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

by Mark Terence Chapman

  It was on days like this that he was grateful the cab and middle section of the Cat were linked. He ducked back into the passenger compartment, totally spent. James slid the case ahead of him on the floor in the direction of the Spectralyser and crawled gratefully onto his cot, too tired to do more than remove his helmet.

  I’ll worry about the samples later. Right now I need to explore the inside of my eyelids for a while.

  With that thought, James fell into a dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  When he awoke hours later, it was night and the storm raged on. James peered out the window.

  Well, that was a waste of effort. Instead of a red-out, now it’s a blackout.

  The keening of the wind and the rattle of sand and pebbles against the compartment was unceasing. Damn, that racket is annoying.

  I’m up, so I might as well get to work.

  James found the first sample vial and inserted it in the 804G. Okay, Spectralyser, do your stuff.

  He hit the start button and turned to updating his field notes. The machine beeped periodically when it was time to remove one vial and insert the next. Dozens of vials went in and dozens came out, all with nothing valuable to show for the time and effort.

  The device was capable of identifying the chemical composition of thousands of elements, isotopes, alloys, and other inorganic compounds. The same basic gear could be used by scientists in many disciplines, but in this case it was optimized for geology. Its database contained the identifying markers of every geographic variant of every mineral ever found on Earth, Luna, Mars and the Belt. By scanning for specific impurities in the precise ratios unique to each geological formation, it could tell you whether a sample of bauxite ore came from Jamaica, Brazil, Australia, or this part of Mars.

  After another six days cooped up in the small compartment writing notes and exchanging vials with no encouraging results, James was thoroughly stir-crazy.

  I’ve got to get out of this tin can for at least a little while and stretch my legs. I can keep one hand on the Cat at all times if necessary.

  He jumped out of the airlock and closed it behind him. A lighter patch of airborne dust indicated the location of the sun. Hey, it’s cleared up a bit. The wind seems to have died down somewhat, too.

  Indeed, the visibility had improved to the point where he could see the back end of the Cat, all of six meters away.

  Good. It’ll give me a chance to check out the damage I caused with my little maneuver the other day. At least I won’t have to worry about getting lost.

  He walked around the front of the rig and winced. Jankowski really, really isn’t going to be happy with me.

  As if the damage suffered in the landslide days earlier wasn’t enough, James had now added a broken headlight, a smashed bumper bar, and a bent left front wheel strut.

  He sighed and shook his head. No, not happy at all.

  James turned and looked outward, at the spot in the canyon wall where the Cat had hit, only two meters in front of him. Or, rather, where the canyon wall used to be. In its place was a large hole.

  A cave? The geologist in James was intrigued.

  “There’s no telling what’s in there.”

  The primitive being inside James was more cautious. It was a large dark hole.

  “There’s no telling what’s in there.”

  Both sides of James said, There’s only one way to find out. So inside they went.

  His helmet lights were sufficient to illuminate much of the small space. It was only a dozen meters long by eight meters wide, by three meters high.

  Not much to look at. Still…. James went back to the Cat, got his gear and returned to the cavern. He collected several rock samples before stopping in confusion.

  Hmm, that’s odd. I’ve never seen anything like this described in the areology texts. What the heck is it, some mineral precipitate from when there was water coursing through the canyon? A grayish-green powder covered a portion of one wall.

  Okay, a few more samples for the Spectralyser to digest. He scraped bits of the powder from various parts of the wall into several vials.

  It didn’t take long to finish scrutinizing the cave.

  That was fun while it lasted, but now it’s time to get back and finish analyzing the samples.

  Ever mindful of contamination protocols, James was careful to ensure that the airlock CO2 jets got the Mars dust out of all the crevices of his suit. He shoved the case containing the sample vials in the passenger compartment and continued where he’d left off, swapping ore sample vials in response to the insistent beeping from the Spectralyser. Several vials later he heard a distinctive trilling.

  Hot damn! That’s a positive.

  He checked the readout. Eureka! “Houston, we have beryl!”

  He performed an impromptu jig in the confined space for a few moments before reining in his enthusiasm.

  That only proves there are at least minute traces of the mineral here, not that there’s a commercially viable quantity. For that I’ll need several more hits from different places in the area.

  The next few hours were tense ones as James awaited the results of other assays. When one result after another proved negative, his enthusiasm waned.

  I knew it was too good to be true.

  Then he heard a second trill.

  James kept feeding vials into the maw of the 804G, and soon there was a third positive, then another, and then another. By the end of the day, he had thirty-four confirmed samples of beryl.

  Yes! Dr. Chow can’t deny these results. Nearly three dozen matches from all over this area. That should be proof enough to justify an exploratory dig by a mining crew.

  He stopped and chuckled to himself with a smirk. It figures! I finally find something valuable after all these months, and I can’t even tell anyone about it! It looks like this storm still has a while to go yet before I can call out. All I can do for now is continue assaying samples and writing my field notes.

  He sighed. So much for celebrating. Too bad I don’t have some real champagne from Earth. He snorted. Not that I could afford to ship it here.

  James eyed his cot. It’s late and I should call it a night, but I’m too excited to sleep. He shrugged in resignation. I guess it’s back to work.

  Eighteen samples later he’d exhausted the ones from the slope. Now it was the wee hours of the morning and his adrenaline high had long since worn off.

  I’ll get to the cave samples in the morning. Right now I can’t see straight. He shut off the 804G and turned in.

  * * * *

  Doug Jardin sat in his office, staring off into space. His brows were drawn together in a frown, his lips pursed in thought.

  What can I do to teach Tennant the error of his ways? He needs to learn respect. But more importantly, I have to convince him to play ball. MMR is big enough that if he goes along, a lot of the other mining outfits will fall in line as well.

  Jardin contemplated a number of scenarios designed to accomplish both ends. Each was more vicious and devastating than the last. He rolled a Diego Corona between his lips, wetting the end with his tongue before chomping down on it.

  Finally, he settled on just the right scenario. He grinned to himself, with a terrible, cruel set to his countenance.

  Yes. That should do nicely.

  * * * *

  Despite his long night James awoke with the dawn, happy to see diffuse daylight through the window.

  Yessiree, today is a beautiful day! The storm’s all but over, the sun’s shining, and I’m about to make a name for myself.

  Even before grabbing a protein bar for breakfast he tried to reach base, without luck.

  Too much residual iron dust in the air, I guess. The signal won’t go through. Oh well. A few more hours won’t kill me. Besides, it’ll give me time to finish analyzing those cave samples.

  I wonder what that powder is.

  * * * *

  Two hours later he had his answer, and it wasn’t beryl.


  “James calling Base Camp 9. Do you read me? Over.” After forty-three repetitions, it was getting old.

  “Thi…is Base Camp 9. I rea…ou, James. Your…ignal is still pretty…oken up, but I can make out mo…of the words.”

  “Finally!”

  Despite the static, the concern in Joe’s voice was clear. “Are you all right, …ames? We knew you…c…dn’t check in during the…orm, but we were worri…about…ou.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just have some big news and I’ve been bursting to tell someone. I thought the interference would never end.”

  “So wha…the…ig news? Did you find the…eryl you were looking f…?”

  “Yes, I did. But that’s not the big news I was frantic about. Please switch to alternate channel 423. Repeat, switch to channel 4-2-3. I don’t want this news getting out just yet.”

  “…oger. Sw…ing to cha…4…3.”

  James switched himself and waited a moment. “Are you there, Joe?”

  “I’m…ere, Jam…. So, what’s…big news?”

  “I found a strange powdery substance in a cave and analyzed it.” He paused for a breath. “It’s organic, Joe.”

  “It’s what? Please repea….”

  “I said it’s organic. I think I’ve just found the first indisputable evidence that life once existed on Mars.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Space Exploration: The Search for Extraterrestrial Life—For centuries, scientists and clergy debated the issue of whether there was life in the universe beyond Earth. Both sides presented reasoned—and often impassioned—arguments; however there was no proof to be had for either contention. Ultimately, the debate was settled with the accidental discovery of life on Mars, in 2172, byareologist James Tolkien McKie.

  — Excerpt from Encyclopedia Solaris, 2176

  * * * *

  “Are you absolutely, positively, 210% sure?” Joe had asked more or less the same question several times in the past few minutes. Fortunately, the signal quality had improved during that time. “You don’t want to go broadcasting something like that and turn out to be wrong. You’d be laughed all the way back to Earth.”

  “No, of course I’m not sure. That’s why I said ‘I think,’ Joe, and why I asked for this alternate channel. There shouldn’t be anyone else using it right now. The 804G unit is only designed to identify inorganic geological substances. It should have come back with an identification, or at the very least said ‘unidentified inorganic’. Instead, it came back labeled ‘unidentified organic’. I don’t have the right kind of equipment out here to confirm that. Doc Snow’s got the 804M medical model. It can identify thousands of types of organic matter. Maybe he’ll have better luck. All I know is I ran the test on eight different samples and each came back as organic. I ran the tests three times, and the result was the same every…single…time.”

  “Could it possibly be a malfunction that’s causing a false reading on every sample?”

  “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t think so. I had the machine run self-diagnostics and put it through its end-of-mission cleaning routine twice to be sure. The machine seems to work fine with every other sample I’ve given it. Only that powder is giving it fits. I know I’m scheduled to stay out here for another week, but I’ve already established the existence of beryl. So my mission is at least minimally complete. If I don’t identify this substance one way or another ASAP, I think my head’s going to implode. I keep thinking of all the what-ifs: what if this is the last trace of a Martian civilization? Or, what if it contains an alien virus that’ll wipe out mankind? We need to get it to the doc and have him check it out.”

  “Agreed. I’ll inform Doc Snow and Dr. Chow and see what they want you to do. Stand pat for the moment.”

  “Will do, Joe. Don’t take too long.”

  The next nineteen minutes were excruciating. Come on! What’s taking so long?

  He was listening so intently that when the voice blared out of the speaker it made him jump. “You still there, James?”

  “Of course I’m still here,” James snapped. “Where else would I be?” He paused and took a deep breath. “Sorry, Joe. I guess I’m a bit on edge.”

  “Hey, don’t sweat it.”

  “So what took so long?”

  “It got a bit complicated. I had to locate Doc Snow and drag him over to Dr. Chow’s office without giving anything away, in case anyone overheard me. Then we had to wait for Dr. Chow to finish dictating a v-mail before we could get in, and then…well, it doesn’t really matter. What’s important is they said for you to come back on the double. Doc Snow is making the necessary biohazard preparations, just in case.”

  “Okay, Joe. I sure hope it’s not a virus, because if it is I’m probably already exposed.”

  “Don’t think about stuff like that, James. You’ll only make yourself crazy for nothing. Just get yourself back to base and we’ll take care of everything.”

  “Roger. On my way. James out.”

  Sure. ‘Don’t think about stuff like that, James.’ Easier said than done. Let’s see you block out all thoughts of a possibly horrible, painful death!

  * * * *

  James made the best time he could. First he had to take the Cat up a steep incline choked with rubble to escape the canyon. Then, when he finally made it to level ground, he discovered that the damaged front wheel wobbled. It shouldn’t stop me from getting back to camp, but it’ll slow me down some.

  James sighed. What’s next, a plague of locusts?

  I’ll just have to make it up by driving more and sleeping less.

  He tried to distract himself from the frustration of the drive with thoughts of fame and fortune touring the holo talk show circuit. Somehow, though, those pleasant thoughts always managed to morph into images of his lifeless body strapped in the driver’s seat of his Cat while a Martian flesh-eating virus consumed him from within. Such thoughts set his skin itching madly. James desperately wanted to scratch; but that was impossible in the EVA suit.

  He was impaled on the horns of a dilemma. Great. I can stop and strip off my suit to scratch; but that’ll slow me down—especially if it keeps happening. Plus there’s the potential danger of exposing myself to any viruses that might be on the outside of the suit.

  Or, I can just suffer the whole way in my suit until I get back. He sighed. It’s not really a choice, is it?

  He gritted his teeth and did his best to distract himself with those visions of fame and fortune that somehow managed to keep twisting back around to thoughts of his mortality.

  * * * *

  Per standard operating procedure, he checked in at the usual times along the way.

  “Base Camp 9, this is James reporting in. Over.”

  “Hi, James. How’s it coming?”

  “Okay, Joe. I’m about two hours from base. Make sure Doc Snow is ready with the appropriate gear.”

  “Will do. How are you feeling?”

  “If you mean, ‘have I come down with any spectacularly gruesome symptoms of a fatal alien virus?’ I’m sorry to disappoint you. I feel fine; just the fatigue you’d expect after a two-day drive.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’ll be sure to pass that information on to the doc as well.”

  “Thanks, Joe. I’ll see you soon. James out.”

  The rest of the trip flew by, with James vacillating between the excitement of possibly being acknowledged as the discoverer of Martian life, the depression of possibly being ridiculed as a yair who was taken in by a simple mechanical glitch, and the worry that he might be the next Typhoid Mary, about to unleash a virulent alien pathogen on the entire camp and maybe the human race.

  Well, I’ll know soon enough. At least I’ll get to take a hot shower and have some real food for dinner. That’s one good thing about coming back earlier than planned—especially the shower. And I wouldn’t mind seeing Janice, either.

  As he crested the final shallow rise before reaching camp, he was greeted with the view of what appeared to be ever
yone in camp standing by the motor pool door in their EVA suits.

  Waiting for me? So much for keeping this news a deep dark secret until we checked it out!

  He stopped outside the motor pool and parked the Cat. As soon as he jumped down from the cab he was surrounded by well-wishers, yet no one got within arm’s length.

  Why—? Oh, of course. They’re worried I might be infected.

  In the back of the crowd, he could make out Jankowski slowly shaking his head inside his helmet, presumably in disbelief at what James had done yet again to one of his precious Cats.

  I’ll have to deal with that later. Right now, I have more important things to attend to—like finding out if I’m going to die.

  Within seconds, Dr. Snow appeared.

  “Welcome back, m’ boy! Let’s get you decontammed so we can bring you inside. He led James aside and two men hosed him down—as he rotated, arms raised—with some sort of viscous liquid that slowly sheeted down his suit.

  “Okay, that should do it. We’ll have to keep you in isolation for now until we can be sure you didn’t bring back anything dangerous. Don’t worry about your samples. We’ll take good care of them. And your field notes are being downloaded as we speak. This way, son.”

  He and James went down into the infirmary through a side door with a temporary airlock. The room beyond had been sealed off from the rest of the infirmary. It held a bed and various pieces of medical equipment. No shower.

  Oh well. At least it has a real bed instead of a cot.

  He snorted softly to himself. Here I am—yet again—sitting in an infirmary. This is getting ridiculous…. How many more times can I dodge the bullet?

  While Dr. Snow went off to analyze the substance with his Spectralyser 804M, James underwent a similar analysis, both by medical instruments and by Dr. Chow, via intercom from outside the isolation area. In her case, however, it was called a ‘debriefing.’