On Mars Pathfinder (The Mike Lane Stories Book 1)

by Jim Melanson

  It hit me again at that point, I was really here. I was really on Mars. I had done it. We had done it. God had done it; He had brought me safely across the dangerous expanse of space between the two planets and He landed me safely on martis firma. He had even kept me safe when the small world of the Lander blew up around me.

  The time reading on the HUD brought me back to reality, with the realization that I had been on the surface for over forty minutes before emerging from under the canopy. I can’t communicate directly with Mission Control, but the Mar-Sat will undoubtedly be trained on the wreckage and looking for signs of life or signs of death. I leaned back as far as I could and looked up at where I roughly guessed the Mar-Sat to be. I clenched my hands into fists and raised them, then crossed my arms above my helmet. I held the pose for ten seconds then lowered my arms and surveyed the debris again. I raised the hand camera and slowly panned 360 degrees, so that I could record a POV (Point of View) shot of what I was seeing. There is nothing like boots on the ground to investigate an accident scene. I slowly shuffle stepped through the debris closer to the crater, and took some more footage of the blackened ground; hopefully the blast pattern would give some assistance in their investigation. There was a large, mostly intact hunk of the final RAD assembly, but with no sign of the engine nacelles; I guessed they had been pretty well vapourized by the blast. I took a minute to do an upclose recording of the remaining RAD components in the wreckage. Finished with this, I lowered the camera and strapped it to my utility belt on my jet-black Activity Suit outer shell. I left the camera recording.

  I shuffle walked back to the impromptu egress point on the airlock. I picked up a weapons case, two of my duffel bags, and a metal foot locker; then set-off towards the Habitat, walking strongly and without hesitation. Of course, forgetting to shuffle step, I took only two Terran style strides before I was face down and sprawled on the ground. I laughed to myself, stood up, brushed the dirt off my knees and chest, and then checked my systems. All were nominal. I gave the Mar-Sat an impromptu hand signal to let them know I was still okay.

  I had forgotten for a moment I wasn’t walking on Terra. I thought back to my Martian training sessions, using slings and fast-response servo’s to simulate walking in 38% of the gravity I was used to. I picked up my load of bags and boxes and then decided to do myself a favour. I went and picked up the other bag, foot locker and the second weapon box. It was really awkward, but it gave enough weight that I felt sort of like I was walking on Earth. That was a blessing because I was still feeling a little out-of-whack from the explosion, and from being back in a gravity environment. I stepped off again, more cautiously this time, and didn’t fall down again. I’d be in the Hab before that embarrassing bit of video reached Terra.

  Mission Control: 18 Minutes, 2 Seconds Later

  Carrie and Arno had been working independently, but in concert. They had been sweeping the debris field with the Mar-Sat cameras looking for Mike’s body, or less likely, signs of life. The Lander touched down forty-two minutes ago and it had been thirty-six minutes since the explosion had stunned the world. Carrie and Arno could overhear Jayden on his cell phone calling Gary, Mike’s son. This was his third call to him. He continued to offer words of comfort about what had been seen and tried to offer him hope. The video feed going live to the world had been cut off after the explosion, but not before everyone saw the fireball and ejecta. Once they confirmed there was no body in sight, they opened the feed to the world again.

  From the look on Jayden’s face, Carrie and Arno were both glad they hadn’t been the one to make those phone calls. After the explosion, Jayden had the phone glued to his ear almost constantly making phone call after phone call. The phone calls were probably keeping him busy enough not to let his mind settle on the full magnitude of the loss, personal and corporate. In the few years Mike had been at the Corporation, he and Jayden had become close friends.

  All of the telemetry techs were huddled over two workstations playing back each telemetry feed, moment by moment, trying to find a clue. They all agreed that everything was two thumbs up until the readings suddenly all went to zero or null, all at the exact same moment. After playing the multitude of data feeds individually, they were selectively playing them side by side. This was a first look, but it was still possible something may jump out at them. They were looking for fast answers but they also knew the investigation would last for months. Most of the world would never really know what had happened; what had really happened.

  “HE’S ALIVE!” Carrie screamed at the top of her lungs as she leaped clear out of her chair, pointing at the large left-side monitor at the front of the room. The room went dead silent as every head snapped around to look at the screen. They could hear the pounding of feet coming down the corridor, as the three dozen people in the conference room, who had also heard her scream, were running full-tilt towards Mission Control.

  After a quick glance, and not seeing what she was seeing, Jayden yelled at her, “Where is he? I don’t see him?”

  Carrie continued yelling, but not quite as loud, “The large chunk of debris in the lower part of the screen.” Arno was zooming in the camera. It wasn’t actually the camera zooming, he was manipulating the viewable area of the Ultra Hi-Def video image, reframing it, and enlarging it. This made it seem like the camera was being zoomed. Carrie continued, “Watch that flap of metal.” She had been looking right at it, when the first duffel bag/transport bag had come tumbling out from under it. She sat bolt upright and took half a second to savvy the meaning of what she had seen, then she leapt to her feet yelling.

  Everyone saw the second duffel bag come into view, propelled into the opening from under the canopy of hanging metal. It landed by the one that had been sitting there. Then a third bag came tumbling out. Two metal foot lockers slid into view as well, one at a time, skittering further than you would think they would. Next were two longer cases, Jayden and Hans sharing a look at each other when they saw them. A few moments afterwards, they saw a gloved hand, then a helmet, then the torso of a black Activity Suit emerging on hands and knees from under the flap of metal. The room erupted in a roar of cheering. Jayden already had his cell phone to his ear, he was calling Gary. “Your dad’s alive. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He hung up.

  Since this feed was going out live on TV and the internet, Arno pulled up the subtitle screen and added text to the image. “Mike Lane has survived the explosion! Awaiting communication from Mike, no uplink at present.” Within moments this video feed, and the text, was displayed on almost every television that was turned on, all over the planet. All the major networks and their affiliates had been carrying the live feed of the landing. Most of them were still conducting posttragedy interviews and commentary when the word went out that Mike was alive.

  Hans was on the phone again, and so were several other people. Everyone else was laughing, backslapping, crying, and hugging. The whole air of the room had changed instantly to joy and elation. Everyone, on the phone or not, watched intently. They saw the space suited figure stand up, with hands on hips looking at the debris around him. A widespread conversation started immediately on how he had managed to survive the explosion, and how injured he would be. It seemed like Mike must have heard that question, because just then he leaned back, looking almost directly at the Mar-Sat camera and lifted his arms and crossed them above his head, holding that pose for a long time. There were several cheers from the hobby divers in the room. Hans said out loud, “That hand signal means, ‘I’M OKAY’. It means he’s not seriously injured.”

  More cheering and backslapping erupted in the room. They watched while he held something up in his hand, it looked like a video camera. He started slowly turning in a circle. He slowly walked, with small steps, towards the small blackened crater, and then over to a hunk of blackened and twisted metal debris. They watched as he finished taking his video recordings and then returned to where he started. Jayden and Hans looked at each other again, smiling. Even now,
after what he had just survived, Mike was thinking details, thinking about the long-term, he was collecting evidence.

  The figure of Mike, on the big screen, reached the stuff he had tossed from the airlock. He gathered up some of the items and then stepped towards the Hab. There was a large gasp and then a wave of laughter swept through the room as he went down face first on the surface. Those who knew Mike could imagine him laughing to himself in the privacy of the suit but being fully aware the satellite captured the whole moment. When he stood up, he looked skyward and with his gloved right hand, made an “L” shape on his helmet over his forehead. It was indeed a funny moment after so much tension, but it still wasn’t as funny as the toilet failure video on the MTV … but it was close, given the context of the situation. It became apparent to everyone that whatever happened on Mars wasn’t necessarily going to stay on Mars.

  Hans, the on-duty Mission Control Director, let the conviviality go on for a few more minutes. Then he clapped this hands together a few times to get everyone’s attention.

  “This has been a day of extreme emotions. First, our work of the last few years came to a realization with Mike landing on another planet. Then we had disaster strike and assumed a tragedy. We watched all our work, and as we thought, our friend, go up in a fireball. That sense of tragedy has, thankfully, turned to joy now that we know our friend is alive and well. At this point everything else is secondary to Mike’s survival. Indeed we need to find out what happened, but that is secondary to the fact that we now need to move into the planned mission support mode. Mike is 115 Million miles away, he’s alone and he needs our support to get life back to Mars normal for him again; whatever that might be. Carrie and Arno, excellent work on finding him for us. Hab support team, I want absolute scrutiny on the incoming telemetry. Mike will be inside by now and if not already, will be transmitting a message to us shortly. People, let’s go to work.”

  Everyone went back to work with enthusiasm. Carrie began running playback of the landing and explosion looking for clues, while Arno ran system checks on the video and audio signal systems. They enlisted the satellite team to check on the status of Mar-Sat and Relay-1, which was in GSO (Geosynchronous Orbit) relaying the Martian Signals to the Corporation’s antenna array half a kilometre away.

  The Habitat: Arriving Home

  I finally made it to the Habitat, dropping my gear about twenty feet in front of it. The Hab was actually two individual units, soon to be connected by a tunnel. One was a work habitat and one was a living habitat. The large rover that had been here for four years had moved the living habitat into close proximity to the work habitat. One of my first orders of business would be to complete that alignment between the habitat structures and get them fully operational.

  I picked up one of the duffels and walked up to the Work Hab white, soot covered, skirting. The soot was from the final RAD engine when the Habitat structure landed. The airlock hatch to this Hab unit was about seven feet off the ground. The final RAD assembly and engine nacelles were still attached. Once we removed them, after the first colony crew arrived, we would be able to lower the Hab closer to the ground. There was a landing and stairs packed in one of the supply drops, but setting that up would come later. For now I just needed to get inside. There was a small grey panel in the exterior wall just below and to the left of the Hab’s airlock door. I was able to reach it easily, being six feet tall myself. I turned the inset grip to the right ninety degrees, pushed it in, and then turned it left ninety degrees. The panel popped open. I reached in and first pressed the power button (the lights came on). Then I pressed the “Release” button (which brought online the rest of the controls for the airlock). Finally I pressed the “Extend” button and got out of the way fast. A small panel just below the airlock door opened. It was about 20 centimetres high and the width of the airlock door itself. A metal ladder extended from the opening. As the first joint came into view, I stepped forward and grabbed the bottom portion of the ladder as the low gravity had its effect. The ladder continued extending a few more feet then stopped, gravity tilting it downward now that the second hinge was clear of the storage well. I dropped the end of the ladder that I was holding into place. The first three feet were at a slight angle and then it was a straight climb to the airlock door. I reached in the panel, powered it down and shut the panel hatch, repeating the opening sequence in reverse. As I was doing this I leaned back a bit so I could look up and confirm that the handhold rail had extended from the Hab wall on the left side of the airlock door.

  I climbed the ladder enough to reach the airlock entry system. I removed the transit cover over the large keypad and tucked it under my arm, discarding it when I got inside. The keypad allowed me to enter a six-digit number that unlocked the security bolts on the airlock hatch. I wouldn’t have to do that again unless it became locked. I pressed the dimly glowing green “Entry” button and waited.

  Pressing the “Entry” button did a number of things. First, it confirmed the inner airlock door was closed and properly sealed. The outer airlock door would not open if the inner airlock door was open. If the inner airlock door was closed and sealed, then the system activated the decompression pump that extracted the human breathable atmosphere and replaced it with Martian atmosphere at the Martian atmosphere pressure level. Once this was done, the yellow light came on and the airlock door was unlocked. Then all you had to do was grab hold of the inset door handle, rotate it ninety degrees, and push. This unsealed the outer hatch and unlocked the mechanism keeping it shut. The hatch swung inward and I climbed up a bit more for a peek inside. All appeared in order so I tossed my duffel bag and the keypad hatch through the opening, then took a few moments to climb back down and toss all the other bags inside. Thankfully, low-g allowed me to do this quite easily without going up and down the ladder. Once the bags and cases were inside, I climbed up into the airlock, shut the hatch behind me, and rotated the inner door handle to the latched position. I crossed the small airlock and activated the dimly lit green button beside the inner airlock door. The outer door sealed, the Martian atmo was replaced with human breathable atmo; and I could finally get out of my black monkey suit.

  Opposite the outer airlock door were four racks for hanging Activity Suits. There were also extendable rack assemblies to hang up to four more of them; my every day Activity Suit was packed in a crate on the airlock floor. I took of my helmet and gloves and put them on the shelf to the left of the suit racks. I was glad to feel that the Work Hab’s heating system was running, the airlock was chilly from the door being open, but I could feel a flow of warm air from somewhere. It would heat up to about fifteen degrees Celsius, not as warm as the Command Module had been, but a lot better than outside. Once I had the wind collection farm set up, I’d be able to raise the temperature a few more degrees. After wriggling out of my suit and hanging it up, I removed the transport strapping and opened the transport box on the airlock floor to have a look at my every day Activity Suit. I would have to dig it out later and get it ready. Right now I was too tired, so I just shut the box and left it where it was.

  I did have one important piece of business to attend to before going any further inside. I lifted one of the long unmarked cases onto the small workbench in the airlock. I turned around to where the first suit hanger was located, the one on the left, next to the helmet and glove shelves which were above the air bottle racks. I found the joints for the wall panel and on the leftmost panel. I pressed hard on the top right corner and then pressed hard again about 7 centimetres below the corner. The panel popped open. I went back to the workbench, undid the clasps on the case, and flipped the lid up. I took out the bulky pulse-energy rifle and went back to the hidden compartment. I placed it in the holding cradle, took that cradle’s electrical feeder line, and plugged it into the connection point on the hand grip for the weapon. I repeated this with the other pulse-energy rifle in the other long unmarked case. Each case had two spare power units that I also inserted in their cradles, and plugged
into the power system. I closed the hidden compartment hatch and turned to the inner airlock door.

  The pulse-energy weapons were something I hoped I’d never have to use. However, there were some very real concerns about the Chinese or Russians coming to Mars and wiping out the colony to establish their dominance. This had been some sketchy intel that came to the Corporation through some very back channels in the German military. There were only six people in the Corporation who knew I had brought these, and two of them were the highly trusted and vetted techs that had done the initial loading of the MTV; the same ones who had loaded the optical equipment. The rifles themselves had been provided to us by the Deutsches Heer, the German Army. The plans for them had been stolen, ironically enough, by the Russians from the U.S. Air Force. German agents had gotten hold of them from the Russians and they were then developed and tested in secret. Someone at the Deutsches Heer contacted the Corporation and well, I was now armed with two of what were, ostensibly, ray guns. I had to chuckle. Then I stopped chuckling as I remembered the other things I had been told by someone else.

  I turned the lever on the inner airlock door and it didn’t budge. Stunned for a moment, I sighed with relief as I realized I had not entered the unlock code on this inner hatch. On the keypad by the inner airlock door I entered the same six-digit sequence I had done outside. I would not have to do that ever again either, unless the door got locked somehow. I grabbed the handle and this time it turned easily. The seal broke, the door opened in towards the center of the Hab. While the airlock was relatively spacious, room enough for four people to suit up at the same time, the rest of the lower level was quite cramped. The center of the structure was filled with a spiral staircase that led to the upper level. To the right of the airlock door was a suit repair workbench. There was a small set of cabinets and shelves next to the staircase. Everything was wrapped in plastic and braced by metal brackets. All that packaging and bracing would have to be removed later. With everything looking so brand new and still in its packaging, I had a passing chuckle, not my first, about the place being furnished by Ikea.