Hangtime

by Jack Thompson

  Chapter One: Discovery

  Although numerous unmanned probes had previously landed on Mars, and one manned ship had orbited twice, no Earth man had stood on Martian soil prior to three days ago. A database full of information and images had been collected from Mars with no positive indication of the recent presence of sentient life forms. However, the manned mission had taken continuous digital images with a new high resolution T-ray camera during its two varied orbits, including some areas on the surface never before seen in detail. Although not noticed by the astronauts on board, a careful analysis of these images back on Earth in the following months had revealed a relatively small object with a distinctly regular hexagonal shape that had caused an uproar at NASA. The scientific community argued for months, and although a small stubborn group insisted the object was a natural crystalline formation, the consensus was that it was likely artificially made by a sentient life form. The NASA scientists dubbed it the “Hexbox.”

  By the time the returning astronauts had splashed down safely in the Pacific Ocean, a rush to get another manned flight launched and onto the Martian surface was well underway. Because of health issues, the returning mission's commander had been scrubbed. And so it was that the second in command, newly promoted Colonel Tom Devers, was the commander of Mars Mission 31 when the small lander module touched down near the Martian equator on the unexplored southern plain of a region called Arabia.

  The first day on Mars turned out to be a dog-and-pony show full of pomp and circumstance for the benefit of the politicians back home. Colonel Devers talked to the President, read a scripted message and posed for a video feed. The astronauts climbed in and out of the lander four times until the White House press secretary was satisfied with the video footage they had taken. The affair ate up most of their first day on Mars. Their first day on Mars—Tom loved the sound of that. While he appreciated the historic nature of the mission, Tom didn't like the circus. He felt more like a trained monkey than the dedicated astronaut, scientist and explorer he was. Other than stabilizing the landing module on the ground and checking over vital systems, he was anxious to detach the rover and head out to the spot where the Hexbox had been seen. The three month open-space journey to reach Mars, each day spent in the very confined space of the capsule, had raised the tension among the four astronauts. Despite any potential dangers on the Martian surface, they were all champing at the bit to get out and run some open ground.

  Unfortunately, they had burned too much daylight to start the recovery mission. The rest of day one was spent checking instruments and inspecting the exterior of the lander for any signs of damage. None of the astronauts felt like sleeping, not wanting to miss one second of their time on Mars. But, they also knew well that Mars was an alien and dangerous environment, and they would need to be at their sharpest. Reluctantly, after writing in their personal journals, and recording messages to send home to family, they all went to sleep.

  Nighttime on Mars meant intolerable cold, but daybreak brought the life-giving sun and rapidly rising temperatures, so all four astronauts made ready to exit the lander as soon as the first light showed on the horizon. After the crew knocked out one last photo op requested by the Smithsonian, Tom announced, “Let's weigh anchor and set sail for some treasure.” Although they spent all their time in cold dry space or on bone dry land, Tom fancied himself and crew as sailors exploring unknown seas. It kept the crew in a loose, adventurous frame of mind, a much needed attitude when confronting the rigors of space. Captain Jon Lacey, their pilot, tested and readied the rover's four battery-powered motors, one driving each wheel. The other two crewmen, Bob “Ratchet” Rand, the tech and mechanic, and Milford “Doc” Jones, the science analyst and medic, were uncoupling the aluminum alloy clamps that held the rover and doubled as a ramp to the dusty red surface.

  Within one hour Tom and Doc were rolling over the red plain in the rover, kicking up dust on the way to the coordinates where they expected to find the mysterious Hexbox. Despite timing their mission to coincide with summer, the air temperatures were near freezing. They headed across the southern highlands, a relatively flat area, planning to descend into a crater just south of the equator. There, the Hexbox had been uncovered by some sort of ground flow that might be liquid, although what liquid was yet to be determined. At top speed the rover traveled only fifteen miles per hour, and the terrain was strewn with large boulders, forcing their path to be a slow zigzag.

  Within two and a half hours they were making their way up the long sloping bulge that surrounded the crater. Once over the rise they stopped to survey the scene. The Martian sky was a large, crystal clear expanse of orange and pink. The atmosphere was thin, and despite the dark polarized face-plates they looked through, the sun shined with a steady brilliance unlike anything they had experienced on Earth. Both astronauts were awed by the alien vista. In front of them yawned a crater at least five times the depth of the Grand Canyon and many times wider. Neither spoke, satisfied just to take in the view. A light breeze blew dust up over the edge of the crater. Doc Jones panned his video over the scene, and if it hadn't been for the bulky suits they wore, they would have looked like a couple of tourists. The spot where they could enter the crater was about one mile east of where they now stood. Tom motioned for them to climb back on the rover. Their suits were well insulated and heated, but they had to get back during the daylight to avoid the brutal subfreezing cold that would come with nightfall.

  The rover cruised along the outer rim until they reached the entrance. A small section of the crater wall had partially collapsed creating a gradient slope downward. They headed slowly down into the crater following the trench that was formed along the wall. The trench widened the further they rolled and flattened out about a half mile in. Sticking out of the wall face about eighty feet up from the floor of the trench was a hexagonally shaped cylinder. They maneuvered the rover as close under it as they could and stopped. They had no way to know how big or heavy the entire Hexbox would be, but they had mounted a crane on the rear of the rover that they hoped could lift it onto the rover's bed. Unfortunately, the object was much higher up the wall than had been estimated. The crane had no chance of reaching it. Somehow they would have to get the object closer to the bottom. They unfolded the hand spades they had brought and began to climb the wall by digging into the sandy dirt to make footholds. The wall was steep but not vertical. Nevertheless, the loose dirt made for a difficult climb, and they both lost their footing and slid down the crater wall several times. Finally, each man managed to reach a spot on either side of and just below the object.

  The object was about four feet in diameter with a perfect regular hexagon shape. It was clearly sentient-made, and looked metallic, although scarred and streaked, perhaps from a trip down through the atmosphere. The three foot section that stuck out of the wall at an upward twenty degree slope was smooth and straight. Their suit radiation sensors showed no significant radiation coming from the object. Doc spoke first. “The Hexbox looks pretty solid and heavy. It is most likely a fairly dense metal to have survived a landing. My bet is, it's gonna be too heavy for the two of us to handle, especially in this loose dirt and dust.”

  “Any suggestions?” asked Tom, clearly annoyed. He was keenly aware their daylight timetable was ticking away.

  Doc looked at the protruding object for almost a minute before answering. “I'm thinkin' luge.”

  “What?” demanded Tom, more annoyed than before.

  “You know, the Olympic event with sleds barreling down a steep ice track. If that thing's not wedged too tight and if it isn't too long, we might be able to dig out enough dirt in front to get it to tip over and slide down under its own weight.”

  “That is a lot of ifs and mights, my friend.”

  “True. But, it may be our only shot at getting it out and back to the lander by nightfall.”

  Tom couldn't disagree on that count. “Let's do it,” he said, trying to sound confident. After an hour of digging they had uncove
red another two feet of the Hexbox, but it hadn't budged.

  Doc, ever the Texas cowboy, offered a wild solution. “Maybe this beast needs a rider. If I climb up on top I might be able to bust her loose.”

  Tom didn't like the idea, but the clock said they had to get this thing out now if they were going to make it back before the temperatures dropped into a severe sub-zero range. “Okay. You can give it a shot, but be careful. If that thing rolls over you, your suit won't likely hold up.”

  All Doc heard was okay, and he was already scrambling up alongside the object and working to get a good angle to climb on top. He pulled himself onto the object and tried rocking — nothing. Then he stood on top and jumped up and down. The low Martian gravity made it look like slow motion to Tom. First Doc got a little wiggle, and then nothing with three more tries. Finally he climbed up the wall above the object, and leaped down feet first onto the front end. Suddenly the Hexbox tipped forward throwing Doc back onto his rear end, and then began to slide down the wall gaining speed.

  Tom instinctively yelled, “Jump!” into his comm link so loudly it came through as nothing but a