An eerie stillness captivated the crew as they made their way through the yard. Frank rushed ahead and put his hand upon the main dome, curious as to its construction. Two smaller domes protruded like wings from either side. The material felt like a hard plastic, portions of it transparent like glass. Frank peered through one of the domes, his helmet tapping against the side of the structure.
“Like a kid in a candy store.” Keiko joined Frank.
“Listen up!” Roland called everyone to rally up around him. Frank continued to peer through the dust-covered dome, trying to make out what lay inside.
“We have one hour to get this place up and running. Alexei, you’re on power. Frank will go with you. Mia will install Amirah into the central computer. Renee, you will go with her. Keiko . . .” Roland paused.
“Yes, sir?” Keiko replied.
“You will take the MEV and tow the Sakura capsule back to base,” he said.
“By myself?” she interjected.
“Yeah, by yourself. You’re an equal member of the group, Keiko,” Alexei said angrily.
“Take Renee with you, you both will do fine,” Roland said and the group dispersed. Keiko looked around nervously for signs of the MEV, a large truck-like vehicle she only saw pictures of in training.
Frank and Alexei walked together around the atrium. Behind it were more structures hidden from view. Connected to the atrium was a straight building with individual housing modules attached, and beyond, a lone building which housed the dormant gas-cooled reactor.
The reactor core lay inside a stainless steel sarcophagus. It was serviced by an interconnected, outdoor power station which could be locked and secured. Alexei swung open the doors to the power station’s controls. The switchboard contained hundreds of buttons, levers, and diodes, overwhelming the senses.
“I’m not expecting you to really know what’s going on here, Frank,” said Alexei.
Frank gave a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god.”
Alexei pointed to a digital blueprint of the reactor attached to the main switchboard panel.
“This is the advanced gas-cooled reactor. The core is housed inside, surrounded by thermal insulation and a gas baffle,” Alexei taught.
“Gas baffle?”
“It’s like a second line of protection and where the carbon dioxide acts as a coolant.” Alexei pointed to the very top of the reactor where a metal spout siphoned carbon dioxide from the Martian atmosphere. “What you need to know right now is the emergency shut down,” Alexei said. “The first shut down is automatically done by the reactor’s own AI. In case of a meltdown, nitrogen is injected into the core to absorb neutrons.” Frank tried his best to absorb as much information as possible.
“The second shut down can be initiated manually or automatically. It’s this lever here.” Alexei pointed to one of many red levers. “Boron bead injection system. This system will shut down the reactor indefinitely so only use it as a last resort,” Alexei said. “I’m serious, only in the event of a serious malfunction of the reactor.”
“Gotcha. How do we turn this baby on?”
“Felix,” Alexei said.
“Who?” Frank asked.
Alexei grabbed a motherboard out of his backpack. He inserted it into the reactor’s main computer, booting up the system. A solitary light told them it was working.
“That’s it. Felix handles the rest.”
“Don’t we have to load fuel rods or something?” Frank wondered.
“Everything’s already in place. It’s done. The computer handles all of it. We’re just the maintainers,” he said, patting Frank on the back. “Come, my friend.”
Alexei and Frank sat next to the reactor for what felt like ages, slowly watching their oxygen supplies dwindle. They kept an eye on the reactor as the automatic gantry went to work installing fuel rods into the core. Induction motors and circulators buzzed inside the enclosure. Frank could hear the soft drone of the machinery. It sounded muffled and light in the thin atmosphere. He could see dirt moving beneath his feet but felt no wind against his suit. It was all so suffocatingly still and claustrophobic.
The sun shone brightly and hung high in the sky. Frank checked his watch, brushing away a layer of sand that had recently accumulated. It read 1117 hours. Everything was covered in Martian dirt. It’s everywhere, he thought.
Exterior lighting systems came alive atop the atrium and other domed structures. A soft glow from inside the habitat signaled that pressurization had begun. Roland could be seen in the distance giving the thumbs up.
“That’s good work, you guys,” Frank said over an open channel.
Mia entered through the main airlock, its chamber pressure barely registering. Inside the atrium was spacious but empty. Construction residue littered the floors and fine granules of dust suspended in the air, slowly swirling from life support ventilation. Exposed wiring protruded from unfinished paneling and wall sockets. A dead rover sat tucked away in a corner, its welder still extended, frozen in time.
In the center of the domed atrium, where the garden would someday sit, a two ton construction printer with retractable robotic arms lay dormant. Mia checked its internals, revealing a stoppage date of 467 sols ago. Raw material in the form of tiny polymer balls littered the floor.
The robots and rovers that serviced and built Ōme Station had many limitations. They could not furnish the settlement; complex tasks, some done telerobotically, took an entire decade to complete. Often the rovers completing the tasks suffered power failure before finishing. The result was a shell, a carcass of 3D printed plastics, glass, and steel, all sent in waves over several years.
Mia humped a cluster of computing servers with a dolly to the now empty control room. She troubleshooted with maze-like wiring, spending several hours re-soldering faulty connections. Once operational, Mia took the rest of the first night installing the settlement’s smart AI.
By sunset, the team had finished towing all payloads. Ōme was fitted with a sophisticated conveyor system and loading dock; goods were transferred through airtight locks without people entering and exiting the building.
The hazy butter bourbon skyline turned hazy blue as yellow and red light scattered away into the dust-filled atmosphere. Outside light diminished as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving behind an eerie blue twilight.
Frank took time from loading cargo on the conveyor belt to admire his first sunset on Mars. He struggled with his spacesuit as sweat trickled down his face, powerless to wipe it off. His eyes stung as he battled the constant drip over his brow.
Warning beeps informed the astronauts that their suits’ oxygen levels were below fifty percent. Keiko’s suit gave a much different warning as hers dipped below twenty percent. This prompted an alert message to be sent to Roland.
“Keiko, calm down, you’re burning O2 faster than everyone else,” he said in a stern voice.
“Oh, yeah I guess I am,” she said, trying to hide her pants of exhaustion.
“Go fill up at Sakura, we won’t have the oxygen rebreather operational until morning,” he said.
In the sky to the west, Mars’s moon Phobos shone dimly. It clung just above the horizon, pock-marked with craters and oblong features visible to the naked eye. Frank stood in awe as the Martian night revealed her secrets to him. Above, patches of stars began showing through the blue-violet tinted sky.
The conveyor belt and loading dock ran through the Martian night. The team took turns sleeping inside the Sakura capsule; they maintained a three-hour work cycle, stopping only to sleep and eat.
When daybreak finally came on sol 3, most of the supplies had been loaded into Ōme Station. The primary life support system had created a stable living atmosphere inside the habitat and the reactor was operating at thirty-five percent.
Mia and Frank slept inside the Sakura capsule. Drunk from exhaustion, they removed their spacesuits and slept in comfort. The stench of body odor and vinegar filled the cabin. Neither had taken a proper shower in d
ays.
An unfamiliar, slightly synthesized female voice awoke Frank from a deep sleep. He looked around the cabin cautiously, forgetting for a moment where he was. Sunlight shown through the small glass viewports onto Mia’s face, still asleep, her eyes fluttering from REM.
Frank stared, admiring her intense beauty. He watched her sleep, thinking about what he would say when she awoke. Frank wanted nothing more than to befriend the young scientist. He could feel the emotional struggle within her and could relate.
His thoughts were interrupted, however, as the woman’s voice returned.
“Wake up, Colonel,” it said.
“I’m not a colonel anymore, I’m retired,” he said back groggily.
“I was instructed by Commissar Pavlov to refer to your proper directive as Colonel.”
“Who are you?” Frank asked.
“My name is Amirah. I am this mission’s Systems Managing and Analysis Robotics Technology,” Amirah spouted.
“So that’s what SMART means. I thought it meant . . .” Frank finished his sentence with thoughts.
“You thought I exhibited intelligence and common sense,” she stated. “I thank you for the compliment, Colonel.”
“Stop calling me Colonel, please” Frank requested.
Frank was taken aback by the conversation he was having with Amirah as Mia covered herself with more blanket to shield her face from the glaring sun.
“Frank Nash and Mia Beckham, your presence is requested within the control room,” Amirah said. Her voice hinted a middle eastern accent.
Mia reluctantly got up from her makeshift sleeping arrangement. She grabbed for her spacesuit tucked in the corner of the capsule and locked eyes with Frank.
“You stink, Frank,” she said.
Frank cracked a smile as he applied his titanium prosthetics one by one. Mia turned around towards the wall and smiled in secret.
Chapter 15
0715 hours, Sol 3
Ōme Station, Lyot Crater
Earth Date: May 7, 2045
Inside the atrium, Frank watched intently as Mia removed her helmet first. With a deep breath he did the same. The air within the atrium was oxygen rich and crisp. Each exhale was accompanied by thick condensation clouds.
“What’s the temperature in here?” Frank asked Keiko, who was diligently sweeping dunnage from the floors.
“No idea, Frank, just keep yourself busy, I’m rather hot,” she replied.
“The indoor temperature is 7°C, or 45°F for you Imperials, sir.” Amirah’s voice sounded distant inside the massive domed atrium.
The sound of an electric drill echoed through the corridors as Renee was seen wheeling medical tools towards the medical dome.
“It looks so much cleaner in here,” Frank commented as the two astronauts walked towards the control room. Ōme’s control room was situated down the main hallway where crew living quarters were housed. It occupied the first empty room to the right, entering from the atrium.
Inside, Amirah’s server hummed loudly. A row of computers and communications equipment had been set up in the night, although they weren’t yet functional.
Roland stood prying over displayed blueprints of Ōme Station. He took several large gulps of coffee as Frank and Mia entered.
“Alexei has been working non-stop since yesterday . . . yestersol? Anyways, I need one of you to relieve him immediately,” Roland said.
“I’ll swap out with him, sir, no worries,” Frank replied.
“Good, good,” Roland muttered. He finished off the rest of his coffee with one final chug.
“Eat,” he demanded, handing a plate of freshly-made Genoa salami and Colby Jack sandwiches to the two. Frank and Mia hardly hesitated, scarfing them up in a matter of minutes. They stood beside Roland as he filled them in on what needed to be done.
“Our immediate problems are water, heat, and establishing communications with mission control from this location,” Roland said, pointing to the ground with a cold-looking index finger. “We have seventy-two hours of water supply we brought with us from the Yamada. Alexei is wiring the atmospheric water generators which will extract water directly from the Martian atmospheric humidity,” he stated.
“What about the pipeline?” Mia asked.
“I’m getting there. The AWG’s will only produce enough to handle the systems that require water to operate. The Deuteronilus Mensae pipeline is unfinished because of funding,” Roland said, dropping a bombshell.
“What?!” Mia raised her voice.
“Just let me finish,” Roland replied, calmly but stern. “The pipeline ends at the crater’s edge, about 160 kilometers south,” Roland said, raising his hands in the air to silence Mia’s next outburst.
“We use the Goza airship and fly the rest of the piping there, finish the pipeline. We will rotate in teams of two until it is finished,” Roland said.
“What about our water supply?” Frank asked.
“We’ll bake Martian regolith and extract it until then,” he replied.
Mia turned around and began to leave, Frank not far behind her.
“Wait! There’s more,” Roland said. “There is a possible artesian spring below Lyot Crater, not ten kilometers away from us in the valley to the west. A bore hole was already drilled years ago,” Roland said.
“Thank you, sir,” they replied.
Exiting the control room, Frank found Alexei hard at work with a welder inside one of the crew quarters.
“You sure that aluminum won’t lose its tempering?” Frank asked with concern.
Alexei stopped welding for a brief moment to reply simply, “It’s steel.”
“Roland wants me to tag you out,” Frank said.
Alexei placed his gas tungsten arc welder down and stood upright, slightly losing his balance from being in a knelt position for so long.
“You know how to use an arc welder?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m a certified welder,” Frank replied.
“Do you know the composition of this steel? Do you even know what this place is made of?” Alexei asked rhetorically. He was overworked, tired, and irritable. Frank could sense the tension brewing.
“I know it’s a low-carbon steel and that this place is mostly carbon fiber-reinforced polymers, fiberglass-reinforced polymers, and aluminum alloys,” Frank said in axiom. “I only had a few weeks, but I’m not a dumbass and I’ve been around a hell of a lot longer than you have . . . comrade,” he said, raising his voice just slightly to add desired effect. Frank’s tactic worked as Alexei had nothing to come back with. He simply walked out of the room, to Frank’s surprise.
The room was a decent size, unfurnished and bare. Despite the novelty of their new digs, the tasks ahead seemed overwhelming. Even so, the mission was Mars and Frank had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to lay his head. This was home now and it would take time to adjust. Frank grabbed the TIG welder and face shield. He analyzed the disassembled AWG before him and got to work.
As the sun disappeared beyond the horizon on the third night, Frank opened the automatic door to his personal quarters. It was dark except for a small amount of blue-tinged twilight that cast from a solitary window.
Frank searched for a light switch, gently brushing the wall. The lighting was drab, his cot and bathroom empty. On the floor, his belongings were still sealed in white nylon bags. Each had a detailed inventory of contents taped to it.
Rolling his tongue along his teeth, he could feel gritty plaque from not brushing. His stomach reeled in pain from lack of food, and the aura of stench attacked his nostrils as he removed his spacesuit one piece at a time.
Roland had authorized thirty second showers to be taken. He was specific they shut off the water during lathering and rinsing for a reason. Naked, skin goose-bumped, Frank gave his body a once-over. Exhaling the cold air, he could feel dead skin shed as he scrubbed his body. The nubs of his legs began to blister and a rash had developed on his neckline.
The tiny shower stall was only
big enough for one person about the size of an adolescent. Frank removed his metal legs so he could fit easier. A fold-out bench helped him reach the shower handle. A beam of freezing water shot out in successive, sporadic bursts. With a muffled shriek, Frank spun the handle in the opposite direction, causing him to be scalded by molten hot water. Frank fell out of the shower. He grabbed his abdomen, coddling it while withering in pain.
“What the fuck!” he shouted at the shower nozzle.
Remembering Roland’s orders, he pulled himself up and climbed into the hot water again to stop the water flow. He did his best to ignore the pain, grabbing a bar of soap instead. With a feeble grip, he sudsed up best he could, spun the handle, and held his breath. The water fluctuated wildly between cold and lukewarm temperatures. Finished, Frank crawled to his cot and wrapped himself in down.
•••
One week had passed with the crew never straying more then a kilometer from Ōme. They maintained a strict adherence to food and water rationing. Thirst and hunger became a common enemy.
Alexei and Frank had fixed the heating issues; dust had accumulated inside the air filtration and circulation systems causing decreased efficiency. The various plants and crops that had occupied the Yamada’s horticulture module were now an atrium centerpiece. Most of the station’s water went into aeroponics, keeping the plants alive.
It was a bright, clear, and cold morning as Frank sat in the lounge sipping coffee. His specially-designed flight suit sported an American flag and an assortment of sponsor patches. Some he removed himself, because he thought they looked ridiculous. Frank watched the television mounted to the wall. It displayed station data and information. The station’s outdoor thermometer read -38°C at 1017 hours, local solar time.
As Frank prepared to leave for his 1030 mission briefing, a blood-curdling scream came from just down the hallway. Frank shot up like a bolt and ran towards the scream as fast as his artificial legs could carry him.
Other members of the crew ran from various locations inside the habitat. Frank checked the rooms one by one, opening each automatic door. As he opened the final door, the others joined him. They found Keiko inside her room with the ventilation grate open and standing on a step stool.
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