by Doug Hoffman
“Navy?”
“Colonization Board. I was hired to watch after the livestock accompanying the settlers.”
“That sounds like fun.”
“Three weeks out, a couple of months in orbit offloading everything, then three even more boring weeks back. At least on the way out there were sheep and cattle to watch after.”
“I doubt that you will be kept busy by our crew. We have four polar bears—two males and two females—so your large animal skills wont be taxed. I hope you don't mind pitching in with the humans.” As a rule, MDs and DVMs didn't treat each other's clientele but times had changed.
“Not at all. I've undergone cross species training at the Farside medical school. Not that I am qualified to do major surgery, but I can physically administer vaccines, close wounds or treat burns, and triage people for you.”
“It's not like we have a lot of major surgery every day, but if we get into a dust up on some alien planet we may find ourselves busier than we'd like. We can work on the cross training thing—I think I can show you some fascinating techniques based on T'aafhal technology that you might like. I know from experience that their med-tech works on both humans and ursines.”
“That I would really love to see, Doctor.”
Betty smiled. He seemed like a nice enough guy, even if he was a white Afrikaner. The alien attacks that almost wiped out humanity went a long way toward eliminating petty prejudice based on race and gender. No doubt some bigotry remained, but it was well hidden in most cases—people realized that we really did need each other regardless of race, creed or color. Too bad it took the deaths of seven billion human beings to make us realize how stupid racism and sexism really are.
“Come on, Johan, let me show you around the office.”
Chief's Lounge & Mess
At the door into the Chief's lounge and mess area, traditionally called the goat locker on Navy vessels, Bobby paused and called out: “Permission to enter, Chief?”
“Granted, Sir,” replied Chief Zackly, the senior enlisted man on board. The goat locker was his domain, his and the other chiefs, and traditionally even officers requested permission before entering. As Mizuki and Bobby entered the SEALs and the Chief stood.
“Chief Morgan, good to see you again.” Bobby smiled as he shook hands with the lead SEAL and his two companions. “Bud, Phil. How have you been?”
“Fine, Sir. We kicked around the Fleet a while after the voyage on M'tak Ka'fek but really couldn't find a home. Then we heard that the Company was looking for some experienced hands to go where no man has gone before.”
“Indeed, Chief Morgan-san. We are going to look for the lost Pleiad. Not as far from Earth as Ring Station, but farther than any Earth built ship has ever gone.”
“Sounds like just the thing to ease Bud's terminal ennui.”
“My what, Chief?”
“Boredom man, dissatisfaction arising from a lack of excitement,” Phil hissed at him, “ain't you got no learnin' boy?”
Ignoring the other two SEALs, Morgan turned back to Bobby. “Sounds like a bold move, going someplace that the crowd isn't going.”
“The man who follows the crowd will usually get no further than the crowd does.”
“Who said that?”
“Beats me, you'll have to ask the Captain. I'm sure he'll be happy to welcome you on board, and I, for one, will be happy to have a team of special operators along if the need arises.”
“It will be a long journey,” Mizuki added. “You should join my kendo class. Once you have mastered the basics I will teach you about kenjutsu and iaijutsu—the Japanese way of the sword.”
“Uh, that would be swell, Dr. Ogawa,” Chief Morgan replied.
“Good! Most of the officers are participating and it will be good to have others who have been... enhanced, to spar with them.”
This last remarked caused a few raised eyebrows among the SEALs. They, like Mizuki and Bobby, had been optimized for combat by the M'tak Ka'fek's AI—their bodies were stronger, their reflexes faster, and their endurance greater than normal human beings, even those who trained every day. Enhancement was not a subject normally talked about openly.
“Will we get swords?” asked Phil.
“Hai. Once I am sure you won't hurt yourselves.” Mizuki smiled brightly at the three frogmen. Nothing made her happier than having new students to teach.
“You are not going to be happy until everyone on board is a sword carrying samurai,” Bobby said with a grin. Then, remembering the encounter with Perlmutter in the Atrium, he turned to Chief Zackly. “You didn't, by any chance have a bit of trouble with a squad of Shore Patrol goons, did you Master Chief?”
The Chief stroked his chin as if trying to recall recent events. “No, Commander, I can truthfully say we didn't have no trouble with the Shore Patrol.”
Bobby raised his eyebrows quizzically. “All right, but pass the word to the crew to avoid any trouble between now and when we cast off.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” the old Chief replied enthusiastically.
The Sailing Master turned to his wife. “Let's go forward to the bridge to see how the system checks are proceeding.”
“Hai.”
Mizuki made a polite bow to the SEALs and Chief Zackly, who returned the gesture. Bobby motioned her toward the forward compartment door while saying parting words to the men. “Welcome aboard, gentlemen, it's good to have you join the crew.”
“Thank you, Sir, Ma'am.”
As the pair of officers exited the lounge, Bud looked at his leader. “Are we really gonna take sword fighting lessons, boss?”
“Why not? You're never too old to learn a new way to kill things.”
“Snake eaters is all crazy.” Chief Zackly shook his head. “Yous will fit right in.”
“We ain't the ones lying to one of the senior officers.”
“What? You mean about them SP dipshits? I told the truth, they weren't no trouble at all.”
Chapter 4
Peggy Sue II, Approaching Mars
Ten days later the Peggy Sue finished outfitting and left Farside Shipyard for its shakedown cruise. Having dismissed several candidates and scrounging up a few more the Gunny was satisfied with the ship's complement of twenty four Marines. Similarly, the crew was at full strength with many new members, though liberally salted with seasoned veterans. The crossing from Earth to Mars took a leisurely two weeks as systems were tested, calibrated, and retested. The ship was now on final approach to Olympus Mons. Standing three times as tall as Earth's Mount Everest it was the largest volcano in the solar system. In its caldera was humanity's largest shipyard and Navy base.
“Steady as she goes, Sailing Master,” the Captain ordered. It was not, strictly speaking, a necessary command given the computerized glide slope the ship was on.
“Aye, aye, Captain. Steady as she goes.” Bobby smiled, enjoying the nautical ambiance of it all. They could have brought the ship into port without speaking a word, but where was the fun in that?
Even the First Officer allowed a faint smile to cross her face, listening to the two “playing sailor.” She knew there was more to the traditional interaction between the Captain and bridge crew than just hoary Navy tradition. The ritual and rhythms of the bridge helped the crew function as a unit under more stressful conditions—in combat, for instance.
The thin Martian atmosphere was barely detectable as a faint purple band on the horizon as the wide, asymmetric volcano appeared on the red planet's limb. So wide was the peak that a person standing on its slopes would hardly think they were on a mountain.
The crater complex at the peak of the volcano consisted of at least six overlapping calderas and caldera segments. Each represented a separate pulse of volcanic activity in Mars' distant past. The oldest caldera formed as a single, large lava lake, with younger calderas forming circular collapse craters within their larger ancestor. Carved into the basaltic rock of the caldera's floor was the Olympus shipyard—owned by TK Parker and his par
tners in the Orion Arm Trading Company—and the Fleet's Aries Base.
One of the reasons for locating the starport, shipyard, and Naval base on top of Mars' highest mountain was that Olympus Mons, along with a few other volcanoes in the Tharsis region, stood high enough to reach above the frequent Martian dust-storms. Rising twenty-two kilometers above the surrounding volcanic plains, the peak was above ninety percent of the Martian atmosphere, making it easy for ships not designed to enter a thick planetary atmosphere to make port for repair and resupply.
“Can we see the land we purchased from here?” Beth asked, watching as the broad volcanic peak drew near. Both the Melaku-Vincents and the Ogawa-Danners had purchased large tracts on the Martian uplands, looking to the day when the planet would again have liquid water and, hopefully, a breathable atmosphere. As it stood so far, only a few patches of furtive green could be seen dotting the parched red land below—bio-engineered mosses and lichens beginning the process of terraforming.
“No, Beth. The area where our tracts are is farther to the East and South, bordering the Hellas Planitia.”
“Hellas Planitia?”
“Hai, the Hellas basin, a very large impact feature in the Southern Hemisphere. It is about 2,300 km across with a maximum depth of 9,000 meters. Even with the current Martian atmosphere, that is deep enough for air pressure at the bottom to be above the triple point of water. Hopefully, by the time we finish terraforming the planet, our property will be prime waterfront on the edge of a sizable sea.”
Beth raised a single skeptical eyebrow. “At least that's what the salesman told us. Right now it looks like an ocher version of the Moon.”
“If you don't like this planet, Number One, I'll get you another one,” said Billy Ray, trying not to be drawn into the women's conversation and failing. At the helm, Bobby wisely remained silent.
Outside the ship's magnificent transparent bow the gigantic volcano grew larger, as the Peggy Sue II descended into the caldera. Eighty-five kilometers wide, the caldera was filled with circular grabens and wrinkle ridges disturbing the smooth lava lake. On the flat bottom in the deepest portion of the caldera, bordered by walls nearly three kilometers high, scores of rectangular features resolved—landing areas for the space port.
“Peggy Sue, Olympus Approach. You are cleared for landing.”
“Roger, Olympus Approach. We are cleared to land.” Billy Ray shifted in his seat. This was only the second time he had been to the Red Planet and he was excited, in spite of himself. “Take her in, Cmdr. Danner.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Bobby's fingers danced across the controls. The base grew as their perspective changed, making it obvious just how gigantic the landing area really was. Ocher dust streamed from beneath the ship in rivulets, propelled by the press of repulsors easing eighteen thousand tons of starship into its berth. After the ship settled, flexible tubes extended from beneath the landing apron and sealed against the ship's personnel and cargo hatches. This established airtight passageways to the tunnel system beneath the surface.
“The ship is landed, Captain.”
“Very good, Cmdr. Danner. Engine room, Bridge. Mr. Baldursson, I am done with the engines. First Officer, secure all propulsion systems, navigational sensors, and set the in-port watch.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
Billy Ray stood up from the captain's chair overlooking the bridge and gazed across the ruddy plain. Well, he thought, I hope that our boats and small craft are ready. After they are aboard we have one more stop, then we set sail for Aldebaran.
Cargo Hold, Peggy Sue II
The open space remaining in the cargo hold was packed with crew members and Marines, those who were not standing watch. Chief Zackly and GySgt. Acuna were standing on the forward cargo lift, which was raised above the deck, providing them a stage.
“All right people, listen up! The Captain and party have departed for talks with the shipyard officials. While they are makin' arrangements to acquire boats and other equipment yous will have an opportunity for shore leave.”
An excited murmur spread through the assembled personnel. Though they had only been on board for a couple of weeks, sailors are always ready for shore leave in a strange port.
“You will go ashore by division, starting with divisions one and three. This will be followed by divisions two and four. Division chiefs will let you know where you are in the rotation, in case yer too thick headed to figure it out yer self. Each of yous will get an eight hour pass.
“Stick to the settlement attached to the shipyard and civilian port. Do not go lookin' for a Navy bar next to the base. We don't want any trouble and anyone who gets into a brawl will find 'im self back here scrubbing decks so fast 'is head will spin. Yer behavior reflects on the reputation of the Company and the ship, so don't fuck up.”
It was obvious by the Chief's tone that it was the ship's reputation he cared about. Throughout the ranks, crewmembers peered at the displays woven into the arms of their jumpsuits, checking when their leave was to commence. The Chief stepped back and placed his hands on his hips, giving the Gunny the stage.
“Listen up Marines! Before you can join the sailors in the local bars we have some work to do.”
A moan rose from those in the crowd wearing dark green.
“You will proceed by squad to the shipyard armorers to be fitted with heavy space armor, starting with first squad. Once outfitted, each squad will return to the ship and secure their armor in the ship's armory. Then you will be allowed to go ashore. I will repeat what Master Chief Zackly said: anyone who causes trouble ashore will find themselves cleaning heads and polishing fittings for the indefinite future. Do you understand?”
The crowd responded with a smattering of replies.
“I SAID, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
“AYE, AYE!”
“Good. Crew will disembark via the starboard personnel lock, the Marines via the port side cargo hatch. You will find automated trollies waiting to transport you to your respective destinations. There are several hundred kilometers of tunnel running throughout the port so do not get off the trollies except when they tell you.”
The Gunny scanned the assembly, satisfied that the Word had been delivered. The Chief stepped up.
“Any questions?” He paused for several seconds. “Good, dismissed.”
The crowd of sailors and Marines dispersed: those going ashore first heading back to their quarters in a rush, those not in the first wave heading back to work with less enthusiasm.
“God help us,” the Chief muttered.
“Yeah, Chief. I'd feel a lot more comfortable if they were heading out to cause damage on purpose.”
Manager's Office, Olympus Shipyard
The Captain and his three senior officers were departing from the office of the shipyard general manager, having verified that their equipment was ready for delivery. They had placed the order months before leaving the Moon, before the ship was near completion. The main lobby of the manager's office was a soaring space three stories tall carved from the crater wall, more than a kilometer above the caldera floor. In a rectangular planter a stand of slender white birch trees stood in contrast with the natural rock walls. Through a floor to ceiling transparent wall the entirety of the shipyard and port could be seen, sprawling into the distance.
“The ship looks like a toy from here,” Bobby commented, as the group paused to take in the view. The near vacuum outside did little to scatter incoming sunlight, leaving the sky black above the ruddy crater floor. A dozen ships of differing size and design occupied fewer than half of the available landing sites.
“More than half of the births are vacant,” Beth observed. “You would think that the General Manager would be more thankful for our business.”
“He did seem a mite put out that we didn't have the whole ship built here, but there were good reasons for that.”
“You mean like being close to Rajiv Gupta, Yuki Saito and the rest of TK's science and engineering brain trust.”
“That's one reason, sweetheart. The more important reason was so we could closely supervise the construction—I don't think any of us wanted to spend five months livin' here on Mars in temporary quarters.”
“You definitely made the right call on that, dear.”
Mizuki and Bobby exchanged glances. Both were amused by the way Beth and Billy Ray seemed to constantly ride each other, swapping sarcastic remarks. A casual observer would never guess how devoted to each other they really were. On the other hand, despite having lived together for several years, Mizuki and Bobby were just recently married—the newlywed glow had not yet faded into that comfortable familiarity that successfully married couples seemed to maintain. Each lost in their own thoughts, the quartet of friends stared wordlessly at the bleak terrain in the caldera below. Finally, Mizuki broke the contemplative silence.
“I think we should go. I would like to see the monument before the crew reaches the settlement's public spaces.”
“Yer right as usual, Mizuki. Let's catch a transport cab to the main hall.” Most of the settlement was buried deep within the rim of the volcano, much farther down than the shipyard offices and control center. The rock overburden provided protective shielding from radiation, meteors, and possible alien attacks.
“What is this mysterious monument you keep mentioning?”
“You'll find out soon enough, honey bunch.”
* * * * *
Fifteen minutes later, the robot transport pod deposited the four officers at the side of the settlement's main hall, an open space reminiscent of an oversized hotel lobby or a large shopping mall from an earlier time on Earth. Ringed by floors of shops and offices, linked by multiple staircases and walkways, the hall itself contained the requisite stands of trees and greenery favored by environmental psychologists. Fountains provided white noise while humidifying the air and even a few birds twittered about. Scattered among the landscaping, kiosks sold jewelry, handicrafts, and food.
“Hey look, a beer garden! I understand that the local Martian Red Ale is particularly quaff-worthy.”