MARS STATION ALPHA
by
Stephen Penner
Published by
Ring of Fire Publishing
Mars Station Alpha
©2011 Stephen Penner. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity with real persons or events is purely coincidental.
Cover image by iiuri. Cover design by Stephen Penner.
ALSO BY STEPHEN PENNER
David Brunelle Legal Thrillers
Presumption of Innocence
Tribal Court
By Reason of Insanity
Case Theory (Short Story)
Beyond a Reasonable Doubt (Short Story)
Maggie Devereaux Paranormal Mysteries
Scottish Rite
Blood Rite
Highland Fling (Short Story)
Other Novels and Short Stories
The Godling Club
Capital Punishment (Short Story)
Alchemist Savant (Short Story)
Children's Books
Katie Carpenter, Fourth Grade Genius
Professor Barrister's Dinosaur Mysteries
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Preview: Presumption of Innocence
About the Author
One of the most formidable and least predictable obstacles to a manned mission to Mars is the psychological effect of such a venture on the crew.
The journey through space will last months, imposing an extreme form of cabin fever which will test even the closest human relationships. Once there, communications with Earth will be delayed and of little practical value as the astronauts are forced to solve any problems completely on their own.
Finally, and most importantly, is the element of the unexpected. The first humans on Mars will undoubtedly encounter things we had never anticipated, and for which they are therefore ill-prepared. When that happens, by definition, it will be quite impossible to predict how they might react.
--NASA Position Paper on the Colonization of Mars
Chapter 1
Stanton spied a glint of metal on the horizon of the otherwise barren planetscape.
"We have visual," Commander Mtumbe announced as he steered the Antares through the poisonous atmosphere. "Mars Station Alpha."
Mtumbe slid his hand across the control glass, lighting up everyone's personal digital monitor with a magnified image of the space station, overlaid by a data stream from the ship's scanners.
"I see no activity," Petrov observed. "This means no one is alive perhaps?"
"Or it means simply that all shields are working, Aleksandr," countered his fellow Russian, Oksana Rusakova, "and so we cannot see the activity inside."
Mei-Zhu Lin, Stanton's hand-picked tech expert, provided the answer.
"Diagnostics confirm that all shields are on full power," she reported. "We will not see inside with scanners."
Captain John Stanton sat silently in the co-pilot's chair, his eyes fixed on the approaching space station. He had known they wouldn't see anything with scanners. They were going to have to go inside. What he didn’t know was why—or what they would find.
"What happened to you in there, Ferguson?" Stanton whispered to himself.
As the ship lurched into its steep descent toward the space station's runway, Lieutenant Nils Dekker, the mission's sole representative of the moribund European Space Agency, pointed out his starboard portal. "What the hell are those?"
"What are what?" asked Petrov.
Stanton finally took his eyes off the station to turn around and see Petrov craning to look out Dekker's side portal.
But before Dekker could answer the Russian, Lin pointed to an indicator light on the ship's instrument panel and announced, "We have received a new communication from Earth."
All eyes turned to Cassandra Gold. A last-minute addition, Gold wasn't even an astronaut. On Earth, she was a Special Agent from the United States Department of State. On Mars—and on the ship—her title was 'Communications Officer.' By direct order of President Akira himself, she outranked even Stanton on all issues of communication with Earth.
Gold pressed a button on the arm of her chair and the message played for everyone. It was President Akira.
"Don't screw this up. The whole planet is watching."
That was it.
Typical, thought Stanton. Akira had just been reelected on his reputation for plain talking—and his promise to get to the bottom of whatever had happened to the Mars colony.
"Shall we send a reply message?" asked Rusakova.
"No," Stanton said simply. "We'd be in the station by the time the message reached Earth. Let's wait till we have something to report."
Then he turned and nodded to Gold. "If that meets with your approval, Agent?"
He still couldn't quite bring himself to call her officer—any type of officer, even Communications Officer.
Gold returned the nod with a curt one of her own. "Approved."
"We should tell him to stop bothering us," joked Dekker, obviously trying to lighten the mood a bit. "We're trying to land a spaceship."
No one laughed.
"I'm the one trying to land this spaceship," Mtumbe snapped. "So everyone just be quiet for a minute. I didn't train to land this thing alone. There was supposed to be a ground crew talking me down."
Stanton stared straight out the cockpit glass again. "The first crew did it without any help, Daniel."
Mtumbe smiled tightly. "I didn't say I couldn't do it. I said I didn't train for it. Now everybody shut up and hold on. We're coming in and I've only got four hundred meters to bring this thing to a complete stop."
His hand flew across the control glass. The landing gear dropped and the wing-flaps pulled up just as the ship reached the ground. The ship slammed into the landing strip and decelerated fast. The crew was thrown forward against their seatbelts. A few more motions over the control glass and the ship's brakes were bringing the 90-tonne spaceship to a bone-shaking halt at the end of the runway.
After a mome
nt, Stanton said, "I knew you could do it."
Mtumbe smiled again, this time more fully. "And I knew you were goading me," he said. "Just doing my assignment. Now let's taxi this baby back to the airlock."
As Mtumbe turned the ship around, Stanton noticed Petrov lean over to Dekker.
"What did you see?" Petrov whispered.
"Well, I'm not exactly sure what it was," Dekker started to reply, but then he looked at Gold, who was making no effort to conceal her eavesdropping. "I'll tell you later, Alex."
Petrov looked over at Gold as well. "Ah, yes," he said. "We will talk to each other later."
Gold rolled her eyes and looked out the ship's windshield. They were approaching the airlock. She grinned.
"I don't know what we'll find inside," she suddenly announced, "and I don't care. Whatever happened in there will remain confidential until and unless I authorize communication back to Command. Understood?"
"What happens on Mars stays on Mars, eh?" joked Dekker.
"Shut up, Dekker," ordered Stanton. Then, addressing Gold, he said, "We all know our roles, Agent. You can stop puffing your chest out at us."
"Although," said Dekker, "you have a very nice—"
"Shut. Up. Dekker," repeated Stanton.
Dekker nodded to Stanton, winked at Gold, and smiled to himself.
"Why don't you all be quiet?" Mtumbe said. The ship had reached the airlock. "I need to line this up perfectly."
Gold glared over at Dekker, but he just made a kissing noise to her.
"Dekker..." warned Stanton.
"Oui, mon capitan," said the Dutchman. "Shutting up."
Mtumbe wiped his brow then unleashed his hands across the control glass once more. The ship jerked and thrust. Then it slowly rolled forward into the airlock. Without so much as a scrape, the nose of the craft pressed into the airlock and a loud pop shook the cockpit. The ship had docked.
"Good job, Commander," Stanton patted him on the shoulder. Then he turned around to address the rest of his crew.
"Eighteen months ago the original Mars colonists began their tour of duty at the first manned space station on another planet, Mars Station Alpha. The world eagerly endured the minutes it took even light-speed communications to travel between the two planets. Even the most routine oxygen farm progress report was thrilling. And it was especially thrilling for us because we were to be the second crew of colonists, set to relieve the first crew when Earth and Mars aligned again."
He looked to Agent Gold. "Present company excepted."
Gold crossed her arms and offered a saccharine smile.
"But as the planets continued their separate orbits," Stanton went on, "and the distance between them grew, we all held our collective breath nine months ago when Mars went behind the sun and communications became impossible. Still, we knew we'd hear all about the latest burnt breakfast, or surprising geological find, or whatever, once Mars swung out from behind the sun. But when it did, there was nothing. No communications at all. And there's been none since.
"Our relief mission has become a rescue mission. Or, God forbid, a recovery mission. For six months we've been stuck in this tiny ship, making our way to Mars, not knowing what we'd find when we got there."
He nodded again to Gold. "So I agree with our late addition: we don't know what we'll find. But I disagree too. I care. I care what happened to that crew and I care what happens to this crew."
It was silent for a moment. Then Dekker said, "Nice speech, Captain."
Before Stanton could respond, Lin announced, "Pressurization has been equalized. We can enter the station now."
With a nod from Stanton, they all unstrapped themselves from their seats, pulled on their helmets, and filed toward the airlock.
"Everyone ready?" Stanton asked over their shared comm link as he placed his hand on the door handle.
"Ready, Captain," answered Mtumbe.
"Ready," added Lin and Rusakova.
Dekker and Petrov each gave a thumbs-up.
Gold stood at the back of the group and didn't respond.
Stanton nodded, took a deep breath, then pressed down on the pressurized hatch handle.
The resultant explosion was deafening, even in the thin Martian air that rushed in through the breeched airlock.
Chapter 2
"Is everyone all right?!" Stanton's voice filled everyone's helmet comm. He had a different voice in his own head.
That's why you're always second to me, Junior, he could hear Ferguson saying. You're fine once things are in place, but you're not quite up to leading the advance team.
"Status report, everyone!" Stanton tried not to sound frantic, but he couldn't see anything. The explosion had knocked out all the lights in the ship.
Lin was the first to respond. "Lin OK," she said simply over the comm link.
"Rusakova good."
"Petrov good."
"Dekker OK," came the Dutchman's voice. "Although I am a bit hungry."
"Mtumbe OK."
Stanton waited a few moments, but Agent Gold didn't check in. He didn't know if she was hurt or just being stubborn.
"Gold?" he said. "Gold, report."
"I'm here, Captain," she said over the comm link. "Perhaps you should worry more about the airlock breech than taking roll."
The carbon dioxide atmosphere had penetrated into and filled the ship, but Stanton knew it wasn't quite the emergency such a hull breech would have been in the vacuum of space. The station had been built in the temperate equatorial region, so daytime temperatures were in the high teens centigrade—sufficiently comfortable. The real problem was that there was no oxygen in the air, just lots and lots of carbon dioxide. But as long as they kept their helmets on, they would have oxygen enough for a few hours.
"Thanks for the advice," Stanton replied. He was too relieved everyone was okay to stay angry over Gold's comment.
"Our first priority is now oxygen," he announced. "Daniel, you stay here with Rusakova and Dekker. Reseal the airlock and evacuate the CO2. Then get the ship's atmosphere back to breathable. Lin, Petrov, and Gold, you come with me into the station. Let's see whether there's any breathable air in there, and if not, whether we can get the oxygen farm up and running in short order."
"We should also figure out what caused the explosion," Gold suggested.
"You may be in charge of communications, Gold," snapped Stanton, "but I'm still the commander of this mission. You can stop trying to direct it."
Gold didn't respond, but her huff was clearly audible over the comm link.
When they reached the end of the airlock Lin examined the door to the station. "This section of the airlock is not damaged," she announced.
"Can you tell whether there's breathable air inside?" Stanton asked.
"Negative," replied Lin. "The seal is in tact, but so are the shields. Our scanners can't read through them."
Stanton nodded but was silent as he considered their next step. Whatever had caused the first explosion might cause a second one. They had been fortunate that their spacesuits hadn't been damaged. They might not be that fortunate again.
He put his hand on the airlock's input glass and entered the code the station was supposed to recognize. If all interior systems were in order, the station's computer would initiate the airlock door synchronization necessary to pass through.
Nothing happened.
Stanton decided not to be surprised. He figured there would be plenty to surprise him inside the station. He grabbed a hold of the manual override handles and tried to force Ferguson's mocking laughter from his head as he wondered whether he was about to blow his crew to smithereens.
You're not quite up to leading the advance team.
He pressed down until he could feel the seal giving way. Gold took a few steps back; Lin and Petrov didn’t. A low hiss transformed into a satisfying pop and the first of two doors opened without incident.
They entered and closed the door behind them. Once it was closed, a metallic clank signaled the
activation of the airlock vents.
"Oxygen levels increasing from zero to seven percent," Petrov read from his scanner. "Eleven percent. Twenty percent. Nitrogen levels also rising.
"Thirty-one percent," he went on, then he looked up at the captain. "Oxygen level stabilizing at forty-three percent. I suppose that's breathable."
"That's too breathable," Stanton frowned. "Ideal level is twenty-one percent."
"Oxygen is combustible in high concentrations," remarked Gold.
Stanton was taken aback by her comment, or rather by that comment coming from her. "How's that again?"
"I'm not just some government bureaucrat," Gold answered. "There's a reason I was selected and approved for this mission. I have more degrees than the rest of you combined and most of them are in the sciences."
"Good to know," Stanton replied, looking over at Petrov. Petrov just offered a shrug. Lin was smiling behind her faceshield, although Stanton wasn't quite sure what she was smiling about.
"Look for carbon," Gold continued. "Any signs of sparking or burning at the airlock handle. It may explain the explosion."
Stanton stared at Gold through his faceplate. But he knew a good idea was a good idea, regardless of its source.
"Mtumbe," he called out over the comm link.
It only took a moment for Mtumbe to respond. "Yes, Captain?"
"We're almost in the station," Stanton reported. "Oxygen levels are grossly elevated, but it's breathable. Once you've repaired the ship, come through to meet us inside."
"Roger that, Captain."
"And Mtumbe?"
"Yes?"
"When you come through," Stanton looked at Gold, "check the doors for signs of sparking or burning."
"Captain?" asked Mtumbe.
"Just a hunch."
Gold frowned and raised an eyebrow at her captain.
"A hypothesis," Stanton corrected. "From Agent Gold."
Mtumbe didn't reply immediately.
"I think she may be right," Stanton added. "So just look for it and let me know what you find."
"Will do, Captain," said Mtumbe. "We should be able to meet you inside within thirty minutes."
"Great," answered Stanton. "Just comm link us when you're inside. Stanton out."
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