Spinning Diamonds

by Steve S. Grant

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  “Now, let’s stand you up. You’ll lean on me as we go down.”

  Slowly, step by painful step, with Bill draping an arm over Vincent’s shoulder and hopping on his left leg, they descended to the plain without falling. Bill was breathing hard and sweat marred his face. At a command, a straw extended near his mouth and he drank from his two-liter reservoir. He sat down in relief.

  Vincent was already exhausted. His hands were shaking and his legs felt weak. They had barely covered 500 meters downhill. This isn’t good. While recovering his breath, he noticed how different from the moon everything was. The colors, the hazy skyline, the pale clouds, the atmosphere. The only thing similar was the desolation. Everywhere you looked, only rocks and dust and more rocks.

  Can I manage sixteen kilometers while supporting Bill after spending so many months in zero G? On an empty stomach? Inside ten hours?

  “Why would they take so long to get to us?” asked Bill.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought they regularly flew all over the planet.”

  “Yeah, I thought so too. Come on, let’s get moving.”

  “Wanna know what I think? I think these fuckers are deliberately waiting for us to die before stealing our diamonds. Easy pickings.”

  “They wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Believe me, everything they do is closely monitored. Recorded. Analyzed and criticized. Everything is on the record. You think they can just take that kind of initiative without everyone on Earth finding out what they did?”

  “That may have been true on the moon, but not here. These people are as isolated as we were when drilling Alex. And they’re here for extended periods of time.”

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  “Well, at the moment, they’re the only ones who know we found diamonds. The rest of humanity thinks we struck out. Now that we crashed here, you really think they’ll relay our message?”

  “They’d never get away with it.”

  “They could doctor videos, erase communications, and leave our bodies where they will eventually fall. Who would ever know?”

  “You’re being paranoid. Get a grip. Their communication grid was being overhauled before we got here. They didn’t know about the diamonds.”

  “But they do now. Our defective rockets blew up. They could relay whatever they want to Earth and nobody would ever know, because we’ll never make it back.”

  “You can’t be right. They would never have mentioned the shelters if they just wanted us dead. Just keep you strength for what’s ahead. You’ll need it.”

  “I wanna believe you. I do. But I have a bad feeling about all this. Just promise me one thing. Seriously. Promise me that, if, for any reasons, I can no longer walk, promise me you’ll keep going. You’ll keep going and make sure that my sons get their share of the diamonds.”

  “Stop talking nonsense,” said Vincent as he pulled himself up and found his balance. “You just get going and you’ll get to spoil them yourself.”

  “I’m not getting up until you say the words.”

  Vincent winced. Why does he have to make this so fucking hard. “Yeah, yeah, I promise. Happy? Now move your ass.”

  * * *

  The ground looked flat but was uneven and littered with rocks of all sizes. They covered very little ground during the first two hours, stumbling along on shaking legs and pausing every ten minutes.

  Vincent didn’t look up, concentrating on stepping around rocks and choosing an easy path. They had fallen down twice, both times tripping over each others’ feet.

  “There it is again,” croaked Bill. “There’s something out there.”

  Vincent kept going without pausing. The hallucinations are getting worse. They walked around a small hill the size of a two-story building and resumed their steady pace. Bill kept seeing strange reflections and whenever Vincent looked up, the sun sure produced a lot of glitter all around them. Scintillating rocks were everywhere. Bill thought they were moving, following them. He was suddenly racked with deep coughing and slid to the ground.

  Vincent guided him down and then stretched his aching back. He was strangely light-headed, but his visor display told him that they had covered over five kilometers and that was good news. One third of the way.

  The coughing changed to a deep, lung-grating, wet noise.

  “Take it easy, we’re making good time,” said Vincent.

  Bill raised his head and half of his visor was tinted red. He was coughing blood. This meant internal bleeding, possibly, which meant that Bill was probably dying.

  “Remember your promise.” Blood was bubbling on his lips, and his chin was speckled with red dots.

  Vincent looked around in desperation. As far as the eye could see, desolation.

  “I’m just going to lie down for a while,” said Bill as he lowered himself on his side.

  He’s not getting up again. The thought came quietly and naturally. Something self-evident. Bill’s dying.

  After a few seconds, Bill closed his eyes and fell asleep. Vincent took a step away from his friend, looked at the prone figure one last time, and walked away steadily, fulfilling his promise.

  * * *

  Without Bill leaning on him, Vincent made good time and walked seven kilometers in two hours. His legs were wobbly, his back ached like crazy, and the blisters on both of his feet had opened and were bleeding profusely. His spacesuit certainly wasn’t designed for walking on Mars. Still, he was getting it done. He was getting closer to the shelter.

  Try as he might, he could not turn his thoughts away from Bill’s comments. He was so wrong. Astronauts were brothers, a fraternity that went beyond anything a company man like Bill would have ever known. Astronauts would go to any length to rescue someone in distress. And that was the most puzzling thing of all. Why did he have to walk? The Mars colonists had much more equipment than they could use. They weren’t restricted to any area. So why am I walking? Normally, they should have picked him up and brought him to a shelter inside of a few hours.

  The shelter. A deformed steel container to the untrained eye. For Earth construction workers, a shitty and totally unacceptable on-site lodging option. At best, it could serve extreme campers for a weekend. For the experienced astronaut, it was a self-sustained haven of security and peace that filtered oxygen and recycled human wastes. With its own power source, it could accommodate between six and eight people. Vincent had lived years of his life in those air-dropped shacks scattered strategically all over the moon. He knew what to expect when he got there.

  And then he reached the crevice.

  He didn’t realize right away what it was. He simply turned right and went around a small rocky mound. He was stopped short as the large crack in the ground snaked away as far as the eye could see on either side, hugging the undulating terrain like the Great Wall of China.

  What the hell is this?

  He climbed to the top of the little mound and saw the crevice disappearing over the horizon. Shit, what I am supposed to do now?

  “Vincent, are you there?” Bill’s voice was close to panic. “Where are you?”

  Vincent closed his eyes and sat down, feeling a tightening around his heart. This is gonna be hard.

  “Vincent, I’m ready to go now. I need your help to get up.” Intense coughing followed the words, then hoarse breathing.

  Vincent turned his communicator off. Listening to slow, agonizing death was unbearable. His vision blurred and he banged his hand against his helmet in an attempt to wipe his tears. He almost laughed. What a noob. An experienced astronaut like him hadn’t attempted to touch his face while suited in years, and had made countless jokes at the expense of young men and women making their debut in the profession.

  Good-bye, Bill, I’ll take care of your family. Looking around, he decided to go left along the crevice, as it appeared to be taking him closer to his destination. Not that he
had ever entertained the notion of jumping over the crevice, but it got wider and wider after a few hundred meters. Maybe the other side would have been better?

  It was also deep. At least fifty meters, as far as he could tell. After almost an hour, he chose a spot where he should be able to cross without difficulty.

  Getting to the bottom was no problem. Vincent slid down while sitting, controlling his descent like a kid on a toboggan. It wasn’t elegant, but it was safe. His suit was designed for that kind of punishment.

  Climbing up the other side proved a much bigger challenge. Vincent quickly realized that, tired as he was, this might prove beyond him. His legs and back were on fire. His suit’s water supply was practically out, his oxygen was going faster than it should, with less than three hours left, and he was still four kilometers away from the shelter. He crawled up slowly and carefully, often digging footholds in the gravelly surface.

  The slip came when he was halfway up. The ground just oozed out from under him. He slid slowly at first, and finished at the very bottom with a cartwheel that landed him flat on his back and knocked the air out of his lungs.

  Slowly gathering himself, Vincent brought the bag of diamonds in front of him. This fucking thing is weighing me down. On an impulse he opened the bag, took a handful of diamonds and stuffed them in his pants’ pocket. Looking around, he saw a very round boulder twenty meters away from him. It was as good a landmark as any. His thoughts went to Bill, to his maniacal fussing as he had individually tagged each diamond. The way he had whistled while working. The way he had talked about his sons and where he would take them once he was established as a rich man. Bill, who was presently trying to reach him on the radio; who was dying because nobody was around to help them.

  There should be someone here.

  Vincent made his way carefully to the round boulder, which sat among of field of bigger and smaller boulders. Being careful to step on hard rocks whenever he could, he finally sank to his knees next to it and started digging a hole. He buried the rest of the diamonds there and used the empty bag to wipe away the traces of his work. Just like an Apache Indian hiding his trail to fool pursuers.

  There should be someone here.

  If, for some crazy reason Bill was right, then the bastards wouldn’t get their diamonds. He draped the empty bag over his shoulder and returned to where he had landed on his back.

  Here we go.

  With renewed efforts, and freed from the additional weight, he clawed his way to the top. Twice he skidded down, but stubbornness paid off, as it usually did in Vincent’s case. Stubbornness and digging down deep into his energy reserve.

  Finally, as he laid on his back on the other side of the crevice, he thought about Bill. Bill, who was probably still alive, suffering and passing out in pain. Coughing blood. Dying a slow, agonizing death.

  Standing up was excruciating, and walking was torture. This is nothing, Bill is coughing his lungs out. Somehow, Vincent kept moving and fell into a rhythm.

  Why is this so hard?

  The ground was rising. Vincent realized that he was going uphill, and it would get steeper and steeper as he moved out of the valley or crater. His legs were cotton, wobbling uncontrollably, and he couldn’t feel his back. Only two kilometers to go and over ninety minutes of air. I can do this! Where’s that fucking shelter?

  Try as he might, he couldn’t see the steel structure that should have stood out in this red background of sand and rocks like a yellow lifeboat on the ocean. Finding his bearings, he angled his ascension to minimize effort, painstakingly placing one foot in front of the other, each time pushing on his knees with his hands as the ground rose.

  For the tenth time, Vincent’s parched lips grabbed his straw but tasted nothing but air. His water had run out in the crevice a lifetime ago. Only four hundred meters to go. Four football fields.

  Blinking through the sunset, Vincent made his way up and up and up. The shelter must be tucked behind some rocks on a flat piece of ground. With renewed effort and a rising heartbeat, he stumbled forward like a zombie carrying a piano.

  This can’t be right.

  His screen told him that he was twenty meters away, but there was no shelter. There were marks on the flat ground and many footprints. Signs of life. Someone had been here.

  Vincent stopped walking when he reached the transmitter. He stared at it blankly. This thing should be on top of a shelter. Could the suitcase-size device have fallen off when the shelter was moved? Why was the shelter moved?

  Vincent vaguely remembered having seen something similar happening on the moon. It was unclear. Turning on himself, seeing the sun skim over the horizon, he felt it for the first time. Rising panic. The hard realization that he was going to die here, alone, in the dark, just like Bill, was like a sucker punch. There is no shelter. There had been one, in the past, but it was gone. Are Martian sunsets always so blurry?

  Suzanne had been right. He wasn’t an astronaut. He was just a tired, old man trying to relive his youth. A pitiful has-been who couldn’t leave a good thing alone and had to go and spoil everything. The diamonds were beautiful. She would like them. But she would be so disappointed in him. He knew it. He felt it. What the fuck am I doing here?

  Vincent took a step forward, changed his mind, took two steps backward, and collapsed to the ground.

  * * *

  “This is it,” said Peter.

  “I can’t believe he made it this far. He would have reached the shelter if we hadn’t brought it back thirty clicks.” Anna’s voice was very low. “Why is he shaking like that?”

  “Death throes. The old boy’s done, just like his partner. Okay, Iet’s go.”

  “You sure he’s dead?”

  “He will be by the time we reach him.” Poor girl needs to get a grip.

  “I don’t want to look at him.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll just grab the diamonds and we’ll be off.”

  Anna turned away from the screen showing Vincent Lambert’s jerky spasms and eased behind the heavy chopper’s controls. She punched a key, informing the autopilot to bring them back to their previous location. They took off from behind their hiding place across the valley and covered the four kilometers to the transmitter in less than five minutes. The chopper landed smoothly ten meters away from the dead man.

  Peter was out of the hatch right away and walked energetically to his target. “Shit, something’s wrong!”

  “What?”

  Peter reached down and roughly pulled the empty bag off the corpse. A glance showed him Vincent Lambert’s rolled up eyes and blue lips. He quickly looked away.

  Geez, I didn’t want to see that. “The bag’s empty.”

  “That’s impossible.” Anna quickly replayed the video of both men coming out of the Soyuz. “That bag wasn’t empty when they started out.”

  “Well, it’s empty now.”

  “Is it ripped?”

  “Yeah, it’s got a big hole in it. Shit!”

  Anna fast forwarded the video. “Come back, he left the diamonds in the crevice. The bag was full when he got in and empty when he got out.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe it was too heavy? Just hop on and I’ll drop you on site.”

  Too heavy? Could be. That guy was about Oleg’s age. Peter grabbed the transmitter and returned to the chopper. Instead of going inside, he strapped himself to a working platform at the back. “Okay, let’s go.”

  They took off again, quickly banking toward the center of the valley. Vincent Lambert’s footprints were like a dotted line on a treasure map. A few minutes later, Anna immobilized the aircraft over the crevice and Peter hooked a line to his spacesuit.

  “Okay, here I go.”

  A powerful hoist lowered him to the bottom. Peter unclipped himself and looked at the footprints. There were lots of them. “You sure he left the diamonds here?”

  “The bag was bulky when he came in and flat when he came o
ut. Whatever was in it has to be here.”

  “Can you move away while I do this? If you stay much longer there won’t be any footprints left.”

  The chopper moved out of view as Peter surveyed the area. He walked the length of Vincent’s trail, not finding anything.

  “Do you have them?” asked Anna.

  “No. In fact, I don’t have a clue.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  “Keep your pants on, I’m just getting started.” Why don’t you come down and have a look?

  Peter walked back and forth three times, bending down now and then, examining rocks and footprints. There was nothing. “We have to go back and get his suit.”

  “What?”

  “His suit’s camera will tell us what happened in the crevice. It’s the only place we didn’t film him.”

  “We all agreed to leave them where they fell. If we bring the bodies back, we won’t be able to explain not rescuing them.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

  “Can’t you just scan this area and locate the diamonds? I mean, you’re the geologist.”

  Oh geez, like I didn’t think of that. “We have no surface scanners.” This isn’t the beach.

  The chopper reappeared over the crevice. “I don’t like it.”

  “Let’s ask Oleg then.”

  “Don’t joke about that. He voted against all this. You know how he feels.”

  “Just bring me back over there.” Peter secured the line to his suit and returned to the platform. He strapped himself in a seat.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  The chopper took off with automated precision and quickly banked toward their previous location.

  “Maybe they didn’t find diamonds. Maybe it was just an elaborate lie to secure help from Earth on their return trip. Think about it. They were isolated and without communication. Money was going to open up a few channels. ” Anna’s tone of voice changed. “Maybe they died for nothing.”

  Not that again. “Don’t go there, Anna. It was a group decision and what’s done is done. You saw the video of the small meteorite, the ore being gathered. All those diamonds. They wouldn’t be able to fake images like that.”

  “I just hope this is all worth it.”

  “Sure it is, stop worrying.”