Martian Dictator

by Øyvind Harding

  “Easy, Robbie, that suit’s not made of hard steel you know. You break it, you buy it. Literally. I don’t exactly have a perfect track record of patching up broken suits in the field.” Roger could feel the remark hitting home, and he nurtured the fleeting feeling of superiority. It vaporized as quickly as it had come as he realized the reason he managed to make the other man uncomfortable was by remarking on his own inadequacy. He shifted his focus to the piece of white plastic stuck to a boulder nearby. “That’s bad, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s bad. If we’re lucky, the remaining balloons would have lasted long enough to cushion the second touchdown.”

  “And if we’re not?”

  “Then we’ll be picking up pieces of dead guys over an area roughly the size of Manhattan.”

  They were not lucky.

  21. The Haul

  “Digger one, what’s your status?” Anna’s voice crackled as it came through on the radio. Robbie straightened and blinked the sweat from his eyes, feeling his back pop as he took in his surroundings. Debris was littered on the ground as far as he could see. Ripped pieces of the inflatable landing balloons, parts of the linking tunnels, steel, plastic, ceramic, wires and electronics. And bodies. Parts of bodies. A hand here. A foot there. A friend there. Smashed, broken, ripped apart, and enmeshed with the pieces of the globe, all strewn across the landscape, starting a few hundred yards off from the second point of impact. They had worked through the day, fighting off nausea with each step, each piece of a human body they picked up and threw into the shovel of the digger behind them. The job was so horrendous that the mind blanked. No banter, no witty remarks. No reports to basecamp, no conversation between them. Only the dust, the job, and the meat.

  “What the hell do you think our status is?” Robbie dragged an arm free from a pile of wires and threw it over his shoulder, where Roger picked it up and chucked it over the edge of the almost full shovel.

  “Sharpen up, Robbie. You are supposed to report in every hour and you know it. Don’t let this break you. I can see some of what you’re going through on the feeds from the digger, and even with that patchwork of a picture it sickens me. But. . . Do. Not. Let. This. Break you.” Anna’s voice hardened towards the end, and for the first time in over ten hours he allowed himself to smile, to feel.

  “Yeah, it won’t. This is hands down the worst thing I have ever done in my entire life, but it won’t break me. I know why I’m here, and I know why I’m doing it. Thanks for reminding me though, appreciate you having my back, girl.”

  “Anytime Robin, and now for the good news. You get to spend the night out there. There’s no way you’re riding home in the digger with the shovel full of body parts at night.”

  “Yeah, I figured. Wouldn’t stand well with my tender psyche anyway, not to mention Potato Guy over there. I just did the pressure tests on the tent, and the generator runs like a charm. We’ve got food enough for a couple of days, and if all else fails I’m sure we can hike it back without too much trouble.”

  “Don’t take any chances, Robbie, what you’re doing is important, but not worth your life.”

  “That’s the problem, though, it is worth my life. But I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll keep my eyes peeled for those seals you’re always talking about. Would be nice if we could get a change in diet.”

  He could hear the smile in her voice when she replied. “You do that, and keep an eye out for your partner as well. I don’t think he’s handling this as well as you.”

  “I can hear what you are talking about, you know.” Roger’s voice broke in over the coms, sounding as weary and dusty as the land itself.

  “Kinda the point, Plant Man. You need a little prodding to keep your mind in the right place. What we’re doing here is not for the faint of heart.” Robbie bent over and went to work with a large pair of cutters on a mangled section of plating. A foot stuck out from underneath, the yellow and blue suit stained red with blood.

  “There’s blood everywhere! How can there be blood? There’s not supposed to be blood! The bodies were deep-frozen and it’s not as though the sun could warm them up enough to melt them! Frozen bodies don’t bleed!” Roger’s voice rose in intensity, and by the end of the tirade he was almost screaming, his breath hard and labored through the radio.

  “Roger! Calm down! Relax. You’re almost hyperventilating! Stand still, close your eyes, breathe deep. I’m coming over.” Robbie dropped the cutters and jogged over to Roger, who was turning in circles, trying to wipe dust and small, frozen bits of flesh from his suit.

  “Why is there blood?” Roger’s voice broke at the end, as the scream turned into a sob that racked his entire body.

  Robbie skidded to a stop as he reached the increasingly agitated man, and forced himself not to get too close before the other man had calmed down. “Roger, listen to me. There’s blood because there was friction. With friction, heat. The blood was scraped off the bodies, smeared over any surface they hit with enough force. Science, Roger, think science.” Robbie moved his hands up and down in front of him in a calming way, trying to get close to Roger without spooking him further.

  The arm waving ceased gradually as the smaller man reasserted control.

  “Friction.”

  “Yeah, friction. Same thing that happens when you get that suit off and I give you a much-deserved smack over the head for losing control like that.”

  “Sorry, but it’s just all this, this, everything! We’re not supposed to be here! We’re picking up pieces of our crewmates with the intention of eating them! How did we come to this?”

  Robbie walked over and put his arm around Roger’s shoulders.

  “Aww, that one’s easy enough. I’m an asshole and you’re an addict, by definition we get ourselves into hopeless situations with no easy way out.”

  He could feel the shoulders slump under his grip as they stared out over the field of carnage.

  ◆◆◆

  “They have to stay the night.”

  “No.”

  “You cannot with good conscience make them ride in a shovel full of body parts for over five hours!”

  “I can, and I will.”

  Anna stood in the Oval Office, hands flat on the desk, leaning forward and practically shaking with anger. The Billionaire sat composed in his chair, hands loosely folded on the desk in front of him, eyes dead as he calmly responded to her increasingly angry demands.

  “What more do you want from them? They went out there at your whim, did a job few could have done, and all of it without complaint. They do not deserve to float home on Charon’s barge!”

  A faint smile crossed the sharp features of the man in front of her. “I don’t believe we gave them any gold coins to pay for the passage, but I’m sure the ferryman will take his toll eventually and not force them to wander the Martian desert for a hundred years.”

  “Do not try to make light of this, you conniving—”

  “Enough!” The pistol shot of his hand hitting the desk made her recoil, and her heart pounded as she saw the anger in the eyes in front of her.

  “You will do as I say! This charade of you being in control of this little expedition ends now. You will be my ferryman. You will be my Charon. You will tell them to gather the equipment and shelter it. You will tell them to climb up into that shovel and dig in, and then you will steer that barge across the river of sand and back to us. Is that understood?”

  Anna forced her breathing to calm, forced her anger down to the depths it had risen from. She did not reply. The man leaned back again, used both hands to straighten his collar and reached for the communicator.

  “Now, either you will tell them the good news, or I will. If it makes you feel any better, tell them there’s a sand storm coming, that we got some imaging from the Wayfinder. But get. Them. Home.”

  Anna snatched the com set from his fingers and checked the channel. The rage was gone, replaced with an icy calm. “Why are you doing this? Why force them to take the digger now whe
n they easily could do it tomorrow on the return trip? Why this show of force to make me order them back?”

  “You want reasons? Fine. They have not slept in over thirty hours. For the past twelve hours they have been working nonstop in one of the most challenging environments known to man. They have been chopping off body parts from former friends and crewmates, and their behavior for the past two hours has been increasingly erratic. The system for inflating, pressurizing, and powering the emergency shelter is, even under normal circumstances, more complicated than I would trust those two with. It was there solely for that purpose—emergencies. This is not an emergency, this is an inconvenience. Where would you rather have them, safe and sound back inside the base, or out there, in a ten-year-old emergency shelter erected by two tired amateurs bordering on a nervous breakdown?”

  For each sentence, Anna felt as though she was forced back through the room. Each word was a staccato finger pounding against her chest, hammering her will into oblivion. She was lost for words, and the calm that had replaced her anger had evaporated. From righteous fury, to calculating ice, and finally to numb acceptance. She raised the com set to her mouth.

  “As for making you order them back? Well, I believe you nailed it when you called it a show of force. As I stated earlier, this is no longer a democracy, and I do not tolerate dissension in my kingdom. Get the job done, stay out of my way, and we may all yet live to tell the tale. Now make the call.”

  Anna clicked the transceiver and made the call.

  ◆◆◆

  “Are you shitting me? There is an absolute limit to the amount of bullshit I’m prepared to put up with, and this stunt comes very close to pushing me over the edge.” Robbie was leaning with his back against the chest-high turtle shell of the digger, putting his weight slightly off his feet for a few fleeting moments. Roger stood a few yards away, staring into the setting sun. He had been standing there for over ten minutes, and Robbie was too exhausted to do anything but focus on his own needs.

  “I’m sorry, Robin, but as loathe as I am to say it, he’s right; you will be safer back here. The sun is setting, and even though the shelter is supposed to be idiot-proof, there is no reason to try and set it up with only the lights from the digger to guide you. One slip and you might be in serious trouble.” Anna could not believe the words coming out of her mouth. What had been a convincing argument when it had been hammered into her now rang hollow and false.

  “You want me and Vegetable Man over there to climb into this meatgrinder and ride it back to base. Tonight.” He angrily slapped the side of the shovel and cursed as his hand hit an arm hanging off the side, its owner half submerged in a sea of broken limbs threatening to spill over and out at the slightest movement.

  “I don’t know what more to say, the options are pretty straightforward. Stay and risk the shelter and being outside for another night, or climb in and be assured that in five hours it will all be over.”

  “I’ll take door number three, please.” The attempt at humor did little to disguise the weariness in his voice. He slumped into a crouch, feeling the outer layer of his suit sliding down the side of the vehicle. He didn’t stop until his faceplate was resting against his knees.

  Back in the office at the base Anna leaned back in her chair and sighed. She had the room to herself, the Billionaire having left shortly after she started arguing his case. Another powerplay—he was so certain she would do as he told her that he didn’t bother to stay and supervise. He was probably monitoring the entire conversation, anyway. “I would give you that door if I could, you know that. Hell, I’d give you the entire building. But there is no door number three, and you know it. Now get your ass on that digger and come back to me.”

  “Back to you? You mean back to base, don’t you?” Robbie lifted his head a little as he gazed out over the broken landscape.

  “I mean back to me! If you hurt yourself out there I will personally trudge out to you, wearing nothing but an oxygen mask and a spray-on suit, and I will drag your sorry ass back by your unmentionables if I have to!”

  “Yes, ma’am. As disappointed as my unmentionables might be, I will get my sorry ass back on that digger. You might’ve even gotten a good grip after me imagining you wearing nothing but a spray-on suit.” Robbie grinned and hoisted himself back to his feet.

  Anna flushed furiously and clicked the sender a few times without finding any words that would not spoil or repair anything and everything. Finally, she took a deep breath and replied. “Forward Team 1, that’s acknowledged. Expecting your arrival in five hours plus, base will monitor your approach through vids.”

  “Aww, girl, don’t back out on me now. I finally have something to live for besides stealing potatoes.”

  Anna let her barriers crack a little more, and allowed herself a smile. “Speaking of which, with what you gathered today, we’ll be over the worst of it. The crops will hold, and you might even get your wish. If there is a surplus from the first harvest, I’ll see what I can do to get you a little raw material for production.”

  “Don’t you spoil it for me now! Bootlegging ain’t half as fun when it’s legal. But I’ll take you on as a partner, seventy-thirty.”

  “Fifty-fifty, or it’s no dice. I run the numbers, you do the leg work. You know you can’t get away with it without somebody on the inside.”

  “Sixty-forty, and you get to share the first batch with me. Final offer.”

  “Done. You steal the potatoes, and I’ll secure the equipment.” Anna shook with badly contained laughter.

  “I heard that, you know.” Roger finally stirred from his dead man’s stare and turned towards Robbie.

  “You were supposed to, Plant Man, you were supposed to.” Robbie took hold of the handholds on the generator. “Now help me with this thing, and we’ll put it somewhere safe. You and me will ride on the hell-wagon tonight, and there’s no room for extra baggage.”

  Roger turned and dragged his feet towards the digger and the shovel full of bodies.

  ◆◆◆

  Nadia stood outside one of the smaller domes, two of the engineers from the crew waiting with her. In the distance they could see a small light moving erratically across the landscape, sometimes disappearing entirely, but slowly coming closer. The digger. It was the middle of the night, and they were all on edge. The mind can only fathom what it chooses to understand, and if what it has to work with is too horrendous, understanding simply shuts down and action takes precedence. They were waiting for a wagon full of carnage, and their minds chose not to fathom the depths of their actions.

  Two figures emerged from the darkness and made their way over to the trio, just as the lights made the transition from distant points to dark shape.

  “They are right on schedule. Nice navigating, Anna.” The voice of Nadia's captain came through loud and clear over the radio. A small scream tried to make its way from the undercurrents of her mind, but she forced it down. He was her new captain, now. Hers, and her baby’s. The memory of a tender touch from a rough hand was just that, a memory. Her breath caught for a moment before she regained control and straightened her back. There was work to be done. Lifesaving work. Baby-saving work. She was first to step forward as the digger pulled to a stop in front of them.

  The others quickly followed, not wanting to be seen as the one not pulling his or her weight. All, except for the Billionaire. He stood tall and commanding, in total control.

  “Nothing to it, I mapped the route when they went the other way, the software did the driving. We could probably do the run in the blind now if we wanted to.” The small figure, Anna, finally succumbed to her anxiety and broke into a run. She overtook Nadia and reached the digger first of them all.

  “Robbie! Robbie, are you alright!?” Expectant silence filled the ether. “Robbie! Answer me, damn it!” Nothing.

  Nadia briefly wondered if they would be unloading two more bodies from the shovel, frozen stiff from exposure after some miniature rift had done its deadly work. Their
suits were not well equipped to deal with leaks, and even though they were sturdy, they had no way of automatically sealing a breach. Constant monitoring was not only expected, but required.

  Anna frantically pulled on the cover for the manual controls and pushed the buttons to lower the shovel to the ground. A hand hung limp over the side, but the suit was torn to shreds and burned along one side so it was neither Roger’s nor Robbie’s. “Robbie! Roger!” Before the shovel had settled down, Anna was alongside it, jumping and trying to peer into it. As the shovel settled on the ground they all took an involuntary step back. They had all seen death before, intimately so after the disaster in space, but never like this. It was a scene from the worst of the wars. A sight reminiscent of concentration camps, of mass graves dug in rural villages, of humanity at its worst. It was a sight for nightmares and damnation. It was glorious. It was survival. One of the bodies moved.

  “Damn it, can’t a guy get a decent night’s sleep without being wakened at the crack of dawn?”

  “Robbie! You idiot! Why haven’t you been answering your radio? You were sleeping? You were supposed to take turns resting! What if your air ran out? What if your coupling to the digger failed and you froze to death while sleeping? And where’s Roger?” Anna barely drew breath between her tirade and the pushing and the pulling trying to dislodge the unfortunate receiver of her concerned anger. A foot moved at the other end of the shovel.

  “There you go, the two stooges come back to the fold! Since you’re so well rested, you can unload this shit yourselves! Idiots!” Anna turned and stormed off in the direction of the living quarters just as the missing scientist woke from his slumber among the dead.

  Nadia grabbed the hand with the scorched suit that hung from the side of the shovel and threw it into a waiting wagon. Without a word she started on the process of unloading the food from the digger.