On the Shores of Titan's Farthest Sea

by Michael Carroll

  He nearly landed on his back, but caught himself with his right foot. He felt something crunch as it twisted under him. Sharp pain sizzled up his entire leg. He felt instant nausea. He collapsed onto the floor. What had he done?

  He heard the bay door open. It had to be Abby. The blood pounded in his ears. This was it. Pulling himself up the steps, dragging his useless leg behind, he got to the hatch just as the bouncer spotted Abby. He was starting to say something when she hit him in the head. Her weapon was a heavy fire extinguisher, and it was quite effective.

  “You little bitch!” came a call from somewhere behind. Piers opened the hatch wide. Abby saw him and began to move toward the sub. Piers tried to put weight on his foot, but it was no good. Blinding pain and white light flooded his world. He took a deep breath and tried to simply remain conscious.

  Troy had come around to Abby’s side of the pool. He was moving fast. He’d be to her before she was to the hatch. Piers threw his wrench-thing at Troy, carefully. He made the shot count. The heavy tool clipped him on the left knee, sending him sprawling to the ground. Abby ran for it, but Troy was faster. He was on his feet and nearly to her.

  In a flash of inspiration, Abby turned the fire extinguisher on him. Its spray hit him in the face at a range of several meters, stopping him in his tracks. The stuff apparently made a better fire retardant than eyewash. He clawed at his face. Abby climbed aboard, dove through the hatch and tumbled down the steps. Piers secured the door and clambered down, limping forward to his seat. Abby scrambled into hers and pulled a large lever. The entire submersible dropped a foot and rocked free in the pool.

  “Let’s hit the road!” she cried.

  (*)

  After the wild exit from Demian Sable’s North Quadrant base, the susurration of the methane sea was soothing. Piers and Abby were quiet for a few minutes as the little submersible gained distance from the pirate lair. Finally, Abby broke the tranquility.

  “Your ankle. How did you—”

  Piers shook his head. “Just twisted, I think. I’ll wrap it in a minute. I’ll take some pain meds. It will be fine. You okay?”

  “Good,” she smiled.

  The soft sloshing of the methane filled the cabin. Bubbles sang along the vessel’s sides, a quiet marimba serenade. But Piers found no comfort in the sounds outside the hull. He was afraid. He was afraid for Abby. What if she had killed Montenegro? Perhaps it was in self-defense. That would help. But when a person takes another person’s life, they are never the same. What if she had killed him under other conditions? Was it murder? An act of war? The lesser of several evils? The mind rationalizes in these times. What was her mind telling her? Would she leave this place mentally intact? Piers was trembling, aching for Abby and for what might lie ahead in her life. He averted his vision, trying to look forward and not toward her.

  Abby broke in on his dark thoughts. “I didn’t do it, you know. Back there.”

  Piers stiffened. “I don’t need to know anything you did or didn’t do while I was waiting for you, Abby.”

  “Piers, what I’m saying is that I didn’t kill him. Even after everything he has done and all the pain he has subjected zillions of people to, I couldn’t kill Demian Sable. Not like that. It wouldn’t make things even, despite the years that I told myself it would. It wouldn’t be justice. It would be the kind of death my parents suffered, with no warning and no chance to do anything about it.” The last word caught in her throat. She took a breath. “And there is no justice in that.”

  After a moment, Piers nodded in understanding. He didn’t need to say anything.

  “I did shoot the arm of his chair out from under him so he didn’t have any more controls. Scared him half to death. That was worth something.”

  They both laughed.

  Without preamble, and without taking her eyes off the window, Abby said, “Troy thinks I’m driven to excel in my career because I’m trying to make up for all the things my parents never could do because of him.” She glanced back toward the pirate base, toward Demian Sable and Troy and all the rest of them. “Do you think there could be any truth to it?”

  Piers was silent for a moment. He took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. He wasn’t shaking any more. “Tell me what you remember most about your parents.”

  “There’s a nice, random non sequitur.”

  “Humor me, Abigail.”

  She looked at her monitor, then out the front windows. “I guess we have some time. What’s there to tell? My Mom was always there for us. Loved us. Loved her friends, too. She was one of those people who everybody else counted on. Dad was like that in his own way, especially in a crisis. People always looked to him to get things organized, herd the crowd. And he did it in a way that left everyone laughing.”

  “That’s where you get your sense of humor? Or maybe your creative use of firefighting equipment in a crisis?”

  She smiled wanly. “I suppose, but it went beyond that. He just made people feel happy, somehow. Even when he got mad, he could turn a tense situation into something funny. With us at home, with people at his work. I think that was one thing Mom loved about him. They both worked a lot, and neither had time to cook for the other, really, so it was always a real treat when one of them would stop to fix a big meal. Mom would do these Italian feasts for her ‘funny man.’ Kind of old fashioned. Sweet.”

  “Yes, very,” Piers said. They sat in the stillness, listening to the thrum of the engines.

  “Funny thing,” Piers said.

  “What’s a funny thing?”

  “You never once mentioned their archaeological careers. I am sure they were impressive.”

  “Oh, they were. They both were awarded the—”

  “I’ve actually read their bios,” he broke in. “Very notable. But Abby, that is not what the people around them remembered them for. That’s not what you remember them for. They inspired things in you and in others, but those things were not academic. They were deeper. And when the end of your life comes, the record will show what was important to you, and what you inspired in others. Either you will have a few electronic files that some graduate students will dust off now and then for some reference project, or you’ll have a train of people who will remember the things you did and the things you said and that beautiful smile and that imposing and creative mind of yours and that laugh—”

  He stopped himself. Red flushed his ears.

  “At least you didn’t mention my figure.”

  “I’m sure it’s nice, too. Don’t change the subject.”

  Abby eyed her British friend. He was cute when he was like this. And he was something else—dashing.

  “Abby, I’m proud of you. I’ve watched you ever since you came here nearly two years ago. I’ve watched as you kept returning to the old Abigail, the bitter, vengeful one out for retribution. No ‘Vengeance is mine sayeth the Lord’ for you. But you had a decision to make back there, and I think you left the old Abigail Marco behind. Now, she wasn’t bad at all, but I’m looking forward to getting to know the new one. The free one.”

  “You should be a poet.”

  “No good. I nearly flunked out of English Lit for my Advanced Communications Tech degree. Can you believe it?”

  “After the last few weeks, I can believe just about anything.”

  © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015

  Michael CarrollOn the Shores of Titan's Farthest SeaScience and Fiction10.1007/978-3-319-17759-5_54

  54. Return to Sender

  Michael Carroll1

  (1)Littleton, CO, USA

  High noon on Titan was a gloomy affair. The Sun stayed low to the horizon for viewers near the pole, and Mayda Research Station’s inhabitants got used to the eternal twilight. Still, the outpost looked exceptionally melancholy as the submarine surfaced offshore.

  “It looks spooky with no lights anywhere,” Abby said quietly, as if a loud voice would disturb ghosts lurking in the darkened habitats.

  “I
t’s bad, Abby. Look at the eastern habs.”

  “The whole section’s been cordoned off. They’re blackened. Charred or something.”

  “Fire. Methane must have gotten in. Look, we’ve even got breached windows over there at the far end. Maybe you were too easy on Sable after all.”

  “Maybe I was. We’ve got to find Jeremy.”

  “I’m sure he’s with his Marine buddies at the other end.”

  (*)

  Jeremy gave Abby a huge bear-hug. “Sight for sore eyes, sweetie.”

  “You’re not sounding very professional,” she said into his coat.

  “I leave the professionalism to the Marines. I’m wearing my godfather hat right now. Piers,” he said, turning to the man and shaking his hand while not letting go of Abby. “Excellent job, although I do wish you’d told us. I would have happily gone along to help out.”

  “Didn’t think of it at the time. I was distracted. Besides, I figured a full invasion wasn’t what we needed at the time.”

  Abby scrunched up her nose. “Smells like someone’s been grilling plastic.”

  “It’s a lot worse closer to the eastern section,” Jeremy said.

  Piers glanced in that direction. “Yeah, we saw.”

  “And speaking of invasions, the good news is that a large contingent of Marines is on its way from Iapetus as we speak. Due early in the morning.”

  Brian had joined the little crowd of celebrants to welcome Abby back. He inched his way up to her.

  “Hey Brian.”

  “Abby, glad to see you in one piece.” He fidgeted. “Ah, did you, by any chance, get that little item?”

  “No good, old boy,” Piers called out in mock regimental. “Sable shot the hell out of it.”

  “Why would he do an insane thing like that?” Brian’s jaw clenched.

  “So this is the reactor they took?” Jeremy asked.

  Brian gave Jeremy a disdainful glower. “People don’t just run off with nuclear power plants. They are heavy and bulky, not to mention dangerous. But,” he held up his index finger, “the heat energy from the reactor goes to a little thing that turns around and around—”

  “Like a turbine?” Jeremy put in.

  “Show off,” Abby said.

  “That’s it, yes. But to get to the turbine, there’s a very special unit unique to the Ingermanson power plant that connects the two, and that’s what they took.”

  “There’s no they about it,” Abby said. “Troy took it.”

  Jeremy eyed the Master Sergeant. “Yes, well, Troy will get his, I’m sure. So we just need to jury-rig a way to get power from the reactor to the turbine, and Bob’s your uncle. Right?”

  “If only your Uncle Bob were here. It’s a very specialized device unique to the Ingermanson reactor stack.”

  Abby leaned in toward Brian. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say: there is another Ingermanson reactor on Titan. The sub has one. Troy was very proud of the fact.”

  Instead of pure joy, Brian met her news with casual nonchalance. “A comparatively dinky one, probably.”

  “Wouldn’t it still work?”

  “With the power difference, it would be fried in short order.”

  “But it would work for a while?” Jeremy pushed.

  “Maybe in a limited way,” Brian admitted, with just the hint of a smile.

  “Limited is better than nothing. Brian, you’re a genius at this kind of stuff.” Abby shot to her feet. “Let’s just check, shall we?”

  © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015

  Michael CarrollOn the Shores of Titan's Farthest SeaScience and Fiction10.1007/978-3-319-17759-5_55

  55. Sequins and Saline

  Michael Carroll1

  (1)Littleton, CO, USA

  Someone had strewn floodlights across the floor of the engineering hab. The lamps illuminated the room from below, casting surreal shadows as if from a cheap horror holovid. Half a dozen onlookers crowded the equipment-crammed room, a bevy of fuzzy bears wrapped in winter couture.

  Brian hovered over the small, whining assembly from the submarine like a worried hen over her chicks. “I don’t know how long this thing will hold out.” He rubbed his hands together and peered skeptically at a monitor. “We’re running heat for twenty minutes an hour, and life support for another twenty, and if we keep the lights on low-level night mode, maybe…”

  Abby blew a puff of vapor his way. “Nice to have some heat, though.”

  “And comms. And light,” Jeremy said. “I was getting tired of flashlights. Now, if they can just get that hardware out here from Ganymede before Brian’s little masterpiece gives up the ghost, all will be right with the world.”

  “Well, almost all,” Abby said. She turned to Jeremy urgently. “Please tell me you won’t let him get away. Tell me, at the end of the day, that Demian Sable will be back where he deserves to be, that some TBI bigwig has a big plan.”

  Jeremy’s silence was an answer.

  “Or the Marines?” she begged.

  “I’m sure they’ve got their plans.”

  “That does bring up the issue, doesn’t it?” Piers said. “Shock and awe may not be the best solution over there. How to get the upper hand?”

  Doc Mason and Tanya stepped into the room, grinning. Everyone’s spirits had lifted dramatically since Brian’s reinstatement of the power, even at low levels.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Abby said. “I wonder if we need to be looking in another direction.” She was staring at the doctor, who looked around the room, realizing that all eyes were on her. “Hey, guys. How’s it looking down here?” Everyone nodded courteously. She looked back at Abby expectantly.

  “Doc, I was just wondering, how’s your patient?”

  “Which one?”

  “Jasmine Major.”

  “All better,” she said cheerfully. A look of suspicion shadowed her face. “Why do you ask?”

  “What did you do to her? If that’s not a breach of patient confidentiality.” Abby smiled. Doc Mason relaxed.

  “I didn’t do much. I tried a wide spectrum of antibiotics and psychotropics. No effect. She was dehydrated so I flushed her system with saline. She just got over it. Often, medical conditions resolve without us knowing exactly why.”

  Excitement tinged Abby’s voice. “That sterile saline you use. It’s not distilled from Titan water, right?”

  “Right. Comes prepackaged. I think I see your point.”

  “Point?” Jeremy asked.

  “It’s not infused from Titan ice.” Abby’s voice was contemplative.

  “Which may have been contaminated from Titan sea water as of late,” Piers said.

  Abby thought back to her conversation with Piers in her room the night the drill broke through. I only drink the hot stuff, she had told him. And he had responded, I only drink the filtered stuff.

  “I’m not sure I see the tie-in to our imminent Marine invasion,” Jeremy said.

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Doc Mason cautioned. “We first have to see if there’s a connection to the water, and more importantly, if it has something to do with mass hallucination.”

  “Yes,” Jeremy warmed to the subject. “It’s as I was saying earlier. Is that a possibility? Could people be ‘catching’ these sea monster sightings and auditory mirages, as they did in your foie gras whatever?”

  “Folie à deux. It is possible,” the doctor said, steepling her fingers. “But what if it’s something different?”

  “Different, like what?” Jeremy asked.

  “I worked in an orphanage in sub-saharan Africa where we had some mass hysteria. Pretty ugly scene. We traced it to a fungus in the grain. Claviceps purpurea. They call it ergot poisoning. And various toxic chemicals or microbes have been blamed for things like the events leading up to the Salem witch trials.”

  “I wonder what my father-in-law has been eating,” Brian said, still gazing at his monitor worriedly.

  “In this case, I
doubt we’re dealing with microbes or some kind of Titan life,” Abby said.

  “But you said, yourself,” Piers told Abby, “I drink the bottled stuff and you heat your water. If heating water makes it safe, doesn’t that imply that you’re killing off some little germies?”

  “More likely some chemical toxin,” Tanya said. “Some chemical reactions are subject to temperature changes, also.”

  Abby said, “Doc, humor me and describe the monsters out there.”

  The doctor shrugged, as if another description really wasn’t necessary. After all, just about everyone had seen them. “Long-necked, like the Loch Ness Monster, with flippers. Pink, with a fuzzy purple fringe along the neck, perhaps feather gills or something.”

  “Something, yes,” Abby encouraged.

  “And a shimmery skin. Sort of …” The doctor wiggled her fingers. “…glittery.”

  Abby looked at Tanya. Tanya seemed in the midst of realization. “Well, Tanya, ring any bells?”

  “Da. Dmitri Dragon.” She explained to all. “Pink toy dragon we had as kids, long neck, sequins on purple hair. What did you call it, Abby?”

  “Mane.”

  “Mane, yes.”

  The doctor pursed her lips. “Sounds familiar. To everyone, I’m sure.” Her tone became firm, in control. “I can start a saline infusion for the most severe patients right away.”

  “I’ll go,” Tanya said in a resolved, clear tone.

  “What?” Doc Mason said.

  “I’ll be your first hamster pig,” Tanya said. “For your test. Give me the stuff. I…” She looked at Abby, tears in her eyes. “I don’t want to see Kevin anymore.”

  Abby didn’t have the heart to correct her guinea pig reference. She just gave her a hug.

  © Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015

  Michael CarrollOn the Shores of Titan's Farthest SeaScience and Fiction10.1007/978-3-319-17759-5_56