“I think we’ll call it the First Annual Mars Coming-Out Party. You have any better ideas?” Peter responded confidently, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat. “Just think of it, pal, in future generations, this will become a planetary holiday! And just by sitting here right now, you are one of its founding fathers.”
Francis responded by placing both hands over his face, massaging a newly formed headache, and shaking his head slowly. “Well – it’s slightly better than the Debutante Ball. And, hey, I never thought of myself as in the closet – but, under these circumstances, why not? Know where I can rent a white cummerbund?”
rancis was totally correct in his assessment of Juila Friedman’s response about Peter’s formal party proposal. She thought the idea was not only brilliant, but, “… of historical significance to the survivors and all their ancestry.” The word circulated that the party would be held the next evening. There was to be no RSVP because the attendance of everyone was absolutely mandatory except for two watch standers in the Command Center, Toon and Hammonds. Friedman immediately took charge of all party planning and Rat was authorized to double the dessert and coffee portions. A small team of colonists even took off on an incredible hunt for party accoutrements including “electric candles” made from lengths of conduit and panel lights.
The big event finally arrived the following evening as the sun set over the ruddy, cold Marsscape. Black ties had been fashioned out of various lengths of black material that had been found or stolen from anywhere. Some were so well done it was impossible to tell them from the real article while others were little more than black paper cut-outs. But it was refreshingly obvious that every individual took the event seriously and every colonist and administration employee attended. Only Julian Covenant was no where to be seen.
Peter, Ashley, Francis, Dr. Friedman, Chaplain Gates and Hernandez reluctantly assumed their seats at the “head table” where a speakers podium had been set up. Friedman was to be the Master of Ceremonies and Peter would make the keynote speaker introduction The surprise special guest speaker was Rat. After Peter had described his morning’s meeting with Rat to Friedman, she looked like she had been spray painted with a fine coat of warm-fuzzy and insisted he tell his story to all. Following the keynote, every colonist would be invited to share with the others. If all went as planned, by the end of the evening, they would unite together as one with no secrets and a special desire to survive this together as a team. At least, that was the plan.
Dinner was served by Rat and a team which consisted of all those at the head table. The lights were dimmed and the “candles” lit with special dinner music appropriately provided. After the last dessert was consumed, Friedman stepped to the podium to make the introduction. She had gone all out for tonight, somehow assembling what appeared to be an incredibly beautiful, formal evening gown out of parachute material.
“I’m honored tonight to proclaim the first annual Mars Coming Out Party where we will begin by giving thanks for all that we have and praying for continued blessings on our new nation.”
With that Chaplain Gates prayed his best first petition of thanks. Regardless of the religious affiliation or lack of same from the assembled colonists, no one was about to express any kind of irreverence at a simple prayer during such a harrowing time. Indeed, most would later admit their appreciation of even the smallest comforts and forms of civilized unity.
Friedman rose again to introduce Peter as the young planet’s first duly elected leader. As Peter stepped up to speak, the room’s applause began, then continued and carried on with a standing ovation. Not one person remained seated.
Finally as the applause died and those assembled resumed their seats, Peter began, red-faced and breathless.
“I guess I never saw any of this coming,” he confessed extemporaneously. “I only wanted to settle here, explore my brains out and raise my family on Mars, but I never dreamed that it would come to this. I can tell you I’m not altogether happy with where we are or how we got here, but I can also tell you that we’ll play this hand as it’s been dealt and do it with all the dignity, grace and integrity we can muster. That is precisely why we’re gathered together tonight and that’s what our guest speaker represents. You’ll all know who he is when he stands up and I’m sure you’ll be surprised by what he has to say. And while he made a serious mistake in judgment to get here, I’m certain that not only could none of us do without him and his talents, but that not a single one of us would want to take his place…”
Before he could say another word, the lights went out and the dining hall fell into total darkness. Every person there was trained in emergency procedures, and they all waited for exactly the same thing – for the emergency lights to kick on. The seconds counted up to a full minute, and no one said a word, waiting for the emergency lights to flicker on. But they did not.
With the darkness came total silence: a sound alien to all of them. Not a single machine whirred and not a single ventilation fan processed air around them. No human had ever heard this kind of silence on Mars. BC1 had never experienced a power failure before. According to the design engineers, a power failure was impossible due to the multiple levels of redundancy. They all knew this because it was a part of everyone’s training. The silence blended with the darkness, a frightening moment of profound stillness.
Peter could feel a hand grip his arm in the total darkness. “Covenant…” Francis whispered into his ear. “The bastard did it.”
The sound and feel of these words in his ear caused Peter to experience an involuntary chill down his spine. They would have less than an hour before the temperature in every part of BC1 dropped below freezing. Another hour after that and the temperature would drop to 20 degrees below zero Celsius. They had to act quickly.
A beam of light shot out from Francis’ hand as he toggled his flashlight on. “Stay calm and stay here,” he said loudly to the colonists.
A few other lights came on around the room from those who had thought to bring pocket flashlights. Peter reached into his pocket and gave a light to Julia. “You’re in charge. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
“What’s going on?” a voice called from somewhere in the room.
Peter moved back to the podium where Julia held the light under his face. “We don’t know,” Peter replied, “but we soon will and you’ll be the very first to find out; in just minutes after we do. I promise,” he said sincerely to the assembled colony as he raced just behind Francis and Brinker out of the room toward the Command Center. Someone had killed the power in the middle of his speech on purpose and it did not take a savant to figure out who, how or why.
he BC1 Command Center on Mars was the single most incredible electronic control center ever conceived and built by mankind. It had been designed to be the hub of a super-intelligent machine whose wires linked together every aspect of BC1. It was specifically created to maximize and optimize every conceivable aspect of the human-machine interface. It was dreamed into existence by a team of the earth’s most advanced engineers and ergonomic specialists. Its’ plan was nearly flawless - from its’ balanced lighting, open compartmentalization for functional control, and even its’ small, glass, soundproof sub-rooms for mini-conferences. It had the appearance of a giant, oblong tube with curved walls and precisely placed, transparent cubes within, all lit by thousands of indicator lights, glowing panels, screens and displays of innumerable form. But when Peter, Francis and Brinker got there, the room was totally silent, black and dead.
The thoughts that swirled through Peter’s mind at that instant were many and grave. No one had ever dumped the entire load on such a complex machine all at once before. Not only would the main computer have to be rebooted, but the hundreds of independently functioning machines would have to be as well – from heating to life support. Under normal conditions this would take more than a sol to do safely and without hazarding vital functions. And that is only if all were well with the machines themselves. He shuddered to
think what had happened to the machines’ logic under Covenant’s hand, and their chances of even surviving the night seemed immeasurably low.
“Toon! Toon!” Peter shouted into the quiet, cavernous space as soon as the door was opened.
“Here, Peter. Over here at the Operations Console,” Toon replied. Peter could even at that moment hear his fingers madly clicking on a keyboard. As their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, they could see Hammonds standing over Toon’s shoulder holding a small pocket light above the keyboard. Peter, Francis and Brinker rushed over to the console.
“What’s going down?” Francis asked breathlessly.
Toon just lifted his right index finger into the air for half a second, then he resumed his furious clicking on the computer. Hammonds turned his head to try and make out who had just entered and his light’s beam moved off the keyboard. Toon clipped, “Light!” and Hammonds quickly returned to his duty.
Peter looked to Francis and shook his head as the three men standing behind the Command Center watch all exchanged worried glances.
“Bingo!” Toon said after long minutes.
“Bingo what?” Francis asked with exasperation.
“System’s restored in 15 seconds.” Toon said.
“What’s going down, Toon?” Peter asked.
Toon just lifted his right index finger in the air as the numbers on his screen counted down to zero. At that moment, the lights in the Command Center began to flicker on in banks around the room as panel after panel returned one at a time. Then the ventilation fans returned one by one.
Again the three men behind the Command Center watch-standers exchanged looks – this time of clear relief. Suddenly the lights went out again and they were engulfed in total silence and darkness once more.
“Crap!” Toon exclaimed with more than a little frustration, as his fingers began their measured hammering once more as Hammonds returned the tiny pencil beam of light back to the keyboard.
“Toon. Stop. What are you doing?” Peter demanded from behind him.
The clacking on the keys stopped as Toon turned around and faced him. “Look boss, we’ve got no time for twenty questions. Let me do my job or we all die… tonight,” he replied bluntly and uncharacteristically harshly.
Peter just raised both hands and shook his head in surrender as Toon turned and continued his work. About every half minute or so, Toon would say, “Ah” or “Huh” or “Hmmm” and once or twice he said, “Ok – ok – now I see it,” as rows and rows of completely unintelligible script scrolled across the screen. Peter also noticed that he could see Hammond’s breath condense in the cold air. The temperature was dropping fast.
Again, Toon began a countdown. “Fifteen seconds – count,” he said. All of them began a silent count as the numbers raced across the screen. Again, at the end of the count, the lights and panels began to flicker on as they did before, but this time everyone held their breath. No one said a word until the last light flickered on and the fans around them held for two full minutes.
Peter spoke first to Brinker. “Go get Covenant!”
Brinker left quickly and in not what appeared to be a good humor.
“Toon, tell me – now!” Peter commanded.
“Covenant did it,” Toon said. “He actually pulled the plug.”
“How did you recover?” Peter asked. “I thought we could not recover from his nasty little bug.”
“I’m afraid I’ve been tracking him,” Toon confessed. “He’s been a busy little creep working against us all along. When he used his ploy to get out of kitchen duty, he only had about half of his virus developed. He’d been working sol and night to finish it, and finally he did – tonight. Then he pulled the plug right in the middle of your speech – good timing.”
“How did you recover so quickly?” Francis asked.
“I routed all his files to a dummy server. He thought he was programming his little chips, but he was only programming a cyber fake. I also went behind him and pulled and replaced all his virus laden chips.”
“How did you do that without his notice?” Francis asked.
“Easy, actually. He was monitoring a series of fake chips in the dummy server.”
“Then how did we lose power tonight if you had a handle on this all along, and why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” Peter asked bluntly.
“One question at a time, Mr. President,” Toon replied with renewed enthusiasm. “We lost power because we had to let him do his deed in order to catch him and convict him. And secondly, I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t want him to hear about it from a third party. He did have the ability to kill us all and himself, as you can plainly see. He’s also a near genius that could have easily faked me out if he had known I was cleaning up behind him. As a matter of fact, just a few minutes ago, I thought that was exactly what he’d done.”
Peter silently nodded his approval. “Good job, Toon. You’re definitely Mars’ genuine hero.” Then he smiled and extended his hand to Toon who grasped it with a huge grin. “Thanks, Mr. President, or Peter, or whatever.”
Peter looked to Francis who was not smiling. Francis’ eyes stared out over the room. “This just doesn’t make any sense at all,” he mused, almost to himself, rubbing a sol’s growth on his chin.
“What?” Peter asked. “What doesn’t make any sense?”
“I want to talk to Covenant,” Francis said flatly. “I find it very hard to believe he’s either suicidal or a mass murderer.”
“Don’t we have all the evidence we need, right here in the files? Didn’t we all experience his madness first hand? Didn’t he warn us face to face that this was his plan all along? What more evidence do you need?” Peter demanded.
“I want to talk to Covenant,” Francis said, turning to walk away.
Peter turned and looked back to Toon, whose eyes were following Francis toward the door.
“Again, thanks Toon, from all of us. Are the power and functions all back on line throughout the colony?” Peter asked.
Toon’s smile had faded as he turned back around to the console. “I’ll make sure they are. Oh, by the way, can you send me another two operators. I think we’re going to need all the boards manned for awhile.”
“Sure,” Peter said as he turned and quickly followed Francis.
eter had to jog to catch up to Francis making his way quickly to Covenant’s quarters. As they rounded a corner in the tubes that connected the living quarters, they met Brinker returning back to the main hub from Covenant’s empty room.
Francis stood in his way.
“Brinker, stop,” Francis ordered.
“Why?” asked Brinker, his face rigid with rage.
“Because we want Covenant alive,” Francis replied. “And by the look on your face, you don’t.”
Brinker sighed deeply and dropped his shoulders, fished his stogie out of his pocket and leaned against a wall.
“You might actually be right,” was all he said.
Peter stepped in. “Ok team, now we know he didn’t go back home to wait for us or die. So where is he?”
Both men shook their heads. “No clue,” Francis replied.
“Brinker, go collect four men and sweep the colony. Francis and I’ll check the command and control sections, but we’re going to start with the dining hall. All we need is a lunatic in the party – a gun-slinger or worse in a black-tie.”
Just as he said that, his communicator beeped on his belt.
“Traynor,” he said quickly raising the unit to his mouth.
“Peter, Toon. You got everyone accounted for in the party?”
“Yep, all except Hammonds.”
“Well, I just got a reading from airlock number three. Something has activated a motion sensor,” Toon reported.
“We got him,” Peter said as he, Brinker and Francis raced toward the airlock.
“Toon, we’re going to seal off the tunnel leading to the airlocks on our way in. Lock it from the Command Center behind us,”
Peter ordered, fearing Covenant might try to kill himself and everyone else by cycling the inner and outer airlock doors open simultaneously. While this was technically impossible, Covenant had shown himself to be quite capable at effecting a certain degree of chaos and destruction. By closing off the tunnels leading to the airlocks, they could at least contain the death and destruction to the immediate area and only they would die along with him.
They ran headlong into the airlock tunnel and found the door locked and sealed.
“Toon, the entry door to AL03 is closed and sealed,” Peter reported.
“Not by my console it’s not,” Toon replied. “According to my data, it’s wide open.”
Peter looked at Francis. This clearly meant Covenant had changed the programming related to the airlock doors. Now it was anyone’s guess at not only the conditions inside the tunnel but whether their operational controls were even reliable. It felt like they were walking right into a trap.
Brinker must have been thinking along the same lines as he said, “Is there any other way into there?”
“Not except from outside,” Francis replied.
Suiting up and approaching from the outside could take an hour, Peter mused to himself. It would give Covenant far too long to do whatever he was planning to do.
“Let’s suit up in airlock two, seal the adjoining tunnels, come back here and manually open the door to AL03,” Peter suggested. “It’ll save at least half an hour.”
Both other men nodded and they all headed toward airlock two.
“What’s the plan?” Toon’s voice crackled over the intercom.
Peter picked the unit up to tell him, when Francis snatched it from his hand and winked.
“We’re going outside and back into AL03,” he reported, and then he handed the unit back to Peter. “We don’t need his controls and we don’t need to tip off Covenant who probably has his own communicator,” Francis explained.
Mars Wars - Abyss of Elysium Page 30
