One Day on Mars s-1

by Travis S. Taylor

"Yes. My aunt owns Tangier I. It is a nice ship as far as barges go," Elise said nonchalantly, and then looked as if she would add something more but decided against it.

  Kira?

  Yes, Allison?

  How could she have seen Tau Ceti fifty times? At best military speeds we are limited to about a light-year per month. Tau Ceti is nearly twelve light-years away. A round-trip would take two years. I doubt Elise is over a hundred years old. She looks too full-blooded Martian to be that old yet. Oh, and add the trips to this Oort Cloud destination makes another twenty-five or more years. That puts her to at least one hundred and twenty-five if she started traveling when she was an infant. It doesn't add up. The oldest human is only three hundred and seventeen and an Earthling, the AIC commented.

  I was doing the math in my head and reached the same conclusion. But Elise doesn't seem the type to lie or exaggerate. This is odd. Maybe we're not going to Tau Ceti?

  I don't know. Tau Ceti seems like the solution Occam's razor would suggest.

  Then that means the Separatists are far more technologically advanced than the rest of the human race . . . following Occam's razor, of course.

  Yes, it does. Allison was as confused as her human counterpart but logic was logic and the answers that were logical didn't make any sense. Allison realized that that little fact alone was creating a paradox in her logic process. They needed more data.

  Kira sat motionless and remembered she needed to respond to Elise verbally.

  "I've only been as far as Luna City once and to the raids in Triton. Both times in asteroid mining haulers hidden away inside ore containers. I've never even seen an interstellar barge before." Ignorance was always a good cover tactic. The sudden urge to yawn overcame her and Kira squinted and shook her head. "Forgive me. The day has been longer than I had realized." Long indeed. The radiation meds were wearing on her like the flu. Also, she had been flung at high speeds from a supercarrier in the midst of a major air battle, flown through high g-force maneuvers in a harrowing dogfight, nearly shot down on several occasions by both SAMs and Seppy aircraft—Gomers, as Lieutenant Commander Boland had called them—and ejected from an Ares fighter at high velocity at about the same time a nuclear bomb was detonated only a few tens of kilometers from her. And that was just the start of her day. Her gliderchute ride, the radiation, the long bounce across the foothills until she found any survivors of the nuclear attack, and then the radiation shower all made for a long day. Kira was pretty sure that her day was just a sign of harder days to come.

  "Yes. Close your eyes for now. We have at least thirty minutes to Umbra. We will have plenty of time to talk further." Elise bowed her head slowly and then turned back to Fayad, who had already dozed off. His head leaned against the window and his mouth was open as he snored and drooled down his chin. Elise shook her head in disdain at her Prime Husband but then looked back at her child in reverence once again and decided to close her eyes as well.

  Kira had uncovered way more than she had expected to so quickly. She understood some vague concepts of the Separatist culture and their plans. But she only had a few solid pieces of information. It was too early to attempt a contact back to Langley. Her mission was going as planned—actually it was far exceeding any expectations already. For now, there was little to do but to close her eyes and rest for a while. It had been a long day so far.

  Chapter 11

  12:30 PM Mars Tharsis Standard Time

  "So BIL, have you seen any other people wander through here lately?" Sehera tried to hold on to a handhold in the wall of the belly of the mechanical beast. The several-ton robotic spider-thing sprang with tremendous agility from one mound of garbage to the next and made its way toward the large elevator, making it a bumpy ride.

  "No, ma'am. You are the first humans I've seen in more than four years. The union strike that started the pull out of the Separatist workers in 2379 caused the government to cancel the contract for the human workers here. It has been . . . lonely since then." The AI garbage hauler vehicle sounded almost sad. "I am very happy to greet you. It has been a long time since my auditory systems have been put to use."

  "That's sad, BIL." Deanna pouted and stuck her bottom lip out for effect but it was lost on the garbage drone as there were no optical sensors in its belly.

  "Yes, I guess it is," he replied.

  "So BIL, do you have any communication with the outside world at all? I mean, how do you know what to do?" Joanie asked the AI. The bouncing of the garbage hauler launched the little Triton woman nearly a meter into the air with each stride. It grew tiresome, but Joanie and Sehera had managed to make it a game with Deanna. Alexander was only paying them partial attention.

  "Oh, it is simple. This pile of plastics over here must be moved to there and that pile of metals there needs to be loaded into the smelting system. The piles are always there and so I always have plenty to do," BIL answered.

  "But what about the outside world?" Senator Moore asked.

  "Sure, I am connected to all the local and wide area network systems including the infrastructure QM. I have to schedule with the other domes on how much of what materials they need or are sending here. That way I can be certain which pile to work on first. And many times we get orders from elsewhere for particular materials." BIL continued to explain his mundane daily routine.

  "I'm not sure I follow, BIL." Reyez laughed nervously. The expression on his face plainly stated that he couldn't believe that he was talking to a garbage bug, much less inside one hanging on for dear life as the thing skittered up and down the mountains of garbage in the reclamation and redistribution center. When this adventure was over and the war calmed down, Alexander was certain that Reyez would work an adventure store angle on riding in, or maybe on, a giant robotic garbage hauler. After all, the ride was invigorating and exciting, if smelly. But, adrenaline junkies would endure serious discomfort for a new thrill. What was a little stench?

  "Yes, let me see. The naval vessels often need to drop waste here and I schedule that—a really good source for methane distillation and soil composting that. Hold on," BIL warned his passengers just before he made a quick squatting bend and then bounced high across a crevasse in the mountain of refuse.

  "Wheeee!" Deanna screamed and touched her toes cheerleader style as she did the splits in the air. The ride was more like a parabolic flight trajectory to simulate weightlessness than it was a roller coaster. It was like putting a children's moonbounce in the back of a flatbed truck and then driving it across seriously unleveled and rocky terrain. Add to that the extremely dim lighting in the belly of the robot spider-thing, accentuated by the bouncing white lights of the e-suit helmets, and the effect was a full-up bouncing disco on steroids. The only thing missing was the dance music. At least it stunk.

  "How much further?" Joanie asked. The bouncing was beginning to take a toll on her physical strength. She was sweating profusely in her suit, but the seal layer would absorb that and reclaim the water and salts.

  "Almost there." BIL replied over the speaker system.

  "So BIL." Alexander was making a point to minimize his physical effort as he might need his strength later so he had let the bouncing of the beast throw him around and used his jumpboots to soften the landings. If the giant bug had been equipped with seats this ride would have been a snap. "Tell me more about your outside contacts. When was the last one you had?"

  "Well, I get them pretty much continuously. It is a big system." It was obvious that the AI had longed to talk because he took twice as long to say what needed to be said. "This morning I received an alert that there were no loads of frozen algae coming in from Elysium and a few seconds ago I was given instruction that there was a need in Luna City for aluminum, iron, and titanium. I've called the shipping companies trying to schedule a barge but for some reason they are all grounded today." BIL's voice sounded as if he had shrugged when he made the last statement.

  "Wait a minute, BIL. You just a few seconds ago talked to Luna City?" Senator Mo
ore asked.

  "Yes."

  Abigail!

  Yes sir, I heard it. I'll talk directly with him to get access to his communications protocols. Perhaps we could get some communications outside this jamming phenomena. Moore had confidence that his AIC understood what she needed to do. She just had to convince the AI garbage hauler to cooperate. The way the poor AI was longing for attention it probably would agree to anything within the law and maybe even then some. And if he was communicating outside the jamming field then that meant that the Separatists techs had missed the infrastructure layer of communications. Unless they had missed it on purpose.

  Hull Technician Third Class Joe Buckley was reading over his current set of orders that were continuously being updated by the brains up in the Looney Bin. Typically, his orders were always the same whether or not the Madira was going to battle or not. But then again, the Sienna Madira was always going into battle, or at least it had been ever since he had been on board her. His duties were actually quite simple. He was to make sure the reclamation systems were not overflowing and that there were no deficiencies in the materials bins. In other words, make sure the sewer didn't get too full of shit and that the officers had plenty of toilet paper. He also was in charge of keeping the ship's coolant flow systems operational. But, also being in charge of sewer duties meant that he often had to put up with a lot of shit—in more ways than one.

  Joe prayed for the days where his spot in the flight deck cleaning rotation was due. On those lovely days he would get to walk back and forth on the upper flight catapults picking up trash, removing bird shit—those hybrid Martian vultures were nasty critters—and checking for exterior hull plates that were outgassing that weren't supposed to be outgassing. Yes, those days were bliss compared to his weeks at a time in the "shithole." Otherwise he never saw the outside of the ship.

  Looks like another shitty day. His AIC told the same old, very old, joke that she had told him every day for the entire sixteen months of Buckley's tour on the Madira.

  Yeah. Into the never-ending fray for God and Country we go. Forever protecting our best's and brightest's wonderful shithole! he recited. Mija, it looks like we are about to get really into the thick of some bad stuff so we better start running the combat readiness flush and purge sequences.

  Buckley scrolled through the daily task orders in his planner. The battle drill was simple. Batten down all the toilet lids, which was a euphemism for turning valves to certain plumbing systems. And to close up the shitter so that when the ship started listing left, right, and up, and down that smelly stuff didn't burst out of the miles of plumbing throughout the massive ship or rupture the Olympic-swimming- pool-sized septic bladder.

  Roger that, Joe, Petty Officer Third Class Mike India Juliet Alpha Kilo One Tango Edgar, "Mija Kitty," replied.

  Buckley and Mija had been through hours of training classes explaining how any excess human waste in the plumbing system during high g-force compensation maneuvers could stress the structural integrity of the plumbing system and therefore create a smelly safety hazard during a combat situation. On more than several occasions they had been in the wrong corridor at the wrong time when the plumbing failed because some deck petty officer on a different shift neglected to flush the system, purge it with compressed dry air, and then lock it down before a maneuver. Buckley was often jeered at for having a "shitty job," and needless to say, he kept his immunobooster shot current and gave it a good workout. But Buckley took to heart the words the captain had proclaimed on several occasions in all-hands briefings, "There is no job on my boat that is less important than any other. Remember, this is the flagship of the United States Space Naval Fleet." Buckley repeated that to himself every night before he could manage to go to sleep. He managed to maintain a level of pride about the job he did. Hell, it was an important job. What if a flow system went out near some important electronics system? There were toilets, sinks, and disposals on every deck and getting the refuse moved around safely without damaging other complex technical systems on board the supercarrier was indeed serious business. Perhaps it wasn't a glamorous job like being a fighter jock, but his life expectancy was a hell of a lot higher.

  Buckley was just finishing up the organization of his battle plan task list when the order of his tasks reshuffled and slipped each order down a notch on the screen in front of him.

  "Aw shit. I just got those straightened out and prioritized. Now what?" He rolled his eyes, leaned back in his chair and sighed.

  Looks like we have a new order request, Joe. It appears to be from the Mons City Rec and Redist AI, Mija told him. She was just as surprised as Buckley was.

  Order number one was an information packet from the Mons City reclamation and redistribution tracking AI, of all places, marked "Deliver to Captain Sienna Madira Immediately."

  Mija, can you open this? This isn't some kinda joke, is it? The hull technician petty officer third class had seen his share of tasteless jokes.

  Okay, Joe. Here. Mija Kitty paused for a second. I don't think this is a joke!

  "What the hell," Buckley muttered to himself.

  "That is un-fucking-believable, sir! And out-goddamned-standing if you don't mind my saying it." Sergeant Jackson couldn't believe what he was hearing. This Senator Moore, as it turns out USMC Major Moore retired, had somehow managed to find a crack in the local Seppy jamming field and was in direct contact with the Sienna Madira's captain.

  "You got that right, Sergeant. Tammie has Burner's AIC continuously linked with the Madira now. We do have an extraction plan. And we have a means to coordinate the other troops across the region back to the main fleet. I might have to move to Mississippi so I can vote for this Marine," Second Lieutenant Thomas Washington said.

  "Semper Fi, sir," Kootie added.

  Washington sat on the left shoulder of Burner's FM-12 strike mecha and Sergeant Jackson sat on the right. Each of them were straddling the forty-millimeter cannons mounted there, the barrels extending out between the armored e-suits' legs like giant and deadly robotic phalluses. Kootie and Shelly rode similarly on Boulder's transfigurable fighting mecha. The ten-meter-tall armored vehicles trotted and jumped from block to block in bot-mode, looking like giant gladiators hiding behind the city skyscrapers. A handful of the fighting mecha skittered around them in eagle-mode with their DEGs at ready in their armored left hands. Every now and then the AEMs could catch a glimpse of one or two of the fighting mecha in fighter-mode just above the city building tops.

  "So what is the game plan, Lieutenant?" Corporal Shelly asked.

  "We stick with the Killers all the way. They can cover the ground a lot better than we can. And they're better armed and sensored up." Washington was a lot more hopeful of their chances of surviving this mission and actually being successful at it now that they had a complete squadron of Marine fighting mecha with them. Two dozen FM-12s and four AEMs were a significant fighting force.

  "Second Lieutenant Washington," Burner interrupted.

  "Sir?"

  "I just got a map of the evac area downloaded and I overlaid it with our tactical plan." Burner started explaining the plan as the topographical three-dimensional map was DTMed to all of the AEMs and mecha pilots. "You can see here that just to the south of the extraction zone is a sheer cliff wall over a thousand meters of drop-off." The image of the cliff wall highlighted in the DTM image.

  "Roger that." Washington instinctively nodded in his e-suit helmet.

  "Worst case, if things go to hell, you AEMs hang on to one of us and we'll drop off the edge there for cover. Best case, we'll go to eagle-mode and hold on to you and just fly out to the supercarrier," Burner ordered.

  "Sounds like a plan, sir!" the second lieutenant replied.

  Simply flying out of the region to another city or base wasn't an option, at least not without cover from space or larger vessels. The intelligence from the Madira showed that there were at least six Separatist carriers in the region. The anti-aircraft systems and fighter squads of
a carrier would be hell on his fighters out in the open without any cover. Fighters were better adapted to close-in agile maneuvering along the surface of a city or even a carrier, but given that there could be six carriers' worth of Seppy aircraft in the area a fly-out operation might prove suicidal. Burner knew it would be best for them to lay low until they had some cover from the Madira and a few dozen Navy Ares fighters.

  As they neared the wall of the dome just south of the gaping hole made by the crash of the Churchill, the slope of it changed dramatically. The buildings were not as tall in this part of the city. From the view of the almost now vertical dome wall, it was apparent that the four AEMs and the two dozen FM-12s from Cardiff's Killers would soon be at the edge of the city. There they would escape out into the Martian mountainside and then make their way toward the evac—fighting all the way if need be. The clouds overhead grew darker, thicker, and swirled more violently as they approached the massive leak in the dome.

  "This is where we go up, Deanna," BIL told the little girl bouncing tirelessly and joyously in the belly of the AI garbage hauler. The AI had enjoyed talking to actual humans, especially the child. He had also especially enjoyed being able to speak, and to listen in on and pass through data, with all the AICs and humans now using his data link for communications. BIL was a reclamation and scheduling AI and had paid little attention to politics or the war but he could tell that his companions seemed to think all of this was extremely important and that their lives depended on it.

  "Thank you, BIL. Have you ever been out of the garbage room before? It sure does stink in there," the little girl asked.

  "Only to the top hangar floor to take in or deliver a load of materials. The smell doesn't bother me as I don't have a nose," he told her, adding a tone of humor to his artificial voice.

  "That's silly. No nose." Deanna laughed and made a funny face at her mother and the Triton woman.