Fable Hill

by Christopher Uremovich

  The Tama Rover was rather large, the size of a compact car, and fully contained in a composite shell. It was armed with an advanced array of gadgets, like a mobile science laboratory, collapsible crane, and a drill. Two different modes were possible with the rover: autonomous or remote-guided. It sported 360-degree camera coverage and could record high-definition video, all in real time.

  Alexei drove the rover in reverse off of the trailer by tablet. A series of calibrations ensued until Tama was ready to begin functioning normally. Switching to autonomous mode, the built in AI established an encrypted link with each spacesuit.

  “Where should I send the rover?” Alexei asked in open forum.

  “Does it have a name?” Roland asked. “The AI, I mean.”

  “I believe it's just Tama. Send it to these coordinates here,” Mia ordered. She uploaded a series of grid coordinates to Alexei's suit. “Four phase lines. It will bring the Tama on a tour of the impact melt sheet. We will fetch it tomorrow,” she said.

  “Just mapping? What about surveying?” Roland asked.

  “Right now, it will do more for us by getting detailed images and maps,” she said. “We can do the survey ourselves after we know more about the terrain. This area here is probably impacted breccia of some kind. We won't be finding any real concentrated deposits, only smaller matrices.”

  Alexei finished configuring behavioral settings on the Tama and let it loose. The rover made for the lowlands to the south, disappearing behind distant sand dunes.

  Frank and Alexei took turns hammering stakes into a hard, shale-like rock that hugged the precipice. They attached stout carabiners to each stake with 100-foot, 9.9 millimeter nylon kernmantle rope. Frank recognized the rope used was parachute cord but didn’t comment.

  Wasting no time, Mia abseiled the obscured fissure using her suit’s utility belt, which doubled as a climbing harness. As Mia disappeared below the shroud, Frank descended on a separate line.

  “We’ve r—ched b—ttom, Roland, h―copy?” Interference from steep walls muffled Mia’s voice. Roland acknowledged the transmission with one of his own but was unsure if it went through.

  At the bottom of the fissure thick fog had waned and conditions were clear. Mia assisted with Frank’s touch-down and unharnessing.

  “Curious, isn’t it?” Mia pointed with her index finger, opting instead for short-wave, ultra-high-frequency transmissions in the narrow fissure.

  “What’s that?” Frank asked. He glanced upwards at the imposing fog. It tapered off perfectly right above their heads. “What does that mean?”

  “Change in pressure. I’m reading twelve hundred pascals down here with a temperature of minus ten,” Mia replied.

  “Tropical,” Frank joked.

  Mia removed her pack and some of its contents, revealing a collapsible magnetic pickaxe. “Can you measure the width please?” Mia asked, approximating the amount of rope used to descend the break.

  “Boy was I off. Seventeen meters is the final depth,” she stated.

  “Width is 16.7 meters.” Frank watched for a reaction.

  “You’re joking,” she said, astonished.

  “I’m not.”

  Mia stood with her back against the cliff wall, pressing far back as she could as bits of sand and dirt fell on her helmet and suit. “Rangefinder reads 16.71 meters. Well I’ll be damned, Frank. That’s so bizarre.”

  •••

  “Mission Control, this is Ōme Station. Radio check,” Renee said.

  In the atrium, Keiko was hard at work toiling on her aeroponics system. She ran check after check, crossing boxes off a checklist, making sure every sprinkler nozzle, nutrient pump, and reservoir were up to par.

  It was seed day today, as she termed it. Every crop seed in the inventory would be planted. A grand design that would feed the crew and other crews to come for many years. Never completely, however, as it would take decades, even centuries, to be fully sustainable. Mars would need to be resupplied by Earth for many years.

  Twenty minutes went by before mission control at Nagoya sent their reply, acknowledging the radio check and requesting the daily data feeds on Ōme. Amirah uploaded the files through the Martian internet as instructed.

  An additional cache of video messages were bundled with the file, some for family and friends, others containing what research had been conducted so far. Most were from Renee, who had already begun several medical experiments on bacteria and other microorganisms that were transported with the Yamada.

  Renee assisted Keiko in the atrium. Throughout the rest of the afternoon they worked tirelessly together, to the sound of Keiko's K-pop collection. The music bumped on the main speaker system and had surprisingly good sound quality.

  “I like this music,” Renee commented.

  Keiko responded with her hand to her ear. “What?!” she replied, scrolling her finger along her wrist pad turning the music down to a hush.

  “I said I like this music,” Renee said once more.

  “Really? I know it can be a little cheesy at times, especially this song. This group is complete attention whores,” Keiko blurted.

  “Yeah, it’s fun, very upbeat and positive.” Renee smiled. Keiko cranked the music back up, this time a bit louder. Renee studied Keiko as she worked on the nutrient pH balance. She contemplated back and forth whether to ask Keiko about her personal wellbeing. Seeing Keiko so happy, she decided now wasn't a good time and dropped the matter until later.

  Amirah's voice came over the intercom and paused the music. “Excuse me, ladies. The files you uploaded were sent successfully. Estimated time of arrival is fifty-four minutes,” the AI said.

  “Thank you, Amirah,” the two female astronauts replied together. “Please resume music,” Keiko said. There was a short pause before Amirah responded.

  “Renee, may I speak with you in private?” Amirah asked.

  “Uhm . . . yeah . . . sure thing. Resume music, please,” Renee replied. The boisterous K-pop rang loud again as Renee jogged over to the control room for privacy.

  “What’s up?” Renee asked, closing the door behind her so she could hear better.

  “Ma'am, two files bundled with the data package are pending confirmation. The files possess an unfamiliar encryption key,” Amirah said.

  Renee thought for a moment on what to do; computers were not her strong suit. “Amirah, who sent the two files?” she prodded.

  “It appears the files in question came from Alexei Pavlov’s personal computer with Captain Chartier's digital signature,” Amirah replied.

  “Ok . . . is that authorized? Is there anything illegal or malicious about that?” Renee searched for answers.

  “No, ma'am, it is authorized to send data by secure channels with the digital signature of the team lead. However, all files must possess a valid Nagoya encryption key.”

  Renee brainstormed some more while Amirah pressed the issue again. This irritated Renee, and in her irritation she gave an order. “If it is authorized and Roland signed off on it, send the files,” she said.

  Amirah mentioned the encryption key once more and an unknown destination client in Asia. Renee straightened herself upright and collected her wits. “It sounds negligible to me, Amirah. Send the files, please,” she said.

  “Sending data package #0043B. Thank you, Mrs. Emerson.”

  •••

  “Give me a hand over here!” Roland pleaded. Alexei ran over and assisted pulling on the climbing rope. Both Mia and Frank assailed the ledge together, their packs brimming with soil and rock samples. Hours had gone by and the sun began casting its evening shadow, with quintessential blue-violet hue.

  “Looks like you guys scored big time,” Roland said.

  “Meh,” came Mia's response. “It was alright. Most of the rocks are easily identifiable. Typical impact crater material.” She handed a translucent rock shard to Roland.

  “Looks like glass,” he said.

  “That’s because it is.” Her helmet's tint autom
atically adjusted to the low light, revealing dazzling amber eyes. “Impact melt, forms glass from intense heat.”

  Frank couldn't help but stare. He tried to look away from her but failed miserably. Her tantalizing gaze befell his for the briefest of moments—and in that moment Frank realized he had caught feelings.

  “In another hour it will be dark. Everything is already packed up and ready to go. We return to Ōme in ten minutes,” Roland announced.

  Chapter 22

  0037 hours, Sol 25

  Ōme Station, Lyot Crater

  Earth Date: May 28, 2045

  Crack. Thud. The sound of Frank's balled up fist impacting Alexei's face and subsequent fall thundered through the lounge area. Table and chairs screeched as they jarred out of position. Renee dove onto Frank and held for dear life.

  “No, stop!” she cried.

  “I'm tired of your mouth,” Frank said, striking Alexei’s arm as he blocked the attack.

  A pre-recorded football game played on the television behind them. Broken bottles of whiskey and vodka lay strewn across the floor. Frank about-faced, teetering as he navigated back to his quarters. He could hear shouted obscenities, both men heavily inebriated.

  Renee stayed behind to tend Alexei's cut and bruised jaw. He rambled in Russian, getting angrier as he spoke in his native tongue.

  It had been seventeen hours since the other three crew members, led by Roland, departed for the far side of Lyot Crater, some 150 kilometers away. The target area was an alluvial fan, evidence of ancient water. Several mysterious mounds also dotted the surrounding landscape and was a tempting survey location for Mia. Her hypothesis on the mounds was they were sedimentary in origin and the three had set out to prove it true.

  The mission was planned to take anywhere from forty-eight to seventy-two hours and was put in place partially as a test of the long-term durability of the life support systems. In case of emergency, the airship was ready to take off from Ōme at a moment’s notice.

  Frank entered his quarters and took a three minute shower, a luxury even when water was now abundant. Amirah's notification light pinged on Frank's wall-mounted control pad. He took his time drying off and waddled over to the screen. The hot shower seemed to sober him up a bit, but he still fat-fingered the touchscreen and fumbled to pull up the alert notification.

  Malfunctioning sensor panel, exterior motion sensor 1A, the message read.

  A brief flash of light illuminated his room through the small window, like a high-powered flashlight. It oscillated past. Frank peered through the reinforced viewport and saw a floating white light in the darkness.

  Rubbing his eyes to rid his blurred vision, the light vanished. Lights flickered inside the habitat including Frank's own room. His desk lamp dimmed and brightened. Just as fast, everything returned to normal and the oddity ceased.

  Amirah woke him later in the morning, a few hours before noon. It was a particularly bright day and Frank shielded his sensitive eyes with a blanket. An incessantly bad headache greeted him and he stumbled to find an ibuprofen or two stashed away in some luggage.

  “Sir, several incidents require your attention. Please proceed to the kitchen to get a balanced breakfast before we begin,” Amirah ordered.

  Frank was defiant and rolled over in bed, wrapping himself in a blanket cocoon. “Why me? Where are Alexei and Renee? Why can’t they handle it, and why haven’t they?”

  “Sir, all other crew members are currently occupied. Mrs. Emerson is conducting experiments in the laboratory, and Mr. Pavlov has been busy constructing his new workshop.”

  Frank perked up a bit and lifted his head from his blanket cluster. “Workshop . . .” he muttered. “What workshop?”

  “Mr. Pavlov has been constructing a shelter connected to the main reactor since very early this morning. He has not eaten or taken any breaks,” Amirah explained.

  Frank sat up in bed at the latest news and held his head as the stress headache throbbed. “Damn headache, ugh!” he whined. “Amirah, I don’t understand, how is he constructing a shelter? Explain, please.” Frank got louder.

  “Certainly, sir. Mr. Pavlov has requisitioned the industrial printer, using raw materials brought with us from the Yamada,” she explained.

  Throwing his blankets to the ground, Frank got up to look out the window but only saw a sea of endless sand. “You said by the reactor?” he asked. Amirah responded in kind.

  Frank left the safety of the habitat through the main airlock. He wrapped around the main dome towards the reactor, burping inside his suit from eating a hasty breakfast. “Excuse me . . . ah gross,” he said to himself.

  On the other side of Ōme Station sat the sarcophagus-like cube, housing the advanced gas-cooled reactor. It towered six meters off the ground and nearly seven meters wide. Alexei’s half-finished building project sat adjacent, connected to the reactor. Steel beams cross-sectioned each other and trusses were already completed and installed.

  Spheres of light showered sparks as a host of rovers and spiderbots welded steel. Alexei hovered over the large industrial 3D printer, filling its hopper with raw polymer balls. A separate hopper, much smaller, was used for resin.

  Not just the industrial printer was present, but a series of smaller 3D printers, each for a different phase in the fabrication process. Some sintered metallic powders into flanges and hinges, others produced particleboard dowels and anything else useful for construction. In total, nine 3D printers worked around the clock to assemble Alexei's mysterious workshop.

  “I should hit Alexei in the face more often,” Frank said under his breath, amazed at the feat happening before him. “Alexei, this is amazing!” Frank said over comms. He walked closer, trying in vain to elicit a response.

  Finally, Frank grabbed Alexei by the shoulder, startling the Russian scientist who jumped back in a defensive posture.

  “Come to finish me off?” Alexei asked in an aggressive tone.

  “No, I . . . uh . . .” Frank fumbled.

  “I'm just kidding, you stupid cunt,” Alexei said, lowering his guard.

  “Magnificent, isn't it?” Alexei asked. They stood together and marveled at the army of robots working in tandem. “Completely automated, much like how Ōme Station was built. Look at how they work together, like soldiers taking orders.”

  “You've been out here all night?” Frank asked the obvious.

  “Psssh, it’s nothing really! I input code and rovers do everything,” Alexei replied. He grabbed for his tablet computer and brushed a layer of dust that covered the screen. “Behold, the power of Lucy,” Alexei boasted, a reference to his hybrid programming language of choice.

  In an instant, all robotics ceased operations. They abandoned their tasks and formed a neat, filed line in front of the two astronauts. Spiderbots scurried down steel beams and arrived last, climbing on top of one another and into power saver mode.

  “You see? Here, I am God. Now, Mr. Nash, if you would excuse me.” Alexei tapped at his screen vigorously. All the robots went back to work, creating a whirlwind of dust and dirt as they sped off.

  Alexei tossed the tablet onto his makeshift workbench and got back to supervising his masterpiece. Frank had a list of things he wanted to say, but his guilt from earlier clenched his tongue.

  “Why are you still here? You have janitorial tasks to complete. Amirah!” Alexei shouted into his mic.

  “Yes, sir?” replied the AI.

  “Would you be so kind as to inform Mr. Nash of his chores, please? Thank you, Amirah,” he said in a condescending tone.

  “Yes, sir, uploading checklist now,” Amirah stated. “Would you like to start with the downed sensors, Mr. Nash?” she asked, this time over a private channel.

  “Plural?” Frank asked as he reluctantly swung back towards the habitat.

  “Yes, sir, I’m detecting catastrophic sensor failures along our inner and outer perimeters,” Amirah pointed out.

  Frank turned his head towards the assembly of cables littering the
ground around him. “I think I have an idea as to why sensors are failing,” he commented at Alexei’s assembly line of automatons.

  With a defeated sigh, Frank clipped his tool bag to his utility belt and began the long trek towards the outer perimeter, 2.5 kilometers away.

  Morning ice clouds were pushed further north as strange shafts of what looked like precipitation rolled into the area, blotting out the sun.

  “What’s this weather pattern called, Amirah?” Frank asked as he rucked.

  “Virga,” she replied. “Ice particles that sublimate before reaching the surface.”

  “Wow.” Frank stopped to admire what he was witnessing. “Martian snow,” he said.

  Twin fans inside his helmet blew sweet, cold air onto Frank’s sweat-covered face. He popped a squat on the cement base of the furthest sensor from the habitat. His work finished, a retractable straw found his chapped lips as he took a long-needed drink, exhausting his water supply. An awaiting message signal popped into Frank’s HUD. Renee’s face displayed in real time.

  “Yes?” Frank asked in response to the prompt.

  “Frank, get back to the habitat at your earliest convenience,” she said with concern in her voice.

  “I’m on my way. What’s the matter?” he asked. The message ended abruptly. Renee’s face disappeared.

  “Ok . . .” Frank spoke to himself, confused.

  “Amirah, do you read me?” he called out over the AI’s secure channel. Frank tried again to elicit a response but received only squelches. He ran back towards the habitat, his feet soaring over the ground, taking advantage of the reduced gravity.

  Renee waited for him just inside the airlock chamber. “What’s all the fuss about?” he asked in a loud voice, irritated at the sudden secrecy.

  “Look at this.” Renee shoved a computer screen into Frank’s face.

  A single red target shown on a handheld radar map of the surrounding area. Frank checked the corresponding distance and calculated it to be only forty-five kilometers away.

  “Oh good, aliens. Finally,” Frank joked nervously, but Renee wasn’t having it.

  “No, Frank. Look,” she demanded, pulling up three previous radar returns. Each one grew closer and closer from a maximum distance of 500 kilometers and a heading of 3°.