Plains of Utopia: Colony Six Mars

by Kilby, Gerald M.

“So, how do you explain the DNA results?”

  “Maybe it’s a mistake, a contaminated sample. Maybe this guy, what’s his name…Dendryte, is setting something up, leading you on a merry dance.”

  Jann thought for a moment. “I considered this. That’s why I did another test myself to verify the initial results. It was the same. So, I think we can rule out any funny business on Dendryte’s end.”

  “Coincidence, then? Could it be just…one of those things?”

  “Now you’re clutching at straws, Nills. No, whatever is going on has something to do with Xenon, whether we care to admit it or not. If we are going to find answers, then I think we need to pay him a visit.”

  “Xenon’s enclave is what…over a thousand kilometers from Jezero?”

  “Yes, and since all flights are grounded, we’ll have to do it by rover.”

  Nills gave a long, slow sigh. “Even if we do this, and I’m not saying I want to, but even if we did, how can you be sure we’ll get an audience with the great weirdo himself?”

  “Xenon is not going to refuse us after all we’ve been through together. If he does, then that’s a red flag straightaway.”

  “Can’t you just call him up, ask a few questions, save us both a lot of hassle?”

  “Yes, I could. But I’d like to do some snooping around that facility to see what’s really going on.”

  “Ahh…so that’s the real plan. See if there are any bio-labs, that sort of thing?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  Nills paused again and scratched his chin. “Normally I would say you’re letting your paranoia run away with you. But, let’s face it, you’ve got a nose for trouble, and it has been pretty accurate to date.”

  “So, we go?”

  Nills stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m getting talked into this.” He screwed his mouth up and finally nodded. “Okay. But I really don’t think we’re going to find anything up there except a bunch of people acting like they live in a nineteenth-century monastery.”

  “I imagine that’s exactly what we’ll find, on the surface. But what’s going on underneath is what we need to discover.”

  Nills sat down again and wondered if now would be a good time to mention the droid. “Eh…there is something you could do for me, Jann.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “I was thinking. How would the Council feel if I were to reactivate Gizmo?”

  Jann’s face morphed into borderline incredulity. “Gizmo? You’re not serious?”

  “Why not? I built it. Technically, it’s my droid.”

  Jann sat back in the seat and looked straight ahead as she thought. “Tricky. It’s not so much the droid, per se. It’s the issue with its integration into the primary colony AI that’s the problem.”

  “But without that, it’s not Gizmo?”

  Jann shrugged. “I know.” She paused. “Look, let me put out a few feelers, test the waters and see if they can be persuaded. It’s the best I can do.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Nills nodded. “You know, I just went to visit it, and, well, I sort of felt that we just abandoned the little guy.”

  “I understand, I feel that way too sometimes. But it’s still just a robot, Nills. You’ve got to remember that.” She grabbed his hand and held it tight. “If it means that much to you, I promise I’ll do my best. Okay?”

  Nills gave a smile. “Sure, thanks.”

  They sat in silence for a while just listening to the cascading water from the fountain.

  “How long do you think it will take?”

  “To fix Gizmo?”

  “No, to get to Xenon’s enclave.”

  “Oh, two sols. We could overnight at the Brandon waystation.”

  “We need to keep this very quiet, not a word to anyone. That means traveling incognito.”

  “That would mean finding some transport that has had its beacon deactivated.” He gave Jann a look. “And that’s illegal.”

  “I think it would be best not to advertise our arrival.”

  “Gonna take a while to dig up a rover like that. Can’t use one of mine.”

  “How long?”

  “A sol or two, maybe sooner.”

  “Okay, but time is not on our side. I’ve got Dendryte nailed down for a while, but eventually word will get out, and when it does, that enclave will shut up tighter than an airlock in deep space. So, we gotta move fast.”

  Nills stood up. “I’d better get to it, then.” He leaned down and kissed Jann on the forehead. “And don’t worry about Gizmo. I’ve got a better idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  Nills winked. “You’ll see.” Then turned and headed out of the biodome.

  3

  Mia

  Mia Sorelli had been just an hour away from boarding a ship bound for Earth when the whole goddamn thing blew up on the pad—boom, giant fireball. The Jezero City spaceport now resembled a war zone, with several tons of scrap metal scattered all over the launch pad, which the authorities informed her would take weeks to get operational again. While she was extremely relived that she had dodged that particular bullet, and happy to still be walking around, she was now stuck on Mars for who knew how long while the clean-up operation got underway.

  Worse still, since she had been leaving the planet for good to take up a position as Mars envoy on Earth, everything she owned had already been packed up and stowed away on the ship before it was vaporized into nonexistence. The only things she now possessed were the clothes on her back and the contents of a small travel bag.

  After the initial shock of her narrow escape from destiny and the complete loss of her possessions had subsided, she had considered departing from one of the several other spaceports on Mars—possibly Syrtis or even Elysium. But before she could make the necessary arrangements, the Council decided, in the interest of public safety, to ground all flights until a full investigation was carried out. Mia was more than pissed. She now found herself without a place to hole up and wait it out, since she had relinquished the tenancy to her accommodation module that very morning.

  But there were upsides to being an envoy in the employ of the Martian state—she was now their responsibility. So, they put her up in one of the many hotels that had begun opening up after the Great Storm—and gave her the royal treatment. The suite was at least four times the size of her own modest accommodation module.

  But the hotel was practically empty and mostly run by service droids. A few tourists had begun to trickle back in from Earth, but they were thin on the ground and probably now beginning to regret coming to Mars, because it looked like they might be stuck here for a while. So, after her first night, Mia began cracking up.

  She needed to get out and meet some humans, preferably ones that could give her some information on when flights might resume. Fortunately, Bret Stanton, from the Mars Law and Order Department (MLOD), contacted her to arrange a meet. He was rather vague and even evasive with his answers to Mia’s barrage of questions, simply saying it was best to talk in person.

  They arranged to hook up at the hotel cafe, one of the few that had managed to reopen after the storm—many had not, and probably never would. It was situated along the front of the structure, facing onto what was once a busy plaza back when Jezero had tourists. Now it was like a town out of season, with just a few lost souls wandering aimlessly around.

  Mia sat at an outside table, people-watching as she waited. Overhead, a bright sun shone through the vast domed roof, and for a brief moment Mia felt herself almost relax. It was a strange feeling. She realized she didn’t care that much about losing all her stuff when the ship blew up. It was almost liberating, and imbued in her a feeling of being untethered, being free. She felt a little giddy and tried to snap out of it. It was probably just shock.

  Stanton arrived on foot, accompanied by a young MLOD agent and a beefy looking security droid. He sauntered up to Mia’s table and sat down as they exchanged greetings. The young agent and
the droid stood off to one side with their backs to them, scanning the plaza.

  “Mia.” Stanton gave her a big smile, then glanced at the hotel facade. “How you holding up, now that you’re slumming it in the Ritz?”

  “Just peachy, Bret. Me and the service droids are having a blast.” She gestured in the direction of the agent and the security droid. “What’s with the backup? Something going on I should know about?”

  Stanton’s reply was interrupted by the waiter arriving, and by the expression on his face, he was clearly delighted to have some customers.

  “Just a coffee,” Stanton said with an almost apologetic gesture, as if he was sorry it could not be more.

  “Same,” said Mia.

  The waiter nodded and left.

  “So, Bret, when am I getting off this planet?”

  Stanton considered this question for a moment, clearly thinking about how best to formulate his reply. “There’s been a development.”

  Mia sighed and sat back in her seat. “A development?” She gave Stanton a hard look. “So, what you’re saying is not for a while?”

  Stanton glanced around to see where the waiter was, presumably to check if he was out of earshot. He was inside, behind the counter operating the coffee machine. Stanton leaned in a little. “Our initial investigation into the explosion is looking like it might be…more than a simple accident.”

  Mia hesitated for a moment as she slowly raised her eyebrows at Stanton. “You’re saying it was deliberate?”

  “I’m saying it’s a possibility. Something we’re looking into.”

  Mia gave a long sigh. “What the hell is wrong with this planet? We never seem to catch a break, do we?”

  “Sure seems that way.”

  She sighed again, longer this time, almost visibly deflating. “So what makes you suspect…foul play?”

  “Spaceships don’t blow up like that.” Stanton sat back and waved a hand like he was lazily swatting a fly. “Not like way back in the old days when they were full to the brim with volatile rocket fuel. Interplanetary ships use plasma engines, dramatically safer. Except, this was a plasma-containment failure—a very rare occurrence, almost unheard of.” He leaned in a little more and lowered his voice. “And we found something in the wreckage.”

  He sat back, looked at Mia, and raised a finger at her. “But that’s all I can divulge...except for this. They’ve put me on this investigation. I suppose you could call it a promotion.”

  “Well, well, Bret. My seat in the department is barely cold and here you are, trying it out for size?”

  Bret smiled and gestured again at the hotel. “I don’t think you’re going to miss it? I mean, Mars envoy and all that.”

  They sat in silence for a moment before Mia eventually asked the million-dollar question. “Any ideas why anyone would do this?”

  “Some. One theory is that the explosion was intended to take place midflight, with a full complement of passengers, leaving no evidence.”

  Mia shook her head in disbelief. “I could have been on that flight.”

  “Yes, you could.” Stanton paused as his coffee arrived, and hung back on saying more until the waiter was again out of earshot. He took a sip and continued. “There is also the possibility that it could even have been an assassination attempt.”

  “On who?”

  Stanton gave her a slightly inquisitive look, as if to say, You don’t get it, do you? “You, Mia. You are a Mars envoy now, and the highest-ranking state official on that ship.”

  “You’re not seriously suggesting…” Mia gave a quick glance around, then leaned in and lowered her voice. “You seriously think someone is out to get me?”

  “At this point in the investigation, we have to consider everything. It could be the reason for the explosion. Then again, it could be something completely different, or maybe a different target. Nevertheless”—he gestured over at the young MLOD agent—“we’ve given you some security, just in case.”

  Mia slumped back in her seat and glanced over at the agent. Judging from his body language, he was doing his best to look tough and in control. Yet it lacked conviction. It was just a facade. Mia reckoned he would be worse than useless if shit hit the fan. She might end up having to look after him. The security droid, on the other hand, could be very handy in a tight spot. “So, you have me babysitting now?”

  “Agent Steffen is a solid guy, very trustworthy.”

  “He may be trustworthy, but is he any good in a fight? He looks to me like he’s ready to wet his pants.”

  “Be nice, Mia.” Bret waved a finger at her. “If it comes to it, you won’t find him wanting.”

  Mia replied by way of a resigned scowl. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” She took a sip of her now cold coffee. “So tell me, seriously, when are flights going to resume?”

  Stanton screwed his face up. “Who knows. At the moment, everyone is paranoid there might be another…incident. Therefore we need to beef up checks and inspections. Best guess, two to three weeks”—he wriggled a hand—“give or take.”

  “So I’m here stuck with Frodo and the droid.” She sighed. “Where’s he sleeping?”

  “I suggest the sofa in your palatial suite.”

  “Do I have to tuck him in, read him a bedtime story?”

  “Hey, like I said, be nice. Anyway, you were complaining you only had droids to talk to. And, eh…the droid’s not staying. It’s coming back with me.”

  They sat in silence for a moment as Mia glared at him while digesting the prospect of the next few weeks here on Mars. “Any thought on who might be behind this? Maybe some of our old friends from Syrtis?” Mia finally said, once she had resigned herself to her fate.

  “Who knows. Maybe it’s just some crazy, or a vendetta, or some ideological nutjob.”

  “Like those Xenonists? You know, the ones who’ve been spraying the walls with warnings and prophecies?”

  Stanton let out a laugh. “Those guys? The followers of our great cultural icon Xenon? Don’t make me laugh, Mia. They’re just into love and peace and a return to nature. I can’t see any reason why a bunch of pacifists would do something like that. Anyway, gotta go. Stay safe.” He jerked his head in the direction of the young MLOD agent. “And be nice.” He gave her a quick salute and headed off across the plaza.

  4

  Gizmo

  Nills’ desire to reanimate the old droid was not based simply on his emotional response after seeing it in such a sad state in the museum. It was also based on the reality that he had the wherewithal to do it. Having, over the years, established a substantial engineering works on Mars, he not only had the facilities and staff, but more importantly he had the spare parts, which were still in general short supply because new deliveries from Earth had not yet picked up to pre-storm levels.

  So, he had the desire, he had the ability, he even had the parts, but what he didn’t have was the authority. Yet that was not something Nills generally worried about. If he were to seek permission from the Council it would probably take forever, and might well descend into politics and petty squabbling. No, he had a better idea, and that was shoot first and deal with the fallout later.

  In reality, what could they do if he just went ahead and reactivated the droid? Nothing. Sure, they would hop up and down, cite the rules, make a lot of noise, but they couldn’t really stop him. Nills knew that, and in the end it seemed the simplest solution all around. Of course, it helped greatly that his company had a maintenance contract with the museum.

  So, after meeting with Jann, and confirming his own suspicions on how the Council would react to his request, he swung by his workshop in Jezero and picked up a security tag and a large wheeled tool trolley. He then made his way back to the museum, this time in through the maintenance area.

  He presented the security tag to the reader, and the large industrial door rose up. He nodded to the security guard, who nodded back. A few moments later, on his return, he repeated this same action, nodding to the gu
ard. But this time he had the droid secured on the trolley with a tarp covering it. The guard nodded back, and Nills casually strolled out.

  Less than two hours after his visit to the museum, Gizmo was laid out on a workbench in one of Nills’ engineering works on the outskirts of Jezero City. Four engineers gathered around the bench, scratching their heads and wondering if their boss had finally lost his marbles.

  “You can’t be serious, boss. This thing is ancient.”

  “Yeah, it’s a heap of junk. There’s a hole in it the size of an airlock.”

  “Looks like this guy was on the wrong end of an argument with a plasma blast.”

  “Why you bothering with this hunk of metal, anyway? We’ve got plenty of better service droids.”

  Nills placed a hand on the droid’s shoulder joint and looked around at his skeptical crew. “This is no ordinary service droid. This is none other than Gizmo, the very first one I created. And most of you are only here due to its actions in the past.”

  “So, this is the infamous Gizmo,” said Ajay, his lead engineer.

  The mood began to shift now that the crew understood the pedigree of the machine they had been tasked to get operational.

  “What makes this little guy so special,” Nills continued, “is that it has a direct interface to the main colony AI, something no other droid has. With that amount of processing power at its disposal, it’s almost sentient.”

  The crew were now silently eying up the droid with a renewed sense of awe.

  “But that’s not allowed any more, boss. Even if we get it going, and that’s a big if, there’s no way we could reconnect to the primary AI.”

  “Yeah, I know, it’s a challenge.” Nills nodded.

  “It’s a bit more than a challenge, boss. It’s a non-runner.”

  Nills knew very well that no matter how good a job his team did in restoring Gizmo, if he could not reconnect to the AI, then Gizmo would, at best, be no better than a basic service droid. Most, if not all, of its primary mind existed with the data-stack of the colony’s AI. If he could reconnect, then he had a chance of restoring the droid to its former self. Repairing the physical engineering was the easy part; finding a way to circumvent the tight security protocols surrounding the primary AI was the real challenge.