by Glenn Damato
I stand on shaky legs. “Good. Suit up, depressurize, get the others out. We leave now.”
No one moves.
Ryder says, “There’s something else you need to know.”
“Talk while we get into our suits. No use cycling out. We’ll depressurize the whole cabin and open both hatches.”
Still, no one moves. Jürgen says directly to me, “I worked out the numbers with Eric and Ryder. Our plan is to maximize the number of people we save, given the resource constraints we’re facing.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Ryder stands and takes my arm. “Cristina, it has to be eleven of us. Eric and Darien took a realistic look at the situation, did some estimates, ran some numbers. Eleven of us, including you.”
I pull my arm away.
Ryder goes on. “Eleven of us can start the reactor at Endurance and produce power and enough oxygen and life support, like CO2 scrubbing. Twenty-four is too much support load. With all twenty-four, the load would decrease the likelihood of success. We’ll come back as soon as possible for—”
“No!”
Dry throat. Maybe the knockout drug. The words come out hoarse but intense. “All of us. We’re going to Endurance, every one of us.”
Eric says, “The numbers—”
“All of us!”
Nothing but the huffs of us breathing bad air.
“Eric worked it out,” says Paige, words trembling. “We can’t all go.”
“Did you fucking hear what I just said?” I move toward Paige. “You’d leave everybody else here and walk away?”
Paige’s voice cracks. “I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die. There’s been enough death. We’re going to do this together, all of us.”
Jürgen clears his throat. “I am the elected captain. I have made this decision.”
Ryder whispers, “Twelve people already died. What difference will another thirteen make if it saves—”
I swing my right arm with all my strength. My palm smacks Ryder directly across his face. The crack from the blow rings through the control center. He stares back, stunned. They’re all stunned. Good.
“You talk about trust and respect! Trust and respect! Now you turn your back on your friends, people who trust you!”
Ryder blinks as if he’s about to cry. I turn and look into each face. Most cast their eyes downward.
Jürgen isn’t done. “I’ve made the decision.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” I throw back, as forceful as my throat allows. “What a joke! Day eight, and this how we start our new civilization? Sentence half to death? Then what’s the point? What’s the point of being here?”
Eric mutters, “It’s just too much load, Cristina.”
“They’re not loads, they’re people! I’m a load too, so why didn’t you just put me out of my misery while I was sleeping?”
Jürgen still isn’t done. “We can’t put twenty-four people into Endurance.”
“Shut it and listen. Here’s what I want. Consider yourselves already dead. Now you don’t have anything to be afraid of. You’re going to do exactly what I say. Understand that? Exactly what I say. I’m depressurizing this cabin in two minutes. We’re getting the others, all of them.”
The soft buzz from the CO2 scrubber and the fan stops. The power panel emits three angry beeps. Now the silence is total.
“Eric! Have you considered navigation between here and Endurance?”
Will he answer at all?
“We walk heading zero four zero. You walked half the route, Cristina, Senuri the other half. We move steadily, four hours’ total time, arrive shortly after dawn.”
“That’s it, then. Heavy thermals, with mittens and boot covers. Suit up. Now!”
They do it without another word. Even Jürgen. And they do move as if they’re already dead. Ryder whispers, “I’m a coward. Maybe I deserve to die.”
“Shut it and focus on what we have to do,” I tell him. “We’ll need the best from every last one of us.”
When all helmets are sealed I climb down into the equipment bay and open the airlock inner hatch. The control panel is blank. Eric comes down the ladder. “Inner has to be closed to override. It’s a double protection.”
I shut the hatch and Eric rotates two red handles between the airlock and the power panel. I re-open the inner hatch, and Eric twists an L-shaped handle recessed into the ceiling. Seconds later the BioSuit actuators tighten. Liberty’s cabin quickly depressurizes through two wide valves under the floor.
Rosies. Shit.
“Everyone file out and test your night systems,” I tell them. I climb back to my sleeper and retrieved the rosies from a crumpled flight suit. I also pull out the triangle-folded flag. Dark blue, white stars. That’s coming, too.
The equipment bay is already empty. The outer hatch is wide open to the hard blackness of the night.
FORTY-TWO
“Helmet lights to red,” I call out. The remaining white beams switch color, but the ground swallows most of the illumination.
Alison asks, “Isn’t it too dark with red?”
“Our eyes will dark adapt in a few minutes. We’ll be able to use a lower setting on the image intensifier. Helps spot small rocks. Trust me.”
All of you, trust me.
Paige points to the flag under my arm. “Why are you bringing that?”
“It’s lucky.”
“Why do you say that?”
I stuff the flag into the largest pouch on my thermals. “It got this far, didn’t it?”
Constitution first. Their com is working, so I instruct them to suit up and depressurize their cabin. No argument whatsoever. They move with heaviness and inattention—what’s the correct word? Apathy. So much decline in twenty hours.
Minus eighty-three degrees. Even with full thermals, the cold soaks through. Need to make this quick before people get other ideas.
Jürgen connects with me on a private com channel. “Do what you want.”
“If you have anything to say to me, do it later and in private.”
He snickers. That’s not like Jürgen at all. “What if there is no later? We’re probably going to die, Cristina. Think about preparing yourself. I’m prepared. I’m ready to die.”
“You’ve come this far just to die? Just stay out of my way.”
Back to channel one. Hungry. Should have forced down a food bar.
I announce, “Everyone gather near Liberty. Stretch your legs! Get the blood flowing! We leave in two minutes.”
A semi-circle forms, each person facing me. Clusters of twos and threes, arms interlaced, only a few standing alone. Walt asks, “Would it be better to wait for first light?”
“No more power to run the inside CO2 scrubbers, and our suit packs are good for five hours. We leave now.”
I pull off the mitten on my right hand and withdraw the rosies. I hold them high for all to see. “These belonged to my father. I kept them with me for seven years. They’re part of me, my reminder of my father’s goodness and his belief. His belief. Belief in something greater than himself. Belief that life has a purpose besides just survival.”
I step toward the hatch and wrap the rosies around the release handle. The beads and the little cross swing gently. “I’ll leave them here for now and come back for them in a few days. I know they’ll be safe, and we’ll be safe. We’re here for a purpose. Do you believe that?”
A chorus of yes fills my ears.
“We’ll move steadily, fast enough to keep warm, not so fast we’re tripping over rocks. Watch the ground in front of you.”
I swallow. Throat and mouth are still parched from whatever drug. Concentrate on keeping the shiver down. “Eric and Ryder, I want you both up front. Everyone else, a single line behind them. Walk directly behind the person in front of you. We’ll rest if we need to, but better to keep moving.”
“Let’s go!” Indra cries. “The bottoms of my feet are freezing!”
> I feel the need to tilt my head back. The visor image of the stars is strange, like a child’s drawing. Orion is directly overhead. “We’re going to make a new start. Again.”
That draws a few soft laughs.
“This time we have an advantage. We’re better. We’re better than we were yesterday, and the day before. We already took some hard lessons. Expect some more. We live and we learn. So let’s get moving and get warm.”
A quick count as the line forms; all present. The end of the line is the best observation position. Some hold hands or walk with arms around someone’s shoulders, but no one needs physical support.
I pull Eric into a private channel. “You were pretty sketchy about the reactor problem. Do you have a firm procedure, or are we in troubleshooting mode?”
“I know what to do. We were looking at the wrong start logs, for one thing. So yeah, I understand what needs to happen. With the reflector too low, it times out before the internal battery fades. With the reflector too high, it trips on high startup rate. Matter of finding the right position.”
“I want you to keep Darien and myself informed on every stage. In fact, he’ll assist you directly. I want you to give me the news in plain English and without delay. Do I have your promise?”
“Yeah, Cristina. Sure.”
Walking doesn’t do much to ward off the cold. The mass of Mount Fútbol blacks out a curved chunk of stars. The pace quickens—a universal subconscious craving to reach shelter and safety, probably. But there would be no true safety until the Endurance reactor generates power, and before that it needs to be installed. That will require power, and time. Were the batteries in good shape? Would they be affected by the cold?
Shut it. It’s not a problem until it’s a problem.
No conversation, not even on the general channel. Some people walk with their helmets pressed together, maybe speaking privately through sound conduction. Jürgen and Tess march arm-in-arm near the end of the line. Does she have any idea he was about to leave her for dead?
Phobos due to rise a few minutes before four, but there’s no glow on the eastern horizon, ahead and to the right. I switch off the imager to see in natural light. No Phobos. Are we walking in the correct direction? I turn—there’s a milky radiance behind us. Phobos is rising above the hills to the southwest. I forgot! The little potato-shaped moon orbits Mars close and faster than the planet rotates, so it moves backwards in the sky.
We hit an incline several kilometers before the terrain crests. This was the meeting point on day one.
“All downhill from here,” I announce. “It’ll start getting light in less than an hour. By that time we might be able to see Endurance.”
We walk with purpose. The eastern sky glows and I switch off the imager to enjoy the natural spectacle of the Earth and the moon against the deep blue. Orange light sparkles off the mountaintops.
The line stops, people cluster. They point ahead. Trouble?
Norberto says, “Three klicks at the most.”
Far away, yet so crisp, a tiny white bump stands among the brown ridges. Endurance.
We’ll need to fit twenty-four in a volume too small for six. A fishbowl with way too many fish.
No one cares. It is salvation. It is life.
FORTY-THREE
Endurance is slightly lopsided and appears minuscule even though it’s the same size as Liberty. It rests on a gentle slope, the bottom marred with black streaks from atmospheric entry.
Everyone gathers by the hatch. I wave Eric over to me. “You and Darien cycle in first, recommend whether we enter two at a time or depressurize.”
“Cycling everybody in would take two hours, twice that if we don’t use the compressor.”
“Forget it. Vent it so we can all go in and get warm.”
Eric and Darien cram into the airlock. Someone touches my shoulder. Ryder. We switch channels.
“What?”
“I didn’t know what I was thinking. That’s what.”
“You weren’t thinking. Now drop it. Do you have your head on straight today? Focus on the present. Can the cargo hatches be opened from the outside?”
“Ah, no, the latches have to be released from the main panel.”
I switch back to channel one. “Norberto! You and Ryder stay out, assemble the truck and the winch, plug it all in, pull the reactor. Jürgen!”
The name grabs attention. Heads jerk, people stiffen. He comes to me. “You’re going to assist with the truck and reactor. Shuko! Alison!”
“Here, Cristina!” Alison answers instantly. She actually sounds cheerful.
“You’re in charge of setting up the drill. Start going as soon as we build up gas pressure, which won’t take long. Mikki and I will assist in half an hour.”
Brown dust blows out from underneath Endurance. They’re depressurizing already.
Ryder presses his helmet against mine. “Seize this day.”
Both airlock hatches are open and people hurry inside. Tess turns her head toward the hatch and back again. Jürgen motions her to go in. She rubs his upper arm before leaving.
Once inside, I find there’s no way to exit the airlock. The inner hatch is totally blocked by bodies, four in the equipment bay alone, crammed into two square meters of floor space. People shift and I squeeze through. Eric and Darien are at the power panel.
I yell, “Make room! Everybody exhale!”
The suit actuators release. When the pressure hits thirty-five kp helmets and gloves come off and everyone rubs freezing noses and fingers. Powerful burnt dust smell! Eyes dart all over as if danger lurks. There’s hardly any room to move. We’re packed together shoulder-to-shoulder. Need to wedge more bodies into the sleepers.
They must not sense any doubt from me, not even a tiny bit. Panic would be instantly contagious. “Five still outside, so everybody’s thinking, are we really going to fit more in here? Can it be done? Yes, it can be done. We can’t afford the luxury of doubt. We’ll do it vertically. Small people lie on top of big people.” That draws nervous chuckles. “Take your thermals off as soon as you’re warm so they don’t get damp with sweat. One pisser for all of us. We should put our helmets in the equipment bay so no one’s tempted to use them.”
Weak joke, more thin laughs.
The vent fans blow warm air and the compressor starts to build up working pressure for the drill and winch. Food bars are passed out.
Eric peers up from the equipment bay. “Pressure for the drill in ten minutes.” But the words crack, and his eyes are empty.
I’m afraid to look. Battery charge 489 kw-hours, fifty-five percent.
“It was warm in here before we vented,” Eric whispers. “They left the life support running. But we’re good. We’re good. Eighty kilowatts for a startup, spread over forty minutes.”
And how much for life support until the reactor starts? What about all the power to simply install the reactor? What’s the use of asking? There are no other options.
Eric says we’re good. What else is he going to say?
Shut it. No fear. No doubt. Not even a tiny bit.
Purpose is the antidote for panic.
“I’m not going to bullshit you,” I tell their anxious faces. Golden sunbeams spill through the windows. It feels bright and exciting. Enthusiasm! Harness it. “We have a lot of work to do. No one has the day off. We need to watch our power. Turn the printer off. We’ll get hot food as soon as the reactor’s running.”
The flag. No use carrying it any longer. I set it against the top of the main panel, white stars facing everyone. “Reminds me of the sky.”
A short girl with freckled cheeks stares at me. Abby. She whispers, “Do we have a chance?”
I shake my head as if confused. “What makes you think we don’t?”
Keep everyone thinking, contributing, helping in some way. “Senuri! We need to devise a plan to remove the battery cells from the three other spacecraft, move them here, recharge them, and put them back. Can you work with Paige and An
dre and give us a plan by the end of the day?”
“Absolutely, Cristina.”
Paige says, “Might be better to produce methanol and oxygen here, move it in tanks, use it to generate current with the truck motors.”
“Determine which method can be done soonest with the fewest trips. Blair, Tess, Jewel. We need a six-month plan to get ready for winter. A year from now we’ll be up to our eyebrows in fresh fruits and vegetables, but what do we grow first? Did anyone ever estimate how much plastic we need for each greenhouse?”
“Depends on design and construction materials,” says Jewel.
“Figure out how much growing space we can create this summer. There must be some estimates in the manuals. Refine them based on what we learned on the expeditions. We dream of the day we can move out of these things, but the truth is we’ll have to build greenhouses before the residence structures, so get used to smelling each other.”
Kelis says, “I’ll be sleeping in the greenhouse.”
“I might join you,” I tell her. They’re exhausted, filthy, the men’s chins covered with stubble, lots of nervous grins. There must be no doubt in their heads. “The walk over here, wasn’t it beautiful?” They gaze back at me and some nod. “Think of the faces of your own children. They’ll grow up free in this pristine place. We’re here, alive, and that means anything’s possible. We control what happens to us. We made it this far, together on this sunny morning, all of us, and we’re free. That’s something to think about. Does anybody wish they kept the life they had before?”
No one does.
◆◆◆
First hole, ice pockets down to four meters. No surprise there.
By noon we have seven slender holes drilled around Endurance. Too much ice. The reactor is attached to the winch and ready to lower, but there’s no suitable location. The power cable and compressed gas hose are both twenty meters. This limits the area in which the reactor can be buried.
“What about an above-ground installation?” I ask Mikki.
“You’re talking fifteen cubic meters of material. The regolith here is hard and frozen, so we’ll need to break it up by using the jackhammer attachment on the drill. That uses up a huge amount of compressed gas, and therefore a lot of power.”
