by Bob Lee
“So we actually get to Mars in two more months, not three,” she stated, “and we spend a month getting everything ready from here, right?”
“That’s right, Jean. You wouldn’t want to land with no base set up, especially since you don’t have a spacesuit or enough food in here to last while it’s all erected.”
Jean wrote another entry in her diary. ‘We arrive at Mars in two months, not three. The base and supplies are sent to Mars and a month is spent on the cycler setting everything up. The Pegasus is launched on the second pass of Mars.’
Sam reached over and pressed the ‘Maintenance’ line and then selected ‘Manual?’
“Okay, Jean, let’s check the controls. Look out the window to your left, and turn the wheel counter-clockwise like you would turn a car to the left. See the small panel at the top of the left wing flip up?”
“Yes, does that turn us? That’s called an alluralon, right?”
Sam stifled a laugh. “That’s close. It’s pronounced ail-er-on. The ailerons on the left and right wings always bend the opposite way, which cause the Pegasus to roll left when you turn the wheel left and right when you turn the wheel right. They always need to move in the opposite direction to control the roll of the plane.”
“How do we go up and down?” she asked.
“This is a delta wing plane, so there’s no tail where those controls would normally be. The small jets in the nose of the Pegasus are used to control pitch and yaw. You pull the wheel towards you, and the jets under the nose turn on, pushing the nose up. See up there in front those small holes? If you push the control wheel away from you, those jets will activate to push the nose down.”
Jean pushed and pulled the wheel but nothing happened. “Why isn’t it doing anything?” she asked.
“Always look at the panel, Jean.”
Jean looked down and saw that the red ‘Error’ screen was displayed once more. The same message was there stating that the Pegasus was still docked and asked if the pilot wanted to override. Sam pressed the ‘Return’ choice, and then the ‘Maintenance’ and ‘Automated’ options. Jean watched in fascination as the wheel in front of her moved of its own volition, and the jets in the nose gave off periodic puffs. Soon, the screen said it was completed and everything was ‘Nominal.’ Sam pressed the ‘Shutdown procedure’ screen option and then closed the small red cover on the button which they had used to start up the Pegasus. Soon, the display and the panel lights went dark.
“That’s it; we’re finished,” she said. “We’ll do this again a month from now. Let’s see if you can do it all on your own next time.”
“I’ve got everything I need right here in my diary,” Jean said. “I’m going to study it over and over to be ready,” she said.
“That’s great, kid. Now let’s go get some lunch; I’m starving,” Sam said, getting out of her seat.
When they had returned back to the central module of the cycler, Jean ran over to her father at the Platinum table. “Dad, Pilot Sam showed me how to fly the Pegasus! I think I could be a pilot some day!”
“That’s great, Sweetie. Did you write everything down in your diary?” Jeff asked her.
“Yes, it’s all right here,” she said, patting her diary.
“Well, you’re late for lunch. Give it to me so that you don’t get it dirty when you do your chores right after the meal. I’ll make sure it goes back in your special spot.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Jean said as she handed over her diary. She turned and ran squealing over to her table. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends, especially those annoying Hampton twins, that she knew how to fly a spaceship.
She didn’t notice that her father handed her diary to Brother Jacobs under the table.
CHAPTER 23
The programmers had designed Probe Spit to be a combination of advanced artificial intelligence and a biological brain. Although Spit had started as a logical and cool-headed analytical mechanism, the stresses of performing its mission successfully had activated the most primitive areas of its biology. It was simultaneously excited and concerned. An outside observer would have thought that Spit had developed a nervous tic, as its sole eye swiveled from side to side, and its sensopads drummed the dusty ground inside its subterranean lair. The pressures of these last two months had weighed heavily upon it. Since the programmers had been able to provide Spit with the basics of the human language, its monitoring of the bipeds through the hopper hidden at their base had only magnified its sense of alarm.
More of the bipeds would be arriving soon, and the biosynths and decoy had not worked as anticipated. The creatures were now developing additional destructive weapons, which could rain down and destroy all that the probe had worked towards. Spit had run out of options, and could only wait and hope that its decision to create a Master would win the race against time before the bipeds attacked. The biological portion of the probe nervously anticipated the Master’s arrival and hoped he would approve of Spit’s decisions so far.
Spit had been fairly sure that biped humans would be too late and that it had started the process to create a Master early enough. Now, the Master’s gestation and subsequent training within the ‘Nest’ was nearing completion. In mere moments, he would emerge, and Spit’s burden of the mission would be lifted. The probe had dutifully recorded everything, and the most recent audio from the hopper at the creatures’ habitat had just now finished spooling into the Master’s brain. “The Master will know what to do next,” thought Spit.
If a human was watching, he would describe what the Nest did next as resembling a large Venus Fly Trap that was opening up. The Nest split in two, and the two halves slowly spread apart, with strands between the two halves stretching and then breaking. As with Spit, the Nest was a combination of electronics and biological wetware. Slimy blood-red sections of the inside pulsed obscenely as optical conduits shuttled bright lights from one side to the other. A human would have been nauseated at the smell.
In the midst of this nest, a monstrous creature slowly arose, breaking away from an umbilical that had nourished it. The beast was the approximate size of a giant lion, and likewise four legged, but there the analogy broke down. No earthly lion had ever looked like this. The creature was covered with sleek scales. Its top and belly were a dark brown, with a pinkish stripe of scales running along each side of the body from its neck to its rear.
This was the Master, and his head somewhat resembled that of a dinosaur, with a tubular shape and a mouth filled with shark-like teeth. He had four eyes. Two of the eyes were dark and cunning, and placed on top of the snout where any normal creature would have had its nostrils. The other two eyes, situated behind the dark ones and further apart, were grey and displayed a malicious intelligence. These eyes had flexible brow ridges that could completely cover them if the Master was ever attacked.
Arranged symmetrically around the head were four muscular and prehensile tentacles, each about the length of a human arm. These were currently lying back along the Master’s neck. The tentacles were covered their whole length with fine shiny scales, with the top half dark and shading to pink on the bottom half. The camouflage made them almost unnoticeable when they lay along the neck, blending in with the dark brown and pink of the Master’s sides. The forebrain, contained within the skull, could initiate lightning quick responses from these tentacles. They could snap forward to catch unsuspecting prey with astonishing speed and strength. Yet, the tips of the tentacles were bifurcated into two grasping fingers for fine work.
Along the neck were gill-like openings, which were the Master’s ears. There were no nostrils, since the Master’s race had evolved without them. The four dark legs of the Master were covered in vertical spines that lay along the length of the appendages. The legs ended in feet filled with six fearsome black claws.
Situated inside the main body of the Master, near the back, was the large primary hindbrain. This was where the awesome intelligence of the Master resided. The forebrain was responsible for quic
k reactions. It was fed by the ears and the dark eyes, and could command the tentacles or teeth into instant action. The grey eyes fed the hindbrain. The hindbrain could take over the tentacles and mouth as needed for detailed work or communications with others of its kind.
How such a monstrosity could have become intelligent would have fascinated the human biologist at the Martian habitat. Evolution had slowly taken the hindbrain approach, such as that used for controlling the rear ends of large creatures as seen in Earth’s dinosaurs of a bygone era, and expanded that to become the primary brain in the Master’s race. The brain located here was safe and secure from all dangers, residing as it did within the bulk of the body at the back. From this location, the brain also had much room to grow, not being restricted by a skull meant to protect it. Over the eons, the hindbrain and intelligence of the Master’s race had experienced tremendous growth. The ability for both brilliant deductions by the hindbrain, as well as lighting quick responses by the forebrain, had made it the dominant creature on its planet.
As the Master rose up, he was furious. He was only partially angry at Spit; his primary rage was at the human race. The selective education programming of the Nest had instilled into him a loathing for the master race of the planet Earth. “Spit!” he roared. “How did you suffer them for so long? At the first hint of anything on this red planet, you should have created a hunter-killer and exterminated them all and then followed up with the primary mission! You were named Spit for a reason. Like the Chockterock of our planet that spits venom into the eyes of its enemy, you were designed to extract our revenge.”
Spit’s sensopads briefly quaked, but the probe forced them into stillness. It was as Spit had feared; the Master was upset. The artificial intelligence part of the probe quickly responded. “I could not know that the bipeds had occupied this planet, as I had only encountered a simple robot explorer,” it explained. “I also needed to conserve my resources for the mission, and could not know how many of the creatures were here. It now seems that there are only four, but I could not have known that at the start. I needed to keep my options open and keep the mission objectives in the forefront during all contingencies.”
“Ah, the mission; yes, the mission,” the Master intoned. Its hindbrain reviewed some of the knowledge it had been imparted by the programmers. “The Earthlings almost ruined our society with their diabolical transmissions. At first there was excitement at such a nearby race, but some of the messages were maliciously devious. Revolts, carnage, and the decimation of some of our finest leaders were the results.”
“The programmers did not provide me with any of this background,” Spit said. “Why was I created for the mission?”
“Our society is based on a hierarchy,” the Master explained. “Only the fastest and most intelligent rule. These are all determined by the annual games. Everyone knows his place in our society. And we use the Chontroon race for all dull or dangerous work that cannot be performed by automated machines.”
“Chontroons?” Spit asked.
“Yes, the Chontroons; they are a biped race with no hindbrain. They are stupid, but quick and strong. The human messages were rife with images of democracy and equal rights for all. The Chontroons saw these images created by creatures with no hindbrains like themselves and thought to fashion similar lives. They rebelled, first on our space outposts, and then on the home planet. Due to their access to dangerous equipment and their control of robotic tools, we were unprepared for their uprising. Much of our infrastructure and many of our leaders were killed in the first moments of their attack. However, they have since been nearly exterminated and are only left in hidden pockets of resistance.”
“I understand the original mission, but how was this to extract revenge upon the humans?” Spit asked.
“After we rebuilt some of our infrastructure, the home world conceived you with the plan to use this uninhabited planet as an intermediate base. Since my race had already translated the transmissions from Earth, they imbued you with the knowledge of their language in case it was needed. Your mission was to land here and launch a smaller probe to Earth. The new probe would abduct a human subject from a remote location. Taking pieces of the Earthling, it would return them here to you. You would then erect the small quantum teleporter that you have in storage and transmit the pieces of the human to what remains of our scientists. They would use them to create a biological weapon which would wipe out the masters of this accursed third planet called Earth.”
“Can we still proceed with the main mission?”
“No,” the Master said after a moment’s hesitation as its hindbrain considered alternatives. “Your original mission is no longer valid, since this planet is no longer secure. With the Earthlings already here, and more on the way, we must devise a new plan. The one useful thing you did accomplish before I awoke was to secrete a hopper at their base. Unfortunately, the hopper is not designed to extract pieces of the humans. It is too slow and would be captured. Instead, we will lure one of the Earthlings directly to us. Here we will study its insides at our leisure and extract the necessary information to transmit to our scientists.”
“But the bipeds already know that I am somewhere near here. Won’t they attack us?”
“That is why the first thing we need to do is move to another location. Send the remaining hoppers out to scout for a new resource rich crater. Be sure to avoid the prying eyes of the human robot that is stuck in the pit nearby. I want us to relocate in the next few of these planet’s days.”
“Of course,” Spit said, relieved that it now had direction and no longer needed to sit idle while the humans prepared for its destruction. The probe gave the two remaining hoppers the command to locate a new crater for occupation.
“And while we wait, direct the micro-factory to create some armor for me,” the Master said, annoyed. “I am totally naked, which is undignified for a Master of my level.”
CHAPTER 24
Li Julong knocked on the door of General Zhou Desheng’s office promptly at nine a.m. the next morning. “Enter,” he heard.
He slowly pushed open the door, walked up to the general’s desk, and bowed. “Proceed,” the general said without looking up from his papers.
“Sir, I must object most strenuously,” the chief scientist complained. “Were you aware that our new arrival, this NCO Wong, has unloaded guns and explosives here on the base? He is having my young men and women right now practicing with them on the Moon’s surface!”
“Yes, I was well aware,” the general said. “In fact, I insisted upon it during the video meeting with Earth before the Committee voted. There is no better place to simulate performing a military action on another planet, and the militarization of this base was inevitable in any case. We must be prepared for the possibility that the Americans may become aggressive. I argued vociferously that we needed to be able to defend this base, and so extra munitions were shipped along with Sergeant Wong. It is why there was no room for him to bring his own men on this mission. He will be training others here along with your men, so that we will be prepared after you leave. We anticipate that, if you are successful in retrieving alien technology and returning it here, the Americans may attack us and try to steal any artifacts.”
“But the Koreans are not soldiers. Just look at them,” Julong said, pointing out the window of the general’s office. “He has them out there right now doing some sort of maneuver. They’re falling all over the place!”
The general did not even bother looking where the scientist was pointing. “It is not your concern. Sergeant Wong Sheng is one of the best men for the job. He has a First Class Hero’s medal for his actions in Malaysia during the war in Southeast Asia. He is the three time champion of the Military and Police Sniper World Cup competition. I can guarantee you that he will whip your Koreans into shape. Be thankful that you are not out there training also.”
“I, training?” Julong stuttered.
“Yes, Sgt. Wong requested that everyone who goes to Ma
rs be weapons trained, but I vetoed that. However, you will need to increase your exercising. You are a critical part of this mission, and we cannot have you dying en route to Mars from heart failure. Plus, you have not been privy yet to the latest images our spies at NASA have uncovered. Weapons will definitely be needed, and when you see the alien creatures that attacked the Americans on Mars, your heart might stop right then and there. Here is a list of exercises and the amount of repetitions that you need to perform so that I can ensure the Committee that you will survive the shock.” The general handed a list to the scientist. “Sgt. Wong will meet you in the gym every day for an hour starting tomorrow.”
Li Julong hesitantly took the piece of paper from the general. After blanching at the myriad lines of exercises denoted, he slowly folded it and put it in his pocket.
“But he has my workers out there for three hours each day, and now I need to spend extra time in exercising. We will never be ready in time for launch!”
“You will find a way, Li Xiansheng. Use your ingenuity. I doubt that a man of your age would enjoy a night in the punishment cave.”
The chief scientist sighed in resignation and bowed. “Yes, General, I will find a way.” He backed towards the door, gave a final bow, turned and left.
The general looked back down and resumed working on his current report to Earth as if nothing had happened.
# # #
“No, no, no!” Sgt. Wong yelled at the Koreans over his helmet radio. “Never fire your gun while running!” He loped over to Team B and picked up the first Korean he reached by his life support pack. He then booted the fellow in the rear, sending him flying in the light gravity. Since he had properly positioned himself, the sergeant landed back upon his own feet a few yards to the rear while the Korean tumbled through the air. “You idiots are not yet ready to handle the recoil of the rifles. Everyone get up and get back to the start, including you, Team A!”
