by Amy Cross
"But do you feel different in yourself?" he asks. It's clear that he's trying to get me to say something specific, but I don't understand what he's aiming at. "Do you feel like you're remembering anything from your past?" he adds. "Anything that doesn't fit with your other memories?"
I pause for a moment as the enormity of the situation finally hits me. I'm hundreds of light years from home, standing on a barren, rocky world beneath alien skies, with a distant sun burning high above me. As I take a couple of steps forward, I watch as my feet disturb the dust, and I realize that in a way I'm enormously privileged. Generations of humans must have dreamed of a moment like this, and now we take space travel for granted. In the thirtieth century, we've spread far across the galaxy, but there was a time when humanity was confined to one single planet. It's hard to believe that all those people could ever have survived on such a small world without blowing one another to pieces.
"I'm fine," I say after a moment.
"How's your head?" he asks. "Any... unusual thoughts?"
"Just that I should be dead," I reply. "I still don't quite know how I managed to land the damn thing. The last part of the descent is kind of a blur, but I guess I figured the procedure out somehow."
"You remembered doing it before," he says.
"No," I reply, "I'm pretty sure that's not what happened. After all, I'd never even been in one of those things until today and we didn't cover anything like this during my simulator work back at the academy. Luck's one thing, but I'm pretty sure someone can't intuitively work out how to pilot a lander in less than a couple of minutes." I pause for a moment. "There's something else. You called me Amanda."
"Did I?"
"Just before the comm-link broke earlier, and..." I pause again as I realize that there's no way he's ever going to give me a straight answer, in which case I need to be a little more cautious. "What happened to the comm-link, anyway?"
"It must have been a brief failure," he replies. "I'll -"
"What does that mean?" I ask, before realizing that I'm probably sounding a little too suspicious. Sure, it's hard to believe the events that have taken place over the past half hour or so, but I don't want Sutter to realize that I'm onto him. I guess it'd be better to play dumb and hope that I can find another way to the truth. Sutter's hiding something, though; I'm certain of that. "I should be at the site in about twenty minutes," I continue. "Do you have any idea what you want me to do once I'm there?"
"The first job is to conduct a full visual inspection," he replies. "I'm not even certain that anything's wrong with the damn thing, but the readings show some kind of problem. This is why I keep recommending a surveillance system, but of course the people back at home-base think it'd cost too much."
"I'm not sure I'm qualified to carry out extensive repairs," I remind him. "I'm not an engineer, remember."
"If we need to fix anything, I'll head down tomorrow," he replies.
"Huh," I mutter, struggling to understand why he didn't just come down himself today. So many of Sutter's decisions fail to really hang together, and I can't help but feel that he was determined to get me in the lander for this mission, even though he was the logical choice to come down. As I climb up a small incline and start walking across a small open plain, I can't help reflecting on the fact that I'm stuck out here, so far from home, with a guy I don't trust.
"You'll be pleased to know that I think I've isolated the problem with the lander," he continues. "I've run a remote fix, so your return journey should be much less eventful."
"Convenient," I mutter under my breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," I tell him. "I think I should just focus on getting to the site, so I'm gonna shut off the comm-link for a while. Regulations state we should preserve capacity anyway. I'll get in touch again when I'm there."
"Don't you want to -"
Before he can finish, I cut the link. The last thing I want is to have his voice in my ear for the rest of the journey, and I'm already finding it pretty difficult to walk on a planet that has slightly stronger gravity than anything I've experienced in the past. There's a part of me that just wants to cut all my ties to Sutter and the station and go exploring, to see if there's anything on this lifeless rock other than endless, barren mountains and valleys. Then again, I'm not here to explore; I'm here to work, and to get a job done, and I shouldn't even be contemplating anything else.
Still amazed by the fact that I'm on another world, I press on, determined to focus on the task at hand and reach the surface feed pipe as quickly as possible.
Chapter Three
Sutter
It only takes a couple of minutes to restore the flight computer to its original settings via remote link. Crizz should have a much calmer journey when she comes back up to the station, and I'm relieved to find that there's no damage to the lander. I knew she'd remember how to land it manually when she was put in a crisis situation, but I was hoping that the incident would bring back other memories too.
Still, there's time.
"Crizz," I say after a moment, speaking into the comm-link, "can you update me on your progress?"
I wait, but there's no reply.
Sighing, I realize she still hasn't switched the system back on, which means she evidently doesn't think she needs to speak to me until she's reached the site. Operational regulations state that comm-link capacity should be preserved, so technically she's following the letter of the rulebook, but I can't help wishing that she'd lighten up just a little. I need to prod her and make her remember who she really is, although I need to make sure she doesn't start to hate me in the process.
Figuring that she's going to be incommunicado for at least the next ten minutes, I open up the secondary comm-link panel, activate a scrambler, and connect to the sub-net. I wait a moment until I've located the right frequency, way below the visible band, and then I commit the audio package to record.
"It's me," I say. "She's here, and right now she's down on the surface. I completed phase one a few minutes ago, and results were mixed. It's definitely her, but the conditioning is deep. I don't think she has any idea what's been going on, and it might take a little longer for me to get results. I know it's probably too late to delay phase three, but I'm going to need you to be patient while I continue to nudge her toward a moment of realization. This will work, but only if we stick to the original plan. I'll send another update when I've got more to report."
I pause for a moment, wondering whether I should add anything else. Finally, realizing that there's no point giving them an information overload, I send the message. It has a long way to travel, and it won't reach its destination for many weeks; what's more, there's no way they'll risk sending a reply, so I just have to assume that it'll eventually get to them. They're paranoid and they don't entirely trust the technology, but I know how everything works and I'm confident that no-one can intercept a message transmitted using so many layers of subterfuge.
If central command did ever intercept the message I just sent, the fate of humanity would be plunged into darkness and this age of tyranny would be left to run unchecked, perhaps forever.
Chapter Four
Crizz
"Okay," I say as I reactivate the comm-link. "I'm here. Now what?"
While I wait for Sutter to respond, I crouch next to the control unit on the side of the surface feed pipe. It's not much, and it's not a particularly sophisticated piece of equipment, but it does the job in an inhospitable location, tucked just inside the entrance of a cave. The pipe transports methane-hydrozone from the underground reservoirs, transporting it in gaseous form to the central collection point on the far side of the planet. Even now, I can hear a faint hum from the pipe, as the automated system continues its relentless extraction of material from deep beneath the planet's surface. We're draining Io-5 dry, although it'll take many decades before we've got everything we came for. As humanity spreads through the galaxy, we use and then abandon planet after planet.
It's a good job ther
e's no-one around to stop us.
"Finally," Sutter replies. "You couldn't have checked in during the trip, just to let me know you were -"
"So what am I looking for?" I ask, interrupting him. "You're the engineer. So far, everything looks normal."
"There's an irregular surge coming from the control unit," he replies, sounding a little irritated. "None of the remote checks reveal anything, so I can only assume that either the unit's malfunctioning and delivering false positives, or there's a material fault with the pipe itself. I'm hoping it's just the sensor, because at least that won't require any major work to get it fixed."
"How's the delivery rate?" I ask as I open the unit and check for signs of damage.
"Fine."
"And the pipe's internal pressure?" I bring up another schematic. "There's definitely something going on down here. The variations are minor on the auxiliary control unit are minor, but there has to be a reason for them."
"Also fine. There just seems to be a problem with that particular control unit. It's been driving me crazy for weeks, but again, there are no problems showing up further along the system in either direction. If I hadn't seen the readings with my own eyes, I'm not sure I'd believe they could be real."
I take a moment to cycle through the various readouts on the control unit's display panel, but I don't notice anything out of the ordinary. I double-check, but finally I close the panel and get to my feet. Moving around to the other side of the pipe, I carry out a cursory check to see if there are any obvious problems, but once again I come up with nothing. Based on all the readouts, the system is functioning perfectly normally, and there's no sign of any surges. The whole damn thing seems fine.
"Crizz?" Sutter says after a moment. "Any news?"
"It all looks completely normal," I tell him as I wander along the length of the pipe until I reach the point where it runs down into the deeper part of the mine. Thankfully, there's no way for a human to get down there, so even if Sutter wanted to send me, he couldn't. I wouldn't put it past him to come up with some kind of crazy scheme, ignoring all the regulations, but that doesn't mean I'd have to do whatever he suggested. "Visual inspection reveals absolutely nothing unusual," I continue, stopping for a moment before heading back to the control unit. "There's nothing wrong down here."
"Then why do I pick up regular surges?"
"Faulty sensors?"
"It's not the sensors," he says firmly.
"Okay. Fine, it's not the sensors."
There's silence on the comm-link for a moment.
"Are you still there?" he asks eventually.
"Yeah," I reply, "of course I am. I'm just waiting for you to explain what you want me to do next. I'm standing next to a perfectly healthy-looking piece of equipment and I honestly don't have a clue."
"Take another look," he says, sounding as if he's getting a little impatient. "There has to be something."
"What exactly do you expect me to find?" I ask as I take a torch from my belt and start inspecting the control unit more closely.
"There might be damage to the housing system," he points out. "Dust could have entered the main part of the unit, in which case it might be clogging some of the components. That was a known problem with this generation of control equipment until they introduced a fix, but it could have recurred somehow. Or maybe there's been degradation of the -"
"Found something," I say suddenly, as the light from the torch picks out a strange kind of pattern on the side of the control unit, and also spreading along the side of the pipe. Leaning closer, I realize that something seems to have made a series of shallow incisions, running in ragged parallel lines through the metal. Whatever caused this, it seems to have made several sets of the lines, some of which cross one another.
"Crizz?" Sutter continues.
"I'm sending you an image," I reply, using the comm-link panel to take a few photos of the marks. "Let me know what you think."
"Receiving," he replies. There's a pause, and I can only imagine the look on his face as he sees what I'm seeing. "What the hell's that?" he asks after a moment.
"It looks to have very slightly dented the side of the unit," I tell him as I reach out and run my hand over the marks. "It's not much, but if it's caused a slight deflection, I guess it might explain the surges. The housing could have buckled just enough to offset the internals."
"How deep are those marks?" he asks.
"Maybe a quarter of an inch." I climb over the pipe and check the other side, and sure enough I spot a few more of the same marks. "There are quite a lot of them," I continue as I check the pipe's underside. "They're all focused around the area of the control unit." Flashing the torchlight along the pipe, I pause for a moment. "I don't see the same marks anywhere else."
"Are there any pieces of rock debris around?" he asks. "I'm thinking maybe there might have been a minor ceiling collapse."
I check for any signs of debris, but there's nothing.
"Negative," I tell him. "Anyway, take another look at the marks. They weren't caused by debris."
"Okay," he replies, "then what's your best guess?"
I examine the marks again for a moment, before turning to look deeper into the cave. I remember seeing the schematics for this place, and I'm well aware that the pipes run down for several miles to the spot where automated mining equipment is continuing its dark, lonely journey through the depths of the planet. Io-5 is dead, and yet these marks are starting to make me wonder if the previous survey teams might have missed something.
"Well?" Sutter asks.
"Scratches," I say after a moment, feeling a cold chill pass through my body.
"Excuse me?"
"They look like scratch-marks," I continue, turning back to run my gloved hand across the surface of the metal. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that something has been pawing at the control unit." Removing the glove from my left hand, I use the tips of my fingers to get a better feel of the scratches. They're regular and irregular at the same time: regular because they always seem to occur in groups of four, and irregular because they run in rough, slightly ragged lines. "Some of them are older than others," I add eventually. "This has been going on for a while."
"When you say scratches -"
"Like a lion," I reply, even though I'm fully aware that the idea is ludicrous. "I remember seeing video images of lions from Earth. One of the shots showed a kind of wooden post that they used to use to sharpen their claws. I'm telling you, Sutter, it looks like something's been trying to damage the equipment."
"Space lions?" he asks, unable to hide the incredulity in his voice.
"I'm just telling you what it looks like," I reply firmly. "If you want to come down here and take a look for yourself, you're welcome."
I wait for an answer, but he seems to be giving me the silent treatment.
"I'm not an idiot," I continue, trying to hide my frustration. "Just because I'm only four weeks out of the academy, you can't assume that I'm wrong about everything. I'm just telling you what I can see, and if you don't like it, that's not my problem."
"I believe you," he replies. "I just don't think your interpretation is correct. There's nothing down there on that planet that could be responsible for the damage. Apart from some errant rocks, maybe." He pauses. "Hell, it's possible that here's a design defect in that particular piece of equipment, or an engineering problem that no-one picked up before. We need to look into those possibilities before we start entering the realm of science-fiction."
Running my hands across the scratches, I tell myself that he's right.
"Make sure to get plenty of images," he continues. "We'll take a proper look once you're back up here, and maybe we can model some scenarios. I'll free some resources and get the simulator fired up."
"Are you sure there couldn't be..." I turn to look deeper into the cave again. For a moment, I'm actually able to believe that maybe, just maybe, there might be something down here on this dead world that came along and started trying to ta
mper with the equipment. I know it's a crazy idea, and it's not something I'd explicitly suggest to Sutter, but it still makes a strange kind of sense. The only problem is that Io-5 is as dead as every other world humanity has encountered over the past few centuries.
"Let's not get carried away," he says after a moment. "We know there's nothing down there that could cause this kind of damage, so there has to be a simpler explanation."
Using the comm-link, I record a few seconds' worth of video footage, just to make sure that I've got a better representation of the scene. Once I'm done, I take a step back, but I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. I know I'm probably just being paranoid, and this was something that we were warned about back at the academy; it's so easy for the human mind to start considering impossible scenarios, and there have been instances of deep space operatives who've been driven out of their minds by the belief that something or someone is following their every move, even on desolate planets like Io-5. I need to stay strong.
"There's nothing else I can do down here," I say eventually. "There's nothing anyone can do, apart from keep monitoring the situation and hope it doesn't get worse."
"I'm sure there was just a one-off environmental incident that caused the damage," he replies. "If it happens again, then we'll start to worry, but since it's not affecting the flow-rate..." He pauses. "You might as well get back to the lander, Crizz. I'm not going to bother with a repair job, not for something so minor. I'll file a report, just in case there's some kind of structural problem with the equipment, but apart from that, there's nothing we can do."
"I'll let you know when I've got back to the lander," I tell him, staring into the darkness at the back of the cave and feeling, for a moment, that the darkness is staring back at me.
"Feel free to keep in touch while you're -"
"Regulations state -"
"I know," he replies wearily. "Regulations state that unnecessary communications degrade capacity. Fine. Just let me know when you're in position."