During the first two weeks on the Avant Light, Alan conducted a couple seminars on expeditions to extraterrestrial planets. Everyone attended them, except for the Captain. Forts was brave enough to throw in a few exciting stories with plot-twists, or at least that's how Jack thought of them.
He recalled how Anne frowned whenever it seemed Alan exaggerated his stories. During one of the seminars, Jack learned Alan and the Captain had met during the second expedition... Alan pulled Jack aside a few times for a face-to-face talk, even complaining that it seemed he wasn't being treated seriously enough.
"Perhaps I was a kindred spirit for him," Jack reflected. "People ignored me, thinking I was just a kid."
Once, Alan told Jack how he had been brought up by his stepfather who would often kick him out of the house. A nine-year-old boy, Alan was forced to live on the streets, looking for places to sleep for the night or take shelter from the rain. It had developed a sense of self-dependency and even self-sufficiency. While talking to Jack, he would emphasize how he had raised and educated himself. Jack couldn't believe that someone could have such cruel parents. The lieutenant recalled how he worried about it a lot, trying to encourage Alan in some way.
Alan was quite emotional, occasionally saying everything as he saw it, yet at the same time, he was fiercely loyal to the Captain. It was surprised how a person with so many controversial traits could be the Captain's Executive Officer. Jack still didn't understand it.
Anne went on talking about how Alan was violating the instructions and the Captain's orders, but Jack had turned a deaf ear to it. He got up from the table and rubbed his eyes. It was becoming unbearable to listen to Anne's voice, especially after having had to recount the last days of the flight. The sound of her voice seemed to reverberate around his skull, and Jack felt like his brain was being knocked side to side.
"Enough!" He shouted, silencing the info-line.
"Maybe it's better to throw myself into research and take my mind off the past," he decided, returning the info-lines to the container sitting on the table. "Work is the best medicine..."
He composed a list of tasks for himself, which included preparing 400 kilograms of sand for the teleport, doing a diagnostic scan of Trap, and consolidating all data about Nereus into a single unit.
40
Jack spent the next two days compiling all the information collected by the airbike's sensors. So much data had been gathered that he could build an entire augmented reality system with detailed maps and topographical features. Jack decided to send all the data, including information about how he killed the beast.
"I'll let them see it with their own eyes," he thought, annoyed.
Occasionally, Jack ventured outside to feed the wartstone some fruit and water. Amigo was ecstatic his friend had started paying attention to him again. Petting the animal's back, Jack thought for a moment about how he might take the wartstone back to Earth. Then he remembered the differences in gravity, water structure, and atmospheric composition, leading the officer to kill off this cheerful yet ridiculous idea.
In the evenings, Jack sifted through the plant and mineral samples he had managed to amass. He didn't consider himself an expert on rocks and minerals, but he didn't need those skills. He just needed to carefully place the samples on the platform, and then the analyzers would record their content, mass, age, and other parameters. The only thing Jack had to do was save the results and file them away into the virtual database.
Despite the huge variety of super-modern protective material, Jack preferred to work with simple disposable gloves that would self-destruct when placed in the side compartment of the container following each new sample. Sometimes reusable gloves might contain micromolecules of toxic substances, and efforts to clean them weren't always reliable. There was no such thing as too many precautions. Some minerals left glass-like grains on one's hands, and those grains could cause many unpleasant sensations. Until he had started working with minerals, Jack never thought looking at different rocks could be so intriguing.
Some rocks indicated that Nereus was over 3.5 billion years old. Several billion years after colliding with large meteorites, favorable conditions for the creation of life developed. The star present in the system, which Jack suddenly recalled, protected Nereus from huge asteroids. All massive comets and asteroids were drawn to the gas giant by its gravitational pull. By looking at the pieces of minerals and lava, he could read a real historical chronicle of the planet.
Some rocks contained the petrified remains of ancient microbes. Interestingly, the microbes didn't have double helix DNA molecules like humans but triple helix. Instead of DNA building blocks known as nucleotides, some microbes had caffeine. This greatly amused Jack, but as a genetics engineer, he knew caffeine could be inserted into a human DNA molecule in place of a nucleotide and nothing significant would occur. The DNA molecule would function with no difference. These substances were rather necessary because they could be inserted into the body.
Following the Avant Light's instructions, the airbike took four water samples with its probe. After placing another sample flask on the platform, Jack was very worried. Depending on its results, he would learn if he could live without being dependent on water from the Center.
Ultimately, none of the samples were suitable for humans. The water contained many heavy metals and traces of toxic substances. Local creatures had adapted to the water's properties, but Jack's kidneys would fail. Making matters worse, he had no water purification equipment. Both purifiers were destroyed along with Laura and Alan's shuttle. The presence of heavy metals distressed the lieutenant.
"How much water do I need to collect through condensation?"
Water condensation was an inefficient means of production.
"Maybe it'll be enough..."
Initially, he didn't understand why he was so distressed until he realized he was not only thinking about himself but also a future colony.
His only hope was that the Center would send him a purifier.
For the next three days, Jack was standby mode, ready to jump at a moment's notice. He was afraid of missing the Center's message. Everything had long been ready according to Linda Robore's instructions. Lieutenant Sallenge even filled an additional container for the teleport. He brought in a lot of sand from the plain, putting it through quarantine. There were a few more empty food containers filled with sand around the table. Each of them could hold about 30 kilograms of raw material for teleportation. A rough calculation indicated he had brought about 600 kilograms of sand.
"Where's the damn Center?" he thought for the umpteenth time in recent days.
Sometimes his boredom reached the point where Jack would stare out the window, grimacing at the wartstone. The lieutenant pressed his nose to the glass so strongly that it resembled a baby pig's snout before he slid his nose up and down the glass. If someone saw him in that state, they'd definitely think he had gone nuts. But Jack didn't consider what anyone thought. He was alone, and he didn't care. He could die here alone with only a rotund, stupid, but kind wartstone attending his funeral. Amigo would lick him, howl sadly, and then forget about him after a couple of months.
41
At this thought, Jack went outside, jumped, looked back as if he were afraid of someone seeing him fooling around, and then, pushing off with both his feet, jumped again. Jack enjoyed jumping like this sometimes. The low gravity allowed him to almost reach two meters high. Although his muscles had started acclimating to the lower gravity, his morning runs and exercise routines helped his body not forget Earth's. Lieutenant Sallenge kicked the sand before pretending there was a soccer ball in front of him, which he made a pass with. He imagined he was on an imaginary soccer pitch playing with himself. Dust rose, and sand started getting into his nostrils, eyes, and ears. Jack began coughing and ran away from the dust.
He stopped and looked out at the greenish-blue sandy plain. There was a slight whistle to his right that was slowly getting louder, indicating the west w
ind was blowing. The midday sun burnt the top of his head, forecasting another hot day.
Jack was gradually getting accustomed to the constant sun, the green and blue dust, scarce vegetation, and the cloudless sky, but something was different about today. Not outside, but inside Jack himself.
"Of course!"
Jack suddenly remembered that today was his birthday and he, Lieutenant Sallenge, just turned 25. It was September 17th, Jack's birthday. It was the day many people highly anticipated, and yet he barely managed to remember. He walked away from the ridge, thinking how he used to celebrate his earlier birthdays.
He recalled his parents, his father's beaming smile and his mom's gentle hands.
"How are they doing without me? Did they remember my birthday?" he thought. "Mom remembered it for sure. Well, of course, she remembers! How could she forget!? She was the one who gave birth to me!"
He refused to weep, having forbidden himself from doing such a thing, but salty tears streamed down his cheeks with a mind of their own. He wiped his eyes with a dusty sleeve, leaving a dirty mark on his cheek. He felt weak, helpless, and miserable, if not absolutely defenseless. It was like no one needed him.
"Why am I here?"
This question didn't let him live in peace for the last three months. Jack didn't believe in destiny or superstitions, but sometimes he believed life gave everyone their own path, taking them to the most unusual places with a goal that only destiny itself knew.
"This is how a person goes crazy from loneliness until they believe in nonsense." Jack snapped himself away from such philosophical thinking. He raised his head, looked at the star, and smiled, or grinned like a crazed man, at the sky, singing, "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Jack!"
The calm wind carried his solitary singing far away to the east. When he finished singing, his legs weakened and he fell to the sand like a drunk man. Lying on his back, he waved his arms and legs, creating a sand angel.
Returning home, Jack stripped off his clothes and put them in the special sanitary compartment before standing under the shower. Nanolayers of absorbent gel pleasantly tickled Jack's skin, cleaning every little trace of dirt.
"I'm already 25. Damn!"
This thought made him shudder.
"Does this mean my youth is over? I haven't even been married. I've got no children. Gladys and I wanted them. What's going to happen? What will I leave behind? Just a pile of garbage and some decrepit pavilion?"
Leaving the tiny shower, he gazed around the emptiness of the pavilion. The worst part about it was that the building wasn't conducive for any fun. It was simple and elegant, yet at the same time, stern and spartan. There was no place to have fun.
Aeronauts were expected to maintain a rigid schedule without any free time. Their only moments of rest were sleep and an hour of physical exercise. It was strange but, as the Space Agency explained, each expedition member had to undergo the burdens and lack of entertainment with no exception. It was a terrible feeling to just idle about and stare out windows at the world outside. Life was becoming pointless and mundane. His birthday seemed to be excruciatingly long, slow, and lethargic. No spider could ever spin a web as long and thin as Jack felt his birthday was. After lying on the bed for several hours waiting for a signal, yet going for so long without so much as a beep, he fell soundly asleep.
42
"First Lieutenant Sallenge, do you copy? Over."
He first thought he was dreaming about the expected signal from the Agency, but when the question repeated itself two more times, his brain commanded him to wake up. It was already 10 a.m. local time. On Earth, at the Agency, time was almost 1.5 hours ahead.
"This is First Lieutenant Sallenge speaking..."
"Roger that, over..."
"Signal is clear, image is clear, no delay," Jack answered sluggishly, his eyes barely open.
"Good afternoon, Lieutenant." A dark-skinned man of about 35 years old, with chubby cheeks and a stark gray suit, was speaking.
"Good afternoon, sir..."
"Lieutenant Sallenge, I'm a dispatcher from the Supplies Department. Major Roger Postward," he stated, staring in front of him as if ignoring Jack. The young officer nodded before Major Postward continued. "I'll be coordinating the data and equipment transfer from the Center to your teleport. Are you ready to receive the first instructions and information for the first shipment of tools?"
"Affirmative."
"Roger that. Instructions dispatch commencing. Please place your fingers on the three blue stripes located on the teleport's front frame."
Jack spotted three lit dark-blue stripes and covered them with his fingers. A voltage jump followed. The light went out for a moment and then returned, while the panoramic window dimmed until it was no longer transparent. The instructions transfer started. The teleport started analyzing the composition, structure, and architecture of the nuclear and molecular bonds of what it needed to transfer from Earth to Jack's pavilion.
"Warning, voltage jump is now possible. Checking the power efficiency of the receiving device to start the transfer," the dispatcher with chubby cheeks continued.
"He's like a robot. Poor thing. He has to send someone something every day. What a job!" Jack thought as he watched the major.
"Copy, Major Postward."
The next moment the teleport turned non-transparent, the dispatcher's face faded, and the voltage jumps happened in the whole house. A deep rumble and metallic clicking could be heard. Jack moved backwards. A few minutes later, the teleport walls went transparent again, and he could see the part of some device in the bottom box hidden under the table. Taking a closer look, Jack recognized the central section for Trape and smiled.
"You may take the transferred module," he heard the faceless voice from the teleport declare.
Jack gently lifted the heavy section, feeling how it was practically hot to the touch.
"Done, Major."
"Copy, Lieutenant. Additional equipment transfer commencing," the dispatcher stated.
This process lasted about half an hour. By the end, the Agency had sent him new research equipment, extra lights, and, of course, containers of food and water. A couple times, Jack had to add sand to the teleport box. In total, about 700 kilograms of material had been sent. Jack hoped he would have received some water purifiers, but there were none in any of the parcels.
"Lieutenant Sallenge, please confirm that all transfers contain what is specified according to the instructions."
"Wait, Major. What about the water purifiers? And also..."
"I have no information about that. I'm not authorized to answer such questions," the major responded quickly, but confidently.
"Who is authorized to give such answers?" Jack asked, annoyed.
"You need to contact the program director, Lieutenant. If I have any other items to transfer, I will contact you."
"And what's next?"
"That question is for your superior. They will contact you. I only deal with supply requests. Good luck, Lieutenant. Over and out."
"Damn bureaucracy," Jack cursed. "Was it impossible to send me the matrix schemes to construct the filters? Do I need to evaporate water?"
It was impossible to argue with people in such positions. During his studies at the Academy, Jack got a clear idea of it. Executive, excessively precise, stern, cold, and soulless, they resembled automatized appliances that worked according to programmed algorithms, but not people. Since Jack wasn't a military person by nature, such military discipline was alien to him, but his interest in space travel and research overcame his hostility to the military orders, and he resigned himself to his status as an officer. The laws that aeronauts followed were strict. They required rigorous adherence in any situation to the duties of the aeronaut. Any disobedience was strictly punished by law, right up to the solitary confinement for the remainder of one's life. They said that in the Agency they had no time to introduce proper discipline among employees. Jack feared violat
ing any order from the Center. He didn't want to spoil his officer's career, but recently he had thought about how strongly he wished to stay on duty.
First Lieutenant Sallenge spent the rest of his day sitting on the sand near the pavilion entrance installing Trape's central module. Despite being connected to the neuroband, he didn't understand at first how to repair the damaged robot. The neuroband instructed him on the whats and hows, but assembly seemed incredibly complicated. That day Jack ate almost nothing, absolutely forgetting about meals. His desire to rebuild Trape as soon as possible was so intense he didn't even notice Amigo playfully jumping around.
"Sorry, buddy. I don't have any treats for you today," Jack said, the wartstone licking his face. Amigo circled around a bit, then rubbed his rough side against Jack's shoulder, and then slowly walked towards the rocky ridge.
It was already about 9 p.m. and darkness was falling when the central module of the Trapecrawler 2188 A robot shined green. Jack had failed to connect the old boards of the Trape with the new module, so he had to change out the entire segment. It wouldn't be the Trape that saved his life, but one with a completely new memory. But when the rebuilt Trape cheered upon seeing the lieutenant, Jack couldn't hold himself back. He jumped up with joy and laughed, grabbing the robot's right manipulator. The Trape started producing greeting sounds. It was like meeting his old friend who returned from the hospital after a long treatment.
Over the next two days, Jack ran around the pavilion with Trape, attaching parts to the building’s side. He had been sent only the plans for the base and the axial frame. According to his previous estimate, an additional 18 meters needed to be constructed. Jack didn't know what the building was for, but he was sure that they would inform him about that soon. Aware that the Supplies Department might contact him at any time, Jack hauled a few more hundred kilograms of sand to the teleport's cargo compartment.
Expedition Nereus Page 16