Foreman. GenMop trainer. Mars Base pioneer from 2069-2074.” They settled in the pool, and let the warm water wash over them. They had only just got in when a warning bell rang for five seconds.

  'An emergency?' Dillow asked, ready to dive out of the pool.

  'Relax,' said Misty. 'That's the twelve hour shift change. It goes off one hour before the actual change of shift. You two are on a week's vacation until you are due to go back to Earth.'

  Dillow eased her body in the pool, determined to relax and enjoy whatever Mars had to offer. 'I think I can handle that. Cheers.'

  Chapter 3

  Cragg had been impressed with the change in Dillow. She was no longer trying to act cool and professional to impress him with a view to him giving her her tickets to qualify her as a freighter captain. Out of uniform, she literally let her hair down, and even wore a little make up.

  'Sleep well,' asked Cragg, pouring them both a syncoff. He was sharing a table with Misty.

  'Fantastic. I think it's having twice the gravity of Moon that's done it. The extra effort to move about must have tired me out.'

  Cragg chuckled. 'Or the booze you got through before you staggered off to bed.'

  'I was perfectly sober, if you don't mind.'

  'Is that why you danced naked on the tables?'

  'Ignore him Fawn,' said Misty.

  'Just winding you up,' admitted Cragg.

  Misty got up and whispered a few words in Cragg's ear which made him chuckle. Then she kissed his cheek and squeezed his thigh.

  'I have to go, Tiger,' said Misty, a knowing look in her eyes. 'I'll see you later.'

  'Can't wait,' said Cragg.

  It was clear to Dillow the two wrinklies were very good friends.

  With Misty gone, Cragg said, 'Drink up. I want to show you something.'

  He led her out to the central path that ran the full length of the Base, to a steel stairway leadi
ng to an observation platform. The platform was two metres wide, and had a panoramic window that wrapped around and along the double shell of the Base for one hundred and fifty metres.

  'Now that is a view,' said Cragg.

  'It is pretty awesome.'

  'That's the Mons, as we call it here. Fortunately its an extinct volcano, because I wouldn't fancy our chances if it blew. We are actually inside a massive crater. It provides some small protection from the wind storms we get all the time. Take my advice. Look at the outside from the inside. Don't get yourself lost in a storm.'

  Dillow stared out at the view. There were three major mining projects going on. One was the deep mine. Moles, machines that tunnelled up to twenty kilometres deep, were breaking up the minerals, and loaders were scooping it up. They brought it to the auto sorters, that separated loads into specific minerals, from there it went into fine extraction machines, straight onto a continuous container train. People constantly monitored the entire operation, keeping everything moving around the clock.

  Five kilometres west of that was the water boring crew, locating new underground lakes of water. They were drilling close to three kilometres deep. Plugs of removed rock and sand were carefully sliced up into metre length sections and identified, then taken for analysis.

  To the east of the mine, was the ground preparation for the new Base, number four. That was to be twice the size of Base Three. They watched the outside activity, then turned to look over the jungle.

  'No birds,' said Dillow.

  'It was once considered, especially for any endangered ones. They decided against it due to the mess they could make of the base. Personally, I think we should have suffered a little mess. So sadly no birds, apart from those, of course.' In a clearing around the compost area, several dozen free range chickens scratched around, pecking at the worms. A couple of roosters ensured a healthy population of chickens. 'Enough for a couple of eggs each per week. Eggs and the occasional cooked chicken but that's a rare treat. The other protein comes from the fish, same as on Moon. Unless you are completely vegetarian, that is. Ever had chicken?'

  'Never. I do eat fish. And a little synthomeat. Not much.'

  'That synthomeat is nothing like the real thing. I think they make it from essence of dodo.'

  She could count nine people doing various jobs around the jungle. Gathering fruit, pruning, keeping the paths clear. 'A fair bit of activity going on in here.'

  'All volunteers. They do jobs in their downtime. Therapeutic. And see? At least four different ethnic backgrounds. Asians, westerners, black, white, brown. Here we have something impossible on Earth. No racial tension or friction here. Just people working and living together.'

  'Like how we have it on Moon. It just shows that it can be done. But I think my dad would have a fit if he saw all the marijuana growing going on.'

  'I told you, already. Scientific research.'

  'Yeah, right.'

  Cragg said, 'Look. Think of it this way. You read up on Earth history?'

  'Only really old stuff. Nothing much this century.'

  'You're not missing much, then. But before we plundered the planet into a shadow of its former self, and I'm talking many centuries ago, explorers would hack their way through the densest of jungles into the most remote places and you know what they'd find?'

  'Enlighten me, O' wise one.'

  'Primitive tribes living happily, never having seen white people before. And you know what they would do for kicks?'

  'What?'

  'Well, after a hard days hunting and gathering, they would break out the drums and nose flutes, and get high as kites on stuff fermented from some bloody awful mess. They didn't fight each other or steal from one another. They'd get down and party hard. Here it's the same thing. Every time they go out to bust a gut working, never knowing if they'll be alive at the end of the shift, they come in here and relax a little with a few drinks. It keeps them sane.'

  'I think I can understand that. Having a few drinks and chatting with people last night was nice. No harm done. Not sure my dad would agree, though.'

  'Probably not,' agreed Cragg. Finding the rookie a less stuffy individual than her on duty version, Cragg found her easier to chat to. 'A little slice of heaven, this place,' he said.

  'You'll miss coming here.'

  'Too right I will. The last thing I want is to be booted back to Earth. I hate what the Earth has come to now. It's a sick planet that fifteen billion people fighting over every last dwindling resource finally killed it. How many left? Two, three million? The East and West still taking pot-shots at one another. And all those being ravished by disease. Not to mention all those crazy laws. No way I want to go back there.' He looked her in the eyes. 'Why do you think I've kept working all these years?'

  'A bigger pension and benefits?'

  He nodded. 'That's part of it. But the real reason is I don't want to end up on Earth. Even the damn Moon is preferable to that place. Then flying the freighters back and forth to Mars, is a few months when I can listen to my music, paint my crappy pictures, and not give a stuff about anyone else.'

  'And then you spend a few days here with Misty. Not a bad life, I suppose. No family?'

  A pained look crossed his eyes. 'I still have a cousin somewhere on Earth, I think. If he's still alive, I've no idea.'

  'That is so sad, but I do know what it's like, as do most people.'

  Cragg shrugged. 'One thing most of us have in common. I'm used to being alone.'

  'I'm lucky. At least I have my dad.'

  'Very lucky. Come on. Scotty will be wanting to unload the pods.'

  Chapter 4

  Cragg and Dillow had four Martian days before they had to take off back to Moon with their payload. They had time to kick back and unwind, but it wasn't all about fun. After a hearty breakfast they suited up and borrowed a buggy to return to their ship.

  Dillow was aware that the suit was protecting her from instant death. The air around her was almost pure carbon dioxide with three percent nitrogen and a little argon. It was summer, so the temperature was a warm thirty degrees Celsius near the equator where they were. She didn't even want to think about the deadly temperatures of winter, down as low as one-fifty below at the ice caps.

  Much smaller than Earth, Mars had days roughly the same as Earth, but the Martian year was twice as long. Having lived all her life on Moon, she was used to a lower gravitational pull. How people actually managed to move on Earth was something she probably would never have to experience.

  Her feet were often ankle deep in the reddish iron oxide sand, similar to walking in the grey dust of Moon. It was a common hazard for anyone outside the safety of Base Three, to suddenly sink into a small dust filled crater. The unpredictable wind-storms constantly changed depths of the sand to increase the hazards.

  They had landed inside the monstrous crater next to Olympus Mons, where a pod lifter was already in position, the grabbers wrapped around the anchor points of the fourth pod, the one at the end of the train.

  Scotty had organised the removal of the delivered pods and would be loading the cradle with the return load later. It was a slow and tedious job that took time. Everything was too valuable to rush and risk damage. Each pod was taken away by a pod carrier separately, to the storage Base.

  Dillow and Cragg were going to take ten pods of raw materials back to Moon, but had only delivered four pods to Mars. They were full of essential equipment, spare parts and food supplies to add to what the base couldn't yet grow themselves. It was a system of trade that kept everyone busy. Cragg waved up to the cab of the lifter.

  Through the helmet radio Cragg said, 'That you, Scotty?'

  'The one and only. You ready to go, Craggy?'

  'Give us five.'

  Dillow was already keying in the colour code of the freighter's airlock ramp door and there was a hiss of the pneumatics as the ramp cracked open and gently lowered. They went on board, and once the airlock was closed back up, they removed their helmets.
Cragg took a back-seat, letting the rookie take control, him being there just to advise if need be, and also to assess her performance on the job. She had completed the compulsory one hundred hours training moon-side coordinating with the pod lifters including thirty hours of actually working the lifters, for a full appreciation of what was involved.

  She flicked switches and the controls lit up. One bank of controls was specifically for the pods. Pod one was always the one directly attached to the ship, numbering out from that one. Dillow set the release for the locks of pod four. The pod disengaged light came on. Scotty saw the green release light go on on pod four.

  The lifter took the strain and the pod cracked free and the lifter eased it from the securing mounts. Once clear, Scotty lowered it onto a pod carrier that would take it to Base One for unloading, before returning for another pod. The pod carrier securing mounts slid into place and the carrier moved away with the precious cargo.

  Scotty swung the lifter back over pod three and the grabbers wrapped around the anchor points. Dillow saw the lights for pod three come on. She followed the same procedure as she had done with pod four, but this time, instead of the green light coming on, the orange light flashed. The release mechanisms had failed. Dillow closed down the controls to pod three and repeated the sequence. Still the orange light flashed.

  'Craggy. What's happening?'

  'Not a lot, by the look of it. This isn't your fault. This bucket has been in service a few years too long. I've been in charge of her for the best part of twenty years, and she wasn't new back then. Odd things happen now and then. Close down the whole pod controls and reboot.'

  Dillow did that, then went through the procedure again for pod three. This time the green light came on.

  'Thanks, Craggy.'

  'You're welcome. Your ship will be newer, but they all have their idiosyncrasies. Just part of the fun.'