The Triton Disaster: Hard Science Fiction

by Brandon Q Morris

  “Here. Hold this,” she said, pushing it into Lance’s hand. She then looked back inside, reaching down along the right edge of the crate. She tugged out a round tank.

  “There it is,” she declared. “Okay, give me that back.” Lance returned the tube to her, and Sarah stuck it into one end of the tank and handed the assembly to him. “Turn around,” she instructed, making a little circling motion with one hand. He obeyed, and she rummaged around in his backpack. He could guess what she was doing as she pressed a cable into his hand. “The outlet is on the side of the tank.”

  After locating the small slot, he connected the cable. The old-fashioned vacuum cleaner in his hands was being powered by the life support backpack strapped across his shoulders.

  “Get going,” Sarah said. “I’ll take care of the measurements.”

  “Sure,” he said as he started to suction the dust off the base’s roof.

  “How about a little light?” Lance asked over his radio.

  The light was fading faster than they had expected. This was probably due to the high density of dust in the atmosphere. Thanks to the low gravity and the lack of rain, the dust remained in the air for quite some time after a windstorm.

  In lieu of an answer, several strips of lights flashed on along the roofline. The result looked spooky. A paler corridor now glowed around the base. In the sunlight, the dust hadn’t been nearly as visible as now. In fact, it had taken on a resemblance to fog.

  “Will you be done out there soon?” Mike asked.

  “We’re almost finished with the spring cleaning,” Lance replied.

  A pail full of water sat beside him. He had just finished washing the portholes, and he only had one more thing to take care of. He opened the lid on the pail, and steam swirled around him. In the thin air, only one-thousandth as dense as that on Earth, the heated water inside the pail evaporated very quickly. Hence, the lid. He submerged his sponge and had to hurry or risk losing the moisture. The dampness vanished as quickly as alcohol on Earth. At least he didn’t need to dry the glass.

  Where was Sarah?

  “Sarah?” he called.

  The doctor didn’t respond.

  “Can you see Sarah on your screen?”

  “Yes, Lance. She is about two hundred meters south of your position.

  He turned around and gazed into the specified direction, but he couldn’t see anyone. The light, however, only reached about fifty meters by this point.

  “Sarah?”

  Nothing. Should he be concerned?

  “Can you see her readings?”

  “Yes, but based on privacy laws, I can’t—”

  “Mike, don’t be stupid,” Lance said impatiently.

  “Okay. She’s doing just fine. Her heart rate is a little elevated, but other than that, everything’s good.”

  “You’re not worried about anything?”

  “We’d see if something happened.”

  “Hmm,” Lance said. “I’m going to check it out, anyway.”

  After depositing the sponge on the pail lid, he stood up. He then called up Sarah’s position on his helmet screen. After walking twenty meters it was so dark that he could only see the vague outlines of his feet.

  He tried contacting her again. “Sarah? Are you there?”

  What a dumb question. The instruments were clear in their readings. Lance felt himself growing increasingly concerned. How could his colleague have gotten lost out here? Even if a dust storm had hit them, they never would have been in real danger, thanks to the thin atmosphere.

  Was he scared of little green Martians? Lance’s screen told him that he should have just reached Sarah. A bulky black shadow materialized right in front of him. He was startled, but it only took a moment for him to realize that it was just a boulder. He really was seeing ghosts. He strode around the rock and almost stumbled over something soft. It was Sarah’s leg. She pulled it back and jumped to her feet, though she still didn’t say anything. However, she looked almost as surprised as he did.

  “I turned off my radio,” she said breathlessly. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

  “To find you.”

  “What for? The base has my vitals. Or did I suffer a heart attack without noticing it?”

  “No, I just thought... ah, forget it.”

  “You were worried about me. How sweet,” the doctor said. “I simply wanted to be alone for a minute. We’ve just spent seven months sharing the same forty cubic meters and were together for a long time during our training. I really needed this.”

  “Got it. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “Next time I’ll let you know.”

  “Greetings, turtle doves,” Mike interrupted from the base.

  Haha! ‘Turtle doves,’ my ass, Lance thought. Sarah was thirteen years older than himself. There was no way she’d be interested in a kid like him.

  “What is it?” she asked Mike.

  “You should head back to the base.”

  “Why? Don’t we still have about an hour? It feels marvelous out here.”

  She’s laying it on a bit thick, Lance thought. At that moment, his suit heater cut on. The surface temperature had dropped to minus 30.

  “It looks like I need you back here.”

  “Has the TV ceremony been postponed?” Lance asked. One of the presidents of the mission’s sponsor nations had probably just called in at the last minute with a special wish or something.

  “No, there’s a problem. A distress signal has come in,” Mike replied.

  “What does that have to do with us?”

  “A whole lot, Lance. It’s coming from close by.”

  “The crazies.”

  “You guessed it.”

  May 23, 2042, MfE ship Santa Maria

  “Get it started!”

  Henrik shouted so loudly that Ewa covered her ears as he slammed his fists onto the silvery console in front of him. This was now the second time that the pilot had lost his temper. Ewa shook her head disapprovingly, but she didn’t say anything. Something like this didn’t typically happen. However, there was nothing typical about this flight, which had seemed to be ill-fated from the start. It was understandable that patience was in short supply among some of them, especially considering they only had three or four days to get the engine repaired. If they failed to do so, they wouldn’t reach their orbit around Mars, and they would have to make another full loop around the sun.

  “Just calm down,” Chuck said. The Brit, a former bomber pilot, was their commander.

  He stopped beside Henrik and rested an arm across his shoulders. Ewa found this an odd picture, knowing the two of them as she did from the selection procedure in which they had competed against hundreds of other applicants from around the world. Henrik, the slim, intellectual Dutchman, had maneuvered their group through many trials with his calm, thoughtful demeanor. On the other hand, Chuck had always shot ahead, trying to solve problems in a hands-on manner and failing along the way. But now he was the one holding the crew together. It was amazing how wrong you could be about people! If it had been up to their group, Chuck wouldn’t have been named commander. However, a volunteer team of psychologists had made the decision. This was in keeping with the other aspects of the trip, which were also being handled by volunteers.

  And that was increasingly proving to be a problem.

  “This fucking engine! Who conned us into buying it?” Henrik demanded as he spun his seat around to face Chuck.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ewa noticed that Piotr had stood up. He was the third crew member assigned to this shift in the command module. Piotr came from an influential Russian family, and he had acquired the engine for the Mars for Everyone project through his connections. This engine was supposed to bring them into Mars orbit and eventually down to the surface.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Chuck said.

  Ewa noticed that he shot Piotr a hard look. Just let it go, his eyes said, but the Russian was not a man who could leave well en
ough alone if he felt he was being mistreated.

  Piotr drew closer. “The engine is rock-solid,” he said quietly. “The model was tested over many years, and we got it for pocket change. We couldn’t come close to affording any of the engines the private manufacturers offered us. You wouldn’t even be sitting here if my uncle hadn’t known someone who—”

  “Maybe it would be better if I weren’t sitting here,” Henrik shot back angrily.

  “Do you want to go back to your Mama?” Piotr asked. “Wee Henrik would like to be fished out of the ball pit? As soon as a few problems pop up, you Westerners start whining. I’m right, don’t you agree, Ewa?”

  Ewa said nothing, but she retreated a few steps, sensing they were on the verge of a real fight. If anyone had told her before today that Henrik would raise his hand against any of their fellow travelers, she would have simply laughed, but now Henrik seemed angry enough to hit someone.

  She had to agree with Piotr in part. It felt like a clear boundary line ran down the crew, and it seemed to have something to do with the former Iron Curtain, despite the fact it had been gone for over fifty years already. The enthusiasm for the Mars colonization project, which was funded through donations, had whitewashed-covered this boundary, but the thin paint was now flaking away and the line had reappeared.

  “I—” Henrik said, balling his fists.

  “You? You can’t take any more?” Piotr just had to keep picking at him.

  “That’s enough!” Chuck cut in as if he was dealing with two yapping dogs. All that was missing was him grabbing them by the scruffs of their necks. The glares continued.

  “Enough,” he repeated.

  To Ewa’s surprise, the warning worked.

  “Idiot!” Henrik muttered, sitting back down.

  He leaned over the control panel as if he needed to check something. Piotr hadn’t seen that coming. He opened his mouth several times, but couldn’t seem to come up with anything to say. Then he spun around. As the floater—who would cover either the pilot or the commander in their absence—his place was in the corner of the command module.

  “Just stay calm,” Chuck said. “The technicians have sworn up and down that they’ll have the engine back up and running soon.”

  Whatever... Previous experience had proven that these promises were relatively hollow. The engine had obviously sat around a little too long in the old spaceship dockyard where Piotr’s uncle had found it.

  “Besides, I contacted the Endeavour expedition on Mars yesterday. They are considering if and how they might be able to assist us,” Chuck continued. Piotr and Henrik whipped around to face him as if the commander had detonated a bomb on the bridge.

  “You did what?” Henrik asked.

  “You heard me. I’m Commander of this ship, and it’s my responsibility.”

  “You should’ve asked us,” Piotr said, now back up on his feet. “According to the foundation’s statutes, we’re supposed to collectively make any decisions that impact our day-to-day operations.”

  “We aren’t on Earth anymore. You might have forbidden me to establish contact.”

  Ewa attempted to visualize a team discussion. Chuck was probably right. Among the twenty people on board, there were several who placed a high value on the independence of the MfE project. That wasn’t all that surprising. After all, everyone here was crazy enough to have left the security of their home planet without the prospect of a return ticket. Some of the crew hadn’t only broken off their own personal contacts, they were fed up with the old human race in general, which was represented in the international Endeavour Mars expedition. Adding to that was the mentality of ‘us up here, them down there.’ MfE—Mars for Everyone—had been painstakingly financed through donations, while the four astronauts, who had taken the first step on Mars before them, were being paid through tax funds.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Piotr said.

  “But it’s done now,” Ewa said. “And so what, really? It’s just one option. We don’t have to accept their help. We can keep circling the sun and try again in a year to enter Mars’s orbit.”

  Chuck shot her a grateful look. Continuing in orbit around the sun really wasn’t an option. They didn’t have enough supplies to last out another year.

  “And what did the folks down there say?” Henrik asked.

  “They have to figure out what their options are. And there’s still a chance the technicians will fix the engine.”

  Ewa had heard enough. Besides, her watch had just vibrated. It was time to feed the animals. She was actually a chemist, but on this project, everyone wore several hats. At least she had always been interested in agriculture.

  “See you later, boys,” she said in farewell before floating over to the hatch that connected the command module with the rest of the ship.

  The MfE initiative hadn’t been able to afford a large ship like NASA’s, or even the SpaceX colony ship that was following them. Instead, they had purchased two recycled Dragon modules and arranged for them to be shot into space as secondary cargo. As a practical measure, the construction crew for the final design had traveled on the ship with them. Back then—must have been almost three years ago—Ewa had followed the TV coverage of all the developments. The media had dubbed them ‘the crazies’ because they wanted to undertake, on a minimal budget, a voyage without a planned return. And yet hadn’t the settlers who had moved lock, stock, and barrel to the Wild West been just as crazy? Most of Ewa’s fellow travelers would have seen that journey as a form of insanity, and many of them still thought like that. In any case, their ship had almost reached Mars!

  Something told her that she had seen and heard enough. It was time for her to leave. Ewa opened the hatch to the interior space. The stench washed over her like a wave, making her feel slightly nauseous. Of course, there was a reason for everything. It didn’t stink because the crew refused to bathe, but rather from the ever-present dampness. They had been living for over five months in a balloon-like structure, which was filled with damp air and cooled from the outside by the chill of space.

  Between the two cone-shaped Dragon modules, they had constructed a framework out of a titanium alloy, the most expensive they could afford. And then they had fastened fabric panels to the framework, similar to the way that tarps can be attached to an internal structure. When that was done, they pumped the entire thing full of breathable air. The Santa Maria was a gigantic balloon, but in this instance, the whole structure wouldn’t pop if the surface developed a hole in it. This was because, like an anorak, the flexible walls were divided into various chambers that were filled with water. The water provided excellent protection against the interplanetary radiation, and it offered stability in the frigid temperatures that existed in space.

  The boldly-adventurous construction had been another reason that most people on Earth predicted that the project would fail. However, the reality was different—they had made it. Ewa floated through the hatch and closed it behind her. Warm, jungle-like humid air enveloped her. As little of the humidity as possible was allowed to enter the command module, where it could damage the electrical systems.

  During their long journey, several problems had developed that made it clear that the spaceship builders had been somewhat lacking in terms of their building technology knowledge. The life support system was large enough to transform the exhaled carbon dioxide into oxygen and to purify the wastewater. However, nobody had thought about the large amount of perspiration that would be produced. It clung to the walls as droplets, but because of the state of weightlessness, the moisture didn’t separate from the surfaces. Since it didn’t roll down and gather into puddles, it was impossible to wipe away.

  Over time, the drops coalesced into a film that spread everywhere and grew thicker. The only way to cope with this dampness was to continually dry the walls, but this was like tilting at windmills. The free shift that each of the twenty crew members had, once their primary duties were finished, was filled with working out and
cleaning. In other words, their days were divided as follows: twelve hours of work, four hours of athletics, and eight hours of sleep.

  Ewa had observed her fellow travelers. The psychologists had obviously done an excellent job evaluating them, considering they hadn’t devolved into murder and manslaughter despite the absence of any private space. Of course, there were regular conflicts. Shortly after their departure, three couples had quickly formed. This was part of the plan reflected in the selection of ten women and ten men. Mars for Everyone had been imagined as a colony that would grow naturally on the Red Planet. However, the relationships hadn’t even lasted a month. The Santa Maria wasn’t exactly optimal for couples. Would this change in the hard reality of Mars?

  She floated past her colleagues, en route to the lower area, greeting a few of them. The one crew shift was hanging on the lateral walls in their sleeping bags, looking for all the world like plump bats. The others were either working out or cleaning up the condensed moisture. They chatted quietly to avoid disturbing the sleepers. Everyone agreed that the best invention ever was the super-lightweight, sound-absorbing headphones that an electronics manufacturer had sponsored. One advantage of being weightless was that the headphones hardly rubbed at all, regardless of your sleeping position. They functioned amazingly well.

  The animals were kept in the lowest level of the second space module, the terminus of their balloon as it were, a drainage plug of sorts. At least this meant that the animals weren’t contributing to the stench in their space-traveling tent. Ewa truly enjoyed her time in this area. This wasn’t really due to the animals, which she viewed more as her responsibility than as her darlings. However, the climate control in this module operated at just the right capacity. Thus, the air down here was as fresh as in the command module, and yet she had something here that was a rare commodity on the ship—peace and quiet.

  Ewa slipped through the hatch and into the ‘zoo module,’ as it was jokingly called. They had been given animals that reproduced easily and could provide valuable nutrition. This menagerie included a guinea pig family, several rabbits, and bantam chickens that laid remarkably large eggs.