The Far Shore

by Glenn Damato

  “I don’t know all their names,” I whisper.

  “We’ll forgive you for that,” Senuri answers. She approaches ahead of the others. We reach out and clasp hands. The visor hides her face but her words are blissful. “Peace be with you, Cristina Flores.”

  ◆◆◆

  Shouldn’t have shown anybody my skin welts. They’re caused when blood pools in areas the actuators didn’t compress with enough force. Alison and Paige gasp at the raised red blotches inside my elbows. I don’t mention the other welts in my groin area.

  “Not as bad as it looks. Doesn’t hurt that much.”

  “They’ll heal by themselves in a few days,” Shuko assures me. “Let me know if they cause you any pain.”

  After the four of us cycled through the airlock two at a time, the whole equipment bay got coated in fine orange-brown dust puffing off our thermals. It’s horrible; it stings our eyes and noses and it takes a long time to clear out of the air. Electrostatic cling—the longer we stay out, the more dust is going to stick to the thermals. We need to install some kind of water washdown system in the airlock to control the nasty stuff.

  Eric figured out why we felt overheated toward the end of the hike. There’s a filter that’s supposed to keep Mars dust out of the fan that circulates cooling air under the thermal garments. The filter has an adjustable permeability and it was conservatively set to max fine, which made it clog quickly. Next time we’ll use a medium setting, and that should increase the flow of CO2 around our bodies.

  Endurance splits up two for each of the other spacecraft, with Senuri and Andre aboard Liberty. One hygiene pit for eight people, and short two sleeper bunks.

  Alison hands me apple juice in a blue plastic cup. Before it’s half-drained I get distracted and stupidly release my fingers—a habit developed after six weeks of everything floating around. Surprise! The cup falls, a bit slower than on Earth. Gravity demands a bit of care, remember?

  Paige shows Senuri our slush sample—five or six liters of dirty ground ice retrieved this afternoon. About half of it has melted into a horrible brownish-gray liquid. “I’m going to analyze for suspended and dissolved solids to find out what it will take to purify it for drinking and electrolyzing.”

  Ryder sticks his finger into the container and thrusts it into his mouth. Alison screams. Ryder reports, “Salty and bitter, with a pleasing oakwood finish and hints of pear and apricot.”

  Our com picks up a lot of back-and-forth chatter; encouraged by the fact no one has died yet, people are suiting up and venturing out on the surface two-by-two.

  “A word of caution,” Eric announces. “Top off your oxygen supply before venting all your air. You’ll feel mighty stupid later tonight if you suffocate because you forgot to line up and run your scrubbers.” There’s a pause. “Everybody did line up and start their scrubbers, right?”

  Our two solid oxide CO2 scrubbers are whirling away, producing oxygen from carbon dioxide, most of it coming from the Mars atmosphere. These were developed for the moon, and they require gravity, just like the portable electrolyzers we used for the Oxyrotor. There’s a pressure exchanger that compresses both the outside atmosphere and the oxygen produced by the scrubbers before the O2 goes to our banks. They’re close to 100-percent already, even though venting the airlock discards some of our air that needs to be replaced from the banks.

  “Sunset is at eighteen ten,” I report on the com so everyone on the surface can hear me. “That’s a little more than an hour from now. Don’t stray too far, and remember that once the sun gets really low and disappears, you’ll lose a lot of heat. Thermals should be light-side out.”

  Alison and Paige can’t pull themselves away from the big window. The sky and landscape change color by the minute. At least fifteen people hop and skip across the terrain. Vids from helmet cams fill up our main panel. Jokes, laughs, and happy faces.

  “We’re going out there,” Paige announces. Alison frowns, but she rises to join her friend. Everybody’s got to try it sometime, and sooner is probably better. The only potential problem is the low sun and rapidly approaching night. The airlocks can only transfer two at a time. No one has ever been on the surface without the warming effect of the sun. It got cold pretty fast when I stepped into the shadow of Independence. What if the Genesis engineers guessed wrong about these rather thin thermal garments?

  It’s possible to vent the spacecraft pressure quickly from the outside and open both airlock doors at the same time.

  Ryder touches my shoulder. “I’m going out there to see the sun set. I think everybody else pretty much has the same idea.”

  If we all cycle out now, we can catch the twilight. Shuko and Mikki help each other suit up. “My plan was to stay right here until someone builds some decent housing,” Mikki grumbles. “Then I realized if all of you croak at once, I’ll be the last and only poor, sorry bitch on the planet, and I don’t think I can deal with that.”

  “She’s telling us she likes us,” Ryder adds.

  Eric instructs on the use of the evacuation pump to get the airlock below two kp before venting the last of the pressure outside. This conserves air at the expense of battery power. Is this standard procedure, or has he decided air is more precious than battery reserve?

  Installing the power generators should be tomorrow’s priority.

  There’s a lot of people out, maybe all twenty-four of us. They gather mostly around Liberty. A few try jumping and find they can leap a meter high. Someone performs an outstanding broad jump of at least six meters. I set my visor to display names. Eric! An athletic type? I ask him, “Didn’t you warn us against having too much fun?”

  This is our first time face-to-face since the hospital. He wraps his arms around me for a quick hug. “We’re allowed one fun thing every day.”

  I scan the other display names in the vicinity. A yellow icon indicates a private com link from Blair. She tells me, “If you’re looking for Jürgen, he’s staying inside tonight. Tess is with him.”

  A health reason? Leave it be. The world is too beautiful. The sun touches the top of a distant hill. It’s about two-thirds normal size. The atmospheric dust cuts the glare and makes the disk a spectacular pale blue.

  “Look! The whole sky on this side is pink,” exclaims Norberto, pointing opposite the sunset. He arcs his arm to the west. “On this side, blue! Backwards from Earth.”

  Someone asks, “Where is Earth, anyhow?”

  Eric responds, “It won’t rise until early in the morning.”

  The last bit of sun vanishes behind the hill and the western horizon deepens to a stunning violet hue. The browns and grays of the surface terrain go black and the ground itself turns velvety blood-red. No one speaks. Two or three helmet lights come on but are quickly switched off. The first stars appear.

  Ryder faces me and forms silent words with his mouth and draws a loop with his finger. Make a circle. I get it. Another outstanding Ryder idea. And he wants me to be the one to suggest it.

  I say softly, “Let’s gather around. Make a circle so we’re facing each other. We should give thanks. And we should pay respect to those who aren’t with us.”

  Give thanks. Be grateful. Feels right. Again, who are we thanking?

  They do as requested. Eric puts his arms around Indra and Jewel. I put my left arm around Ryder, my right around Alison. We’re a closed ring of twenty-two.

  More stars emerge against the deep purple sky. It’s quiet except for the soft, alternating hum tones and occasional clicks from my backpack life support systems.

  Ryder nudges. They’re waiting. Waiting for me. Got to say something, anything.

  “Is this real?”

  Dumb question? No. Affirmatives and head nods. They’re thinking the same thing.

  “How could this be real?” I ask again. My backpack responds with another hum and a click. “So many incredible sights in one day. Our third sunset since we woke up.”

  Some turn upward. A motion in the sky? From the east, a dar
k curtain crawls across the heavens revealing thousands of stars.

  Someone whispers, “The shadow of Mars.”

  Is the thin and dusty atmosphere somehow doing this? No matter. It’s a cosmic drapery tenderly exposing the glory of the universe. I can’t touch Paco’s rosies without letting go of Ryder or Alison, but they’re with me.

  “We’re here. We’re safe, we’re healthy, we’re free. Think about those who began the journey but aren’t with us now, and our friends and family we’ll always keep close to our hearts. Let’s be silent for a moment and remember them, and those who gave their lives so we can be here today.”

  “Give thanks,” a male voice murmurs. Norberto?

  “Thank you,” says another, the last word cracking as if he’s choking back tears.

  The shadow-curtain completes its transit and leaves the sky covered with stars. The western horizon glows sapphire blue, the eastern burgundy. Except for the dim red helmet displays, everything at ground level is completely black. I blink to dry my eyes.

  “We’re here for a purpose,” I tell them. “Something good brought us to this place, this beautiful haven. Can you feel it inside you right now?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  A full night on the control center floor. Woke up how many times? The last must have been around five-thirty in the dim light of dawn. Mikki, Shuko, Andre, and of course Ryder clustered around a window to see the Earth. Did they say the temperature was minus one hundred? And people were outside?

  Any little movement shoots stabbing pain through my legs and lower back. Standing upright intensifies the soreness of my numerous pinch-point welts. Walking hurts worse, and reveals a fresh discomfort: stinging across the bottoms of both feet.

  Ryder reclines and yawns. “A little sore, are we?”

  “Just stiff. Need to move around.” Almost eight, two hours past sunrise. “Were people outside last night or did I dream it?”

  “Crazy Indra and her friend Jewel. They still have all their fingers. I think.”

  The thin folding table in the middle of the control center isn’t big enough for eight. Shuko eats his bowl of nattō while standing.

  “Stay away from me,” Mikki warns him as she digs into a bowl of oatmeal. “That stuff reeks like dirty old gym socks.”

  The nattō does stink, but everything else stinks too—the eight semi-washed bodies, our clothes, and most of all the hygiene pit. Matters will improve, one step at a time.

  Tess appears on the main panel. “If anyone’s sleeping, get them up now. Captain Morita will speak to us in ten minutes.”

  Ryder raises his cup. “Good morning to you too, sunshine!”

  Jürgen somehow regained his distinctive glint and subtle smile. Conversation stops. Alison says, “He’s back. Jürgen’s back.” Paige flutters her hand so we know to be quiet.

  “We are participating in history. No, we are history. We’re here not only to survive, but to create and discover. My first impulse is to talk about our future, but I’m not going to do that. There’s too much going on in the present.”

  I nod in agreement. Is he going to stick to the practical, the here and now?

  “We must direct full attention to replenishing our stockpiles of oxygen, water, and power. After that’s done, the second phase begins—surveying geophysical resources in our vicinity. Our schedule calls for the first Discovery Team expedition to depart in less than forty-eight hours. I’m going to announce the team members in a moment.”

  Paige leaps to her feet. Thanks to the low gravity, her body rises a few centimeters off the floor and then plops back down.

  Jürgen continues. “During our flight we were at the mercy of equipment built by others. Starting today our success rests entirely in our own hands. I’ve decided to appoint Mikki Tischler and Andre Broom to take charge of the reactor generators for Liberty and Independence, respectively.”

  Mikki spits out bits of food. Her eyes shine with delight. Jürgen agrees with me that she’s the best choice for this job, and now she suddenly loves it? Shuko hugs her and Ryder plants a robust slap between her shoulders. Senuri says, “Congratulations, Mikki. A perfect opportunity to shine.”

  He appoints Mikki to an important job? After she called his bullshit last week?

  All heads turn back to Jürgen. “Eric will be in charge of Constitution’s reactor installation. Power from these reactors will allow us to produce water, oxygen, methanol fuel, and run our life support systems without draining the batteries. We’ll be able to start making fuel for our expeditions.” He pauses and licks his lips. “Discovery Team One will consist of myself, Senuri Kumar, Ryder Lawson, and Fran Newman.”

  Ryder jiggles his head. “Did he just say me?”

  “He did say you!” Mikki cries. They wrap arms and bounce across the control center, narrowly missing the edge of the main panel. We all cheer, except for Paige. She snaps her spoon in half and lays both pieces side-by-side.

  When the ruckus subsides, Jürgen announces, “Discovery Team One will hold a briefing aboard Independence at ten this morning.”

  So those four people aren’t assisting with the reactor installation?

  I get no chance to ask. Jürgen pushes a few pics of sunlit mountains and gorges. “These images were taken from ten to twenty kilometers altitude while Independence was on landing approach. We’ve been comparing them to the decades-old probe images we’ve been using to plan our expeditions. We’ve discovered significant differences that shed insight on the nature of the local debris aprons.”

  The last pic shows a thin brownish trail in the top right corner.

  Resolute.

  Has to be! Did Jürgen crop off the spacecraft image so it wouldn’t mar his precious planning maps?

  He never said a word about Resolute. For all his supposed eloquence, he can’t offer a few sentences out of respect? Will he do that at the end of this talk? No. He’s finishing. I grind my fist into my thigh.

  “Each of us came here for our own reasons, but we share a common dream, the freedom to make our own decisions and control our lives. Paradoxically, our freedom requires everyone’s collaboration. We’re in a new world that may harbor unknown threats. With team spirit, we will not only survive but thrive.”

  The com explodes with the usual applause. Another hug-fest. But I won’t let go of the image of the brown streak.

  Resolute. Vijay.

  Not one single word.

  I scream at the vid, “I have a question!”

  Ryder frowns, something he doesn’t do often.

  Jürgen acknowledges me. “Keep it brief. We have a lot to do.”

  “You said three days ago we won’t make any fuel for the trucks until we have sixty kilos of oxygen and five hundred liters of water in each spacecraft—”

  “And we will,” Eric interrupts.

  “It’s a multi-step process,” I continue. “It’ll take time. We need to dig up ice, melt it, filter it, purify it. Some of it is electrolyzed into oxygen and hydrogen. React the hydrogen with carbon dioxide in the Sabatier tank to get methane, then react the methane with more oxygen to get methanol fuel. The trucks need more oxygen to burn that fuel. You’re going to leave us some oxygen to breathe, right?”

  The bad joke falls flat. Senuri coughs and folds her arms.

  Jürgen stares at me. “Of course we will, Cristina. Was that your question?”

  “My question is how do we know we can complete this entire process in less than two days, including the life-support stockpile—”

  “Cristina!” Eric, again.

  “That’s my question.” Finished.

  “We’re way ahead of you,” Jürgen tells me. “Constitution already purified and split thirty liters of water this morning.”

  “With battery power? Procedure requires we use the reactors.”

  Eric responds, “You know very well, Cristina, sometimes the procedure needs a hack. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here.”

  Jürgen leans his face into the vid. “This is for e
veryone to keep in mind. We’re making history. Every word we say is part of the permanent historic record. Don’t forget that our children, grandchildren, and generations to come will study our actions and emulate our example. Before you open your mouth, consider how you want to be remembered by posterity.”

  Fine. But he’s not talking to everyone. He’s talking to me.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Ryder and Andre walk out to Independence for the expedition briefing and reactor install. First time in weeks Ryder won’t be around. Will he come back to help with Liberty’s reactor?

  Mikki leaps into her assignment with enthusiasm. “We’ll be the first on line,” she declares. “It’ll be a bitch to unload the thing. Masses six hundred kilos. Let’s get that done now.”

  Did she ever read the procedure? No matter—Senuri has. “Before we think about moving the reactor we need to assemble the truck. The crane and drill both run on compressed CO2, so we need to fill the accumulator before we can run the motors.”

  Paige hasn’t said a word since the Discovery Team announcement. She sits chewing a protein bar. We all crave food that’s not from the printer, but those bars are supposed to be saved. I ask her, “Are you ready to set up the electrolyzer, the Sabatier, the compressor, hook it all up and hydro-test—”

  “I know what I’m doing,” Paige says, swallowing the last of the bar. “Leave me alone. Sick of people crawling all over me.”

  “They’re going to rotate these discovery trips so everyone gets a chance. There’s enough Mars out there to keep us exploring for the rest of our lives.”

  She crumples the wrapper. “I sent him my analysis on all the stupid geologic formations. I thought maybe . . .”

  “We’ll go on our own expedition, you and me. Steal a truck if we have to.”

  She smiles and tosses me a protein bar. What the hell? Ryder eats them all the time.

  Senuri is the experienced supervisor but she’s careful not to step on Mikki’s new authority. “With two working inside and four outside, we can rotate for rest and toilet breaks,” she suggests. “Mikki, who are you assigning to operate the drill?”