KR_IME

by Andrew Broderick

  “You are one crazy motherfucker!” Christopher said over a private channel that only the four of them could hear. Aleksandr laughed loud and long.

  “You know you’ll never command another ship now, don’t you?”

  “Yes. But, I’ve had my day in space, and will forever be known as that guy that tore up Phobos. Other pilots will envy me, or think I’m insane, or both.”

  Aleksandr applied a gentle braking thrust to start bleeding off their tremendous speed, in order to meet up with the others. Martin and Christopher were floating, stationary, at the designated meeting point. Mission Control would soon be in an uproar as the first images of Aleksandr’s antics reached them.

  “Bogeys at twelve o’clock,” Christopher said. In the far distance, a white speck could be seen.

  “I have you in my sights,” Aleksandr said. In two minutes, the distance between them closed enough that they could make out the details of each other’s craft easily. “Approaching at sixty meters a second.”

  “So, not two kilometers a second anymore?” Christopher teased. “You are going to be in such deep shit.”

  “I know,” Aleksandr said. “Four hundred meters out.”

  “Three hundred.”

  “Two hundred.”

  “Just get over here before they call off the expedition,” said Christopher. He calculated that Mission Control was just now seeing what had happened, and that their reaction would be heading back across the interplanetary gulf soon.

  “Okay,” Aleksandr said. He didn’t apply any more braking thrust until he was practically there.

  “Whoa, speed demon,” Christopher said. “Where’d you learn to fly one of those things like that anyway?”

  “Lots of simulator time in my cabin,” he said with a grin.

  “Look down,” Martin said, as the SEVs floated side by side.

  “Oh, my God,” Aleksandr said. He had not yet had time to take a good look at Limtoc. “It looks big from the simulations and maps, but it’s absolutely gigantic now that we’re here.”

  “Ready?” Christopher asked.

  “Ready.”

  “Down at ten meters a second.”

  “Copy.”

  They flew their craft straight down. In a minute and a half they were level with the floor of Stickney Crater. They kept descending.

  “The sides are almost completely smooth,” Martin said. “It’s a giant cone shape, nearly as deep as it is wide. It had to have formed many millennia ago, and then the regolith accumulation covered the inside walls. Or else something punched a hole through a very thick rego layer, and then it just caved in, like dry sand pouring into a hole. Weirdest-shaped crater I’ve ever seen.”

  “Still going down,” Christopher said. “A ways to go yet.” The sides of the vast cone were getting closer, although the scale of it was still almost beyond human comprehension.

  Another two minutes passed. “Okay, the bottom’s about 100 meters away. Slow down.” They regulated their descent until they were floating a few meters from the bottom. It was a plateau, maybe a hundred meters wide.

  “Go ahead and set ‘er down.”

  They landed and locked the SEVs to the surface. They disembarked once their overshoes were on. The four astronauts felt very small, as they just stood and took in the experience of being there. Only a circle of space was visible above them, such was the depth of the vast hole.

  “This is the deepest point on Phobos,” Martin said. Right on cue, the CAPCOM’s voice was heard: “Commander! Are you okay? Has the SEV malfunctioned? Let us know if you are safe, and can hear us. Come in, IME. Come in, SEV 3.”

  “IME here. We are safe. The SEVs are safe. The expedition to Limtoc is still in progress,” came Kinuko’s voice in reply.

  “SEV 3 here. We copy you. We are safe, and will be back to the ship in an hour or so.”

  “They must have just seen the first part of your antics,” Christopher said. “They probably thought something went wrong.” Aleksandr nodded.

  “The whole communication delay messes with your mind,” Nikita said.

  “Okay, let’s get samples,” Martin said. “I’m not too worried about people floating off, never to be seen again, in here. You’d just hit the wall and bounce back.”

  They moved very slowly away from the SEVs, sample containers and bags in hand. Rocks of various sizes littered the dusty ground, and were duly collected.

  “I wish some of this stuff was from the impactor that made this hole,” Martin said, “but that’s probably under hundreds more meters of regolith.”

  “I bet there’s a bunch of it outside of here, probably miles away,” Nikita said. “Stickney is probably littered with fragments of it.”

  Eventually, their excursion was over. They stowed the samples and lifted off from the crater floor. “Crap, SEV 3 only has about ten percent fuel left,” Aleksandr said.

  “Surprise!” Christopher said. “Okay, well, we need to just make a beeline for the IME, then. A straight-line trajectory, to conserve fuel. You’ve only got about fifty meters a second to play with – twenty to get there, and twenty to brake once we’re there. That’ll leave the tiniest of margins – there’s no room for error.”

  They made it back, but just as they were floating over the SEV bay, the thrusters died completely. “Shit,” Nikita said. “We’ll have to get some ropes and pull it back into position.”

  It was difficult work. They first had to anchor themselves to the inside of the bay before they could manhandle the heavy SEV, with its precious cargo of rock samples, back into place. By that time, the sun was setting. The tone of the communications from Mission Control had changed completely, as it was now apparent that Aleksandr had become a space stunt pilot on purpose.

  * * *

  @KRIME: THIS IS WHAT REAL SPACE EXPLORATION LOOKS LIKE.

  [Attachment: a video of the Stickney crater wall flashing by, superimposed with a picture of a Hells Angels biker riding, from behind, long hair flowing in the wind.]

  * * *

  The only subject on the news that night was the apparent renegade antics of Commander Kozlov. The IDSA was besieged by the press, looking for answers as to why the otherwise level-headed and serious commander would do such a thing. The video from KR_IME's post was played over and over again in an almost continuous loop, giving a first-person perspective. There was speculation about demotions and tribunals, and that heads would roll. The IDSA stayed tight-lipped, saying only that a thorough inquiry would be conducted. All of that, however, would soon be completely overshadowed by events that were several orders of magnitude greater.

  60

  It was late at night. The excitement of the day of exploration was wearing off, and the sleepy crewmembers were heading to bed. The notification light on Tung-chi’s tablet came on, alerting him that he had a new email. He opened it. It simply said: “Go to your cabin. Another message will arrive in one minute.”

  He said goodnight to everyone quickly and headed off to his cabin, wondering what on earth the next message would be about. Sure enough, it arrived. It was from President Jian himself. What he read next drained the color from his face, the air from his lungs, and almost made his heart stop. His vision blurred, and his mind fogged over. He had to wait a minute to regain his composure. He read the message again. It just didn't make sense. His mind whirled. It seemed unreal. He hoped he would wake up soon and find it had just been a nightmare, but alas, that didn't happen.

  He knew his life was now altered forever. He had two choices before him. He could betray his country, or he could betray the crew that had been a second family to him – the ones who he had shared both laughter and danger with. In the next few minutes, he tried to weigh things up. In the quiet of his cabin, he even contemplated suicide as a way out of such an unthinkable dilemma. At least one of the choices would likely result in death, anyway.

  Tung-chi centered himself. He sat – or, more accurately, floated – in the lotus position, and allowed his mind to clear
. He was bigger than his circumstances. He slowed his heart rate and breathing to normal, and entered a meditative state. Midnight came and went. He couldn’t completely quiet his mind from the stark and surreal situation in which he now found himself. One o’clock came and went. The awful point of no return would come at 2 AM, when he had to make one choice or the other. Either way, there would be no going back.

  By 1:45 AM, he had made his choice. He drafted a will for himself, and a letter to his parents to be opened in the likely event of his death. He sealed them and taped them to the wall of his cabin. It was now five minutes to two. The ship was completely quiet, save the low ever-present hum of far-off machinery and air pumps. He felt sick, and his mouth was dry. He left his cabin for what would probably be the last time, and made his way to the hub. He brought up the ship systems interface and opened the SEV bay door, hoping that the vibration from the motor wouldn't transmit down the central truss and wake anybody up. Tung-chi then headed to the airlock, suited up for EVA, programmed the airlock to depressurize once the door was closed, and entered it. The material of his spacesuit began to go taut, as the outside pressure dropped to zero. There's no going back now, he told himself, as he opened the outer door and stepped out into the airless void of space.

  He clambered, hand over hand, to the SEV bay, and strapped into the front seat of SEV 1. He waited three agonizing minutes until the sun rose over Phobos and bathed the Explorer in light. He undocked and pushed back from the ship. The SEV bay was still facing the surface of Phobos, but that wasn't his destination. He stopped and then began to head around to the Mars-facing side of the ship. He had been expecting it, but what he saw still made his blood run cold: a long, vast shape silhouetted against Mars, perhaps a hundred meters away. It was as black as night.

  He headed towards it and, once the short flight had been made, located a tiny panel at one end. It had one small button in the center. He pressed it.

  “LEVEL ONE PROXIMITY ALARM! LEVEL ONE PROXIMITY ALARM!” The words, and the deafening klaxon tone that accompanied them, jolted the crew from sleep immediately. Seconds later, Aleksandr's voice came over the intercom: “All crew meet in the hub immediately!” There was jostling as the sleepy, disoriented, and frightened crew all tried to squeeze down the central tunnel and hub entrance at once. The sight that greeted them, once in the hub, stopped them dead in their tracks. A large window on the left side of the hub showed a view outside.

  “Holy fucking crap!” Christopher exclaimed in disbelief. “It's another ship! Right next to us!”

  “Yes it is!” Aleksandr yelled, outraged. “God damn it! I knew it!”

  “Knew what?” Martin asked, in bewilderment.

  “I'll tell you later. Computer, open a channel to Mission Control. MC, IME here. An unidentified ship is alongside us. You can see the view we have of it. It just appeared out of nowhere!”

  “Someone's getting in it!” Emile exclaimed. An astronaut appeared to be holding onto a rung on the outside of it and trying to unlock a hatch. An SEV drifted slowly away.

  “Tung-chi!” Aleksandr growled, seething. The others looked around, as it had not yet registered in their bewildered minds that he was not among them. “Computer, silence alarm,” Aleksandr said. “Wait, there’s a Chinese flag on the side, and some words. Can’t make them out. Anyone?”

  Martin squinted. ”Adventurous Fire,” he said. “It has the Chinese flag, and the CNSA logo beside it.” It also bore the Chinese characters冒险火, which translate to adventurous fire – a reference to Mars in Chinese astrology.

  “You know what?” Christopher asked, with a look of utter amazement on this face. His analytical mind was working overtime. “That thing’s going to Mars! It’s a lander! Look at the shape, see?” Its skin was silver, and it had the rough shape and proportions of a lava lamp standing on a saucer. “The blunt end is a heat shield! That’s why the ‘bottom’ of it is black. And then as you look further along, where it constricts will be a fairing around a descent stage engine, that’ll burn when the heat shield falls away. Where it bulges out again will be the bottom of an ascent stage!”

  “My god!” said Martin. “The Chinese got that thing here somehow, without anybody knowing about it, and had their taikonaut hitch a ride here on the IME. They want to be the first to land a man on Mars! But, they want to do it without paying for the entire cost of a round-trip mission by themselves!” He paused, his mind racing. “Holy cow! The audacity!”

  “Unbelievable!” said Emile. Kinuko and Alessia just floated there, open-mouthed, but not finding any suitable words. Nikita shook his head as he took it all in.

  Aleksandr said, “Mission Control, you probably just heard our interpretation of what’s going on, but in case you didn’t, here it is in a nutshell: the ship is Chinese in origin, and probably destined for the surface of Mars. Tung-chi is getting into it. That’s all we know right now.”

  “Computer, open channel to Tung-chi’s suit comms,” Nikita said. “Tung-chi, do you copy? What’s going on? Come in, Tung-chi. It’s not too late to turn back. We’ll come and get you. Just answer us, please.”

  61

  The hatch was near the forward end of the ship, where it tapered to a blunt point. Tung-chi managed to get the door open and clamber slowly through it. He was sweating and breathing deeply, and his heart was pounding. He heard their words, but didn’t respond. He found himself in a tiny cabin, maybe a meter wide and two and a half meters tall. It tapered inward at the top. There were two portholes on opposite sides. A seat, of sorts, jutted out from one side, and underneath it was a storage locker. Opposite the seat was a touchscreen computer; there were no manual controls at all, save the door handle.

  Instructions glowed on the screen. They read:

  “Welcome, Kan Tung-chi. You will bring the motherland great glory by being the first human being to set foot on Mars. Plug the hose to your right into your suit’s oxygen port. The cabin will be automatically pressurized, and in one hour you may remove your helmet. There is food and water in the compartment to your left.

  “Your destination on Mars has already been pre-selected. The ship is completely automatic – it will deorbit and enter the atmosphere at the appropriate time. It will deploy landing legs and perform a propulsive landing. You will be given further instructions then.”

  He felt emotionally numb, but the others’ begging and pleading tugged at his heart. He switched his suit comms off to silence them. He hoped they couldn’t see him through the porthole.

  On Earth, the first words, the deafening sound of the alarm, and the chaotic scene unfolding inside the IME rang out in Mission Control. The CAPCOM, Lesley Jones, and all technicians and mission personnel snapped to attention and stared in disbelief as the picture switched to show the view of the other ship. As soon as they heard Emile’s words they noticed the astronaut opening the door and climbing in.

  “Oh, my God,” said Lesley Jones, shaking her head in disbelief. The Chinese personnel working that shift were promptly rounded up for questioning. Communications were immediately sent to the White House, the Kremlin, ESA, and JAXA. She hoped to God that KR_IME wouldn’t post this. They banished the media from Mission Control, too – they didn’t want the world to know just yet.

  On board the ship, the efforts to reach Tung-chi by radio continued, with no response. They continued to watch the rogue ship, but it didn’t move, and there were no signs of life – save some radio transmissions to Earth.

  “It’s phoning home,” Martin said, as he monitored all frequencies. “It’s using a high-gain antenna pointed straight at Earth, but there’s some signal bleed, so I can pick it up at close range. It’s all encrypted, though, so there’s no way to tell what it’s sending.”

  “You can bet the CNSA will know what it’s saying,” Emile grumbled. “They’ll have been cut off from MarsNet and the Deep Space Network on Earth, but they have their own communications satellites, so they’re probably still getting everything.”

  They watch
ed the scene unfold, as they awaited Mission Control’s response. It was not long in arriving; their immediate advice was to move away from the other ship.

  “Okay, Nikita, get us out of here. We need to stand off at least ten kilometers,” Aleksandr said.

  “That will put us out of the Lagrange point,” Nikita pointed out. “Ten kilometers is way too far. We'll no longer be counterbalanced by Phobos, and we'll start slowly drifting towards Mars. Then the ship will end up in an elliptical orbit around it, and it'll take a few days to get back here again to do science.”

  “And getting back to the Lagrange point will take turning the reactor up to full power, which I don't want to do yet,” Christopher said. He suddenly realized he'd said too much.

  “Why does it worry you?” Kinuko asked.

  “Well, I wasn't going to tell everybody yet, but Mission Control still haven't gotten back to us about that stuff we found on the outside of it,” he replied. “I'm worried about using full power until we find out what is.”

  Alessia tutted. “There aren't supposed to be any secrets on board this ship.”

  “I... I wasn't trying to keep it a secret. I just wanted to have the full information before I told you guys. I was trying to do the right thing,” he protested.

  “Well, right now, we have to take action,” Aleksandr said, “so I'm mandating that we move the ship ten kilometers out. The safety and reliability of the other vessel are unknown. The worst case is that it could explode, or go haywire and crash into us. We'll worry about returning to the science orbit once this is all over. Go ahead, Nikita.”