The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative

by Mark Terence Chapman

  “Believe me, you’d have known if Murtagh was unhappy with your performance. He’s all over the screw-ups; being ignored meant you were doing well. As for Capt. Singh, the fact that he singled you out for praise speaks volumes. And I’m not just talking about you saving a man’s life. He specifically pointed out how you willingly trained for several positions that had nothing to do with areology or your existing skills. Yet you excelled at all of them. That’s what impressed me the most. Competent areologists are a dime a dozen. Brave men are equally common here. But someone who is cool under fire and adaptable to new environments is a much rarer breed. If you continue to exhibit these traits, your time here on Mars will be fruitful.

  “About what happened on Barsoom….”

  Tennant waved off his explanation. “It doesn’t matter. From what I hear, you took the initiative to solve a problem, you used your head, and you achieved your goal. What more could I ask for in an employee? I’ve seen the official reports from Administrator Cousins and Security Chief Mason. Oddly, their interpretations of your actions differ widely. Maybe sometime over dinner you can tell me the whole story.”

  Before James could open his mouth to reply, Tennant continued. “James, Mars is still very much out in the boonies. We’re short of all sorts of materials, we don’t have all the comforts of home, the work is hard and dangerous, and people who don’t keep their wits about them every minute can, and do, die—such as your predecessor, God rest his soul. I’m confident you won’t be one of those who return home in a body bag. You’ve already demonstrated that you can keep your head in an emergency.

  “See Bella on your way out and she’ll give you the usual welcome packet with maps, instructions, work schedules, and the like. Your supervisor will fill you in on the details when you get there.” He stood, forcing James to do likewise, and held out his hand again. “A pleasure meeting you, James. My door’s always open if you need anything. Welcome aboard!”

  “Thank you, sir.” James shook his hand and left, looking dazed.

  Tennant grinned at James’ departing back. If that speech doesn’t leave him wondering what happened nothing will. I’ll have to keep an eye on him. He shows promise.

  * * * *

  “What the hell just happened? I barely said hello and next thing I know I’m being ushered out the door.” James stood by Bella’s desk as she handed him various odds-and-ends he would need. She was an attractive blonde, only a year or two older than himself, but James was too flustered at the moment to do more than make note of the fact.

  She smiled sympathetically. “Mr. Tennant is incredibly busy. You got three minutes of his undivided time. Consider yourself lucky. He normally doesn’t take the time to greet the new employees when they first arrive. He generally waits until they settle in and then drops by the work site. I’m sure he’ll stop by to chat another time when he’s not so busy.”

  “Oh. Okay. If it weren’t for the fact that he kept praising me I might have thought he was giving me the bum’s rush because he didn’t like me, or because of what happened on Barsoom.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. McKie, he’s always like that.” She grinned impishly. “And if he’s ever displeased with something you do, there’ll be no doubt whatsoever in your mind.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, from the way he was chuckling when he read the reports from Barsoom, I got the impression he approved.” As she spoke, she finished loading his arms with who-knows-what.

  “That’s good to know, Bella. Thanks. And call me James.”

  James headed for the lift. He tried not to drop everything he’d been given, while simultaneously attempting to figure out where to go from there. Back to my quarters, I guess. It looks like I have a lot of reading to do.

  * * * *

  Mining operations on Mars tended to be decentralized. Due to the distances involved, each company had one or more major hubs, such as MMR Site 23, with numerous outlying base camps.

  Because there were no superhighways or seas on Mars, the mining outfits had to make their own shipping arrangements. Although Mars is much smaller in diameter than Earth, it actually has roughly the same amount of land area—due to the lack of seas. With only two ODFs for the whole planet, some of the sites had to ship materials thousands of kilometers at a time.

  The ideal method of travel was maglev bullet train, both because of its high speed and its cargo capacity. The downside of the maglevs was that it was extremely expensive to build and maintain the network of monorail tracks. As a result, the companies built train lines only between their central hubs and the nearest space elevator.

  Not having trains to ship cargo back and forth, the base camps had to rely on specialized vehicles called Mars Cats to get their ore to the hubs for processing. The Cats were custom-designed for the extreme conditions and rough terrain of the Martian surface. Once at the hubs, the refined minerals were loaded into cargo containers to be delivered to the elevator, raised up to either ODF Barsoom or ODF Moreau, and slingshotted back to Earth.

  Although not nearly as fast as travel on the elevator cars, the trip to Site 23 that morning had seemed much faster to James, due to the low hills and boulders whizzing past his window.

  Now safely ensconced in his hotel room at Site 23, James reviewed some of the materials Bella had given him. One was an old-fashioned printed high-res topological map of the area. Another was a more stylized drawing of MMR’s operations in the same area, showing the locations of the eleven base camps in relation to Site 23 and the competing mining concerns in the region.

  Whew, this section of Mars is pretty busy!

  He counted no fewer than forty-two base camps in the same forty-thousand square kilometer patch of ground. Each base camp had at least one mine associated with it, and often several.

  This must be some prime real estate for mining. I guess that’ll make my job easier. There would seem to be valuable ore all over the place.

  The rest of the material Bella had given him consisted of a field kit and other small equipment, as well as data cartridges for his wristpad. The cartridges contained work schedules, directions to Base Camp 9, where he was assigned, a procedures manual, a primer on areology in the region, more high-res maps, various forms to fill out, and much more. The primer had originally been compiled decades earlier by MMR areologists and updated over time by later teams.

  He scanned through the shipping schedules on his wristpad. It looks like MMR has a Cat heading back to camp in the morning. That’ll get me there by early evening, leaving just enough time to report to my supervisor and get settled in my new quarters.

  That should be interesting. All the structures are buried under meters of regolith for protection. I guess I can forget about picture windows and skylights! James grinned at the thought of such things on Mars.

  Between excitement over his upcoming work assignment, and nerves that he might not be up to the demands of the job, it was impossible for James to sit still.

  I guess I should explore Site 23 some, to get the lay of the land. I’m sure I’ll need to come here from time to time. I might as well learn my way around so I don’t get lost the next time I’m here.

  He spent the remainder of the day poking his nose everywhere he could. Not that there was much of interest to look at—mainly administrative offices, laboratories and the refinery. The refinery was intriguing from the outside, watching the Cats arrive and unload. Once inside, however, there wasn’t all that much to see; everything was automated. Ore entered a hopper at one end of a huge machine; at the other, tons of refined metals in the form of pellets poured into cargo containers on the backs of other Cats. The dross was hauled away, either to be used as building material or dumped.

  Still, watching the never-ending procession of Cats was more interesting than staring at the walls back in his room, and the immensity of the operation was staggering. Thousands of tons of ore, delivered by dozens of Cats, were processed daily. And this was just one of dozens of main sites scattered acros
s the face of Mars.

  Well, this is why I’m here, isn’t it? To keep feeding Mother Earth. We can’t let her starve, now, can we?

  “Base Camp Niner, here I come.”

  Without realizing, he began whistling the old Al Jolson song, “California, Here I Come.”

  * * * *

  The next three months sped by in a blur of furious activity. After reporting to his local supervisor, Dr. Chow, James was immediately put to work—that is, after telling the story of how he single-handedly defeated a band of suicide bombers on Barsoom. At least, that’s how the rumor ran. Somehow, the retelling of the actual events lacked the holonovel quality of the rumor. Fortunately, that fact helped to minimize the number of performances James was asked to do.

  Following his predecessor’s death, the exploratory team had fallen behind in surveying the surrounding territory. Due to Earth’s voracious appetite for iron, copper, tin, and other minerals, there were never enough mines operating to meet the demand. Consequently, MMR and the other outfits were always searching for more.

  The first time James had to analyze the readings taken by orbital satellites of the region, looking for likely ore deposits, he mentally thanked Capt. Singh for the shifts he’d had to work on the Ares Flyer as the Communications and Sensor Officer. When he wasn’t poring over sensor readings, he was in the field playing second fiddle to another areologist, peering in nooks and crannies, looking for the telltale signs of one valuable mineral or another.

  Fieldwork was always a double-edged sword. After five months locked inside the consecutive steel cocoons of ODF Nautilus, Ares Flyer, and ODF Barsoom, James’ psyche craved—no, demanded—the wide-open spaces Mars provided. Those last months on the Flyer, after the fire, James felt he understood how a caged animal feels: the restlessness, the frustration, the desire to be anywhere but there. Now that he was finally on Mars, anywhere he could see the sky above him and no walls surrounding him was fine by James.

  That was one edge of the sword. The other was the omnipresent danger. The most obvious environmental hazards were the lack of a breathable atmosphere and the capricious dust storms that rendered anyone caught outside effectively blind. Worse, the red-out conditions affected not only the visual spectrum, it confused thermal sensors and rendered radar ineffective as well, due to the high percentage of iron in the dust.

  More than one explorer had been injured or killed over the years when his Mars Cat had run off a cliff or fallen into a crevice in a storm. The best approach was simply to hunker down and wait for the storm to pass, which often took days. An especially large storm could sometimes rage for weeks. Fortunately such storms were few and far between.

  Of course, the same conditions that disrupted radar also blocked two-way radio communications. So it was a tense time for those back at the camp, wondering whether the missing explorer was alive or dead. They were as effectively pinned down in camp as the other was out in the field.

  But even on a beautiful, clear day hazards abounded: rockfalls, crumbling ledges, mechanical failure, simple carelessness, and others. And at night there was the dramatic drop in temperature that could make Antarctica in winter seem comfortable by comparison. Yes, Mars could be a truly nasty son of a bitch when he wanted to be. That was why new areologists tagged along with experienced ones for the first few months, until they learned how not to kill themselves.

  Despite all that, James was happy. He was doing work he loved and was good at, he felt he could make a difference back on Earth, and he’d already made friends among his new colleagues.

  September nineteenth (Earth calendar) was an especially good day; it was James’ twenty-fourth birthday. He awoke in a good mood; he showered, shaved and dressed in a good mood; and he arrived at the commissary for breakfast in a good mood.

  “Surprise!”

  James jumped back in surprise, but his expression of shock quickly gave way to a huge grin. All his new friends were there to greet him. Janice Keegan and Javier Almeida, fellow areologists; Barb Guisewite, environmental systems specialist; and Hector Vila, commissary cook and, when the occasion warranted, master chef. They had conspired to provide James with a meal fit for a king: waffles, fresh strawberries, maple syrup, and a good strong pot of real coffee—not the usual synthcaf.

  “I’m speechless! This is all so unexpected. How…who—?”

  Janice grinned at his discomfiture. “It was a team effort. The waffles are made from actual wheat flour, not kelp. Don’t ask where we got it and we won’t have to lie. Barb contributed the first strawberries of the season from Hydroponics. I supplied some contraband syrup that I smuggled aboard Moonshot when I left Earth eight months ago. The coffee beans came from Javy’s uncle’s plantation in Brazil. And, of course, Hector did the cooking.” From the way she spoke, James suspected that Janice was the instigator of the conspiracy.

  He shook his head in wonder at the effort and expense his friends had gone to for him.

  These things are all precious and hard to come by, yet my friends gave them to me for something as frivolous as a birthday.

  I guess out here, tens of millions of kilometers from Earth, even the little reminders of home are important.

  He noticed some wistful looks cast his way as he reached for the utensils. No one else had waffles with all the trimmings; there simply wasn’t enough to go around. “If you think I’m going to stuff my face while all of you sit there like puppies salivating at a butcher shop window, you’re crazy. Everybody grab a fork and dive in!”

  He didn’t have to offer twice.

  More than once, he caught Janice eying him when he looked up unexpectedly. Is she interested in me? Maybe I haven’t been paying close enough attention. She’s pretty, funny, sharp as a tack, and she shares my passion for geology. What am I waiting for?

  Between the five of them, they mopped up every last waffle crumb and drop of syrup. There really wasn’t enough for everyone, but at least they all had a few bites.

  James leaned back and smiled awkwardly. “Thank you, everyone. That was wonderful. I don’t recall when I’ve had a better breakfast, or better company. I’m a lucky guy.”

  “Not as lucky as you’re gonna be if you play your cards right!” That was Guisewite, as she nudged a furiously blushing Janice Keegan. Almeida and Vila laughed good-naturedly at her embarrassment.

  There’s something else we have in common: we both blush at the drop of an EVA helmet.

  The party broke up shortly thereafter, with Janice making a dash for the door before James could speak to her.

  He returned to his quarters to do some paperwork that he’d been putting off. When he arrived, he saw that the v-mail indicator on his computer screen was illuminated. One was from Daniel; another was from Kim.

  Today just keeps getting better and better. He eagerly opened the first one.

  “Happy birthday, old buddy!” Daniel grinned at him from the screen. “It seems like just yesterday you were only twenty-three. Wait—yesterday you were only twenty-three!

  “I know it’s been over a week since my last message. My apologies. I started my second rotation last week and I’ve been incredibly busy. No more cargo jockeying for me. Now they have me doing exterior repairs on the ODF itself, as well as on visiting ships. Lots of EVA work. It’s kinda fun, but it’s also scary. Sometimes it seems like I’m just hanging there in the middle of nowhere. One little slip and I could end up falling forever. Still, it’s tame compared with our little jaunt to Phobos.

  “Three months of this and then I move onto my next rotation. Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I’m glad to hear things are going well for you down there, and that you’ve made friends. The guys here have finally stopped riding me over our little observatory adventure; now I’m just one of the crew.

  “Oh, yeah. Kim has been able to visit me semi-regularly. She worked it out so that whenever the observatory needs supplies, she’s the one to pick them up. She manages to get over here every week or two. Dr. Ferré watched her like a haw
k for the first couple of months, but he seems to have decided, finally, that Kim’s not actually a terrorist-in-training.

  “So when do you think you might be able to visit? I haven’t been able to come up with a good reason to go down to the surface yet, but if I do I’ll let you know when, so we can meet somewhere. Have a wonderful birthday! I’ll talk to you again soon. I promise.”

  Good for them. I’m glad they’re able to get together now and then. It must be really frustrating to be so close yet out of reach most of the time.

  Man, I miss talking directly with Daniel and Kim. I wish direct calls weren’t so expensive.

  Next, he opened Kim’s message.

  “Happy birthday, James! I wish I could be there in person to give you a big birthday hug, but this place is like a prison. They don’t let the inmates out much. I’ll tell you, James, this rock is nothing like Miami. I miss the sun! I’m lucky the other astronomers don’t seem to be interested in getting their heads out of the stars, so I get to visit the ODF occasionally to pick up supplies.

  “You might be interested to know that Prof. Langer—remember her?—left yesterday, heading back to Earth. Well, that’s not precisely true. She’s stopping at Galileo Observatory on Luna for a month, first. She’s a slave driver, but I’m telling you she’s good at her job, with a capital G. The gear here at Sagan is so much more efficient, it’s simply amazing! We can now get views of Pluto that we could only dream of before. And we’re finding new objects in the Kuiper Belt and the Oort Cloud that we had no idea were out there. Thompson thinks he may have spotted a tenth planet, billions of kilometers beyond Eris. If we can verify that it’s indeed a planet, he says he’ll name it Sisyphus, because finding it was a nearly impossible task. He’s been searching for years, and now with the refinements Prof. Langer made he may finally have found it.

  “By the way, I’m sure you know that we help with the Mars mapping project. Our resolution is so good that we can track vehicles on the surface, and even make out individual people walking across a compound. Occasionally I monitor the high-res sensors. Even if I can’t come down to visit, I can keep an eye out for you; so next time you’re outside, wave. Maybe I’ll see you. Gotta go. Have a great birthday, James.” Her image winked out.