by Gary Weston
'Morgan,' Cragg said, 'Unlock all pods. Work with the pod lifter until they're all off, then take the freighter away to its pad.'
'Is it okay if Amethyst gets away to see Rocky?'
'Of course. Just make sure you're suited up well, Amethyst.'
The next moment, a suited figure left the freighter airlock, a buggy ready to whisk her away to the medical centre to join Rocky and Dillow.
Morgan said, 'Amethyst's on her way to Rocky.'
'Ah. Loves young dream,' said Cragg with a chuckle.
'Don't forget loves old dream,' said Misty.
'Hi. A bit of a log jamb here. I just have to go round the block.'
He chatted to Misty as he circumnavigated the planet. Two orbits later, the cradle had been cleared and Morgan had taken the freighter to its pad. It was Craggy's turn. How many times had he done this? A kid, never flying solo before in his life had landed his pods like a pro.
'Calm down, Craggy. The sooner you get down, the sooner you can have a beer.' He engaged the computers auto entry mode and hoped he didn't have the same paranoid insecurities about leaving his fate in the control of a bunch of chips and circuitry. Cragg's natural suspicions about computers in general only exacerbated the situation. He needn't have worried. To the millisecond, the freighter's shield opened up like a huge, insane metal umbrella. 'Thank you, Lord.'
Cragg could do nothing but trust his life to the imponderables of something put together by fellow humans, millions of miles away; people he couldn't shout at if it went horribly wrong, especially as he would be horribly dead.
'Think warm and fuzzy thoughts, Craggy.'
Flying blind behind the big glowing shield with a temperature off the scale, he felt the freighter respond to further commands from the computer, as it relinquished controls to a human. The shield started to retract and the thrusters were in perfect balance. Slowly he worked the museum piece controls with a delicate touch. He was so close, but a Martian storm, whipping up two hundred miles per hour winds, got there first.
It was a pile driver of a storm, a Martian monster that came out of nowhere and hammered anything in its path. It slammed into the freighter and pods and Cragg found himself in a maelstrom. The partially open shield caught the storm perfectly, and all bets were off.
Chapter 84
Cragg didn't think, he just reacted. He was still flying blind through a thick cloud of iron oxide, and any attempts at course correction were negated by the storm so powerful, it was preventing complete shield retraction. Any and all thrusters were maxed and the freighter did a complete barrel roll as the storm became hell bent on destroying everything.
Cragg cursed and fought the controls. The thrusters were no longer in harmony but fighting each other. Up Cragg flew, feeling sick from the spinning, dizzy from g forces. He could no longer see. Strange words floated through his mind. He could hear Max Morgan asking, 'Is that how you learnt? Blindfold?'
It was trying to see what he was doing that made him feel sick. So he closed his eyes, trusted his hands, trusted his instincts. He blasted out of the blinding cloud and things were steady enough to open his eyes again, only to see Olympus Mons directly ahead, which wasn't so good. The ship stopped spinning. The thrusters were balanced again, but the freighter was on collision course with the biggest mountain in the solar system.
'Oops.'
Cragg forced the freighter into manoeuvres it was never designed to stand. But crashing into the huge mountain was averted and so was disaster, but it was just a temporary fix and the voice filling his helmet told him so. The nausea returned and he closed his eyes again. Throwing up in a sealed space-suit was not to be recommended.
'Dixon Cragg! You damn well pull up, you hear me?'
'Misty?'
'Pull up, damn it.'
Cragg opened his eyes. 'Shit!' He was seconds away from crashing.
No freighter pilot could have pulled a ship up at that speed, with a still partly open shield and thrusters determined to make another crater on the pockmarked planet. Nobody but Dixon Cragg.
'Come on, you piece of..'
'Cragg!'
'I'm onto it, Pottsy. Kinda busy right now.'
The freighter was level with the ground, so close it ploughed a furrow in the soft red sand, creating its own sandstorm, sending up a sun blocking cloud.
'Cragg. You're heading right for the Bases.'
'I noticed. Going up.'
Several hundred suited people ducked and dived for cover as the freighter roared towards them. They waited for the crash, as the ship skimmed the ground. The crash didn't happen, as the freighter and pods missed the top of Base three so close its passing blew the dust off the top of it. Again he tried the shield. This time it closed up completely allowing him to win back control of the ship.
'That was close,' said Cragg, remembering to breathe. 'Sorry about that, Pottsy.'
'Craggy. Turn that damn bus around and park it.'
'No appreciation of real style, some people.'
Cragg flew up to a reasonable height, banked in a wide arc, lined up on the cradle, landed and waited for something like a normal heart-rate to return. He didn't even remember unlocking the pods and stepping out of the airlock. He only remembered seeing Misty, smiling, and Pottsy, still recovering from the entire Mars Bases almost being obliterated.
'So. What's a guy gotta do to get a beer around here?'
Chapter 85
Two years later.
Marsopia was a vibrant city of nearly three thousand people. Their colour, ethnic origins, and ancestry were largely forgotten. For weren't those some of the human condition that had ultimately destroyed the Earth? They were bonded by the need to survive and to tame a hostile world, with a burning desire to get it right. They were all just people. Nothing more, nothing less.
There were now eight Bases, and one thousand self contained homes. Moon had been abandoned completely, a cold dead rock, circling a lifeless planet. It stood like a silent sentinel, guarding something no longer needing guarding.
And by unwritten rule, no one spoke of the Earth. Rumours frequently circulated about pockets of survivors, but no radio communications were ever received. It was now as inhospitable to human beings as the great gas giants. To be untouched by human hands.
The relentless growth on Mars was fuelled by the baby boom, with no limit on the number of children a couple could have. Children were good. They were the insurance for the survival of the race.
The development of the second city on the far side of the planet, yielding vast deposits of various ores the veracious humans consumed, meant there was still a need for pilots. Freighters were crossing back and forth between cities. It was a busy time for everyone.
Commander of Freighter Control, Fawn Dillow, wondered if the “new” smell of Base Eight would ever go away. It was oval in shape, with a covered lush garden with a water fountain in the middle of it. This was the Base of Education and Technical Development.
Dillow walked past the many halls and classrooms. From one classroom, three teenagers almost bumped into her. They apologised and walked away in the opposite direction to her. She could hear their happy banter as they went along the corridors that amplified every word.
'Can you believe that old timer? Feel the ship? What the hell is that all about?'
'Maybe he hasn't heard about computers. Just an old fool.'
'Hey.' Dillow had spun around on her heels. 'You three. Here, now.'
The three shuffled towards her.
'Do you know who I am?'
The three looked at each other. One said, 'You are Commander of Freighter Control.'
'Correct. You three want to be freighter pilots?'
'Sure.'
'In that case you'll need to get past the rookie approval panel, which includes me. You just had a lesson?'
'Yeah. With Craggy.'
'What's your name?'
'Chris Caldwell.'
'Well, Chris Caldwell. You have just had a lesson from a
living legend. I had the privilege of learning from him. He gave me my tickets. Do you know what once saved my life? Feeling my ship. As taught by that man. So, if he tells you to feel your ship, you'd damn well better wise up and feel your damn ship. Get me?'
Three heads nodded.
'Good. Oh. And if I hear any of you call him Craggy again, you'll find your chances of becoming pilots sadly diminished. He is Captain of Special Pilot Training. Captain Cragg to you. You have to earn the right to call him Craggy. Get me?'
Three heads nodded.
'Scram.'
They scrammed. With a huge grin, she turned to see Dixon Cragg facing her. She couldn't tell from his expression how much he had heard.
'Fawn.'
'Craggy. How are you?'
'I'm fine. Still getting used to flying a desk. But I'm enjoying married life.' He looked down at her well pronounced bump. 'Being pregnant suits you.'
'Thanks. I have a feeling I have a little pilot growing inside of me. You and Misty will have to come over for a meal one day.'
'We'd love that. I saw young Rocky and Amethyst the other day. Who would have thought they'd have twins?'
'They're cute. Craggy. I have to go. I'll give you a call.'
'I'll look forward to it. See you later.'
Dillow carried on along the corridor and stopped at a door marked Department of Freighter Design. She went in to find a man working hard on the latest invention. He looked up and smiled. 'Is it that time already?' he asked.
She kissed him. She wondered if their baby would have his dark brown eyes.
'Come on, Joel. I demand to be pampered.'
'Your wish is my command.'
He packed up his work and they walked off hand in hand to their home in Marsopia.
Part 2
Chapter 86
Supervisor of Geological Testing, Felix Hellicoyle, hated going outside. People got hurt outside. People even died outside. He preferred just to stay in the lab taking care of the sample testing. Outside was outside of his comfort zone. But when the mining supervisor beckoned, it wasn't something to be ignored. Giving instructions to his three assistants, Felix suited up and in the airlock, climbed into the dust covered people buggy, and drove through the outer door which closed automatically behind him, as he ploughed interesting patterns into the red iron oxide sand of Mars, towards the mineral mines, eight miles away.
He drove up the well worn ramp that took vehicles from Base Three and ancillary much smaller working buildings, onto the plateau. Felix pulled up, the electric motor humming beneath him, as he stared at the permanent lights that illuminated the mine entrance and surroundings. The tone of Deep Mining Supervisor Shamini Singh had vibrated with hesitancy as he had called the Supervisor of Geology.
'Felix. You need to see this.'
'I do?'
'You do.'
'On my way.'
Hellicoyle put the buggy into drive and continued the short trip to the mine entrance. The first thing that surprised him was that all work had ceased. Nothing stopped the mining. Perhaps a death might hold things up for a few minutes, but to stop completely, was so unprecedented, Hellicoyle knew that he was about to encounter something unusual. He had no idea just how unusual. Pushing the lever into drive, he churned up the sand as he bounced along the ruts and rocks to the mine. Shamini Singh was waiting for him.
'We found something.'
'I sort of suspected that. Is it far?'
'Seven miles in,' said Singh.
'Seven? You made seven?'
'We hit a load of soft sand, and just ploughed through it. Come on.'
Hellicoyle followed Singh into the mouth of the mine, and got into the mine rider. It was a single railed, four carriage transporter that whisked them along to the business end of the mine, seven miles in. All miners had been evacuated, something else Hellicoyle noticed. He stepped off the rider and followed Singh to the face of the mine. At the face was a small, untidy hole, barely large enough for a human to get through.
'In there?'
Singh nodded.
Hellicoyle scrambled head first through the hole. Two minutes later, he was back out.
'You have to be kidding me. Is this some sort of joke? Something to wind me up?'
'No.' The reply was emphatic and Hellicoyle realised, they had found something of mind blowing importance.
Chapter 87
Mars Commander Tagg Potts and Deputy Mars Commander Anton Forbes had been summoned into the mine by Felix Hellicoyle. The hole into the small “cave” where the object was, had been opened up large enough for a person to enter to examine it.
'Is it dangerous?' Forbes asked.
'Sir. Your guess is as good as mine. Not exactly geology.'
Potts asked, 'Man made?'
'Only if Man was here millions of years ago,' said Hellicoyle. 'And before you ask, yes, I'm sure. All this rock is about that old, although how many millions is debatable. It was created from a volcanic eruption from Olympus Mons when it used to be active. But I'm sure you've noticed the perfect setting it's in. This room, for want of a better word, has been fashioned from molten rock. It's a perfect three yards in diameter and the surface is glass smooth and true. Definitely not created by nature.'
Forbes said, 'I'm trying to get my head around this. This mine is about two miles beneath the surface. And here we have a perfect little sealed up room, clearly not made by nature nor Man, created some millions of years ago.'
In the centre of the room was a perfect cylindrically shaped plinth about a foot in diameter and had the strange artefact exactly central to the perfect wall. The plinth appeared to be moulded up from part of the floor. Some strange creature had gone to a lot of effort to create a home for the object.
'But...' started Forbes.
'I know,' said Hellicoyle. 'It's impossible. But here it is.'
Potts demanded, 'Do we move it?'
'How the hell would I know?' said Hellicoyle. 'I mean, seriously. I'm a geologist. Does that thing look like a rock to you?'
'Right,' said Forbes. 'You get that thing over to your geology den and we'll take a proper look at it.'
'Me?' said Hellicoyle, horrified. 'But it might explode.'
'Felix,' said Potts. 'It hasn't exploded in millions of years, now suddenly it might explode?'
'And it hasn't been moved in millions of years, either,' Hellicoyle reminded them. 'Moving it might trigger it off.'
'Look,' said Forbes. 'If it doesn't explode, you've got nothing to worry about.'
'And if it explodes?'
'Hey. Then you've still nothing to worry about.'
Hellicoyle sighed heavily. 'Jeez. That is so reassuring.'
'You're welcome,' said Forbes. 'Get on with it.'
Chapter 88
'Nothing to do with geology,' mumbled Hellicoyle as he inched the mini-grabber towards the strange artefact. He had driven one before, but the fact that he was completely alone in the mine, hadn't escaped him. He was sure he could easily lift the object without giving himself a hernia, but the extended arm of the grabber gave him a little unfounded comfort if the thing did explode. The grabber required a delicate touch. Not something he was famous for. The telescopic pick-up extended, retracted, extended again, wobbled over the prize, and Hellicoyle wondered if he was about to meet a solitary and explosive demise. He had said his goodbye's to his wife and daughter, but he was certainly unprepared to meet any maker with time to spare to carry him into another existence.
'I can do this.'
He worked the controls and watched as the open mouthed metal toothed grabber hovered above the artefact. Slowly, the grabber lowered to the strange thing, pausing momentarily before it picked up the object.
'Anyone listening to me out there?'
'I am,' said Forbes.
'Right here with you,' said Potts.
'Hardly,' said Hellicoyle. 'I go bang, you lot are okay.'
Forbes said, 'Come right out without it if you want. It won't reflect on you.'
Hellicoyle called to his wife. 'Janie? Are you there?'
'I'm here, Felix. You know I love you.'
'I've left my will in the bottom drawer. It's all yours.'
'I...I don't know what to say.'
'That you love me?'
'I do. Felix.'
'So do I, Dad,' said thirteen year old Marsella.
Janie said, 'Grab that damn thing and come on out of there.'
'Grabber going in. Bye.'
The mini grabber jaws opened like some extinct veracious dinosaur, and lowered slowly to gather up the object. They clamped gently around it, and nothing went bang. Always a good sign, thought Hellicoyle. Up went the grabber and Hellicoyle withdrew, knowing all he had to do was to drive seven miles to the mouth of the mine. Why the twenty minute drive shaved ten years off his life expectancy, he would rather not think about. But he was there, in one piece, and most of the Mars population brass there to greet him, but at a respectfully safe distance.
'Hoping I go bang and take this thing with me?'
Potts said, 'Get it to your place. Commander Forbes and I will be right behind you.'
'At a considerable distance, no doubt. So comforting. Come on. It'll be nice to face oblivion together.'
Chapter 89
'Any ideas?' Forbes asked.
Hellicoyle stared at the thing. 'All I can tell you guys is, this has been buried for millions of years. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine.'
Potts said, 'I'm encouraged that it hasn't exploded. But if that's millions of years old, I'm a fruitcake.'
The object of their interest was standing on Hellicoyle's bench, glowing and giving a whole new meaning to the word strange. It was roughly the shape and size of a rugby ball. It had a pulsing, glowing interior, and a mesh of gold encompassing a golden exterior.
